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houseofhyde · 2 days

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v. another man's legacy

pairing. aemond targaryen x fem!reader synopsis. prince aemond calls all with fire in their blood forth to dragonstone with promise of a grand announcement, unawares of the king's own announcement. chapter warnings. no use of y/n, brother-in-law!aemond, stark!reader, infidelity, purity culture, extended family drama, possible spoilers for events that take place in fire & blood! smut ( unprotected piv, creampie, [redacted]'s cum used as lube, fingering, exhibitionism? possibly? maybe? if you squint? ) please kindly notify me of any warning i may have missed. word count. 13k. hyde’s input. i ideally wanted this posted a week ago but i've unexpectedly had quite a busy month, sorry besties. lowkey hate how this turned out, wrote it in a rush, but hopefully you enjoy the chapter x ( if you see a typo, no you didn't )

another man's series. feast. comfort. pleasure. pain. legacy. jealousy. ( coming october ) read on ao3. listen to the playlist.

The ravens are put to work.

Daybreak, nightfall. Sunrise, sundown. Highwinds, dry air. Blue sky, grey storms. Between man’s certainty of life and death, a new one arises: the promise of feathered wings flying high over the streets of King’s Landing. Dark wings, dark words — a phrase your late septa had sworn by, fear in her eyes everytime a bird dared arrive at Winterfell carrying a message — it does not ring true to the ink that fills the recent parchments.

The guardsmen saw me home safely through the southron sands, past the Stormlands, and alas, to King’s Landing. I pray for safety in your own travels.

You had written it in a hurry and sent it with even more haste, the innocent intentions of wishing well to a man bound to you in marriage. You had awaited no reply, in truth, yet when the raven perched itself upon your window sill at the Hour of the Wolf, you felt your heart try to flee out of your chest.

Whispers travel faster than ravens, I knew of your arrival already. It is good to read of it in your own hand. You need not fret on my safe-being, for I sit upon a mount from where no man may harm me.

No name, no signature. A rule unspoken yet well-kept. Should words be seen by unintended eyes, there is no space for errors, big nor small, for errors lead to questions, questions lead to answers, and answers lead to exposure.

It is truly a bore to attend courts as of late. No one lends me the privilege of a dance and, the few who do, seem to possess two left feet. I fear for the health of my toes, crushed under the weight of misplaced steps.

Your days in Dorne have come to mark a significant shift in your life, moulding you into a different version of a woman who always existed within you. You returned to the capital not only wearing a new dress, but a new attitude. A life divided by two key phases: Before Dorne, and After Dorne. And, yet, all that has truly changed in your life is this: the letters.

We danced this evening, when you visited my sleeping mind. Naked, sweet, pliant. It felt so real. I could taste you, smell you, feel you. I woke with a most horrible discomfort in my loins. You have ignited a longing in me befitting a petulant child, not a man of my class. How am I expected to live with never having you again?

There is a creature inside you that wishes to collect his words, like a crow collects a shiny trinket. Assign them a drawer at your bedside, a place for them to live near your resting head and hopefully whisper themselves into your dreams, the only lands you are able to get a glimpse of his blonde hair, and lean arms, and soft mouth. That would mean danger, however, a trail of evidence for someone to find. Each parchment lives on as nothing more than a pile of ash in your hearth.

There is rumour of Lohar’s death. Assassination, they say. It ripped apart the triarchy, half of them fighting, the other half fleeing. I must be honest when speaking on the swelling of my own pride. You not only heed my warnings, but also took my advice. Perhaps my next advice will be that you meet me beneath moon and sky, and let only our bodies and the gods bear witness to what we do.

Words grow bolder as minds grow desperate. You find yourself in a rut, counting days as if it does not add to your own torture. Insatiable, a term you have scarcely used to describe yourself in past times, yet it is all that feels adequate since that night upon foreign sheets. Your husband takes you, like a hound takes its bitch, and you welcome him. Close your eyes, picture that same silver hair, but another’s face, hands, voice. It ends how all couplings end between you — an unanswered prayer between your thighs, a bud on the permanent precipice of bursting into bloom, only for Aegon to rip it out by its roots and spill his own seed in its place. But for a moment, while his hips beat relentlessly against the swell of your arse and his nails dig crescents into your skin, you feel it: a subtle, low-burning pleasure. Not much, but enough, more than before.

Give me cause and I shall give you no rest, my Lady.

“Are you not enjoying the boar, wife?” Aegon’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts and brings your surroundings back into focus.

The King’s chambers, a table set for two, a handful of maids carrying pitchers of wine, and a nervous harpist, plucking a disjointed tune with shaky fingers. You pity the man. It is one thing to play to a court of dancing bodies and chattering mouths, it is another to play in the privacy of the King and Queen Consort as they dine in one another’s company.

You cough out a denial, shake your head as if to emphasise, “it is as tender today as it was yesterday, my King.”

“You’ve hardly touched it.”

“My thoughts feed me tonight.”

“Any that you care to share?”

No. “Of course,” Aemond takes the centre frame in your mind’s eye, not so much an image as he is a concept. You push him aside. “I attended this morning. Your dealings with the smallfolk, I watched from the balcony that sits over the throne room.”

“I saw,” he seems to light up as the topic is brought forth. Intrigued enough to lay down his cup and rest his forearms along the table, leaning closer as if awaiting some great secret to spill from your lips. You wonder if he would be half as amused if your mouth followed through on his unspoken request. “Well go on then! What did you think?”

“What did I… Think?” Your husband nods his head with enthusiasm, his unruly locks of hair shaking as he does so. It is hard to picture him any other way than this, unkept and unbothered, nothing like the rest of his Valyrian bloodline, with their meticulous braids and their well pampered image. Were it not for the striking colour that grows out his scalp, you would hardly believe Aegon is a Targaryen. His dark eyebrows shoot up expectantly. “You did well. You were cooperative and understanding. Just, too. No matter the personal issue they laid at your feet, you truly tried to solve things as best you could. You were… Aegon, you were kingly.”

“Do not sound so surprised,” rose tinted cheeks, a splash of bloodrush upon his soft skin. The wine must be getting to him and yet… And yet you wonder if it is something more, a rush of excitement at praise. He had never wanted this — the crown, the throne, you — until push came to shove and he felt the sweet weight of the Conqueror’s legacy rest upon his head and the grip of Blackfyre in his fist. Whether driven by ego or a genuine wish to do well by the people of his realm, Aegon has taken on his duties as of late with a grace no one, not even his own blood, had expected of him. A mess made in times of war, he spears ahead to clean up what rubble and ashes remain of the land. “I’m sure you’re wondering what prompted my invite to sup here, alone.”

“You are my husband, I am your wife. Who else would I share my meals with?”

“I am sure there are names ahead of mine on that list,” the smile he flashes is jaded. “Sometimes I worry you wish to forget our marriage.”

“Aegon, husband, I would never do such a thing.” And yet, you have. Naked in the Dornish heat, another name upon your tongue, another man inside your cunt.

“Leave us,” two words, enough to send the serving wenches out in a flurry of footsteps. The drag of a harp across the floor, loud and resounding as the musician slips his way out the room, closing the door behind himself. And then it is truly just the two of you, inspecting the other under a gaze cold enough it reminds you of the snow that falls over Winterfell. “The letter,” your heart leaps to your throat, blocking the space and robbing you of your breath. He knows, he knows, he knows. He knows of the letters, and the deceit, and all those complicated feelings you hold for- “That I sent to you during your time with my sister. I have not forgotten it. I expect you haven’t either.”

Air fills your lungs, your heart settles back down in the cage of your chest. The shake in your hand remains, and so you fill it with the weight of your other hand, clasp them both into stillness. “No.”

“Wonderful. Then you’ll recall my mention of a chat we’re overdue. There is no time like the present,” the little of your dinner that sits in your stomach stirs. Flips. Threatens to claw its way back up and out of you, spill itself all over the table. That would not rouse any suspicion, surely. It would be a perfectly rational response to your husband, bound to you in cloth beneath the Seven, requesting to chat with you. Aegon continues, as if unaware or simply unbothered by the distress bursting out of your seams. “It is not lost on me, you know? The looks you cast my way, the disdain that has slowly wiped itself over our union, a permanent stain that hovers over every interaction we share. I believe it is time to admit to-”

The chamber doors burst open anew.

“Your grace,” Maester Orwyle, out of breath, sweat lining his brow, and his chain hanging heavy from his neck. Never has his face been such a welcomed sight.

“I believe I ordered that my wife and I be left alone.”

“Apologies, your grace, but this is a pressing matter,” the maester holds up a scrap of paper, the edges curling in on themselves. “I carry word from the Crown Prince, Aemond Targaryen.”

You sit up a little straighter at the mention of his name. Days of private correspondence, nights of fantasised meetings, you have forgotten just how commanding his name sounds when spoken aloud.

Aegon sinks deeper into his chair, a boredom taking over his features as he waves his hand, “well then, go on, spit it out!”

“Prince Aemond has requested the presence of all members of House Targaryen at Dragonstone,” his sandal-covered feet make gentle pitter-patter against the floor as he approaches the table, laying out the note for Aegon to grab at and inspect for himself. “The letter brings promise of an announcement from the prince.”

The great Targaryen dynasty.

Built on the ashes of burnt kingdoms and the man-shaped collateral damage of one family’s lust for control. Centuries of legacy, an infinite amount of tales that better fit the stuff of legends and scriptures. Lavish castles, luxurious clothing, Valyrian steel. A puritan bloodline, a family tree that circles itself. The smell of a dragon’s breath, the shine of silver-blessed hair. And this is what it has been reduced to.

Four dragons. Two crippled by war, wings with crooked bones and punctured skin. One a mere hatchling, no older than three, with a sickly pale colour and an unhealthy disposition that keeps it curled around its bonded rider’s shoulder, unwilling to stray far. And then there is the eldest of them, unchanged by the war, already well-versed in the age-old Targaryen tradition of burning enemies to a crisp.

The Martells are the first to arrive. A small boat, with a handful of guardsmen, two ladies in waiting, a wet nurse, Princess Helaena, and her two children. The Prince of Dorne has remained at the seat of his house, unwilling to leave it defenceless in the early hours of peace.

The Hightowers arrive next. Three great ships, stuffed to the brim with armed men, and mute maids, and shy squires. Amongst them, the lowly Garmund Hightower stands at command, but it is his wife who’s presence has truly been requested: Rhaena Targaryen. The last time you had seen her, no war had transpired and she had been betrothed to another. If only Aemond had not taken to the skies that fateful night…

Above the Hightower fleet, another representative of House Targaryen flies, sat atop the blue beauty, Tessarion, the left side of her still marred with scars and puncture wounds littering her left wing from the battles she had endured during the war of kin. Daeron had insisted she fly, however, having not taken to the skies in moons, since the wedding at Winterfell.

The Velaryons do not answer the summoning. It is said Baela Targaryen, infuriated at her cousin’s request, had to be shackled to her bedpost, ranting and raving threats of greeting Aemond Targaryen in Dragonstone — with a sword down his throat.

And then, at last, the King’s fleet arrives. An outlandish six ships, with more guards than dare fit on the island, enough chamber-maids to fill the Great Hall, and the main figureheads of the Green Council. Up above flies Sunfyre, a watchful eye amid the clouds, yet his back remains riderless. The King, instead, stands at your side aboard the ship, his mother and grandsire on the opposite end of him.

At last, you step foot on Dragonstone, and that is when you notice her.

Vhagar, a mass resting atop a hill, too large to nest within the caves, too lonesome to answer the call of her kind, the excited screeches taking place on sand as Tesarion and Sunfyre circle one another, jostling against the keepers who attempt to wrangle the pair into the mouth of a cave. You watch as the giant she-dragon merely lifts her head, peering at the antics, before laying back down, uninterested in the commotion of everyone’s arrival.

To tell the truth, you are not all that interested in greeting everyone either, too many heads bowing in your direction as you smile and exchange pleasantries by your husband’s side. The commotion of an extended bloodline retracing the halls of its ancestral home, unwanted as it may have been, only makes it all the more easy to slip away once you cross the threshold of the castle, however, letting your feet sneak off to your own private summoning.

Once you arrive, I recommend you find your way to the library. Alone.

The raven had arrived hours before you departed the capital, shaking out its feathers as you awoke from your slumber. You barely had the time to read over it once before the doors to your chambers came barreling open, an army of ladies waiting to grab all your loose threads and sort them back into place. Wash your hair, scrub your skin, rouge your lips. Tighten your bodice, clasp your necklace, rest the dainty tiara atop your head.

Running your thumb over the dried ink, you trace the words he wrote to you, before tucking the note safely back into the sleeve of your dress.

The library is miniscule in comparison to the one living within the Keep, yet it still manages to steal your breath away, stumbling through the door. Rows of dark oak bookcases, stuffed full of colourful, aged, leather-bound, cloth-bound spines of books. The smell of old, the smell of history, with a hint of spice and a flare of cinnamon. Candles with their wax melting into the surfaces they rest upon. Chairs, cushioned by green leather and detailed with dragon-like carvings. A table littered with scrolls, and ink, and feather quills, signs of life having been here. But no sign of Aemond Targaryen.

Boredom brings your feet to a halt within the row of bookcases furthest from the door, curiosity leads your hand to pulling at the spine of an aged book. Dragons: A Record of the Hatched. The smell of dust infects your nostrils as you flick through the wrinkled pages, from end to beginning.

Morning has yet to be listed. You let a few pages flick past, find yourself staring at the sketch of a familiar creature. Syrax. A splotch of ink covers the name of her rider. Turn to the next page, and there sits the Blood Wyrm, with Aemon Targaryen followed by a splotch of ink listed under his riders. Page after page, dragon after dragon, sketch after sketch, the names of the Black Council sit hidden behind stains of black ink.

An uneasy feeling stirs in your stomach and a sadness burns at your eyes, staring down at how easily their existences are being erased from history. How long, you wonder, until Rhaenyra Targaryen is nothing but the beggar Queen in a folk song, another name lost to time and another life lost to the throne? How long until the stories of the Black Council are more myth than fact?

How fickle of a thing, life. Order dictates that a name promises a legacy, a memory, a marking in a family tree to be listed until the end of time. And, yet, so easily man picks and chooses the scraps of history that will remain, when time has long passed and all who lived through it have perished back into the ground.

The sickening feeling wells inside you, uncomfortable and heavy, and so you turn another page, and another, and another, until you find yourself faced with Vhagar. The sketch does no justice to her sheer size, cramped within the page, but your eyes do not linger long enough to care. Instead, they are reading over the list of riders to find the one they seek. Aemond Targaryen. You lift a hand off the edge of the book, fingers skirting forward to trace over the lustrous A of his name.

The weight of the book shifts, resting carefully in the palm of your left hand, teetering on the edge of slipping, when something grabs at you. With a great smack, the book crashes to the floor, a cloud of dust bursting out as its pages snap shut. Arms wind around your waist, loose yet firm in their hold, and a spread of warmth blankets over your back.

“They just reached the crypts. We have less time than I had hoped.”

The voice is a whisper in your ear, a fleeting kiss against your neck, the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Gentle, soothing, delicate. Something given only to you, meant only for you. It warms a chill within you, melts away the frost encasing your heart, heating you to the bone and soothing the uneasy feeling in your loins. It is the feeling of tired limbs sinking into soft sheets, it is the feeling of stepping through the familiar gates of Winterfell, it is the feeling of home. It is Aemond.

The arms that bind you to him pull a little tighter, a momentary rob of your breath. Your hands claw at his wrists, squeezing down to feel the firmness of bone beneath skin, skin beneath leather. No ink, no paper, no written promises. Tangible, tactile, sentient. Him, him, him. Firm at your back, calm in your heart, forgiving in your ear. Your tongue itches to tell him you have endured that longing, the very same he confessed to, head deep in his cups, mouth stained in the strawberry jam of your tarts.

“You erased them. Their names, they no longer exist,” the words are an accusation, your tone is not. It is just — sad, empty, disbelieving. The mourning of strangers, a family you met once upon a time, a table set in honour of a dying man, a family feud brushed falsely aside. Until the tension snapped, until Aemond raised his cup. Final tribute.

Final.

Tribute.

“Traitors have no place in our history,” fingers tug at the green velvet of your dress, moulding the golden stitching of a dragon out of shape. You resist his call to turn, not when his words feel so cold compared to his touch. “By order of the King.”

“They were your family, your blood,” you say, willing it to mean something, willing him to show a moment of vulnerability, like his confession amid tangled limbs and wrinkled sheets. A rusty chain in need of oiling, his remorse sits buried beneath layers of oxidised irony, a faux coldness the sorrowful look in his eye so often contradicts.

You turn, at your own will, and find that very look staring back at you. Momentarily, it bleeds with something, the sharpness in his stare softening as he takes in the features of your face, as if he needs reminding of how you look, to tune his imagination more deftly to your true image.

“They tried to kill you,” it is a whisper yet the prince almost seems to spit it out, as though it is a struggle to let the words form on his tongue, his eye widening as if the memories all come barreling in, the sight of blood on your skin, blood on your sleeping gown, coin beneath his table. “Do not ask me to mourn them.”

“And what of it, if I do ask it of you?” It is daring, to straighten your back and tighten your grip on his wrists, only to drop them and grab for his face, instead, as he tries to flee from your eyes. You hold him there, thumb smoothing over scarred cheek. “Would you mourn them?”

His mouth does not answer.

Instead, it kisses you.

Everything melts away under his lips, all thoughts, and questions, and pleadings. Words drift away, your mind rids itself of all the letters that do not belong to him. Aemond. Why would you ever need more than those six letters?

It is the seventh time the prince has joined his mouth to yours. You know this not because you have tried to keep count, but because each one is as striking as the last, as utterly world-bending, and fear-ending, and noteworthy.

There was the night in your chambers, from sudden kiss, to hesitant lips, to sinful tongues. Two nights later, the weight of Helaena’s teary eyes still heavy on your shoulders, you fell tangled amongst sheets with him once more. Breaths exchanged, whimpered names, a carnal hunger that only grew the more you both fed it. Twice, with no respite between, as the moon hung stars in the sky. And when the sun began to paint an orange hue, he woke you just to have you once more, eyes barely departing from sleep, bodies laying on their sides, a leg thrown over his waist, and a hand cradling your mouth against his own.

The last kiss had tasted of sorrow and longing. In the early hours of the morning, a flurry of soft knocks at a door opened to him, wide awake and dishevelled.

“I could not do it,” he had muttered, cradling you closer with each step he took into the room. “Not again.”

Though the matter of this it had never been clarified, you knew, you understood. You agreed. Not again could you see yourselves departed from another, without so much as a proper goodbye. Suddenly, that momentary longing you had to return to the Keep had been nothing but a bout of insanity, and all you wished was to fall asleep one more night in Dornish sheets. Instead, you would later count sheep whilst attempting to ignore the turning of wheels and the whinnying of tired horses.

That kiss came with no warning, his mouth on yours in one blink of a teary eye, and lingered longer than either of you dared acknowledge. Each time one seemed ready to let go, the other pulled closer, pressed harder, kissed deeper. An ending, no pause. No see you later, only goodbye. A picture-perfect ending to an affair already gone too far with, left behind by both of you as you raced to return to reality, abandoning the whispers, and the sighs, and the unspoken vows to bury themselves beneath layers of sand and silk.

But this kiss, the one that has your back pressed against the wooden bookshelves and all sense bleeding out of your ears and spilling onto stone floor, is no goodbye. It is hello. It is I missed you. It is welcome home.

It is a kiss for the simple sake of a kiss, like true lovers do, meant nothing more but to fulfil a craving for one another’s taste.

“You look lovely in green,” he brushes the compliment against your lips, eye slipping shut and unaware of how your own trace down the healing flesh atop his eyepatch, no sign of the thread of your dress still embedded in his skin. You should be happy he has healed up, yet there is a twist in your gut that longs for the return of something belonging to you being threaded into him, a physical marking of your place in his life, no matter how small a space it occupies. “Have I ever told you so?”

A sting in your eyes. You try to recollect the last time anyone had told you such a thing, paid you such an earnest compliment, and come up empty handed.

You shake your head.

“What a coward. I should have told you, everytime,” he gifts you an eighth kiss, a fleeting peck against your mouth, yet the tingly feeling lingers on, a reminder that he has touched you. “I thought it, each time I saw you wear it.” A ninth kiss. “Each time I saw you wear anything,” a tenth, eleventh, twelfth kiss. “Each time I saw you.”

“Aemond,” you pull back from him, in hope of remembering what you had been saying before he laid his mouth on you.

The brush of a hand up your thigh has you forgetting all over again, head falling back against the books with a gentle thud and a subtle sigh. If he notices the way your legs slip open with no resistance, or how the left one hooks itself so easily over his hip, the prince says nothing.

A trail of goosebumps, following the path of his palm up the length of your inner thigh, tugging at the layers of underclothing and smallclothes, meaningless scraps of cotton that only waste time.

Time.

“We don’t have much time,” you hate yourself for saying it, and even more when he reminds you of the bliss of his kiss down your neck. “You said it.”

“Then we make do and act with haste.”

It takes you longer to register what Aemond says than it does for his fingers to make good on his promise, slipping wordlessly beneath garments and meeting warm skin, wet skin, a buzzing bud of nerves that lives between the apex of your thighs.

In a pathetic display, a singular circular rub against you, followed by a gentle stroke between your lower lips, has you biting the inside of your cheek, noise stifled in the act. Satisfaction crosses through the prince’s eye, a quirk in the corner of his razor sharp lips. Teasing, playful, he is watching you writhe over his touch.

A harrowing memory dawns over you a moment too late, when Aemond has already gone and spoken his thoughts aloud.

“Eager, Lady Stark?” The tips of two fingers, long, and lithe, and a welcome intrusion in your cunt as the prince curls them, pressing against an eye-roll inducing spot within you. “Tell me, your grace, was it the taste of my tongue or the ludicrous act of sneaking off to meet me, under the very same roof as your husband, that has you soaking my fingers?”

Your lips part. You try to speak, no words are produced.

The prince must mistake it for bashfulness, a challenge to best, for he slowly thrusts his fingers, back and forth, brushing a little deeper each time, curling a little more sinfully against the soft walls of your core, the occasional brush of his thumb over the warmth of your pearl.

No longer biting your cheek, a traitor’s moan, gentile and heard only in the space between you, bursts out your mouth. You speak his name, trying to get the words right, trying to warn him of the unknown spoils he is knuckles-deep in.

Aemond mistakes it for just another call of pleasure.

And then, all by himself, the realisation seems to fall over him.

Hand slips out from under cotton smallclothes and green velvet, fingers that shine wet, shine white beneath candlelight. You stare at them in a mixture of horror, shame, and ruined dignity, apologies already rushing off your tongue before the prince can even speak a word of the seed that drips down his knuckles.

“Aegon, he- Gods, I am sorry,” his silent observation of the white fluid only makes your loins tangle in their own web, a twisted sickness creeping to the back of your throat, the blood draining from your face. “He insisted on coupling, this morning. I did not think-”

Your rambling is interrupted by the sudden intrusion of Aemond’s soiled fingers, thrust against your tongue and coating it in your husband’s flavour.

It should disgust you. It should bring a wave of shame, flooding over you and dragging you beneath its unforgiving surface, drowning you in its overwhelming currents. Remains of an act of marriage, mixed with the taste of your act of passion, and the taste of his skin, beneath it all.

But it is hard to feel shame, when Aemond looks at you with so much approval in his eye, when he’s feeding his fingers deeper, till they bump the palate of your mouth and trigger that teary-eyed effect you remember, all too well, from his chambers’ floor, your knees bruising into stone, his hips fighting against the urge to buck up into the warmth of your mouth.

“It seems I owe my brother some gratitude,” the clink of metal, a belt tugged loose. Somewhere, beneath where your eyes dare stray from his hypnotic gaze, his free hand works himself free from the confines of his breeches. Shooting under your skirts and dragging them up the length of your legs as you lick one last time at his fingers, watching how they slip out your mouth and shine once again beneath the candlelight. Not a trace of Aegon remains, except for between your thighs. “He’s gotten you prepared for me, whether he be so aware or not.”

With one leg hooked around his waist and the layers of your gown bunched around your own, the prince pins you between the bookcase and a hard place, a hard thing, notching at your centre and reminding you of the pleasures of the flesh, the pleasures of Aemond’s flesh.

With one roll, then a second, and a third, of his hips, the prince’s cock sinks slowly inside your cunt. There is a small ache, a sensitivity left behind by Aegon’s earlier frantic motions over the edge of a table, the corner of it digging into the meat of your thigh over, and over, and over again with each uncoordinated thrust. The wince escapes you before you can even try to correct it. The prince stills, instantly, a hand cupping at your cheek and a kiss pressing against the tip of your nose.

“I do not wish to hurt you,” he whispers. Gentle, earnest, reassuring. Tears well at your eyes again, you try to blink them away, and scold yourself for getting so wet in the eye, so often. A tear escapes you regardless, charting its own course down your cheek. Aemond catches it with the tip of his tongue, warm against the cold of your face. “Tell me, it will not cause me anger. Tell me if you do not want this.”

Memories of those same words, that same voice, the same body. But a different room, a different position, a different state of undress. Naked, denial, hesitation, then. Clothed, touching, anticipation, now. The prince, buried deep inside you physically, is still giving you the option of an end, of an exit, of pushing him away and repositioning your clothing and leaving, like nothing has ever happened.

It only serves to reaffirm what you do want.

Him.

Somehow, the surety of this threatens a new wave of tears that you almost shed. You want to collapse into him, sink into the vessels of his arms, let yourself be lost to eternity within his hold. You want to tell him the truth, to tell him what Aegon had wanted of you in his letter, in his chambers, to tell him what Helaena had prophesied. The Stranger. The truth feels too complicated a thing, however, and the sin of lust is a more pleasurable subject to get lost within. You do not have much time, the prince would not wish to waste it on silly things, like feelings, and fears, and where your relationship with your husband stands.

The leg at his waist holds him closer, reaffirming your grip at the first sign of him stepping back. You don’t let him, won’t let him, “it’s fine. I’m fine. Please, don’t let me go.”

The prince proves he can listen well, no more questions falling from his lips, movement resuming in his hips. Slow, smooth, back and forth gyrations, a remedy to the dull ache below your womb, the lubrication of Aegon’s seed aiding in the slide of his cock within you.

A back that digs into the surface behind it, yet you ignore it in favour of the delightful thrill of Aemond working into you each time a little faster, a little harder, a little less restrained. A hand that finds cause amidst his Targaryen tresses, tangling in the locks as the prince’s forehead lays itself to rest upon your own. A set of mouths that hover inches apart, a single breath of air exchanged back and forth in sync with the rhythm of his thrusts.

Time. Time. You do not have much time.

But who is counting the seconds while the pair of you merge into one against the spines of books carrying the words of history? It is best it all be forgotten — the duty, the King, the announcement Aemond has promised his kin — in exchange for just another moment here, pressed one to the other, forgoing titles like Prince, and Queen, remembering only the shape of mouths, and the burn of skin.

The prince’s fingerprints carve out bruises along your thigh, gripping, and pulling, and kneading at the skin, a leverage to grasp onto as he continues to fuck into you. Sweat drips down your neck like wax drips down lit candles, disappearing beneath the lace atop your dress’ bodice and slipping between the valley of your breasts. Warm all over, you crave no refuge from it, from him, tugging him closer, arching your back, losing yourself in the feeling of friction. One foot still pressed to the floor, perching on your tip-toes, your composure buckles alongside your knee and, if not for Aemond’s fast-moving hands, quick-thinking mind, you would be moments away from crashing, elbow first, down to the floor.

Instead, you feel the prince hoist your leg around his waist, ankles locking behind his back with a reinforced grip as he takes on the weight of both your bodies. The effort he puts into fucking you manifests in a series of grunts, clenched teeth that hold back words, bite back filth.

One hand still tangled in his hair, the other stretches up, reaches behind you, scrambling to find purchase on a panel of wood from the bookcase. It finds, instead, the top of a book, slipping down its leather spine. The book falls, crashing to the ground near the one you had been reading with a great sound. A domino effect, in which two, three, four more heavy, bound by string and wrapped in leather, books fall from the shelves. Thud after thud, after thud, no doubt heard from anyone passing by.

The prince does not flee. If anything, he appears almost spurred on by the scandal and mess, a hand sliding from your waist to pull and bunch the layers of your dress higher, as if wishing to unveil to the naked eye the sins transpiring beneath the green of it, the repeated plunge of his manhood into your core, soaked in a vile mixture of your own pleasure and Aegon’s spend.

“This is what you wanted, hmm? What you needed, Lady Stark,” his voice is a whisper, his teeth biting at the lobe of your ear and pulling a shocked gasp from you. “To be filled by a man’s seed, the kind that knows how to get the job done. Not the King’s poor excuse. No. No, not Aegon’s. Mine.”

Time, and how little of it you both have, feels all the more unimportant, that familiar feeling — of everything warm, and soft, and delightful — begins to tighten at your loins, poking and proding at your dizzied conscious as you feel his cock bullying itself deeper, and deeper, impossibly deeper inside of you. The end is near, within your grasp, waiting for the right thrust, or the perfect grind, or the best friction, to finally let the thread snap.

A knock, loud and forceful, at the wooden doors to the library, is followed instantly by a voice. “Is someone in there?”

Movement stops, both of you frozen, bodies tangled in a crucifiable state.

The handle turns, you gasp, Aemond slaps a hand over your mouth.

For a moment, you feel a weight fall off your shoulders, that ever-looming fear you have dragged along with you — a ball and chain attached to your heart, ever since your return to the capital — that all your guilt sits written upon your face and, soon, someone will read it and see the treason you have committed, the adultery you have engaged in. For certain, they will have your head separated from the rest of you. Perhaps, the King will find enough grace in his heart to forgive his brother. After all, what blame does he truly possess? He is a man, unmarried and unburdened by the threat of a bastard’s life ever swelling within him. At the very least, you will die swiftly and be able to put all your lamenting to rest at last.

Then, the door fails to open and the prince’s voice is in your ear.

“I locked it. Do not worry.”

Mouth still covered, all you manage is to continue staring at him, eyes wide with fear, heart beating against the confines of your ribs. As if to worsen things, you watch as something flashes behind his eye, and he pulls his hips back only to thrust right back into you, the bookcase rattling softly behind you.

“Who goes there?” Aemond calls out, voice steady, unwavering. Even as he repeats the movement, the slow pull-back of his cock, the quick refilling of your core. “Announce your intentions to your prince.”

The golden handle goes still, a throat clears, and metal clinks, as if a knight were straightening his posture. “Forgive me, Prince Aemond, I did not mean to interrupt, I know how dedicated you are to your studies,” the voice is familiar, something that strikes deeper fear within you and more daring in Aemond’s features.

“Do you think he knows,” the prince croons against your skin, a sickly sweet, well-deep sound that entices you to throw yourself, head first, into it. The dull pleasure between your thighs is slowly rebuilding itself into something monstrous, something you lost sight of at the echo of knuckles on wood, with each thrust the prince drives into you. “Just how dedicated I am to studying you?”

“I was sent in pursuit of the queen,” the man at the door continues when he receives no word from Aemond. Your nails dig scratches into the bookcase. Your heart doubles, triples in speed with each beat it takes, yet you do not push Aemond away, you do not shake your head, you do not so much as move an inch away from him. Your ankles tighten their grip on one another at his back. “Have you seen her?”

Aemond nods, a cheeky grin taking shape upon those lips. As if staring right into your soul, the prince reads you effortlessly, watching as the seconds pass by and sanity slips surely out of your reach, the haze of lust fully overtaking the fear that fights against it.

Another book falls from the case. The man outside is too consumed by the sound of his own voice to notice. At least, you hope. “I’m her sworn shield, you see. Ser Arryk Carg-”

“Have you tried any of the guest chambers?” He cuts the knight off, confident in his words, as if he does not stand mere inches from your face, manhood buried to the hilt inside of you. “Perhaps Lady Stark grew tired of our Graces’ company and desired some much needed respite?”

With a rush of flustered agreements, and a couple of apologies, Ser Arryk clinks away, a mass of metal that grows further away with each step he takes. Not a moment too soon does he leave, for at last the tension snaps and you’re crying out into the prince’s palm, eyes rolling back into your skull as you reach your peak. He follows not long after, a series of grunts that follow the pistoning of his hips before he stills, as deep within you as either of your bodies allow, spilling himself inside your walls.

A few laboured breaths pass between the culmination of your coupling. Your feet meet the ground once more, the aid of Aemond’s hands guiding them down from their pedestal. Weak in the knees, you sink forward, sink into him, hands reaching for any inch of him. The prince meets you halfway, mouth finding your own once more, lips melting together in a fleeting kiss.

Time. You don’t have much time.

“Aemond,” you whisper, half to grab his attention, half to savour the shape of his name on your tongue. Now is the time to tell him, even if it is rushed out amid heavy breathing and on shaky legs. He needs to hear of it from you, before the threat of Aegon grabs ahold of him, thrusts the news upon him off-guard. “Aemond, there is something you must know-”

He cuts you off, a chaste kiss against your forehead before hands shift your weight backwards, resting you against the bookcase. The same hands adjust the skirts of your dress.

“Turn left down the hall and up the first staircase you see. There you shall find some guest rooms,” he steps back and takes the warmth of him too, leaving goose-skin to bloom along your neck as cold air bites at sweaty skin. “You will need to move with haste, before your sworn shield reaches that wing of the castle.”

The door to the library shuts gently at his back, and there the prince leaves you, chest heaving, lips parted, heart racing. An ache blooming between your legs and the stain of his seed sliding down your thigh.

The very same state Aegon had left you in, hours earlier.

Never has the castle been so full of life.

The flicker of candlelight brightens every hall, painting shadows over slate walls. Voices of men, women, and children carry through the space, ring through every corner. It reminds him, momentarily, of hosting an army of soldiers, mind dragging him back to the dark days and darker nights lived within Harrenhall, echoes of haunted shrieks and unpleasant sleep, men huddling under the crumbling ceiling, mere leagues away from the charred bones of a House that no longer stands. Beneath the molten breath of a dragon, it truly does not matter what name a man wears, he will never be Strong enough to endure the skin-splitting, blood-boiling, eye-popping heat.

In truth, Aemond loathes the sudden company.

Moons now he has lived at peace, Lord to the island and Prince of Dragonstone, waiting idly for the day to come where his duty as heir at last calls upon him. But then he just had to go and open that damned letter, answer a call that never should have been laid at his feet, and fly out to the dusty lands of Dorne. The new warmth in the air to blame for all his impropriety, landing him tangled with you in his own muddied desires. Since then, the prince has known no peace: his bed now too quiet, his castle now too empty, his… you now too far away.

The restlessness is what drove him to act, hours spent with his nose thrust between the pages of books, wrist cramping and fingers aching as they wielded a quill, delicate swirls filling empty pages. When he ran out of things to read, and history to recount before sending it off in ravens to the maesters at Oldtown, he took to the courtyard, determined to make men out of squawking squires, so puppy-eyed and pink-cheeked, they seemed to have hardly lived a day away from their mothers’ teats. And when that became a bore, a lost cause he dumped back on the shoulders of the master of arms, the prince took to exploring. A lonesome activity, peaceful enough to find an emblem of rest for his soul in the echo of his own footsteps bouncing off cave walls. It was there, deep in the dark corners of the island, he stumbled upon a discovery, a reason to call upon the King, an excuse to see your face. After all, where the King goes, the Queen is expected to follow.

Were matters left in his hands, the only raven sent would have been the one flying out to King’s Landing. Unfortunately, the rational words of a maester had him agreeing that this was too momentous a thing to not include all those of his bloodline, no matter if that blood be thick or thin.

And here he now stands, seeking out that quiet his castle had lost the moment their ships all docked ashore. Falsely, he had believed he would find it hidden away in the hall that houses the throne of Dragonstone, away from the rapidly filling dining hall. The unwelcome sight of a crown sitting lopsided on a head of silver hair halts his step.

“Tread carefully, brother,” Aemond watches how the other man’s shoulders rise with a jump, startled by the sudden sound of his voice announcing his arrival. No guards stand nearby, no guests watch on. It is just them, the King and the Crown Prince, and the heavy presence of Dragonstone’s seat, currently being warmed beneath Aegon’s rump. “Your throne is in King’s Landing. That one belongs to your heir, to me.”

Propped upon his throne, the King swings both legs over its side. Aemond ponders over the man’s distasteful care for grace, an image that so wholly encapsulates his attitude towards ruling the Seven Kingdoms, and feels himself fighting off a frown. How can it be that the gods chose Aegon to man the task of carrying on the dragon empire?

He, a drunken fool, a boy more interested in spreading a whore’s legs than a book’s pages. He, a graceless soldier, a threat to his own safety each time he wields a blade. He, a useless husband, a leech draining the life out of a wolf-pup, locking her away in a kennel with not a lick of water nor a stroke of affection.

Aemond could recite the pages of every book, back to front.

Aemond could thrust his sword through the chest of his uncle with one hand, while the other steered Vhagar free from plummeting through the surface of the God’s Eye.

Aemond would keep the wolf at his heel — morning, noon, evening — close by and content for eternity, free to roam beyond the four walls of a castle.

“Worry not, I just wanted to make sure you’re keeping the seat warm.” As if to make matters worse, Aegon gives him one of those smiles, the kind that flashes half of his teeth and accentuates how foolish he looks, unkempt hair swaying as he rises off the seat. The crown slides a little closer to the left, his ear caught beneath the band of it.

“The others are taking their seats at the table,” he shifts his weight, one foot to another, one hand clasped over the other behind his back — just like your ankles had been. The pommel of his sword pokes out the opening of his leather coat, pointing ahead at an approaching Aegon. Strapped to his side for nothing but purely decorative reasons, the younger brother suddenly feels the hackles rising in his neck, a need to unsheath the steel itching at his palms. No one would have to know, no one would see him hold a blade to the King’s neck. “And here you are, hiding away in a damp room, sitting in my seat, and-”

“A seat I gave you,” Aegon cuts in, a smug lilt lifting his words and delivering them harshly into Aemond’s ears. Where the younger of the two delivers accusations with the seriousness they deserve, the older brother has always thrown a blanket of humour over every argument, debasing the sentiment, luring his opponent into a false sense of safety.

“You have no child to call heir. As the eldest of your male siblings, I am next in line, by right. You have given me nothing.” Nothing but a dull ache in the head.

That respite he had come searching for, now so out of reach. It has the prince longing, wishing he could travel back in time to being burrowed between the shelves of books and the warmth between your thighs. He should have stayed longer, kept the door locked and you close, for as long as you would allow him.

But he had been spooked.

First by your sworn shield, a confirmation that your absence had been noted and the two of you were far away from the lack of watchful eyes of the Water Gardens. Then, by that look that came over your face, the words that left your mouth. Hesitance, vulnerability, shame. Aemond, there is something you must know. If this something was the reason for your shift in demeanour, he did not want to know. For once, he wanted to taste just how sweet ignorance could be.

A laugh pulls him back to the present.

A cackle, in truth. Shoulders shaking, cheeks wrinkling with the stretch of Aegon’s lips, eyes reflecting the dull flames that remain on the candles. The King paints an unsettling image, the mixture of lighthearted laughter lit beneath the growing darkness of the hall, the echoes of noise bouncing off the walls, swirling atop Aemond’s head like a murder of crows, each one waiting to spot something shiny to dive down and peck at.

An arm is thrown over his shoulder, five tight fingers clamping a grip on the back of his neck. Can you feel your wife’s fingerprints, singed into the skin you are touching? His brother fortunately cannot hear his inner thoughts, too busy bending himself at an awkward angle, his shorter stature struggling to turn the prince towards the door.

“Lighten up, brother!” With a clenched fist, Aegon delivers a weightless punch into his bicep, the hand at his neck squeezing him even closer, the King’s chest pressing into the prince’s elbow. Reluctantly, he follows in the footsteps of the elder, letting himself be led over and out of the hall. The door thuds shut at their backs, neither of them sparing at it. Out in the hallway, the world seems brighter, louder, a distant hum of chattering voices coming from the left. In sync, uncomfortably close, the pair move towards the noise. “Is the lack of whores in this decrepit place leaving your cock so lonesome you now see it as a weapon? Say the word and I’ll have your favourite madame shipped over. Or better yet, come home. We’ll visit the streets together, just like when we were boys.”

Boys. The word makes Aemond feel sick, empty stomach twisting up inside him. His older brother had never grown out of that mindset — boyish, foolish, reckless. At times, Aemond had wondered if the King had robbed him of his boyhood, kept those years for himself and left the younger nothing but the misery of being a man — grown, wise, calculated.

Two sets of guards stand at either side of the double-doorway, swords hanging at their sides, armour fixed to each inch of skin, floor-length spears clenched in their right fists. One after the other, they bow their heads as the Targaryen men pass by them.

A table stands in the centre, set with the shiniest of tableware and topped by pitchers full of wines, meads, and baskets spilling fruits down their sides, and assortments of breads and cheeses. He counts a total of six birds, roasted and sitting on silver platters up the length of the table. In the very centre, an entire pig shines pink beneath the light, an apple clamped in its mouth and a bed of leaves cushioning it upon the platter. And, gathered around it all, any guest with a name worth mentioning.

Children, cousins, siblings, wives.

Martell, Hightower, Targaryen, Stark.

Across the room, standing at her husband’s side, with a stiff-lipped smile and a barely-there attempt at engaging with the woman dishing out congratulations, stands Rhaena Targaryen. Grown a head and a half taller since the cousins had last crossed paths all those years ago, sat around a table not so different from this one, her white curls cascade down the back of her black dress, denoted with the shine of red rubies and golden stitching. In a sea of Hightower green, she stands out like an aching thumb painted in colours of her dead queen. For her audacious bravery alone, Aemond feels a smirk twitch at the corner of his lips. It falters the moment you come into focus.

A vision wrapped in green, you stand before his cousin, smile a blinding light that pulls him into its vortex, numbing him to all else that surrounds him. The emerald gowns, the mustard robes, the golden chains, the auburn hairs, it all grows mute, a dull grey beside the colour you wear, possess, exude, a rainbow that strikes its mark across dark clouds.

Your lips are moving. You are talking, with both hands clasped at your front and fingers that fidget with the rings housed upon them. A pause in conversation, an exchange of laughter. There is an air of hesitance in everything you do, standing before Rhaena Targaryen and the small bump that protrudes out her midriff. The desire to swoop in by your side, to snake his hand into your own and give those nervous fingers a solid squeeze of reassurance, to watch the stress flood down the length of your spine and melt away to torment some other body, it burns at Aemond.

But, he does not move. He cannot move. And, even in a world where he can, he doubts his presence would do any good at diffusing the tension that swells in the air around his cousin. Quite the opposite, truly, his face alone may be what drives her to at last snap and drop the forced smiles.

“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Aegon’s voice cuts in, and the room bursts back into colour. The hall grows loud, a renewed noise the prince had unknowingly blocked out the moment his eye found you. The same eye he drags away to look at his brother who has just caught him unapologetically staring at you like you are the only person in the hall. Humour still dances over his features, a daring grin spread upon his mouth as he glances between you and Aemond. “She’s even prettier on her back,” the hand at Aemond’s neck slips down, a sharp smack delivering itself upon it. “Maybe someday I’ll let you try her, brother, let you get a taste of how it feels to be king for the night, between her thighs.”

Visions of you, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, lips dropped open, burn behind Aemond’s eyelid with each blink. In the library, legs clinging to him, sweat slipping under your dress. On the bed, bare to his mouth, hands tugging him deeper by the hair. If that is what it feels to be king, he can die happily without ever knowing the weight of the Conqueror’s crown upon his head, because how could that possibly feel better?

“I was not aware you were so fond of her,” he finds himself retorting, stealing any excuse to look at you.

Helaena has reached your side, one arm linked with yours, and he can see how visibly relaxed you are in her presence, shoulders back down where they belong instead of pointing up to your ears.

“Perhaps I was not. But let’s say I’ve had a revelation of sorts.”

“Oh,” the sound escapes him dripping in… something. Envy, disappointment, confusion? He hates to give his brother any chance to pry into his own mind, if ever Aegon possessed the wits to do so, and finds himself clearing his throat, fixing his neutral expression back on, reopening his mouth. “And what would that revelation be exactly?”

Both you and Helaena part from where his cousin stands, arms still linked and eyes too caught up with one another to notice the way you both almost smack into two members of the Kingsguard, Giggling, like two young girls who share the biggest secret, you make your ways further down the length of the table, searching for the little cards that hold your names, mark your place along the table. He itches to follow after you both, to pull back your chair and offer it out to you. Maybe he could even lie, switch your card around with his brother’s to have you just that little bit closer.

“That I enjoy being king. And I want to continue being one, for as long as I like,” the reply has Aemond’s head snapping immediately back to his brother. No longer is he painted like a fool with humour, but something different. Something Aemond has never seen reflected on his features. Determination, it almost seems. “I do not want to just be king. I want to be good at it,” he continues speaking, head turning to where their grandfather stands, smiling politely back at you as he pulls out your chair. “And, if I want to be a good king, I need to be a good husband.”

Aemond wishes he never inquired about the revelation.

Is this what you had wanted to tell him? Is this what he must know? That no longer are you a pair split in two, but a union. A united force. A marriage. A good husband, and a good wife, and absolutely no one else in between. Had the only reason you had even gone to the library been to put an end to the madness transpiring between you and the prince? Aemond had given you an out, but had he given you enough time to truly think your answer through, before he put his hands on you once more?

“I do appreciate all the… kindness you have shown my wife,” your name curls over Aegon’s tongue and the sound is a poison to Aemond’s ears. Wrong, out of place, he does not deserve the grace of speaking such a pretty name. “Over the years, dancing with her at feasts, and even keeping her safe on that boat up north. I think I’ll do those things myself from now on, however, take that burden of mine off your shoulders.”

He wants to protest. Wants to say you are far from a burden. Wants to insist on his usefulness, on how he can keep you blissfully busy upon the ballroom floor while Aegon sneaks off to mess around with women of coin and drown in his cups. Wants to use Aegon’s own words against him, that a King should not waste his time travelling sea, or dirt, or anywhere else you may be, when he has the skies at his disposal.

But his tongue is made of lead and he is too weak to speak, frozen as he watches you speak across the table to his mother. Suddenly, the fact that all but himself and the King have taken their seat strikes upon his conscience. That hand claps against his back again and, though it is weaker than the last, Aemond wavers under the impact, swaying slightly.

“Come, brother,” Aegon whispers, a chuckle sneaking out. “Let us sit. Your King is eager to hear what announcement you bring.”

Seventeen.

That is the number of times your eyes have betrayed you and turned to sneak a glance at him.

He crests the top of the table, sitting by himself and staring down at his summoned guests. Power suits him, especially the kind that rolls off him in waves, pride in his eye at the way everyone is looking at him, hanging on to every last one of his words, patient anticipation for the why and the what of Aemond’s ravens. He is close. Close enough you can swell the spiced freshness you have come to recognize on his skin. All that sits between you and the prince is Aegon.

Aegon, who currently has a mouthful of pork and a hand resting, possessive, at the back of your chair. It is a distracting fact. One that robs you of the ability to pay Helaena and your good-mother the attention they deserve, only half hearing their exchanges of mutual flattery, complimentary words on dresses, and hairs, and smoothness of skins. Every so often, a young girl tugs at Helaena’s sleeve, seeking her mother’s help with cutting the food on her plate.

Otto Hightower sits across from your husband, engrossed in conversation with his three grandsons and Ser Criston, who you barely recognize out of his armour. The hand’s pendant sits pinned to the leather jerkin he doubtlessly has borrowed.

Further down the table, guests sit entranced in their own bubbles of conversation, a hollow chatter that buzzes throughout the room. The table is no longer the picture of perfection it once had been, platters of half eaten carcasses, and stains of spilled wine, and sparse grape vines housed in empty fruit-bowls.

All it takes is the clink of a knife against a glass for the bubble to burst.

Silence befalls the table as every head turns towards Aemond, expectantly, only to find him frozen and with equal question in his eye. Down the other end of the table, someone clears their throat, a chair scrapes back, and Rhaena Targaryen stands up.

Her lips are stretched wide, so far up her cheeks you can almost hear the way her skin cracks under the pressure of it. You half expect the corners of her mouth to split open. She reaches a hand down towards the table and, where you think she is going to grab at her goblet, she reaches for an empty plate and a fork.

“Pardon my intrusion,” she calls out with not a hint of apology, smug satisfaction candying her voice. All eyes follow as she steps away from her seat, yet none seem as panicked as those of her husband, who borders somewhere between scolding her and dashing after her. He remains seated, however, as the Targaryen girl travels slowly up the length of the table, plate and fork gripped tightly in her hands. “But I cannot sit still with the joy this all brings me.”

Eighteen times now.

To unsuspecting eyes, you are certain the prince appears unbothered, unshaken. The way his finger twitches over the wood beneath it tells you a different tale.

It would be so easy to reach out and intertwine your hands. Just a simple stretch of your arm, you would not even have to scoot your chair closer. If only your husband were not between you, a boulder in the shape of a man unbothered by his cousin’s display, shovelling up another mouthful of food.

“To sit here, at this table, surrounded by so much… family,” Rhaena continues her advance, coming to a halt halfway up the table. Turning her attention towards the glistening pig — or, better said, what remains of it. With no apology, she squeezes a space for herself between two seated bodies, the subtle swell of her expectant womb bumping at the shoulder of a woman you scarcely recognise — a hightower, no doubt about it, wrapped in green and the emblem of their house denoted across her left breast. “Such a beautiful site we all make. Why, I wonder, has it taken us so long to gather like this?” She pauses, only a moment, and you watch how her piercing gaze zeroes in on the man who sits at the head of the table. “Ah, that’s right. The last family feast ended in fisticuffs and.. Strong accusations. But we were just children back then, weren’t we, cousins? We have grown. I do hope so, at least. It would be such a shame to learn there is still someone among us who cannot take a mere… Joke!”

A stomach-turning noise fills the hall as you watch Rhaena stab her fork into the pig’s eye.

The left eye.

Nineteen times. Aemond’s jaw sits impossibly clenched, so much that you fear for the survival of his teeth.

Back by the pig, Rhaena raises her fork to the air in a sickening toast, eye secure in its prongs as she smiles a little wider and loudly proclaims, “To House Targaryen! Long may she reign!”

Heads shift, back and forth, no hands moving for their cups until the King himself does so, laughter bubbling out of him followed by an obnoxious, “Hear, hear!” Within an instant, glasses rise and heads tilt back, welcoming the burn of wine down their throats.

Twenty, and you see that even Aemond follows suit, though his eye remains glued on Rhaena’s back as she carries herself triumphantly to her chair.

No sooner than she scrapes herself back into place, another clink rings out. Once again, all heads turn to the prince and, once again, he greets them with his own confusion. Close by, it is Daeron who’s legs stretch to a stand, hand clasping at a goblet.

With a clearing of his throat, the youngest of the siblings commences. “I hesitated on whether I wished to deliver this news at the table, however, cousin, you have inspired me.” Ever the polite man, it would not be hard to take his words towards Rhaena as true, as honest, as appreciative. The fierce loyalty that exists for his Green family, on the contrary, has you believing it is nothing but a means for peace at the table. “After the many happy years I have spent living in Oldtown, I have decided it is time I take my leave. It is time I return home,” he pauses, glancing over at his mother. “To King’s Landing. And, if the King finds place for me, I would like to do so as a knight of the Kingsguard, under the command of the very man who taught me to wield my first blade, Ser Criston Cole.”

Without a pause for silence, Aegon is shooting out of his chair and rounding the table, pulling his brother into his side and clapping a hand over his chest, “I’m sure I’ll find a space for you! Seven hells, we can hang one of the other six and have his armour melted down and reworked to fit you. Can’t we, Ser Criston? Pick amongst yourselves, whoever’s the weakest link.” There’s an eruption of laughter, and you take it as an excuse to sneak a twenty-first look. The doubt on his face matches your own, a worry that the poor fools at the table think the King speaks in jest.

Cups raised, wine sipped, seats refilled. Aegon returns to your side a ball of energy, hands fidgeting without control. First, one lands on your thigh closest to him and clamps down on the meat of it. The same hand shoots up, fingertips brushing over your cheek, tangling in a loose thread of hair and tucking it behind your ear, pulling a little tighter than you think he intends. At last, he returns it to the spot behind your chair, fingers drumming a nervous energy into the carved wood, and a third knife meets a glass.

This time, it is Aemond, and you have your twenty-second chance to look at him.

And keep looking at him, just like everyone else is, eager ears awaiting to hear what brings them all to the island.

“I will not waste your time with unnecessary words,” but you wish he would, if only to listen to the soothing lullaby of his voice enough to memorise it a little better, refine how your sleeping mind tries replicate it when you are drowning in the waters of dreams and his is the only face you want to conjure by your side. “I have already taken enough of your time, dragging you all out here.”

Pause for laughter. And for him to shoot a pointed look down the table at his cousin and her plate-full of pig’s eye. See, he seems to be saying, I can joke.

“It is no lie that our house is half of what it used to be. War is a god, however, and it demands a sacrifice in the shape of death. The dragons we lost are not a stain on our hands, but all of those who dared mount them with treacherous intentions.”

No sound has ever haunted you as deeply as the screech of a dying dragon.

It is a memory you do best to suppress, the screech of Helaena’s she-dragon struggling to escape her attackers, horrific shrieks carried from the Dragon Pit all the way up to your window at the Keep. The momentary burst of freedom, the flash of Dreamfyre rising out the crumbling roof of the Pit, only to crash back down in one final scream, the city turning silent moments after. Your good-sister had been inconsolable for days, a mess of tears, that bond between princess and beast lost forever to the rioting of smallfolk.

“But, we can rebuild what they took from us. That is what I wish to show you all,” Aemond continues. He nods his head towards a serving wench and, with a screech, the doors of the hall open, making way for two men, a heavy chest carried between them, and a man carrying the chain of a maester around his neck. The chest travels up the hall, all the way to the prince’s side, before coming to a rest gently on the floor. With ease, he twists a key, tugs off the lock, and throws the lid open, hands disappearing within. When they emerge, it is with an oval shaped rock in each one. No, not rocks. Eggs.

The maester at Aemond’s side holds out two more eggs. Each a different colour of scaly, rough surface. There is a golden one that reminds you of Sunfyre’s own scales. A black one that, as Aemond turns it in the light, undertones of a dark green shine through, and a pale lilac egg that appears near white. The most striking of the four — and the one you feel your eyes drawn to the moment it is unveiled — a bright, sapphire blue colour.

“A clutch of four,” he says, a look of pride on his face as he stares out at expressions of amazement. “I found them in the depths of the caves. Our maester has already confirmed to me they show promise of hatching, with time and patience. We will have a new generation of dragons.”

The first to move is Alicent, who rises out of her chair, hands clasped over her heart as she makes her way over to her son. Careful of the eggs in his hands, she wraps herself around his slim waist. “Aemond,” she speaks so softly, you doubt the other end of the table hears her. Hesitant fingers reach out, halting, only to let themselves brush down the length of the golden egg at the prince’s insistence. “This is wonderful news! You have… Oh, my sweet boy, you have saved us, ensuring the future of your house.”

Those words are enough to send the room into a ruckus of applause. Voices cheer, hands bang down on the table, cups are toasted and emptied. But you pay them no mind, not even a single glance over your shoulder.

All you care to look at is Aemond, and the earnest smile that takes over his face. Happiness looks good on him. It warms the tips of his ears, the apples of his cheeks, the length of his neck, a rosy hue blooming beneath porcelain skin. He deserves to look like this all the time, radiant beneath the spotlight of people’s praise, the validation of being recognised for the things he does on behalf of his family. The rug is ripped from beneath his feet, however, with the clearing of a throat and a fourth clang of a knife.

Celebrations cease and chairs are refilled as their king comes to a stand.

“I’ve never been one for speeches. In truth, I find them to be a bore,” Aegon laughs at his own honesty, and the others are quick to follow. “But, listening to you all, well, it inspired me to give it a try. First, I want to thank all of you in this room. It’s no secret the trials and tribulations that have tested our family since my coronation. You, who fought for my claim, are the true heroes of our realm, and your king is proud of you all. If only my father were still here, I’m sure he’d feel the same, pride for those who defended the heir he chose with his dying breath,” a choked back laugh echos from down the table as Rhaena saws her steak knife through the eye. “If any doubt still remains towards my claim, I believe my dear brother’s discovery is a sign from the gods, the gift of more dragons. And, for that, I thank you, Aemond.”

“It is I who must thank you, brother,” the prince interrupts, eye looking just past where the King stands, cup in hand, and at where you sit, hand tugging at your husband’s sleeve and an unspoken pleading furrowing your brows. It seems I owe my brother some gratitude, Aemond’s voice replays in your mind, so real you can almost feel the shelves at your back, the smell of dust and books in the air, the sound of Ser Arryk knocking at the door. “For naming me as your heir and gifting me Dragonstone.”

“I’m glad you see it that way, brother. These dragon eggs are the dawn of a new era for us all, one of prosperity,” heads that nod in sync, radiant joy still beaming from Alicent’s face. The smile on Aemond’s face, however, is gone, stolen by Aegon. “But they are not the only gift the gods have favoured my reign with.”

The urge to drag your husband back down into his seat spikes at those words. You want to shovel food into his mouth, fill his stomach with wine, sew his lip shut. Anything, before he says something foolish, something he should not.

But as you tug harsher at the sleeve of his doublet, the King misunderstands. He turns to you, fingers twisting themselves in an uncomfortable grip with your own and pulling you to stand at his side, that same hand curling around your back and holding you tight against him.

“Apologies, it seems my wife wants to help me do the honours,” you shake your head, shooting Aegon a look he does not even notice, too busy smiling out at the table full of his family. Too busy pulling you that little closer, both of your sides smushed together. Too busy smoothing the hand that still houses his glass down the golden embroidery of your dress, an honour to his own dragon. Too busy bringing his hand to a stop atop your lower stomach, knuckles brushing against the green velvet. “After many years of marriage, the gods have at last blessed my wife’s womb with a child of our own. A new heir.”

If anyone cheers, if anyone raises their glass alongside the King, if anyone congratulates you, you do not hear them. You do not see them.

All you see is Aemond, frozen in his chair, face a mirror for anger, and white-knuckling his grip on his chalice, refusing to drink, refusing to toast.

Refusing to look anywhere else but your sorry eyes.

You send a letter, the eve of your return.

I did not wish for you to find out like that, from him. You must believe me.

By morning, no reply arrives. By noon, no reply arrives. By evening, no reply arrives. As a day turns to two, and two turns into a moon, no reply arrives.

The ravens no longer perch upon your window.

+ extra hyde !

this week, a new bombshell has entered the villa! so aegon bestie is trying to be a better king/husband. how are we feeling about that, chat? definitely don't see this being a point of contention.

in completely unrelated news, rumour has it that taste by sabrina carpenter can be heard on dragonstone at full volume, on repeat, 24/7. sources say the noise is coming from prince aemond targaryen's room.

my irl bestie is reading this fic on ao3 & now i'm so hyperaware of any smut i write. hopefully, i rectify my own apprehension towards writing the filth these two deserve in time for next chapter, because they're supposed to fuck, no more of the silly couplings they've done so far. thankfully my bestie and i are long distance right now so i won't have to look her in a the eye for a while.

see you next month <3

#aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell smut #house of the dragon smut #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen series #aemond targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction

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ruerock · 1 year

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🧸 !

#some small update bc i havent talked in the tags for a while!!#i got a ricecooker for my birthday!!! :D #and a haircut!#and im gonna be dyeing my hair blue!#my wardrobe does not match blue in the slightest #im gonna have to improvise #thank god browns go with everything #i ordered a queenie keychain and it came out nicely!#now that i know its good i can start thinking of the barbie ones #ill probably post the chibis i made first and then announce them as keychains #i might sell them on ko-fi at first and if theyre selling i might even consider making my own website? ;w;#like store website #would be a small dream come true #do you guys vibe with kofi? i heard its easy to purchase from there and stuff #i plan on some color theory oc merch too <3 #im drinking tea right now #ive been watching shadow and bone and the amount of love i have for inej. unmeasurable #oh and i saw shazam 2 but its not better than 1 in my opinion )):#i was really counting on um. seeing billy LMAO #like out of shazam form #and he was there for like 4 scenes for a few seconds literally heartbreak #it was fun other than this but i doo have some scenes that i wish they just did differently #im curious what did others think? i heard it was better than 1 thats why i think my expectactions were so high #guys i hate being a hater!!! i always want to see my favorite things do well #i feel so bad having criticism about stuff not even funny!!!!!#also next adopt batch coming soon #mushroom theme!!!! <3 #also ive been playing so much dreamlight valley #115 hours in this game already how does he do it #i still have dream drop distance to finish like me @ me PLEASE

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dreamerdagn · 1 year

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Dropout I know you thought this was a fun and funny haha joke but you can’t do this to me, not with the Tumbl UX continuing its downward slide

#dropout #breaking news #dropout's app is lovely btw #I literally saw this right after deleting the tumblum app #the floating post icon wasting space was driving me nuts #I know the whole tumblr company would probably need a bigger staff and more resources than dropout has #I know this is a dream that can't come true

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yueebby · 4 months

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𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 – 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

synopsis. period piece, forbidden love

contents. ooc, angst (eventual comfort), yandere emperor!gojo, lovesick!gojo, servant!reader, obsessive behavior (5k words of gojo pining), lowkey unreliable narrator, time skips

notes. inspired by the apothecary diaries and this post. loosely based off of ancient japan (this is basically its own world). this is the prologue to the series where everything can generally be read as a standalone ! (fic under the cut)

series masterlist

emperor!gojo who broke a hundred year tradition to take you as his only lover. despite your role as a concubine, everyone in the imperial palace knew he was going to make you his empress.

emperor!gojo who had not meant to fall in love with you, but you have managed to somehow charm him. a man that single handedly brought his own clan to power– weak in your hands. hushed whispers around the imperial palace call you a witch, but they never reach your ears. not as long as he is alive.

emperor!gojo shamelessly showering you with love. he pays no mind that it is highly frowned upon, he will have his hands on you every time you are in the same room.

emperor!gojo who is livid when there is an attempt on your life. his usual ocean eyes turned to blue flames like a wild animal. servants and clan elders alike scurry under his gaze. the assailant is taken care of by his own hands.

emperor!gojo who is forced to satiate the clan elders into submission by taking in another concubine from an influential clan. he insists to you that it is no more than a political formality. who are you to meddle into imperial affairs?

emperor!gojo who can’t help himself and ends up falling for another girl who his clan elders demand he must wed. she is much younger than you, beautiful and is well bred; a perfect match for the emperor.

emperor!gojo whose frequent visits to you come to an end, forcing you to move from his chambers and back to the consorts’ pavilion.

There was a time when you had everything. A place to call home in the Inner Court, a beautiful palace with anything you could have ever dreamed of. Servants, admirers, riches; you had it all. But what was most dear to you was your lover– a man so divine, many thought he was directly blessed by the hand of God. It was too good to be true. A woman of lowly birth like you, paid as homage for the sins of her clan against the new reigning family of Japan, becoming a concubine of the Heavenly Emperor.

You remembered it all too well.

His brilliant mind that once strategized the downfall of the previous imperial family, calculating its next move in a game of Go against you. You can still remember the shock on his face upon his first defeat. The way he would keep you from leaving to fulfill your other duties until he was satisfied, eyebrows furrowing as he struggled to keep up with you. No matter how hard he tried, you remained victorious. It drove him mad.

You remembered the stolen kisses while you made your rounds in the Inner Palace with your ladies in waiting. It took you quite a while to learn to tune out their giggles every time the Emperor dips you down to taste your lips in broad daylight. The grin that he wore after was enough to leave your legs weak.

Above all, you'll always remember how safe you felt in his strong, reassuring embrace. You’ve seen him train, and it was no wonder the Gojo clan rose to power so quickly as a result of one man. The way he wields the katana is unlike any man on the face of the earth. Those arms were your sanctuary. You can still vividly recall the attempt on your life, orchestrated by a traditionalist incensed by the Gojo clan's swift ascent to power. The emperor, outraged by the assassination plot, personally saw to the man's execution.

However, the damage was done and it caused great strain in the Imperial Palace.

To appease the old geezers that were forced out of power, Emperor Gojo had taken in another concubine from one of the Big Three families of Japan— a beautiful Zenin girl. Her flowing, silky hair and saccharine voice enchanted everyone in the Inner Palace, captivating the Emperor, most of all. She was younger than you, with perkier breasts and soft skin that was enough to capture the attention of any man.

You don’t blame her for taking the Emperor’s attention away. Though you would be a liar if you said it did not hurt you. Deep down, you cannot deny the agony that sears your soul, realizing that the only semblance of love you've ever tasted remains unrequited. With a heavy heart, you resign yourself to the bitter truth of your existence, knowing all too well the cruel confines of your place in this world.

You were merely a pawn, and the Emperor did not want you anymore.

That was made clear months later when you received a scroll from the Emperor’s advisor, a man you were once well acquainted with, Geto Suguru.

“What is this?” You asked him quietly, your heart silently begging the Heavens it was not what you had suspected it to be. The black haired man in front of you does not respond, and you feel something pierce into your heart. Despite being a part of the Emperor’s court, it was rare that you received letters directly.

Your suspicions were confirmed when your shaky hands finally opened the scroll to read the familiar kanji written by your beloved.

“The Emperor decrees the termination of your role as concubine." Geto spares you the trouble of deciphering the characters neatly written in ink. “In his mercy, you are to be moved as a servant in the Outer Court. You are to serve the Imperial Physician.”

What you remember most was the silence. The Emperor’s silence after the stressful months you had to endure alone. The silence shared between you and Geto when you were forced out of the Imperial Court. All that was left was the sound of your heart breaking and the wood creaking underneath Geto’s feet as he walked away. Satoru never bothered to see you off.

Seasons change and by the next spring, you’re busying your hands with collecting herbs for the Imperial Physician, a man by the name of Yaga Masamichi. He is a kind man, pitying you enough to fill your days with laborious tasks to prevent your mind from wandering to thoughts of the unfortunate turn your life has taken. He is even generous enough to supply you with a new wardrobe of clothing full of light fabrics, a luxury you thought you would lose in the Outer Palace. Though the initial humiliation has worn off with the passing of time, you are still constantly reminded of your fall from grace.

Looks by the mix of condolences and disgust are shared when you roam the walls of the Outer Palace. You hear whispers of how the Emperor is infatuated with his newer, shinier toy. It is enough for you to swallow the bile that makes its way up your throat.

“It is no wonder the Emperor tossed away a wildflower like her in exchange for a cherry blossom. He needed someone to rival his own greatness.” A particular comment stopped you in your tracks. Your grip tightens on the woven basket in your hand filled with medicinal herbs you had collected earlier that morning.

“Have some pity on her.” Another eunuch whispers. Your breath falters, but you continue your walk with your head held up. You’ve heard the rumors. The beautiful Zenin Himiko has charmed the Emperor enough that there are rumors of a royal marriage to come. It doesn’t help that the Emperor has remained monogamous to her since he had banished you from his court.

A comforting hand links itself with your arm, “Ignore them. I saw Yaga shooing away a crowd of suitors that were lined up for your hand.” Ieiri Shoko scoffs, secretly sending you a wink. She has been studying medicine under Yaga for nearly a decade, eagerly accepting you as a companion upon your arrival. You feel your cheeks heat up at her flattery. You know she’s just trying to make you feel better.

Although your beauty never faded, it seems as though you are no longer sought after in the marriage market. Not that it matters, considering the new life that you’re living. You’re now a personal servant to the Imperial Physician, leaving no time to worry about suitors and such. Your days are filled with good work— tending to Yaga’s cherished garden that he has sowed for decades rather than frivolous games and attending the Emperor. It may not be glorious compared to your former life, but it was the best a woman of your status could receive.

When you and Shoko return to Yaga’s estate, you’re surprised to see the somber look that has settled on his aging features. Shoko makes an offhand comment that he will age faster if he keeps scowling. She receives a scolding.

“Is something the matter?” You gently place down your basket full of herbs.

Yaga sighs, calloused hands rolling up a scroll with the Imperial Seal. “It appears the Emperor’s consort has fallen ill and His Majesty commands my presence in the Imperial Palace.”

The Royal Consort. The woman that dethroned you: Zenin Himiko.

“I understand.” You nod, maintaining your composure while two sets of eyes scrutinize you with keen observation. It was only natural the emperor wanted the best doctor in the country for his object of affection. “Shall I close up the shop while you journey into the Inner Palace?”

Yaga shakes his head, “That won’t be necessary. I will have Shoko act as my stand-in.” He remarks with a quick glance in her direction “You, on the other hand, will accompany me.”

Your eyes widen.

“You cannot be serious.”

“Typically, one of my apprentices would accompany me on such journeys. However, now that I have acquired a personal attendant,” He gestures towards you with a flick of his hand, “It shall no longer be necessary.” As he speaks, he runs his hand absentmindedly through his well trimmed beard, gaging your reaction.

"I—" Your words falter and fade away. "Yes, sir," you respond, inclining your head in deference, a stark reminder of your place. While you may have concealed it, you were seething with humiliation. Returning to the Imperial Palace after a year of exile to serve the woman who took your spot was mortifying beyond measure.

“Very well. Pack enough for one week’s time. I doubt the Emperor would have called me if this was a light ailment.” He says gruffly. “We leave at dawn.” His gaze shifted to the horizon outside.

1 YEAR AGO

“Your Grace,” You purr at the feeling of his large hands scratching your head.

The smile that rests on his face is almost ravenous. “Yes, my love?”

“I think—“ A soft sigh escapes your lips when he presses on your weak points. “I should g-go.”

His ministrations stop almost immediately.

“Go?” His eyes peer down at you in his lap. It is now that you realize the weight of his piercing gaze. “Have I commanded you to leave yet?”

“No, but—”

“Then you have nowhere else to be.” He huffs, unintentionally puffing his cheeks out. You stifle the giggle that nearly escapes from your lips. He vaguely resembles a pufferfish– or so you think. Though you’ve never seen the round creature with your very own eyes, you’ve heard that the delicacy was something only members of the aristocratic class would feast on.

Your mouth waters at the thought.

“What are you thinking about that could possibly be so important? Keep your eyes on me,” A strong hand squishes your cheeks together and firmly guides your face back upon him.

You should be embarrassed; ashamed at the intimate position His Majesty has trapped you in. The way your head is tucked away in his lap as he peers down at you, nothing to shield you away from him. It was incredibly scandalous, considering that you were an unmarried woman! But it seemed like the Emperor had taken no mind towards it. You would even dare to say that he was enjoying it, with the way his lips quirk upward at the sight of you squirming.

“Your Grace,” You repeat, determined to free yourself from his hold. His eyebrows furrow.

“Satoru,” He reminds you. You purse your lips. The position you hold in his court is simply not high enough to grant you the privilege of calling him by his given name.

“Your Grace,” You try again, the title rolling off of your tongue naturally. A man like him did not deserve any title less than.

“You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Indulge a man, won’t you?” He pouts down at you. As stubborn as ever, you don’t relent.

“I would be overstepping my boundaries as your consort to call you as such. That privilege is reserved for your future bride.” You take advantage of his guard let down to sit up and escape his hold. If he could have caught you, he made no effort.

“I am a simple man.” He follows you to your vanity. A giggle escapes your mouth. He is anything but. “I want my love to call me by my name.”

You turn around to cup his cheek. He eagerly leans into your touch, sighing happily at the contact.

“I wonder how Lord Kento and Geto would react to you like this.” You tease, a smile unknowingly painting itself on your lips.

Satoru’s face falls, features morphing into an appalled expression. You watch him close the distance between you through the mirror.

“Kento?” His voice had a dangerous lilt in it. You blink, unsure what spurred on the sudden tension in the room. “Since when were you so comfortable around him? He cannot satisfy you like I can.” He reminds you of the man’s castrated state as an eunuch. You wince.

“I have not gotten comfortable,” You’re careful to pick your words. Gojo’s possessiveness was something that was not easily tamed. “He simply provides good conversation while you are away.The palace is far too big and lonely while you’re away dealing with clan matters.”

The only response you get is a quiet grumble. “You’re lucky that you’re pretty.” His large hand creeps its way into your hair again, undoing the hairstyle your ladies in waiting had spent a copious amount of time on earlier that morning. Gojo carefully plucks the extravagant silver hairpin from your hair, the dangling pearls clicking softly at the sudden movement. His hands slowly make their way down to the kimono that you are wearing, hands ready to undo the obi.

Your hands softly hover his, “I fear that our roles have been reversed. Should it not be me who gets you unready, Your Grace?”

He chuckles and through the mirror you can see a smirk make his way to his lips, “I’d let you undress me any day. Just say the word, beloved.”

You roll your eyes, but allow him to continue. It was moments like these with the Emperor that led you on to believe that there was a semblance of love between the two of you.

How wrong you were.

PRESENT DAY

The sun has yet to meet the horizon when you arrive at the Inner Palace. The horse-drawn carriage that you and Yaga had taken is the only sound at the scene, clopping down the stone road and back to the Inner Court. You miss the serenity of the beautiful palace you once resided in, knowing that it will be bustling with life in just a few short hours.

In front of the large doors of the primary ceremonial hall where the Emperor spends most of his time, stands Lord Nanami, a counsellor to the Emperor himself. Time has only made his face sterner, but his neatly styled hair and blue and yellow dyed court attire remained the same. He waits patiently while you and Yaga make your way up the flight up stairs that lead up to the hall.

“I am glad to see you in good health, Yaga.” Nanami bows.

The man next to you promptly waves his politeness off, thanking him for his hospitality. You stand silently while the two men engage in conversation regally.

Lord Nanami sighs, “His Majesty has been plagued by stress lately. To say I am relieved by your presence would be an understatement.” His statement is a subtle reminder that you must harden your heart upon entering the palace walls. The meticulously built walls were no longer a sanctuary for you, rather, a painful testament that you were no longer wanted.

Yaga lets out a hearty laugh and it reveals a rare sight, Lord Nanami’s lips curving upwards by a slight. “I highly doubt the boy would be glad to see me. The appearance of the Imperial Physician is portentous.” He scratches his beard. You tilt your head in confusion at how he referred to the Emperor.

“I suppose, yet I am intrigued to find out how he will react upon seeing his object of affection flourishing anew despite the sting of frost.” Nanami audibly wonders. Even a fool could understand his eloquent comparison. The Emperor would be thrilled to see his consort in full bloom once again. You pray that the Heavens would grant you some mercy from witnessing such a scene.

“Youth,” Yaga shakes his head, chuckling to himself before regaining composure. “I mustn't keep the Emperor waiting. [Name], please gather the herbal ingredients to treat the young Consort as you seem fit. I shall confer with His Majesty and meet you in her chambers to declare a proper diagnosis.”

You bow, “Yes sir.”

While Yaga prepares to enter the doors where The Heavenly Emperor resides, your eyes couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the large bronze doors.

“You seem well,” Nanami addresses you for the first time in over a year. Your eyes trail from the Emperor’s door to the blonde man in front of you. “Allow me to guide you to our herbal stock.” Nanami offers you his arm as you start to make your way down the stairs.

You take it, lightly holding his arm. “Thank you, Lord Nanami. Time away from the Inner Palace has been like a breath of fresh air,” You respond, ensuring your voice carries no malice. You hear the large palace doors from behind you open, the metal creaking loudly in the quiet dawn.

“I must ask you to call me Kento,” He leads you down the stone steps. “We are old friends, it is strange to hear anything but.”

You focus on your steps down the stairs, only responding once your feet meet the solid ground, “I fear that our social statuses have changed since then. It would be the cause of a scandal should anyone hear I am calling the Imperial Counselor by his given name. Your admirers would have my head on a stick.”

“Your imagination is amusing as always, [Name].” He gives you a closed eyes smile. You huff.

“I am only speaking the truth!” You insist. He chuckles.

“It is quite refreshing to see both you and Yaga again. I’m not sure how long it has been since I have been at the imperial physician.”

You gape at his confession. “You mustn't skip your annual visits to the physician, Kento. It is in the best interest of your health!” You lightly scold him, lifting your hand to flick his forehead. It was a force of habit. “Perhaps if I have time after treating the Consort, I shall do a check up on you.”

Nanami clears his throat at your comment, the twinkle in his eyes dissipating as if your direct touch had burned him.

“I would rather not lose my head.” He mumbles, eyes scanning the courtyard around the two of you. You knit your eyebrows, confused.

Nanami leaves you to fulfill his duties once you arrive at the Royal Kitchens to retrieve all the necessary items to treat Consort Himiko. You are glad that he did not accompany you into the kitchens to prepare Consort Himiko’s herbal soup.

The memory of it still irks you.

“You’re late,” One of Consort Himiko’s ladies in waiting snaps just as you enter the kitchen. You look up to see a young girl, dressed in a light purple kimono. It must be Himiko’s signature, you note. It was strange to see someone outside of the Imperial family donning the color, but you suppose it was only a grand display of Himiko’s influence.

“You’re a lot more plain than I anticipated,” The other lady in waiting quirks an eyebrow, eyeing your appearance. You furrow your eyebrows, shocked by their rudeness.Their undying loyalty to their Lady was enough to fuel an unspoken hatred for you. Though you’re not sure that the two coincide, you don’t blame them.

The two are mixing a concoction that you don’t recognize to be used to treat the sick. The taller one adds some aromatics and herbs in and you see the other one unwrap a cloth to reveal a rare delicacy from the West. Cocoa, you believed they called it.

Then it hits you– the two are not making a medicinal soup for their Lady, rather they are making an aphrodisiac! The image that conjures in your head makes you blanch. Back in the Outer Palace, Shoko had shown you the effects of the stimulant (you shiver at the memory of her shoving a treat laced with it into your mouth). It was certainly a night to remember.

“How pathetic,” You mutter underneath your breath, quickly rushing to obtain the ingredients you needed without making conversation with the two girls.

Fortunately, they pay you no further attention for the time you’re in the kitchen.

“Please excuse me,” You bow upon entering the Emperor’s chambers. Despite the Consort’s Pavilion being similar in size to a small town, you remember spending most of your time in the Emperor’s chambers rather than your own. It was probably the same case with Consort Himiko. You slowly place the tray carrying broth and medicinal herbs to treat the Consort down on the circular wooden table in the middle of the room.

Out of curiosity, your eyes can’t help but soak in the Emperor’s room. Not much has changed since you’ve left. His Majesty’s preference for minimalist decorations have stayed the same, along with his natural musk that fills your nose. You feel your face heat up at your own thoughts. How could you think of such a thing when you are about to meet his new lover?

Your gaze moves to his bed, where Consort Himiko resides– only to find nothing.

“Huh?”

You observe his bed, silk sheets neatly made, seemingly untouched. The sounds of your sock clad feet patter on the wooden floor as you make your way to feel the bedsheets for any signs of warmth, but you are met with nothing.

“Don’t you know that entering the Emperor’s chambers can be punishable by death?” A deep voice from behind you causes you to jump in your spot.

Your guard is immediately raised, head whipping to the sound. In hindsight, you should have never agreed to accompany Yaga on his trip. It was a foolish idea all along, you think as all of the air in your lungs dissipates upon seeing your former lover.

Standing at the entrance of his own sleeping quarters is Gojo Satoru, his frame big enough to tower over the doorway. His arms are crossed over each other, electric blue eyes focused on nothing else but you. You press your thighs together tightly to avoid squirming anymore than you are. He has loosened his dark blue kimono to expose some of his hardened chest, a sight any woman in the nation would die to catch a glimpse. Even underneath all of the fabric, anyone can see his divinely sculpted physique.

“Your Grace,” You waste no time to dip your body deeply, praying that he will allow you to keep your head by sunset. “I apologize for the intrusion, I was under the pretense that Consort Himiko resided in your quarters–” Your voice loses itself in your throat when you see his shadow quickly encroaching.

“Himiko stays in her Pavilion,” He towers over you, eyes gazing down on you. “But one might suspect that you already knew that.”

Your eyes frantically meet his feet, desperate to salvage what was left of your dignity, “I assure you that I speak of the truth, Your Majesty.”

When he doesn’t respond, you slowly lift your head.

The flustered look on your face must have been amusing to him, as he makes his way closer to you, bending down to interrogate you further.

“Is that so?” He hums, enjoying every second of cornering you into his chambers. The back of your legs have met his bed, trapping you. You inhale sharply, trying to keep your breaths even, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.

He continues, “You’re awfully skittish for someone who was happily skipping around my territory in the arms of another man just earlier.” His predatory gaze seems to darken.

“Kento?” When his name leaves your lips, the man in front of you grits his teeth. You turn your head to the side, deliberately avoiding him. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, but I don’t see how Kento and I’s relationship is any of your concern,” He does not take your actions well, his gaze searing into you.

“It certainly is when the woman in question is you,” Gojo’s voice loses its feral lilt, distress flashing across his face. There’s a newfound desperation in it that chips away at your resolve. His hand raises to your face so slowly, as if he did not want to startle you.

“This is wrong. I– I saw a couple of servants earlier making aphrodisiacs, perhaps you could have unknowingly consumed them.” You tell him, frantic eyes meeting him. It is not unusual for couples to use aphrodisiacs, you know that after under Yaga. The Emperor must have mistaken the laced dessert for his usual.

He shakes his head, running a hand through his white hair.

“You are mistaken. This is solely your effect on me.” He promises. You could barely believe his words, stuck between feeling offended or shocked.

“How could you stand to be so cruel?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. There are no tears in your eyes this time. “I am not a courtesan you can buy for the night,” You snap, pointing a harsh finger to his chest.

“What do you mean?” He sounds breathless.

“Whatever do I mean?” You scoff, a dry laugh escaping your mouth. “For a year, all I have gotten is pity from the world, because you decided I was no longer entertaining. You could have at least banished me away yourself. Instead, you sent Suguru who couldn’t even look me in the eye! Don’t you know how humiliating that is?” With every word that left your lips, more venom seemed to drip. Anger was prickling you all over, taking control of the rational part of you.

Gojo seemed to be taken aback by your outburst. It was far too late to take anything back now. If you lose your head by nightfall, so be it.

You dig a deeper grave for yourself when you take advantage of his moment of weakness to flee. He’s quick to react, attempting to grip your wrist.

“Wait, [Name], beloved–” He uses that all too familiar term of endearment, but it doesn't deter you.

You accidentally bump into the circular wooden table placed in the middle of the room. What an awful place to keep it, watching in horror as the Consort’s medicine shatters on the floor. To add salt to the wound, a vase you recognize to be specially gifted to the Emperor from a foreign nation tips off too before you can catch it. The sound of porcelain shattering fills the room.

“[Name]! Are you alright?” You hear Gojo ask from behind you, but you run over the broken shards before he can catch you.

Had you bothered to pay closer attention, you would have noticed articles of your clothing and a couple of your missing belongings littered all over the room– creating a faux impression that you never really left the palace.

Days passed by after the incident, and luckily, your head was still attached to your body despite offending and nearly endangering the Emperor. Yaga’s disappointment when you had told him what happened was made evident when he sent you home early after hearing the events that transpired, insisting that he can handle the Consort on his own. Normally you would have argued, but you knew better than to inflict Yaga’s wrath.

“Now you’ve really done it,” Shoko whistles lowly, walking in from the front of Yaga’s shop.

You hide your face in your hands, “I made an absolute fool of myself, didn’t I?”

“A fool? No. A conspirator against the Emperor? Perhaps.” She dangles a scroll with a familiar seal on it. The Gojo Clan’s familiar emblem reflects off of the sunlight spilling into the room. Your heart drops.

“Oh, they’ll have my head.” You moan, hands instinctively lifting to shield your neck.

“Though I’m quite impressed that Yaga only sent you back here. He used to have worse punishments.” She shudders before impatiently unraveling the scroll. You watch her eyes gradually widen as they read the contents of the letter. The scroll falls from her hand.

You rush to it, desperate to read your fate.

To [Last Name] [First Name],

Greetings and prosperity unto you.

By the mandate of the heavens and the authority vested in Us, We hereby extend Our solemn words to you, [Last Name] [First Name], servant of the realm, in acknowledgement of your debt to the Empire.

In response to your unmeritorious deeds, The Emperor bestows upon you His imperial pardon from capital punishment. In consideration of your obligations and the harmony of the realm, it is hereby decreed that you shall serve as an indentured servant to the Imperial Household for a period commensurate with your debt. During this time, you shall labor faithfully and diligently under the supervision of Our Heavenly Emperor, performing duties essential to the welfare of the Empire.

By fulfilling your obligations with diligence and humility, you may yet earn favor and esteem in Our sight.

The Imperial Court

A loud gasp escapes your mouth.

You feel your legs weaken, your emotions running wild. Shoko’s eyes meet yours, mirroring your frantic gaze. In that moment, you are met with the same suffocating sense of hopelessness.

extra!

gojo was kicking his feet happily as he watched suguru draft out his letter to you. suguru thought it rather cruel, while the white haired male was too busy purring happily as he fantasized about having you back into his grasp.

previous chapter | next chapter [coming soon!]

#very ohshc esque with the way she is now indebted to him TT #ahh this entire series is so self indulgent im sorry #kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojou satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #yandere!gojo satoru #royal!au #jjk angst #gojo angst #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you

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ja3yun · 4 months

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To, Future You | S.JY

sim jaeyun x fem!reader warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f. rec), fingering, spitting, body worshipping, whimpering and whiney jake, mutual pining, confessions, mentions of alcohol, anti-men in some parts, not proof-read anything else lmk! wc: 16.1k synopsis: in your fourth year of secondary school, your home room teacher made you write a 'to future you' letter to someone in your class. while you had no idea who to write it to, sim jaeyun knew exactly who would receive his letter. he just never expected it to actually come through 10 years later. a/n: hi! so this was something that has been sitting in the back of my mind for a while. i saw a tiktok that was someone writing a confession letter and ten years later receiving it so that is the inspo (pls if anyone knows it please send me the link so i can tag it!) i hope you enjoy this, after i post this i am taking a little break and stepping back so i can focus on my heeseung series! there might be some random fics here and there but i wont be posting as much (sorry!) as always, feedback, likes, reblogs, and comments are all welcome <3 ilysm

Your phone vibrates on your cluttered office desk, a blessed interruption from the mundane chore of sifting through emails. With a sigh, you pick it up, expecting yet another spam message or discount offer. However, as you enter your pin and swipe down the notification, your curiosity piques, and your posture straightens instinctively, uncrossing your legs and firmly planting both feet on the ground.

The screen displays the sender as 'To Future You'. Memories flood back from a decade ago when your teacher, Mr. Yang, initiated a unique project in your fourth year of secondary school. Instead of the typical 'what I think will happen in 10 years' pitch, Mr. Yang offered a more intriguing idea that got the students on board.

Your class was tasked with writing letters to someone else in the class, detailing how you perceived them then and what you believed they would become in the future. Mr. Yang's intention was to leave everyone with a lasting memory, knowing that some would stay for fifth and sixth years, while others would move on to college or the workforce.

He didn’t pair you all up, leaving you to your own devices; it could be a friend or someone random, the only stipulation being that it was someone from your home room.

Honestly, you hadn’t given it much thought at the time, sending one to the girl next to you with hopes that her dreams would come true. All your friends were in different classes, so you couldn’t even enthusiastically engage with the exercise.

However, you never expected to get one yourself. Your home room was filled with the popular girls and guys who were a world away from you and your quiet life. While they were out partying and having fun, you were studying to get into University, promising yourself a life of fun after you had graduated with friends you made along the way.

Of course, that’s not how it worked and you found yourself in a job you hated with bosses who make sly remarks about you and your competency even though you are much better at your job than any of these middle-aged losers. What’s that song from Bowling For Soup? High School Never ends, and by fuck were they right.

So as you stare at the unread email, you brace yourself for the torment from school to haunt you now as a 26-year-old. There was one girl from class who hated you, convinced that you ratted her out for smoking in the girls’ bathroom, which by the way, you had no part in; perhaps this letter is cursing you out wrongfully one final time.

Yet, the letter is not anything of the sort, leaving your palms sweaty at the unexpected turn.

Hi, Y/N.

How are you doing? From the looks of it, you’re struggling with what to write. Me too if I am being honest. This is a bit weird, isn’t it? I feel so strange writing these words when you're just a few seats away.

Anyway, hi again!

I don't know why I'm pouring my thoughts out to you of all people, but…I trust you. You’re genuinely nice and kind to everyone, even when others aren't :( sorry about that, by the way, for my friends. They can be real pissheads, and I personally hope they live unfulfilling lives. Once I leave next month, I pray I never have to see them ever again.

Is that too harsh?

Sorry, I should get back on track. You look super pretty today! I noticed you got a new bracelet. Was it for your birthday? Come to think of it, your birthday must have just passed if you're receiving this 10 years later, so happy 26th birthday, I guess! It’s so strange to imagine you as a 26 year old, or me for that matter lol.

I’m supposed to predict what I see your life like in the future, right? I think you’re an amazing lawyer (that is what you’re going to study at University, isn’t it?) I peer-reviewed one of your English papers once and you made me totally change my mind on The Woman in Black, I mean, she shouldn’t have tormented him but she was also grieving. I knew then that you could see the good in everyone, exactly what a good lawyer should be. Umm…you’re probably happily living with your husband who you met in a lecture and bonded over some conversation about how to save the world or what near extinct animal you should fundraise for.

I’m jealous of him just thinking about it.

Can I make a confession? Since I don’t think we’ll miraculously become friends and you’ll somehow read this while I sit beside you. It’s actually the real reason I’m writing this to you (I lied earlier about not knowing, I just didn’t know if I would say this part lol.)

I like you, as in, like you - like you. I have since first year when you walked into homeroom with your hair tied up and your Hello Kitty backpack. I might even be in love with you, as much as a 16 year old boy can be. You’re so passionate and beautiful that I can’t keep my eyes off you. Even now in the computer room, I’m staring straight at you and you haven’t even looked my way once. It always goes like this but I don’t blame you for it, don’t worry! It’s my fault, I should stop being a coward and ask you out, or at least try and be friends with you.

I’m leaving at the end of fourth year, I hate this place, to be honest. I have no idea what I am going to do or who I am and I’m scared as fuck. I wish in another life I could have you by my side through adulthood. I think it’s the only way I can cope, it’s the only reason I survived this hellhole. One look at you, and I feel safe, like the world isn’t crashing down on me. That’s weird, isn’t it? To think that about someone you don’t speak to.

This is coming off as creepy, like I don’t stalk you or anything, don’t worry. I just can’t express my feelings well but I guess it’s as simple as:

I think I love you, I hope no matter what happens in the future you have the life you deserve, and if I do happen to build up the courage at the end of the year to confess and you fall in love with me and I am in fact that husband I spoke about earlier (although way cooler and less of a knob) then do not speak about this lol.

Take care of yourself, Y/N. The world is so much brighter with you in it.

~ Your secret admirer.

LOL imagine I left you hanging like that :P

~ It’s Jaeyun (Sim, not Lee)

You stare blankly at your phone screen, the words swirling before your eyes like a whirlpool of emotions. A tidal wave crashes over you, leaving you paralysed in your seat, suspended in a moment of disbelief and regret. It's as if time itself has come to a standstill, and the world around you fades into insignificance as you grapple with the weight of Jaeyun's confession.

How could you not have noticed? How could you have been so blind to his feelings, so oblivious to the subtle signs of affection that now seem painfully obvious in hindsight? Jaeyun, of all people, someone who had offered you a smile while his friend group glared at you, or how he volunteered to be your dancing partner during PE, all that time you figured he was doing it to mock you when in fact, he was someone who had seen you for who you truly were when others merely glanced over you.

Jaeyun had been there all along, quietly observing, silently hoping for a chance to make his feelings known.

And you wish he did because out of all the popular students in your year, he was the one you would have been opened to. You had a crush on him like any girl does in their youth, but that's all you thought it was, an unrequited crush that could never be anything more than that. Yet, here he was telling you he liked you, so casually, in a letter he wrote at 16.

In his predictions, he was right about one thing - you are a lawyer, a damn good one at that. It’s amazing how he even knew that considering you don’t remember telling him nor did you share any inclination with even your friends that you were planning to go to Uni for it. It wasn’t for any reason other than usually when you tell someone you are going to do something, you end up never achieving it.

However, he missed the mark on the marriage front. Between the demands of University and your intensive full-time job, which frequently spills over into overtime, your romantic life has mostly consisted of fleeting Tinder dates and occasional hookups. Yet, it's not a life steeped in sorrow, marriage and children have never ranked high on your list of priorities, so you harbour no discontentment with your current relationship status, not really...

Suppressing the lump in your throat, you resort to the timeless ritual that any single woman in her mid-twenties indulges in upon discovering that someone from high school had an interest in her, particularly when she once found him undeniably attractive and frequently mentioned him to her closest friends back in the day: you embark on an Instagram stalking expedition, naturally.

Abandoning your pile of emails and the documents of your current case, you cast aside all distractions in a quest for Jaeyun. Despite only sharing a couple of conversations with him that linger in your memory, you're compelled to uncover what he's been up to. Typing his name into the search bar, you hold your breath, hoping that finding him won't prove too difficult given his distinctive name.

Thankfully, user simjakeyun emerges with ease, and in no time, you find yourself perusing his profile.

There he is, just as you recall him - those beguiling puppy eyes you once avoided now ensnaring you with their warmth, and that infectious smile rendering him ageless. As you delve into his world, you're entranced by the adventures he shares and the moments he has captured. His life appears so rich and fulfilling that you can't help but feel a pang of contrast with the dreary confines of your current office.

As you scroll, you see how he is embracing life to its fullest, travelling the world and seeing countries you can’t even point out on a map, all while you find yourself tethered to the prison of your office walls for hours on end. It's not that you despise your own life, but in this moment of comparison, a sense of discontentment begins to gnaw at you.

There are a few girls on his page but none that are consistent, with no wedding ring and no kids, you wonder whether it’s worth dropping him a message.

Are you really going to slide into Sim Jaeyun’s DMs? Yes. Yes, you are.

Creating a new private message, you hesitate, staring at his profile picture at the top of the screen. That beautiful smile makes you second-guess yourself. Why would he care about a silly little message from you? He’s out there striving and thriving, while your Instagram chronicles the life of a busy lawyer with only two close friends and an obvious wine addiction due to the countless glasses that makes frequent appearances.

You linger on the message screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. The doubts swirl in your mind, but something pushes you forward. Taking a deep breath, you begin to type.

"Hey Jaeyun, it's been ages! I just stumbled across your profile and couldn't resist saying hi. It looks like you've been on some incredible adventures. How have you been?"

You pause, re-reading the message. It feels both too casual and overly formal at the same time. With a sigh, you delete the last sentence and try again. Your mind is screaming at you not to bring up the letter, yet it might be the only way to get a response. At the end of the day, he was right - you weren’t friends in school, so why pretend you were just to start a conversation? Surely, that would make him think you were a weirdo.

But he told you he might be in love you, and you’ve gone ten years without knowing. Bringing it up could be the key to getting a genuine reaction from him, but it could also backfire spectacularly. He might recoil, feel uncomfortable, and even block you completely. You know you'd have that reaction if the roles were reversed.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to take the plunge. You start typing a new message, carefully choosing your words.

Hi Jaeyun! I don’t know if you remember me but the funniest thing just happened. Do you remember Mr. Yang made us write those letters to someone in the class that would be sent ten years later? I got one today…from you, actually! You probably won’t remember but I thought I would let you know that I got it and thank you :)

You hesitate before hitting send, re-reading it over and over again to avoid spelling mistakes and accidentally telling him that he told you he loved you. As the message goes through, your heart races and a mix of anxiety and anticipation swirls inside you. This is a leap of faith, and all you can do now is wait.

_____

Unfortunately, all you do is wait because it's been two days, and Jaeyun hasn't replied. The silence is deafening, amplifying your doubts and fears. You replay the message over and over in your mind, wondering if you said too much or too little.

It has to be because you mentioned the letter; he probably has a girlfriend. It wouldn't be uncommon for a guy as gorgeous as him to be snapped up quickly. He probably has one of those stunning girlfriends with long blonde hair and a figure straight out of Vogue.

You try to push the thoughts aside, but they persist, gnawing at you. Doubts mingle with vivid imaginations of his perfect life, further widening the gap between your reality and the fantasy you've constructed. Much like he passively fantasised about the prospect of being your husband all those years ago, you now find yourself lying on your couch, imagining what it would be like to be his wife.

The images in your mind are vivid and alluring: travelling the world together, exploring new places, sharing laughs and quiet moments. You picture the two of you living in a charming apartment, hosting dinner parties, and supporting each other through life's ups and downs. The fantasy is intoxicating, but it also leaves you feeling a bit hollow as you contrast it with your current life.

Why are you thinking about all of that about a man you haven't seen or cared about in 10 years? Are you really that desperate, wallowing over what could have been when you had practically forgotten about him?

The more you dwell on it, the more you realise how much you've let his lack of response affect you. Deciding that it's time to regain control of your thoughts, you put your phone aside and focus on something productive. You dive into cleaning your house, finally discarding the takeaway boxes and clothes thrown around the room.

As you clean, the physical activity provides a welcome distraction and a sense of accomplishment. You clear the clutter, creating a more organised and inviting space. Each piece of trash you throw away and each item you put back in its place helps you feel more in control. The mess around you had mirrored the turmoil in your mind, and now, with each cleaned surface, you feel a bit more at peace.

You remind yourself of your strengths and the life you've built. Your career, your friends, your favourite plant that you bought on a whim - all these things are a testament to the vibrant and dynamic life you lead. You're not defined by a response from Jaeyun.

His life is not yours and yours is not his. You are an independent-

*ping*

Leaping over your couch, you unlock your phone and see the Instagram notification and smile brightly, like it was a job offer you’ve been patiently awaiting or an early release of your favourite manga. The rush of anticipation and excitement courses through you as you eagerly open the app to read Jaeyun's message.

Hey there! Sorry about the delay in getting back to you. I've been on a marathon journey back from the UK over the past few days. Opted for the budget ticket, and obviously, it turned into a 36-hour saga with three stopovers 😅. But hey, I'm finally back home!

It's genuinely awesome to hear from you! Can you believe that letter actually made its way to you? I half-suspected it was some scheme Mr. Yang cooked up to sneak a smoke break with Mr. Kim lol.

I remember writing that letter! I said a few things in there...didn’t I? 😳 So, are you still in town? We should totally catch up tomorrow if you're free. I'm all yours if you'll have me.

Your heart skips a beat as you read Jaeyun's message, a rush of excitement coursing through you. His casual tone and mention of the letter bring a smile to your face. It's a relief to see that he's not put off or weirded out by your message; instead, he seems genuinely happy to hear from you.

His apparent recollection of what he said in the letter adds a layer of complexity to the situation. He may want to meet up to address it, perhaps to clarify that it was meant as a joke or to downplay its significance. You find yourself mentally preparing for the possibility of him saying something along the lines of, "Hey, sorry, that was just a joke, so please don't read into it."

While you tell yourself that you'll accept his explanation, deep down, you know that these past two days have shown that you may not take it as casually as you initially thought. If a simple message, or lack thereof, got you in such a tizzy, you can't imagine how you'd react to a rejection of a confession that you didn't even make.

Regardless, you type your response rapidly, not caring if it makes you look desperate and available.

You must be exhausted after travelling! But I'm glad you made it back home safe and sound. I'm free tomorrow. Can you do after 6pm? There's this cosy cafe downtown that's perfect for catching up, it’s called Daisies. I'll make sure to save you a seat. Looking forward to it!

With a quick tap, you send the message, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness about tomorrow's meeting. However, you don’t get long to be alone with your thoughts as another ping of your phone comes through.

Do they do double Jack and Cokes? I think I might need it if I remember what I wrote lol…😅

In all honesty, you might need one as well.

_____

Straightening the napkins on the table for the seventh time in the space of an hour, you watch the door patiently, anticipation coursing through your veins, waiting for Jaeyun to walk through the glass door of the bar you had both settled on. Each of you knew that you wouldn’t be able to have this conversation without some form of alcohol.

It’s not that you’re nervous about seeing him again; after all, you used to see him every day. But it's the weight of the conversation that looms over you. The realisation that the first real conversation you are going to have with him throughout all these years is about a letter he confessed to you in - a letter never meant for you to read because he thought it was a hoax assignment. His actions, unintentional as they may have been, have consequences, and you can't shake the uncertainty of it all.

As the minutes tick by, each second feels heavier than the last. You find yourself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, replaying scenarios and conversations in your mind, trying to predict how tonight's encounter might unfold. Will Jaeyun be as casual and friendly as his messages suggested, or will there be an underlying tension lingering beneath the surface?

The sound of the door opening snaps you out of your reverie, and you glance up, heart pounding, only to find it's just another punter entering the bar. You let out a sigh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly, but the anticipation remains palpable.

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to stay calm and composed. This is just Sim Jaeyun, not an ex, not a lost lover, not your dad’s work colleague—there is nothing to be nervous about.

“Y/N?”

Jaeyun’s melodious voice breaks through your thoughts, and you look up to meet his gaze with wide eyes, startled by his sudden appearance. How on earth did he manage to slip through that door without you noticing? The surprise registers on your face as you take in his presence, a mix of amusement and disbelief dancing in your eyes.

"Jaeyun, hey!" you exclaim, your voice betraying your surprise as it breaks, forcing you to clear the bubble in your throat and quickly regain your composure. “I mean, when did you get here?”

He laughs loudly, the rich sound filling the room as he takes the seat opposite to you. The genuine warmth of his smile is infectious, closing his eyes slightly as he enjoys the moment. “Just a minute ago, I went up to the bar first to order us a drink. You like white wine, yeah?”

Nodding, you tilt your head, intrigued. “Yeah, how did you know that?”

“I saw you started without me,” Jaeyun chuckles once again, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he points to your empty glass, “I made an educated guess.”

You can't help but marvel at Jaeyun's appearance. His features are striking, his smile infectious, and there's a certain magnetism about him that draws you in. It's as if he effortlessly commands attention without even trying. A face that gorgeous shouldn’t be allowed to roam so freely, you think to yourself. It should come with a warrant, or at the very least a warning label.

He’s also wearing a pretty cream jacket with a simple white Stussy t-shirt, and some cargo jeans. His hair is much longer than when he was younger, with whisps of his fringe covering his face.

It’s parallel to your business-casual outfit, having just come from the office you decided to opt for a baby pink blouse - in honour of your hero Elle Woods, a cream thigh-length skirt, and a pair of kitten heels. It wasn’t exactly how you wished to dress while meeting Jaeyun again for the first time but due to having consultation with clients, you couldn’t exactly wear a little black dress.

Not that Jaeyun minds; as you’re lost in thought, his eyes are tracing over your body, how your clothes look tailor-made and your tits are sitting beautifully. He feels like a perv for staring at you, this is the first time he’s seen you in so long and here he is, eye fucking you. Though who could blame him? Even as he focuses on your face, forcing his eyes to leave the contours of your curves, all he can stare at is your lips and how they’ve been freshly glossed.

Clearing his throat, Jaeyun tries to shake off the inappropriate thoughts flooding his mind. "So, how have you been?" he asks, his smile innocent yet tinged with nervousness.

"Good. Yeah, good. You?" you respond, keeping your tone neutral, not revealing too much about your well-being. To you, your life is boring and lacks anything worth speaking about.

"Yeah...good," Jaeyun replies, the awkward tension between you palpable in the air.

The atmosphere strange, a tense undercurrent clouding the breezy air. Being alone with him, even being with him at all, feels unfamiliar and stirs a tinge of awkwardness in you. Luckily, he seems just as uneasy.

But when your eyes finally meet, you both burst out laughing, the tension melting away. The sound of your harmonious laughter fills the bar, louder than the soft hum of music or the chatter of others in the background.

His laugh is just as infectious as you remember it, filling the air with its higher-pitched squeals that seem to come in four successions. You watch with fondness as his body leans to the side, his eyes scrunching together in pure joy. It's a sight you hadn't realised you missed until now, a flood of memories rushing back to you in an instant. You hadn't known you knew that about him - the way he laughs, the way he tilts his head when he finds something amusing - but now, it's like a long-lost memory has suddenly resurfaced, and you're hateful to yourself for ever forgetting.

He straightens up, shaking his head to calm his amusement, yet the smile still beams from his face. Huffing out, he nods and looks at you, as though agreeing with his thoughts. “You know, I just realised that we haven’t ever spoken, so this is a bit awkward, isn’t it?”

Shaking your head, you lean forward, your fingers deftly smoothing out the tiniest wrinkle in your shirt as you relax, feeling your body shift with the new atmosphere. “That isn’t true, we had that conversation during country dancing classes.”

“Oh, you mean, ‘Can you not step on my foot, please?’ I would hardly count it as a conversation,” he dismisses it lightheartedly, offering you another chuckle as he remembers.

What he doesn’t know is that you do count it. It was your first proper encounter with him, and even though he kept squashing your toe under his tatty trainers, you let it go because it was also the first time you heard that melodic Australian accent say your name as he mumbled a quick, ‘sorry, Y/N’.

You both laugh again at the memory before the waiter brings over your drinks. “Cheers, mate. Thanks.” Jaeyun smiles politely at the man. It’s the bare minimum to thank your server, yet you can’t stop the butterflies in your stomach as he does so. It’s a testament to his kindness because most of the guys you have ever dated have been the type to snap their fingers or complain about the tiniest thing that could easily be fixed.

Not Jaeyun though, he is far too sweet to act like an arsehole. You haven’t even spent 10 minutes with him and you already know it.

As the waiter walks away, you reach for your wine before stopping for a beat, looking at it thoughtfully. There is a slice of lemon inside the glass, the sight peculiar not because you don’t like it, but rather because you do like it. It’s not conventional to have any garnishes on wine; most connoisseurs say that the wine is already perfect as made. But you like things extra bitter and everything citrus; it’s been this way since college.

You glance at Jaeyun as he sips his Jack and Coke, his attention solely on his drink, seemingly oblivious to your curiosity. Could he have known you liked wine this way? But how? It’s not like you brought a 125ml and a wedge to school. And you certainly don’t come here frequently enough for the bartender to remember you or your order.

The thought niggles at the back of your mind as you take another sip of your wine, mulling over the possibilities. Perhaps it's just a coincidence, you tell yourself, trying to rationalise the situation. But it also isn’t a big deal, you got what you wanted without asking for it which is a very rare occurrence, so you’ll take it and run.

Setting the thought aside, you indulge in a sip of the crisp wine, a contented hum escaping your lips as you enjoy the taste. With a playful shoulder dance, you set the glass down on the table. “So, how has life been since you left school?” you ask casually, even though as you glance up at him, you catch him licking the residue of his drink from his lips and it makes your body flush with heat.

Your gaze lingers for a moment longer than intended, a fleeting moment of admiration as you catch the subtle details of his expression.

“Really…amazing actually,” he begins, his voice laced with a sense of joy as a broad smile lights up his face. “When I left, I didn’t know what I wanted to do, so I just got a part-time job, saved up enough to travel and see my brother back in Australia, and from there...just travelled. I did odd jobs to make money, enough to pay rent for a few months at each place.”

As Jaeyun speaks, you can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy creeping into your thoughts. His carefree lifestyle, filled with adventure and spontaneity, sounds like a dream compared to your own mundane existence of endless paperwork and court cases.

“Wow, that sounds incredible,” you respond, trying to mask the envy in your voice with genuine interest. “Must have been amazing to just pick up and go wherever you want.”

Jaeyun nods enthusiastically, his eyes alight with the memories of his adventures. “It is liberating, honestly. I’ve learned so much about myself and the world. It was good for me, it turned out to be exactly what I needed.”

He takes another sip of his JD, his expression shifting to one of apology as he notices the dejected look on your face. “But what about you? Aren’t you a fancy lawyer now? That’s way more impressive than a country-hopper.”

You know he's just trying to be polite, but his words only serve to magnify your own feelings of inadequacy. In no world is your tiresome job and lack of social life anywhere near as impressive as what he has managed to accomplish in 10 years.

Taking a big swig of your drink, you bob your head from side to side, downplaying the enormity of your profession. “Yeah, it’s okay. It pays well and I do love it some days. I work in corporate law, so it isn’t as exciting as I would have liked.”

“You wanted to do immigration law, right?” Jaeyun asks, his tone is casual but his question catches you off guard.

You pause, your eyes narrowing with scepticism as you look at him. It's one thing for him to recall your career aspirations, but for him to remember the specific field you were interested in seems almost uncanny. After all, you never spoke about it except in your university applications. So unless he had some insider knowledge, there's no reason for him to know such specific details.

Nodding slowly, you set your wine glass down and lean back. “Yeah… how did you know that? I never told anyone about it.”

“I guess I'm just quite the observer,” he jokes, though there's a hint of sheepishness in his tone as he scratches the back of his neck. He curses himself inwardly for being so casual about a minute detail that he knows he shouldn’t know. “I actually, uh, I saw you checking out an Immigration Law and Social Justice book one day. Figured that’s what you wanted to do.”

Jaeyun wasn’t lying; that really was how he knew. It was just before summer break, and he was returning his physics books when he noticed you in front of him, a pile of books in one arm, the first one being about immigration law.

You look up to the ceiling, a smile of understanding spreading across your face as you let out a contented 'oh', finally piecing together the mystery. "That makes sense now. I was so confused when you wrote about me going on to become a lawyer in that letter because I could have sworn I never uttered a word to anyone."

“That’s right! I predicted you would be a snooty lawyer,” he exclaims, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he lightly bangs his fist on the table. His chuffed grin widens, spreading across his face like he's just won the first question on a quiz show.

Laughing, you nod in agreement. You don’t tell him that he never called you snooty because he also isn’t wrong as he adds the adjective. Although you’re easy going outside of the office, you hold yourself with high pride while at work, looking down on the men you work with. Perhaps you would be more kind if they weren’t gigantic arseholes with no morals.

So in that sense, yes, yes you are snooty.

“You also said I would be married with kids,” you point out, a chuckle escaping your lips as you recall the absurdity of the prediction.

“So? Did I get two for two?” Jaeyun retorts, a playful twinkle in his eyes as he wiggles his eyebrows. Beneath his casual demeanour, though, a subtle flutter stirs in his heart at the mention of a husband. He wants you to be happy, obviously - why wouldn’t he? But he can’t deny the pang of jealousy that tugs at him at the prospect of you being happy with another man.

You notice the subtle shift in Jaeyun's manner, the conflict between his words and the emotion flickering in his eyes, but you choose to let it pass without comment. Instead, you simply shake your head and lift your eyebrows, taking another sip of your white wine. If you don’t slow down, you’ll be finished five of these before Jaeyun has even made a dent in his first drink.

He audibly gasps at your silent confession, his surprise evident in the way his eyes widen and his jaw drops slightly. As much as he had hoped you wouldn’t have a man waiting for you at home, he can’t believe that you don’t.

“Seriously? I would have thought someone would have snapped you up in a heartbeat,” he admits, still flabbergasted that the bright and beautiful woman sitting before him is, in fact, single.

“Nope. I guess it’s just like high school,” you say, shrugging nonchalantly as you downplay the situation. Despite trying to be casual about it all, a hint of vulnerability lingers beneath the surface. You know how it looks, being in your mid-twenties and never having been in a serious relationship. It has made you wonder countless times about what could possibly be so repulsive that men don’t want to pursue a relationship with you.

But then you remember the richness of your life - a nice cosy flat, paying all your own bills, having friends who love you unconditionally, and a supportive family who stands by every decision you make. In the grand scheme of things, your life is fulfilling in its own right, far beyond the confines of a romantic relationship.

It doesn’t mean you don’t sometimes feel like you’re missing out though, but you've come to appreciate the career-driven journey that is yours alone.

Jaeyun's laughter fills the air, warm and genuine, but there's a certain intensity in his gaze as he looks you dead in the eyes. His iris’, a shade of deep brown flecked with golden hues, seem to hold a wealth of unspoken words, as if there's something he's yearning to express beyond the surface banter.

“Like high school? As in you’re too busy to notice people looking your way?” he quips, his voice light but tinged with a hint of vulnerability. There's a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a silent recognition of the unspoken truths dancing between you due to one letter.

This damn letter.

“You did mention how you would always look at me. Although, you made it very clear you were not a stalker,” you remark with a snort of laughter, thinking back to the playful disclaimer he had included in his letter. The tension between you dissipates slightly as you both chuckle loudly with one another much like before.

Even when the air is awkward, you both still manage to find comfort in it. Perhaps it’s because you both share feelings that none of you are aware of. As far as you’re concerned, he left those feelings behind in secondary school, and he thinks you’ve never cared about him at all.

Jaeyun covers his face as the memories invade his mind of writing and re-writing the paragraph to make you abundantly aware that he did not sit outside your house at night and watch you through the window - a sentence which was in the first draft - or that he didn’t transfer classes to National 3 Maths to be close to you - even though he did and he should have graduated high school with National 5, sacrificing his academic standing just to have the seat close to yours.

“Can I read it? I need to know what I should specifically be apologising for,” Jaeyun titters, his voice muffled by the palms of his hands as he peeks through his fingers at you. The request hangs in the air, laced with a mix of curiosity and trepidation, as if he's both eager and apprehensive to revisit the words he had penned so long ago.

Reaching for your phone in your bag, you nod, trifling through the empty wrappers of gum and secret chocolate bars you sneakily eat in the office. The last time you ate your well-deserved Mars bar, your boss made a snide comment about how you must be starting your period soon. It’s men like him that make Jaeyun’s bare minimum of thanking the waiter a much-needed standard.

You retrieve your phone and open up the letter, passing it to him which he awkwardly accepts, smiling apologetically at you already for whatever 16-year-old him thought was appropriate to say. He begins to scroll, his face changing from amusement to disdain and then back to amusement. Yet one solid feature is etched on his face the entire time, hiding behind the other emotions he is portraying but you can’t figure it out.

You observe Jaeyun as he clicks the phone to lock it, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face before he passes it back to you. There's a hint of apprehension in his eyes, mingled with a quiet resignation, yet he does what Jaeyun does best; he smiles and washes his true feelings away.

“It was even more cringe-worthy than I remember, I seriously gotta apologise that you had to read all of that,” he says with a self-deprecating chuckle, his tone light but carrying a hint of genuine remorse. It's his way of deflecting, of downplaying his confession, but you can't help but sense the underlying sincerity beneath his words.

"I honestly thought it was a joke when I opened it and saw your name," you admit softly, wary of your words. You don't want him to think you found his feelings laughable, but rather that receiving a love letter at all was the punchline, particularly back then.

Contrary to his portrayal in the letter, you didn't consider yourself pretty or beautiful in high school. You felt average, plagued by acne, with scars that still dot your face as lingering reminders. Your hair was often a mess, your face untouched by makeup, and you never settled on a style, finding them all too mismatched with your personality.

Upon hearing your confession, Jaeyun's eyes widen in disbelief. "Seriously? Why?"

You shrug, picking up your glass and swirling it thoughtfully before responding. "You were with Chris and the others, and let's be honest, they weren't exactly my best friends," you scoff, recalling the snide comments his friends used to make in passing, or the 'accidental' bumps that would cause you to drop your phone or books.

There is a pregnant pause in the air as Jaeyun's expression softens with understanding, a hint of regret shadowing his features. "I'm sorry you had to deal with all that," he murmurs, genuine remorse colouring his tone.

You offer a small, dismissive wave of your hand, attempting to brush off the memories. "Water under the bridge now," you say, though the bitterness still lingers beneath the surface. It wasn’t his fault; he had no control over his friends' actions, and in hindsight, he was the one in the group who never laughed at your discomfort or instigated trouble for you. He was always there to offer you an apologetic smile when you needed it.

Back then, it was hard to see him as an individual from the others, considering he was always by their side. But in retrospect you realise that your crush on him had been rooted in an unspoken recognition of his genuine and kind nature, even if in high school you couldn’t fully see it. You never hated him, the opposite in fact, and there was a reason for that.

A chuckle escapes Jaeyun's lips, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "If it makes you feel better, I got my wish," he says, laughter lacing his words as he knocks back the rest of his drink. "Half of them peaked in school, and Chris is divorced and balding as we speak."

You can't help but laugh along with him, the irony not lost on you. "Well, karma works in mysterious ways," you quip, raising your glass in a mock toast to the twists of fate.

Jaeyun grins, clinking his glass against yours. "Cheers to that."

Settling comfortably back in your seat, you smile fondly at him. Despite the heaviness of the conversation, you feel at ease. There’s something about him that makes you feel safe, a sense that no matter what’s going on in your mind, he can calm you down. You recall his words in the letter, how he could look at you and instantly feel better.

Jaeyun's gaze holds a gentle intensity, his eyes sparkling with a glint of satisfaction as he observes your visibly relaxed state. "It's nice seeing you like this," he murmurs softly, a hint of warmth lacing his voice. "I always hoped we'd have a moment like this someday."

You hum softly, grinning sheepishly at the prospect that Sim Jaeyun could have thought about you even after your school years. It does beg the elephant in the room to be addressed, however, both of you sneaking around the main focus of his written word.

"In the letter," you begin, feeling a curious mix of apprehension and anticipation swirl in your chest. The question hovers on the tip of your tongue, laden with the weight of untold possibilities. "Why didn’t you ask me out?"

The inquiry catches Jaeyun off guard, momentarily stalling his easy demeanour. He blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he recovers with a thoughtful expression. It's evident that he hadn't anticipated such directness from you, despite knowing your inquisitive nature all too well.

Straightening out his jacket with a nervous flick, Jaeyun adjusts his posture to convey a sense of faux confidence. He clears his throat and licks his lips, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I shouldn’t have been a coward," he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

Jaeyun's candid admission bubbles shock into you, yet you find it refreshing coming from a man. You nod in understanding, silently acknowledging his confession.

"You were just…you," he says, meeting your eyes with candour. "Smart, attractive, career-oriented, and determined to change the world. And I was just a screwy little kid with no life aspirations and nothing to offer a girl like you."

His words resonate within you, with a genuine honesty that is both disarming and charming. Despite his self-deprecating tone, you can't help but be empathic to the vulnerability he's exhibiting.

"I didn't see you that way," you say, your voice soft but genuine, hoping to convey that you never considered him beneath you. In your view, you could never be on his level, not in a negative sense, but in the understanding that he exuded charisma and confidence that seemed out of reach. Your personalities were too contrasting, with him being cool and outgoing, while you felt you would have fallen short.

Jaeyun lets out a rueful laugh, a wry smile playing on his lips. "You didn't see me at all, did you?" he replies, his tone carrying a mix of self-awareness and resignation.

His words hit you like a blow to the chest, a painful realisation dawning upon you. You wince, feeling yourself crumble inward, the weight of missed opportunities and unspoken truths bearing down heavily on your shoulders. If you had stuck your head out of your own bubble, maybe you would be sitting and having a drink with him as something more than high school could haves.

"I'm sorry about that," you say, your voice laced with regret. "I was so focused on studying and staying away from your crowd that I just didn't see."

Jaeyun's expression softens, his features reflecting a mixture of empathy and knowing. "It's alright," he says gently, reaching out to place a comforting hand on yours. “The way you were back then, it was exactly the reason I lo-, I liked you so much,” he confesses sheepishly, stumbling over his words as he skirts around the most obviously avoided topic of his letter.

Shaking off the intensity of the moment, Jaeyun gestures for the waiter to return, his easy smile returning as he orders more drinks, figuring that if he’s sipping, he isn’t saying something he might regret.

“So, tell me about being a lawyer.”

_____

For the next three hours, you both speak about everything and anything; from his adventurous travels to your disastrous dates, from your awful bosses to the state of the government, you discuss it all. Each topic seamlessly flows into another, and you find yourself conversing with ease, as if you're best friends on your weekly catch up.

As the evening progresses, you've shared stories, laughter, and even a few moments of vulnerability. The wine has flowed freely, the bottle emptying with each heartfelt story, while Jaeyun has indulged in his fair share of Jack and Coke, the familiar burn of the alcohol helping to dissolve any lingering feelings of apprehension.

Despite the passage of time and the years spent apart, it feels as though no time has passed at all. You find yourself effortlessly connecting with Jaeyun, discovering new facets of his personality with each shared anecdote and heartfelt confession. You wonder if you would have gotten along this well in secondary school.

"Is this you back for good then or?" you ask, the wine buzz kicking into your system enough to make you lean forward, resting your chin on your hand as you gaze at him with an undercurrent of longing.

Jaeyun's expression softens, his eyes never meeting yours but they shine with a hint of something you cannot put your finger on. "I'm actually going to Malta the day after tomorrow. This was just a flying visit," he replies, his tone tinged with a sense of wistfulness.

The news comes as bittersweet to you because just as you had Jaeyun within reach, he is also leaving you just as quickly. But you’re also envious that while you have to get up early and represent people in a boardroom who only see value in money and nothing else, he is galavanting to another dream destination.

"Ugh, I am so jealous!" you proclaim, unable to hide the playful pout that forms on your lips. Your declaration elicits a hearty laugh from Jaeyun, his eyes crinkling with amusement as he shakes his head, seemingly amused by the idea of someone successful like you being envious of him.

Because little do you know, that behind the facade of excitement of his adventures lies a loneliness he's kept hidden for years. He couch surfs, has little money to his name, and lacks solid friends to call in times of need. He hasn’t even seen his family in years, missing out on cherished moments like Christmas and birthdays. Despite the allure of adventure and freedom, his heart aches for companionship, for someone to share his experiences with.

As if a lightbulb goes off atop his head, he bites his lip and begins to speak. “You could co-”

“Sorry guys, we actually need this table for a last-minute reservation, could you sit at the bar until a free table is available?” The interruption from your waiter cuts off Jaeyun before he can finish his sentence, leaving him momentarily stunned.

You glance at your phone and smile, "It’s getting late anyway so we should go. Thank you though," you respond politely, masking any disappointment you might feel.

Jaeyun nods in agreement, thanking the waiter once again before standing up. He holds out his hand for you to take as you rise from your chair, an action that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It’s not the gesture itself but the way he extended his hand without thinking about it.

Taking Jaeyun’s hand, you stand up, careful not to bump into anything as you step out from behind the table. Together, you retreat outside, the cool night air hitting your alcohol-flushed faces, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the crowded restaurant. The sensation brings a sense of relief, washing away the residual tension from the interrupted conversation.

Jaeyun notices the icy air, but instead of embracing it, his gaze falls on you, and he can't help but notice how your thin blouse must be providing little protection against the chill. Swiftly, he takes off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulders, adjusting it with care to ensure you're snug and warm.

You're taken aback by his offer, feeling a rush of gratitude and warmth flood through you at his thoughtful gesture. "Thank you," you say softly, a smile touching your lips as you pull the jacket tighter around you.

He returns your smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine affection. “Let me walk you home?” he offers, his tone gentle yet insistent.

You hesitate for a moment, trying to save him the inconvenience, but he's not fooled. Jaeyun knows the dangers of a woman walking alone at night, and while he trusts your ability to handle yourself, he wouldn't feel right if he left you and something did happen. Plus, deep down, he relishes the opportunity to spend as much time with you as possible.

Touched by his concern, you look up at him and offer a small smile. "I only live down the road, I'll be fine," you assure him, though the underlying appreciation in your voice is evident.

Jaeyun shakes his head with determination, a glint of resolve in his eyes. "I insist," he says firmly, reaching for your hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I won't take no for an answer."

His sincerity and insistence warm your heart, and you find yourself relenting, knowing that his company will make the short walk home all the more enjoyable. With a grateful nod, you lead the way, feeling a sense of comfort and safety in his presence as you navigate the dimly lit streets together.

You really do only live about 10 minutes away, so the walk is quick by usual standards. Yet, tonight, you find yourself taking your time, savouring each step as if seeing the world through a new lens. Perhaps it's the lingering effects of the wine, or maybe it's the comforting presence of Jaeyun's hand in yours, but suddenly, the world feels lighter and fresher than it did just this morning.

As you stroll through the streets, you notice the ebb and flow of life around you. People are walking into bars, some are finishing up for the day, and others are simply enjoying a leisurely evening stroll. The streets hum with a busy yet serene energy, a unique blend of activity and tranquillity that can only be found when there's no rush to get from A to B.

Reaching your apartment building, you slow your pace, allowing yourself to take in the familiar surroundings with newfound appreciation. The soft glow of the streetlights casts a warm ambience over the building's facade, while the gentle hum of the city envelops you both.

You pause in front of the entrance, turning to Jaeyun with a smile. "This is me," you say, gesturing with the hand clasped in his, pulling him out of whatever thoughts have plagued him this whole journey.

While you were admiring your hometown, Jaeyun was overcome with thoughts that, once you reach your flat, this could be the last time he sees you again. He doesn’t want to come across as greedy for your time or clingy considering this is the first time you’ve both interacted in ten years, but he had so much fun that he doesn’t want it to end here.

Luckily for him, you have the same thoughts even if you aren’t projecting them in your manner the same way he is. “Would you like to come up?”

Your invitation hangs in the air, laden with the unspoken hope of spending just a little more time in each other’s company or maybe something else. Jaeyun's heart skips a beat as he meets your gaze, seeing a glimmer of anticipation reflected in your eyes. He hesitates for only a moment, the weight of his own desires battling against his fear of overstepping.

But in the end, the pull of your company proves too strong to resist. With a soft smile, Jaeyun nods, his voice barely above a whisper. "If that’s okay, I would love to."

The thing about you both is that you’re seeking companionship in one another while also oblivious that the other feels the same way. You aren’t noticing how Jaeyun subtly prolonged the walk, pulling you back a few times as if reluctant to let the evening end. And he certainly didn’t notice the hopeful glint in your eyes as you asked him for another bout of his time, knowing what this could lead to.

As you both step into the building and make your way up the stairs to your apartment, there's a quiet anticipation between you, a sense of possibility tinged with the thrill of the unknown. Each step brings you closer together, the space between you filled with unspoken thoughts and unvoiced desires.

As you unlock the door and step inside, the warmth of your home envelops you, a comforting embrace that welcomes Jaeyun into your world.

You are also very glad that you had that anxiety-induced cleanathon.

Jaeyun wipes his feet on your doormat before heading inside, looking around at your quaint yet busy home. “Your flat is nice. Homely.”

“I’m either here or the office so…” you explain, taking your shoes and his jacket off, discarding them on their appropriate stands.

Since you spend a lot of evenings in your office, which is sterile and minimalistic, you wanted the opposite tone for your house. You filled it with knick-knacks and plants, every available surface adorned with shelves or posters, while the warm orange paint added a cosy glow to the environment. This was your sanctuary and you couldn’t love it any more.

You wonder if you would love it so much if your office wasn’t your only other option of residence.

You open the refrigerator and peep at the beverages you have on hand. "Do you want a beer, wine, or I can make a coffee?” You offer, grinning and looking at Jaeyun.

“Beer sounds good, thank you,” Jaeyun replies, his attention drifting towards one of your paintings that hangs just beside a free-standing bookshelf filled with your favourite romance and fantasy books.

You don’t get the chance to read as often as you would like, but when you do, it has to be filled with a romance that is so out of reach that you can convince yourself that it would never happen to you anyway. If it’s too realistic, you start to feel a little burdened at the lack of love you receive from a partner.

Grabbing a beer for him and a glass of white for yourself, you make your way over to him, extending your hand as you offer him the ice-cold drink. He accepts it with an appreciative nod and suddenly, his eyes dart over to your University degrees, each one showcasing your incredible knowledge and talent. You always ended up top of your class with first honours, a testament to your hard work.

“You really made something of yourself, Y/N. It’s incredible.” Jaeyun says softly, clinking your glass with his bottle.

“Eh, it’s all amazing and then you’re suddenly working crazy hours with not so much as a thank you,” you shrug, voice bitter as you think about all the times your dedication to your clients goes by unnoticed. You don’t do it for the acknowledgment, however, when your colleagues are getting praise for doing the bare minimum, it starts to nag at you.

Turning to you, he tilts his head, “Do you hate it?”

Do you? That’s the big question. Maybe if you had stuck to immigration law like you wanted and weren’t swayed towards corporate all because your University advisor had told you ‘It’s what is best for someone of your calibre’ then maybe, just maybe, you would be content. You aren’t being fulfilled the way you hoped you would.

“I don’t think I hate the work as much as I hate the people. They are soulless, money-hungry, misogynistic pigs with no manners,” you say spitefully, the anger bubbling inside you evident in the fire that flashes in your eyes. As much as the job might not be totally fulfilling, you think you would enjoy it more if the men in your office or those you represent had even a shred of respect for you.

Your shoulders tense, the frustration threatening to overwhelm you, but as you hear Jaeyun’s subtle laughter, you whip your head around and knit your brows together. “What?” you demand, your tone sharp with irritation. There was nothing funny in your statement, so you're finding it rather difficult to understand the chuckle that is flooding your ear.

“No, no, I’m not laughing at your struggles,” he says softly, sensing your manner change to slightly standoffish. “It’s just…you haven’t changed. You’re still passionate and driven. Just like the girl I fell in--”

He stops himself abruptly, the words dying on his lips as he realises what he was about to say. Mentally kicking himself for almost letting slip, not once, but twice tonight, he trails off into an awkward silence, the unspoken words hanging heavily between you.

But you can’t let it slide a second time. If you’re going to talk about it, now is as good a time as any.

You inhale deeply, the air heavy as you gather your courage to broach the difficult conversation. It’s not one you particularly want to have, but you know it's necessary nonetheless. Steadying yourself, you meet Jaeyun's gaze with determination, steeling yourself for what's to come.

“Jaeyun, when you wrote that you thought you loved me in that letter, was it true?”

His initial shake of the head sends a pang of disappointment through you, but before you can fully process it, he continues, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity. He places his beer on the unit beside him and takes a step forward, his expression earnest.

“No,” he begins, and for a moment, you brace yourself for the finality of his words. But then he surprises you, his next words washing over you like a wave of relief and warmth. “I didn’t think I loved you, I knew it. I just didn’t want to come across as weird or pathetic.”

His honesty leaves you momentarily speechless, your heart racing as you take in the depth of his confession. And as he reaches out, gently taking the wine from your slightly trembling hands and setting it aside, your breath catches in your throat.

With both his hands cradling your face, you find yourself drawn into his gaze, the intensity of his eyes locking with yours. In that moment, time seems to stand still, the world around you fading into the background as you lose yourself in the connection between you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything, I really am,” Jaeyun admits, his voice laced with regret as he pours out his heart to you. His eyes close for a moment, as if savouring the sensation of your face under his fingertips, the soft beating of your heart a comforting rhythm in the silence between you.

“Adult me hates teenage me for not jumping on the chance to tell you how beautiful and awe-inspiring I thought you were, that I still think you are,” he continues, his words filled with raw honesty. “I was scared because you were so out of my league that I felt ridiculous for even thinking you could love me back. I fucking regret it all because even though we never spoke, I knew I wanted to be with someone as brilliant and wonderful as you. I tried so hard to find someone like you over the years and yet not one person ever compared, because there is only one you, Y/N. And I hate that you weren’t mine for even a minute.”

You have no words to say and it agitates you because here was Jaeyun, telling you how he felt and you couldn’t even give him an ounce of assurance that you would have been his if he had just asked. Your feelings back then were not as intense as his but they were real all the same. No, you didn’t love him but you wonder if you could have.

Jaeyun leans in, resting his forehead against yours, nudging your nose with an affectionate, almost playful tenderness. His warm, alcohol-tinged breath washes over your face, causing you to close your eyes along with him, immersing yourself in the intimate moment passing between you both.

“I don’t want to make the same mistake, Y/N. I can’t.”

His words hang in the air, laden with meaning and urgency. Before you can fully process them, he kisses you. It's a kiss so tender, so full of reverence, it feels as if you were a delicate rose being presented to his most cherished person.

Despite the sincerity and fondness you feel through the gentle pressure of his lips, a wave of uncertainty washes over you. He is leaving for Malta in less than 48 hours, and the thought of the impending separation threatens to overshadow the moment of intimacy you share.

But in this moment, with Jaeyun's arms wrapped around you and his lips against yours, all thoughts of the future fade away. You're consumed by the warmth of his embrace, the sweetness of his kiss, and the undeniable chemistry that ignites between you.

You know there are risks involved, that giving yourself to him could lead to heartache when he inevitably leaves. But this might be the only chance to embrace him, to have him as your own, even for a moment, just as he had wanted all those years ago. Deep down, you know that you could live to regret not taking this chance, the same way he regrets not confessing to you in fourth year.

So you let your inhibitions go, allowing yourself to be swept away by the intensity of the moment. His tongue swipes over your lips, a soft purr escaping him as he seeks to taste more than just your cherry-tinted lip balm. You can't help but surrender to the intoxicating pull of desire.

He pushes you gently against the wall by your hips, his lips never leaving yours. His senses are overwhelmed by you in every way possible: the taste of you on his tongue, your perfume drifting into his nose, the feel of your body pressing against his, and the soft echoes of your moans filling his ears. He loves it all so much that he thinks he could get addicted to it.

As Jaeyun deepens the kiss, your hands instinctively find their way to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. Each touch, each caress, feels electrifying, sparking a fervour that neither of you can ignore. The taste of him, mingled with the remnants of his drink, is intoxicating, making your heart race faster with every passing second.

Jaeyun’s hands wander from your hips, tracing the curves of your waist and back, committing the feel of you to memory. He pulls you closer, erasing any remaining space between you, the heat of his body seeping into yours. Your breaths come faster, mingling with his in the small, shared space between your mouths.

Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours once more, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes search yours, filled with an intensity that makes your knees weak. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, “I’ve wanted you for so long, even when I thought I would never see you again, I thought about you.”

“Yeah?” you ask breathlessly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, your fingers tangling in the soft strands.

Nodding, Jaeyun’s features shift, his gaze darkening with a hunger that makes your pulse quicken. He kneels before you, his hands moving with deliberate slowness as he finds the zip at the back of your skirt. His fingers work the zipper down, the sound of it seeming loud in the charged silence of the room.

His eyes never leave yours as he sinks down, the skirt slipping down your legs to pool at your feet, leaving you in your white panties. The vulnerability of the moment sends a shiver down your spine, but Jaeyun's adoring gaze and gentle touch reassure you.

Jaeyun places his hands on your hips, his thumbs brushing over your skin in soothing circles. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe as he looks up at you from his kneeling position. His eyes trace the lines of your body, drinking in the sight of you.

The raw adoration in his gaze ignites a fire within you, and you feel a rush of emotions you can barely contain. “Jaeyun,” you breathe, your hands resting on his shoulders for balance as you steady yourself against the overwhelming surge of feelings.

His hands move from your hips to your thighs, his touch light but firm as he traces the contours of your legs. The anticipation builds with each gentle caress, your skin tingling under his fingertips. When he finally leans in, pressing a tender kiss just above the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escapes your lips.

His touch is reverent, each movement deliberate and full of intent. He hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, looking up at you for permission. You nod, your breath hitching as he slowly slides them down, his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

Jaeyun’s mind races as he sees you in this vulnerable state, yet he is the one who feels exposed. His feelings are pouring out of him like never before, and it’s all down to the fact that you bring that side out of him. No 16 year old should have had the emotional intelligence to decipher a crush from love, yet with you as his focus on the subject, he knew exactly what it was. While his friends were goofing off with people at parties and at the bike rack at school in a fleeting fling, he was wondering how he could make you his.

Looking at your exposed heat, he places a soft, lingering kiss just above your clit, making you jolt. You hadn’t expected him to find it so quickly, yet, it was as easy for him to find as a horse in a cow farm, like he had been doing this for years with you.

Once he feels your fingers threading through his hair, massaging his scalp, he takes it as the go-ahead to dive in deeper and explore you in ways he only imagined he could. Placing your left leg over his right shoulder and keeping his grip on your thigh for balance, he dips his tongue into your folds, moving in slow but strong strokes, lapping your taste up in his mouth. If your lips had him intoxicated, your pussy had him obsessed.

You throw your head against the wall and buck your hips up to open yourself up further to him, allowing him the privilege to get lost between your thighs and drink you up like a man deprived of cold water on a hot day. He’s so eager to please you that you can sense how much he is enjoying this, maybe even more than you are.

Jaeyun’s tongue swirls at the entrance of your core before he pushes in, tracing the bumps of your wall as he explores your pretty pussy and its tightness; he can only imagine what his cock will feel like clamped inside you, if you grant him the honour to do so.

One thing you crushed on Jaeyun the most over in secondary school was his nose - the prominent feature stood out against everything else and you couldn’t help but marvel at it from time to time. Big noses have been your weakness since your hormones started to kick in and Jaeyun’s was perfect. You know this for a fact now as it brushes on your clit as he slurps and sucks up your cunt.

You revel in the sensation, how his enthusiastic and skilled mouth shivers down your spine. It's a testament to his attention to detail, his dedication to your pleasure evident in every movement, every touch.

His hands paw at your thighs as he loses himself in worshipping your mound. It’s tang on his taste buds only driving him further into madness - he can’t believe how lucky he is in this moment, so much so that he is grinning like a Cheshire cat as he continues to devour you.

“Jaeyun-” you breathe out sharply, the air in your chest leaving your body as he licks fast stipes up to your clit, focusing his attention where he knows you want it most. It is truly remarkable how well he knows you despite only knowing you from afar until now.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he mumbles into your cunt, burying his face into you as he laps up the juices that are leaking from your hole, “I’m here to please you, please let me.” Jaeyun doesn’t mean for it to come off as begging but he is so desperate for you he can't help it; and when your thighs tense slightly at his words, he thinks perhaps you want him to plead with you.

You’re so used to being around men who think that they own you, that are superior to you, that as Jaeyun asks you to let him pleasure you, it's a refreshing change. His words, muffled against your wetness, carry a genuine desire to fulfil your every desire. You can feel the sincerity in his actions, the earnestness in his plea.

“I want you to make me cum, please, Jaeyun. I need it so bad,” you whisper into the hot atmosphere that surrounds you both. You’re close and he can sense it too and right now, that is all you care about. You need to feel that satisfaction rush over you, your body is aching for it because it knows Jaeyun can bring you to that peak.

Whimpering below you, Jaeyun loses all sense of control and picks up his pace, his fingers now circling your entrance before slipping into you, scissoring you open in a mix of gentleness and roughness. He loves the idea of being able to touch you like this and make you release over his hand and tongue.

Nibbling at your clit is the final straw and you feel that tightness in your stomach and clench in your pussy as you cry out, cumming all over his face. The whites of your eyes come to the forefront as your entire body rolls and the wave of your climax consumes you like a tsunami. The grip you have on his hair tightens and you hold him in place, your body riding his face as his nose, tongue, and fingers work in tandem with you to help you ride out your high.

You don’t think you’ve cum so hard from just oral, these types of experiences being between you and your toys. Jaeyun is a man above the rest and you can’t wait to have more of him.

As he gently guides your leg back to the ground, his hands steady you as you tremble in the aftermath of pleasure. His thoughts wander, contemplating the possibility of lingering between your thighs for just a few more precious moments, coaxing yet another orgasm from your willing body.

For Jaeyun, the idea of bringing you to such heights of ecstasy is not just a source of pride but pure joy. The thought of surrendering himself completely to your pleasure fills him with a sense of fulfilment like nothing else. In a world where some might find embarrassment, he finds only bliss in the act of surrendering to his woman, to you.

Looking down at him, his eyes locking with yours past your heaving chest, you moan quietly at the sight of him; his hair dishevelled thanks to your hands, your juices over his face and lips which he wipes his fat tongue along to collect, and his eyes filled with pure adoration and lust.

You’re never going to be able to let him go.

Tracing a path of tender kisses along your body, his lips remain in constant contact with your skin, leaving a trail of warmth and sensation in their wake. With each gentle press of his lips, he conveys his adoration and reverence for every inch of you. It's a silent yet powerful declaration of his desire to explore and worship every part of your being.

Once he reaches your neck, he stops, nibbling softly at your nape. "God, you taste so good," he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm against your neck. "I could spend forever right here, just worshipping you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a delicious anticipation building within you at the thought of what's to come. You tilt your head slightly, granting him better access, silently urging him to continue his actions.

"I could lose myself in you," he continues, his voice husky with desire. "Every touch, every kiss, I want to claim every part of you for myself, even just for tonight.”

His honesty pangs in your chest because what if it is just for tonight? The probability of that is high and yet you don’t dare think about it, the revelation too upsetting for you to consider. So you push it down, committing yourself to enjoy this, regardless of the what-ifs. Having him now is all that matters and you’re going to relish in it.

Grabbing his t-shirt, you yank it off his body and kiss him desperately, your arms finding home around his neck as you waltz him to your bedroom, thankful for your familiarity with your apartment as you weave around coffee tables and decorative baskets.

As you reach the bedroom, a primal need surges between you, an urgency and determination unlike anything you've experienced before. With a sense of raw desire, you turn him around and push him onto the bed, your actions driven by an irresistible force that neither of you can deny.

Straddling him, you see his face light up in excitement and glee as you initiate the next move. Jaeyun loves it when his eagerness is reciprocated and by the way your thighs are squeezing each of his sides and your hands are cradling his face as you kiss him messily, he feels so wanted at this moment.

His hands eagerly grasp at your blouse, urgency guiding his movements as he tears it open and discards it aside. With unbridled desire, he buries his face into your chest, kissing and nibbling at the exposed flesh above your bra. Fingers knead and lift your tits, enhancing the sensation as he revels in the intimate contact between skin and skin.

The heat between you intensifies and Jaeyun's ardour only grows stronger. His lips trail from your chest to your neck, peppering kisses along the sensitive skin, igniting a flurry of sensations that ripple through your body.

With a skilful touch, his hands explore the curves of your body, tracing the contours with a fervent hunger. Fingers dance over the fabric of your bra, teasingly tracing the edges before deftly unhooking it, revealing your breasts in all their glory.

“You’re a fucking dream, Sweetheart,” he confesses, knowing that you have, in fact, clouded his dreams some nights. “You always have been.”

Grabbing his chin gently, you lift his eyes to meet yours and smile fondly, showcasing your affection through your sparkling pupils. “You’re so pretty, Jaeyun,” you utter quietly as each syllable matches the thumping in his chest.

Jaeyun flushes red and smiles brightly, like you’ve just called him a good boy and he’s your golden retriever. What you don’t expect is for him to open his mouth just wide enough to poke his tongue out, asking for something.

It takes a moment for you to grasp his silent request, but once you do, your hold on his chin transitions to his jaw, gently urging it wider as you oblige, softly spitting into his waiting mouth. A soft whimper escapes his throat as his eyes flutter closed, savouring the intimate exchange with an fervour.

Emboldened by the connection between you, you lean in closer, your lips brushing against his in a silent promise of more to come. His response is immediate, a soft moan escaping his lips as he eagerly presses himself against you, seeking to deepen the connection between your bodies.

You feel his clothed cock against your naked heat and suddenly the room is filled with explicit moans, both of you dry-humping one another like horny teens. It’s electric and you both want each other more than any destination or University degree, it feels like you’ve found your hearts true desires in the confines of this bedroom.

“Let me have you,” His plea resonates in the air, heavy with longing and urgency, as his fingertips caress every contour of your exposed skin, eliciting a cascade of goosebumps in their wake. "Please, Y/N," he groans, his voice thick with desire, the intensity of his gaze locking with yours in an unspoken plea for surrender.

“If you let me have you,” you whisper into his mouth, ghosting your lips above his,

“Baby, you’ve had me for a lifetime.”

His response is without a moment of silence, followed by a deep kiss that ignites a fire within you both, drawing you into a passionate embrace. With a gentle yet possessive grip, he pulls you closer, his hands trailing down to caress the curves of your ass. The sharp sound of his gentle slaps mingles with your moans, echoing off the walls as pleasure courses through your veins.

As the heat between you reaches its peak, you break the kiss with a soft gasp, a mischievous glint in your eyes. With a playful smirk, you slide your hands down to the waistband of his trousers, fingers deftly undoing the buttons as you tease him with each deliberate movement.

Jaeyun watches you with a mix of anticipation and desire, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he eagerly awaits your next move. You climb off him for a moment as you peel his trousers and boxers down his legs, revealing his hardened length, aching for your touch. His arousal is evident and his cock is thick and twitching with its need to be buried inside of you.

Discarding the trousers aside, you meet his gaze with a wicked grin, your desire mirroring his as you hover above him. Your eyes sparkle playfully as you slink forward, your lips caress his teasingly, then trail kisses down his chest, creating a path of fire in your wake. Jaeyun's breath hitches as he watches you with rapt attention; his anticipation grows with every second.

Your fingertips follow enticingly down his thighs as you approach his waist, sending shivers of expectation coursing through his body. You gently but firmly guide his legs apart so that you can lower yourself between them for better access.

Grinning slyly, you approach him closely, your breath ghosting over his skin as you torment him with every instant that passes. Then you take him quickly into your mouth and engulf him with a hunger that leaves him panting for air.

Jaeyun surrenders to the thrilling sensation as waves of pleasure rush over him; his hands tangling in your hair as he leads you, lost in the depths of bliss. In this moment, there is nothing but the two of you, bound together by a passion that knows no bounds.

However, as good as your mouth feels, and fuck does it feel good, Jaeyun needs to be enveloped by your warm walls, he craves it like an addiction, and he genuinely thinks that once he gets a taste of you wrapped around him, he might just have to check himself into pussy anonymous.

Using his grip on your hair, he yanks you up off of him, causing confusion to overcome your expression. “Baby, if I’m not fucking you in the next 3 seconds, I might just die,” he laughs but he is serious, you can tell he is by how he’s already grasping his cock with his freehand and holding it in position for you to sink onto it.

So that is exactly what you do. You straddle him one more, lining him up at your entrance before slowly easing your way onto him. With each inch, you take your time, allowing yourself to adjust to his size, the sensation of him filling you completely overwhelming your senses. Jaeyun's hands grip your hips tightly, guiding you as you slowly sink down onto him, his breath catching in his throat as you finally envelop him completely.

Due to his thickness, you take your time to adjust to his size, grinding on him to open you up a bit more, not that any of you mind because as you do so, the tip of his dick is brushing inside you blissfully.

"You're taking me so well, beautiful," Jaeyun says, his voice hoarse with need, his hands tracing patterns of heat over your skin. "I was made for you.”

You begin to ride him while moaning gently beneath your breath. At first, your motions are shallow as you slowly elevate your hips. Each motion causes a surge of pleasure to course through your body, sparking a fire that grows more intense with each passing second.

Jaeyun's hands are firmly grasping your hips, directing you as you find your rhythm. His own groans blend with yours to create a symphony of want. Your walls are squeezing his thick cock so tight that each time he lifts you higher, the bell of his cock snags on your entrance, trapping him inside.

“You’re bouncing on my cock so well, Y/N,” he compliments as he kisses you gently on your bouncing tit. His heavy breath mists over your heart and it clenches along with your core. He’s so beautiful and adoring that he has ruined every other man for you.

As the ecstasy consumes both of you, Jaeyun's control starts unravelling and his primitive impulses begin to take over as he loses himself in the intensity of the moment. He jackhammers himself further into you with each thrust and he lets out a howl, completely losing all control of his movements. His thrusts become more frantic and more desperate as he hears your cries of pleasure.

The rhythm of your fucking frenzy transforms into a symphony of desire, the sound of his hips meeting yours echoing off the walls as he pounds into you with unrestrained passion. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

You cling to him desperately, lost in the overwhelming intensity as you surrender yourself completely to the pleasure that consumes you. With each powerful buck of his hips, you feel yourself hurtling towards the brink, the sensation building to a fever pitch as you both race towards the climax that awaits.

"F-Fuck, Jaeyun!" you groan out, your voice a mixture of pleasure and desperation as you hug his head between your cleavage, unable to contain the overwhelming sensation coursing through your body.

Jaeyun is completely lost in the moment, his focus solely on the incredible feeling of being enveloped by you. He bites down harshly on one of your breasts, leaving a bruise as a mark of his passion, eliciting a cry of pleasure mixed with a hint of pain from you.

Taking control, Jaeyun’s only objective now is to feel you cumming on his cock, so he picks up the pace, bringing your body down to lie on top of him as he sinks into your mattress. Using his legs as anchors, he thrusts into you with an otherworldly speed, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

“Come on, Sweetheart, cum all over me,” he grits out, all of his focus on his hips.

The slapping of your skin and how his tip is puncturing your cervix is enough to tumble you over, a roar leaving your mouth as you come undone just as he wanted. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jaeyun!” You can’t form coherent sentences because to put it plainly, the dick is too good. It’s rendered you dumb and the only thoughts in your mind are; Jaeyun, cock, feels good, cumming.

Smiling brightly beneath you, Jaeyun marvels at your face as you let the pleasure take over. Your eyes are screwed shut and your mouth is open wide with short breaths escaping, your chest is panting against his and he can feel your heart race against his.

“That’s it, baby. God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” Jaeyun whispers earnestly.

As you start to relax into the aftermath of your second orgasm of the night, he picks up the pace again, now content to seek his own release. Clawing down your back, he holds your hips still and batters into your sensitive and spent pussy, knowing that the beating it just took must have left you sore, so he needs to cum quickly.

You aid him in his quest for release, showering him with kisses across his chest, neck, and face, your droopy eyes still gleaming with adoration despite the ache that lingers within you. "Jaeyun, you're fucking me so good," you whisper gently into his ear, nibbling at his lobe in a gesture of encouragement that sends a jolt of electricity coursing through him, his length throbbing inside of you in response.

Empowered by your words, Jaeyun's rhythm becomes even more intense, his movements propelled by an innate urge to reach his climax, which between your tight cunt and your seductive words, it doesn’t take him long.

"I'm cumming, fuck, I'm cumming, Baby," Jaeyun mewls, his voice strained with desperation as he tries to push you off of him, but you hold him firmly in place, unwilling to let him escape the imminent release.

With a whispered plea, you encourage him to let go completely, to surrender to the intoxicating pleasure that courses through both of you. "Cum inside me, Jaeyun. Let me feel you," you urge, your voice filled with lust and longing.

He shakes his head and tries to roll over to pull out, yet you remain headstrong and unyielding to his attempts of escape. “I have the implant, Jaeyun, you can cum in me as much as you want.”

The lawyer in you is furious that you’re letting him bust a nut inside of you due to your irresponsibility, but the happy and content you is relishing in the fact that any second, you’re going to be filled with Sim Jaeyun’s seed.

Looking deep into your eyes, he sees you’re serious and huffs out a laugh of joy. It's not that he didn't want to experience the ecstasy of releasing inside you - ask the stars, he did - but he also understands the importance of being responsible.

However, as you resume your rhythm, bouncing on his cock and firmly holding him down by his chest, any lingering hesitation evaporates. He becomes consumed by the overwhelming pleasure, his primal instincts driving him to chase his climax with an intensity that matches yours.

“Cum for me, Jaeyun, please,” you beg, wanting nothing more at this moment.

Coaxed by your words and the overwhelming pleasure coursing through him, Jaeyun succumbs to the irresistible urge to release deep inside you. With one final, powerful thrust, he empties himself into you, his hips stilling as he rides out the waves of his high.

"Fuck, Baby, fuck I'm cumming, don't stop."

The sounds that escape his lips are a symphony of pleasure, soft yet needy, low but whiney, a perfect embodiment of every fantasy you've ever entertained. As you massage his chest and shoulders, soothing him down from his orgasm, his features are painted with bliss and love, a smile mirroring your own as he gazes at you with adoration.

"You're amazing, truly out of this world, Y/N L/N," Jaeyun huffs out, his voice filled with reverence and admiration.

Gently moving you off him, he guides your head to the pillow before hovering over you, peppering your lips with affectionate kisses. Finally, he settles on top of you, his head resting against your chest, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat calming him instantly.

Resting his chin in the valley between your breasts, Jaeyun's touch is gentle as he reaches up, tenderly tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. There's a glimmer of something in his eyes, a silent contemplation that leaves you wondering what he's about to say next.

For a fleeting moment, you fear he might choose to end the encounter, bidding you farewell with a polite smile and a promise to call. But to your surprise, he does the opposite.

"Come with me, Y/N," he says, his voice soft yet filled with determination.

Stunned, you feel your chest tighten as you replay his words in your mind, each repetition only adding to the disbelief that swirls within you. There is no way he is asking you this when this is the first time you’ve really spoken to one another. He might as well be asking a blind date he’s just met to leave with him.

"What?" you manage to utter, blinking at him in shock.

For Jaeyun, however, there's no hesitation. In his heart, nothing has ever felt more right. He's harboured feelings for you for so long that now, with you in his arms, he's determined not to let you slip away so easily, even if that means proposing a notion that can be deemed outlandish.

"To Malta, to everywhere you want to go," he continues, his voice filled with sincerity and a touch of vulnerability. "Come with me."

You stay silent, nervously biting your lip, there isn’t much you can say, your inner battle between your head and your heart make it difficult to hear anything clearly.

Noticing your silence, he offers you a gentle smile and grabs one of your hands, kissing your palm gently. “Y/N, you’re miserable here, I can feel it. You’ve practically said it yourself,” he argues with you even if he cannot hear your turmoil, “Think about it; you come with me, experience everything you’ve ever wanted, study Immigration Law at one of those Open Universities if you want, or do literally anything else that makes you happy.”

You shake your head. "I'm not miserable, Jaeyun."

“Then tell me you’re happy.”

Silence ensues. A profound quietness fills the space because...you can't. You can't fabricate happiness. Are you content with your life? Undoubtedly. But true happiness eludes you. Until he posed that question, until you stood eye to eye with him, you had mistaken contentment for fulfilment, believing that your family and friends held the key to your happiness, that working hard to get to the top of your law firm was all you could want. But you aren't truly happy.

“Y/N, I came here for you,” he admits, his voice just above a whisper.

“What do you mean?” you ask, confusion palpable in your manner.

“I was supposed to be leaving the UK straight to Malta. I had my bags packed and ready to go and then I got your message on Instagram. Before I could even reply, I was changing my flight to come home to see you. I just…I couldn’t let the chance of seeing you pass me by,” his voice quivers with raw emotion as he speaks, his grasp on your hand tightening, “Do you know how many times I’ve hovered over that stupid send button, desperate to reach out but was too scared to? When you got that letter and messaged me about it, I knew this was my only shot and I couldn’t waste it.”

Jaeyun, deep down, is still the scared teenage boy who wrote you that letter. You can see him fighting himself, terrified that as he pours his heart out to you that it’ll be a disaster, but he has spent so long contemplating what life could have been had he just plucked up the courage that right now, he’s powering through his insecurities to try and reach your heart.

You sit up, intertwining his fingers in yours as a form of reassurance. “Did you come here to see if I would come with you?” you query, the tone of your voice light despite the heaviness of the subject.

"No, I came here because I wanted to see you and...to see if I could find some closure for teenage me," Jaeyun begins, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your hand. The nakedness of both of you both being and soul amplifies the vulnerability that envelops you. "But I can't bear the thought of losing you again."

"You don't really know me, Jaeyun," you counter, not with hostility but with a sense of realism.

How could he be so sure he wants you by his side when he knows you as far as he could throw you? Sure, you have both connected in a way you didn’t know was possible in the past 7 hours, and you have in some way known one another for years, but you don’t know each other. Not enough to leave the country with him…right?

With a sigh, Jaeyun gently strokes your hair, his gaze softening with affection. "I do know you, Y/N. I see you for everything you are, I always have," he insists, his voice now infused with unwavering determination. “I don’t know if I love you the same way I did ten years ago, we’re both different people. But I want the chance to find out, I want the chance to fall in love with you as you are right now.”

You stare into his eyes, contemplating your future. You could stay here and go about your life as is, sitting in a swimming pool of ‘what could have been’, forced to see bosses who could never give you the time of day, or you could follow Jaeyun, explore the world and let your hair down, meet new people and enjoy everything that life is supposed to be. Pragmatically, you have enough savings to get you by and worst case, you work shitty jobs in beautiful cities.

There is nothing holding you back except yourself.

With a beaming smile, you nod a silent promise to him. “Can we go to Venice?”

Jaeyun's eyes widen in surprise at your request, a flicker of disbelief dancing in their depths. But as he takes in the earnestness in your gaze, the longing for adventure and new beginnings, his heart swells with a profound sense of gratitude.

"Venice, huh?" he echoes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Let's do it.”

The words hang between you, laden with the promise of excitement and possibility. You leap forward and kiss him, pushing his back onto the mattress once again, enjoying the moment with him, knowing it’s not the end but the beginning of future you.

perm taglist: @immortalvee @snoopypupp @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @pockettwinzz @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @emi-en @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @iikeustar @shawnyle

#enhypen smut #enha smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #enha fluff #enhypen fluff #jake x reader #jaeyun x reader #aj writes #enhypen x reader

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norrisainz33 · 3 months

Text

Seeing Doubles - GR63

☆ summary: George Russell attends Wimbledon and meets the tennis it girl, Y/N

☆ pairing: gr63 x reader

☆ fc: none

☆ warnings: none

୨୧┈୨୧

liked by landonorris, y/nuser, mercedesamgf1 and 543,322 others

georgerussell63: always a pleasure watching tennis 🎾 Congrats to y/n on your first of many wins at Wimbledon!

view all 1,234 comments

user12: Y/N AND GEORGE CROSS OVER?! dreams do come true

user10: who is y/n

user12: only one of the best women’s tennis players in the WORLD! don’t disrespect my mother like that

user10: my bad @.user12

user2: BARK BARK BARK

user3: Prince of England 👑

landonorris: omg! I think i saw you there! *liked by georgerussell63

mercedesamgf1: that’s our driver 😍

user4: ok toto

liked by serenawilliams, georgerussell63, wimbledon, and 143,630 others

y/nuser: dreams do come true 🤍

view all 546 comments

user12: CONGRATS QUEEN

Wimbledon: Congratulations Y/N!

Adidas: Congrats y/n/n!

user13: peep george in the likes. what’s he doing here

user14: omg do you think they’re dating?

user16: chilllll they just met!

user12: MAMA Y PAPA

user16: alright @.user12 let’s get you to bed

georgerussell63: congrats y/n! impressive performance! 🎾🍓

y/nuser: thank you george! was wonderful meeting you 🏎️🍓

user12: AHHHHHHHH

f1gossip: GR63 seen leaving posh restaurant in London with Y/N Y/L/N after their supposed meeting at Wimbledon earlier in the week. New WAG alert?

view all 102 comments

user34: omg first date vibes??

user17: Y/N would make the best WAG trust

user40: she’s just using him for his fame smh

user17: be so serious rn she just won wimbledon she has no need for his “fame”

user12: they are going to get together just you wait

user14: i just hope she makes our Georgie happy

y/nuser posted to their story

view story replies:

y/bff: GIRL WHO IS THIS

y/n: heheh i’ll never tell 🤭

y/bff: DONT TELL ME ITS THE VROOM VROOM GUY

user12: LOOKS LIKE GEORGE TO ME

user14: GEORGEY/N SUPREMACY

user19: please give me one chance i beg

georgerussell63: no need to be nervous gorgeous 😉

y/n: such a charmer

georgerussell63: only for you

liked by landonorris, georgerussell63, maxverstappen1, mercedesamgf1 and 51,436 others

y/nuser: alright guys - i get the hype now. thanks to mercedes for having me!

view all 867 comments

user13: tennis x f1 crossover! my favorite fr

mercedesamgf1: it was a pleasure having you y/n! You are welcome back any time 💙

y/nuser: i’ll definitely take you up on that 😉

landonorris: noooo come to mclaren instead

alex_albon: no williams

lilymhe: what alex said

y/nuser: @.lilymhe: ok fine maybe ill stop by the williams garage but only for you

lilymhe: YAY 💙

georgerussell63: @.alex_albon mate you’re supposed to be helping me seal the deal not steal her comment has been deleted by user

user54: DID ANYONE JUSY SEE GEORGES COMMENT

user67: WE SAW YOUR COMMENT GEORGE liked by y/nuser

user67: OMG Y/N LIKED. u a real one for that girly

liked by lewishamilton, y/nuser, y/bff/user, mercedesamgf1, and 650,150 others

georgerussell63: an unforgettable weekend! i am so proud of this team - thank you for everything. Now on to summer break ☀️

view all 1,456 comments

user19: CONGRATS GEORGIE

landonorris: had a good luck charm with ya this weekend huh? congrats mate

user18: lando what do you know

user12: he’s def talking about y/n

mercedesamgf1: congratulations George!

y/nuser: congrats george!

georgerussell63: thanks y/n! glad you were able to watch me win at your first race 😉

user22: oh he shooting his shot fr

user26: did yall see the shot of her smiling up at him while he was on the podium 😭

georgerussell63 added to their story

view story replies

alex_albon: so you got the girl or what?

georgerussell63: i don’t kiss and tell

alex_albon: yes you yabba dabba do

georgerussell63: 😔

georgerussell63: i did get the girl tho 🤭

y/nuser added to their story

view story replies

y/bff: you’re with him aren’t you

y/n: yes 🤍

y/bff: i can’t believe i lost my wife

y/n: you’ll always have me bb girl

georgerussell63: pic creds when

y/n: shhh this was the softest of soft launches

୨୧┈୨୧

☆ a/n: this is my first ever smau so please be nice!! had a lot of fun writing this. I was inspired by george's wimbledon fit today. likes and reblogs appreciated 🧡

☆ part 2 is definitely going to happen so stay tuned!!

୨୧┈୨୧

#george russell #george russell imagine #george russell x reader #george russell smau #george russell social media au #george russell fluff #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 fandom

1K notes · View notes

fastandcarlos · 4 months

Text

The Littlest Surprise » Daniel Ricciardo

caption: hello im a new f1 content creator and would love some feedback if you enjoy my fics tysm 🩷

summary: you’ve not been seen at the paddock for a while and the fans are getting worried, little do they know the reason for your absence is about to make everyone’s dreams come true

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by schecoperez, georgerussell63 and 842,420 others

danielricciardo: always a pleasure to have the fam on my side, excited to show the little ones what uncle danny gets up to 🥺

49,302 comments

username1: is this yet another race y/n won’t be at this weekend??

username2: I cannot wait for the day that this man becomes a dad

username3: if y/n doesn’t hurry up and make him a dad…daniel i’m happy to offer my services 😊

maxverstappen1: how big is y/n/n now! she looks so grown up 🥺

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 she’ll be 6 soon, where does the time go??

oscarpiastri: don’t forget your little adopted aussie nephew

landonorris: and your british nephew too!!

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri @/landonorris hey! i might be a bit older but not old enough to be your uncle thank you

username4: anyone else think something might be going on, daniel posting about his family without y/n there is strange

username5: @/username4 let’s not overthink this too much, y/n might just be busy

username4: @/username5 it’s been ages since we last saw her, you gotta admit it’s a bit sus

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 629,301 others

danielricciardo: another great weekend of racing, nice feeling to be back on the podium…man how I missed hearing that champagne pop 🏎️

38,402 comments

charles_leclerc: congrats brother, nice to be up there with you once again

username6: y/n not distracting you anymore to stop you getting on the podium??

username7: @/username6 wtf? why would you suggest such a thing?

carlossainz55: always knew you’d be back up there one day, long may it continue!

yukitsunoda0511: you gotta give me some tips bro, those manoeuvres were lethal today 🔥

pierregasly: danny ric just doing danny ric things

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 922,547 others

danielricciardo: hey team! just wanted to clear up some things after miami this weekend…me and y/n are absolutely fine, had some things going on that I promise we’ll explain soon ❤️❤️ for now tho, here’s an update on life recently ☁️✨

92,174 comments

ynusername: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username8: I knew you guys would be okay, take as long as you need my two favourites!!

username9: a big screw you to those who doubted you…real fans love you guys

landonorris: I love you guys, here if you need anything brother ❤️

username10: hope whatever is going on clears up soon, we’re missing you guys around here🩷

lilymhe: tell y/n to gimme a call! ily guys ✨

visacashapprb: can’t wait to welcome y/n back into the paddock soon - see you for race week!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, iamrebeccad and 310,409 others

ynusername: it’s been a long few months, but we finally feel ready to share with you our happy news. pregnancy has been tough, I’d love to say it has treated me well, but it hasn’t. I cannot thank daniel enough for being by my side and helping me out whenever I’ve needed him…baby spam incoming ⛅️🍼

ps. each of us chose a picture to share, guess who chose what 🙄

28,461 comments

danielricciardo: words cannot begin to describe how proud I am of how brave you’ve been, the worst of it is over now my love, the countdown to baby ricciardo starts now

danielricciardo: ps my photo is way cooler than yours is

landonorris: omg I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me, uncle Lando reporting for duty!

carlossainz55: the biggest congratulations you two, you’re going to be the best parents

carmenmmundt: so glad to hear y/n is doing better, may the rest of your pregnancy be a dream ✨

lilymhe: the strongest girl I know - so excited to see you become a mum 😍

username11: all my manifesting has paid off, baby ricciardo will be the luckiest

oscarpiastri: AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE!!

estebanocon: my spidey senses were spot on, I knew a baby was on the way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, lance_stroll and 102,585 others

ynusername: life lately 💫 exhausted but loving all the little things (including daniel 😂)

17,492 comments

username12: y/n looks like she’s living the dream, mum life suits her well 🥺

danielricciardo: im definitely not a “little thing” how else did we end up like this?

landonorris: @/danielricciardo excuse me sir you are about to have a child, sort your humour out

maxverstappen1: glad to see you’re feeling more like yourself again y/n, brunch on me soon!

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 yes - let’s not tell daniel #gatecrasher

danielricciardo: @/ynusername you know your comments are public…right?

username13: anyone else wishing they could brunch with y/n too??

lance_stroll: sending all the good book recs your way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 738,603 others

danielricciardo: babymooning 🍼 the smile says it all, so happy to have my girl back on her feet and feeling like herself again…making the last few memories just the two of us 🥺

83,500 comments

ynusername: thank you for the best couple of days and being my personal taxi driver

username14: look at his face - you can tell daniel is buzzing to be a dad

pierregasly: where was my invite?? I thought we were friends

carlossainz55: and mine!

georgerussell63: me too!

landonorris: looks like we were all forgotten!

visacashapprb: enjoy the break daniel! you and y/n absolutely deserve it 🏁🩷

username15: i speak for all your fans when i say keep the holiday photos coming pls

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, georgerussell63 and 920,355 others

danielricciardo: mum and dad 🔥🥺

tagged: ynusername

58,429 comments

landonorris: adopt me pls, im less problematic than a baby

danielricciardo: @/landonorris debatable

lewishamilton: so glad to see you both so happy, good luck with everything

charles_leclerc: wow!! y/n looks insane (suppose you look alright too daniel!)

ynusername: mum and dad?? i can definitely get used to hearing that 🤩

alex_albon: it’s not fair how adorable you two are, this kid is hella lucky!!

username16: pls keep the baby spam coming, you guys are the sweetest 🍼💫

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lilymhe, yukitsunoda0511 and 109,446 others

ynusername: the many faces of a man who has just remembered he’s just signed up for no sleep for the next 10 years 😂

tagged: danielricciardo

23,201 comments

danielricciardo: after all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? you just wait my love 🫢

ynusername: @/danielricciardo this was too good of an opportunity to miss

carlossainz55: make the most of that middle photo whilst you can danny

georgerussell63: you have NO idea how much I just laughed at this y/n 😂😂😂

schecoperez: speaking from experience, you could not be more correct y/n #dannynosleep

username17: embarrassing dad before even becoming a dad 😬

oscarpiastri: call me for anymore embarrassing daniel pics 😂

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri no one asked for you to show up here

username18: I just want you to be my mum and dad instead 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, carmenmmundt and 113,999 others

ynusername: can you believe this man is really about to become a father?? 🤦🏻‍♀️

32,694 comments

charles_leclerc: sometimes i really do wonder what you see in him y/n

landonorris: the biggest clown known to man, still the world’s biggest kid 😂😂

danielricciardo: is that really how you want to talk about the father of your child? I thought you were supposed to love me

ynusername: @/danielricciardo i do, ily very much 🥰

username17: not y/n releasing all the humiliating photos of daniel now they’re about to be parents

username18: y/n’s clearing the phone album for baby spam and giving us daniel spam in return

logansargeant: more to the point, this is the guy you chose as the father of your child??

lilymhe: the two of you are perfect for each other y/n ❤️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri and 1,403,407 others

danielricciardo: welcome to the world baby ricciardo 💕

after a lot of hardships and tricky times, y/n and i are beyond excited to share with you that our little one is here. everyone is safe, loved and doing well, my heart has never felt so full 🥺

tagged: ynusername

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 reaction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 smau #formula 1 x you #formula 1 social media #formula 1 imagine #formula one #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader

2K notes · View notes

nxuvillette · 10 months

Text

“THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING”

LOSING YOUR VIRGINITY W/ TR MEN

synopsis: your first time is supposed to be special and with the right person. luckily, you have an amazing boyfriend who is willing to make that dream come true.

❥- including : manjiro (mikey) sano, ken (draken) ryuguji, baji keisuke, hanma shuji

❥- note : first tr post 👍🏻 i’m kinda nervous because these were a little longer than my last post but i hope y’all enjoy <3. reblogs are appreciated!!

content warnings: nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, virgin!reader, established relationship, virginity loss, praising, oral sex [f!receiving] (mikey , baji), fingering (draken , baji , hanma), finger sucking (baji), slight breeding kink (hanma), creampie (draken , hanma) use of pet names (baby , princess , babydoll , doll) multiple orgasms.

♡ MANJIRO (MIKEY) SANO

you and your boyfriend mikey had been together for a little while. he was nothing but kind to you, and you honestly trusted him more than anybody else that you knew. he was everything.

intimacy had never really crossed his mind before. sure, he knew sex was important, but it wasn’t something he necessarily saw as a necessity in your relationship. not to mention, you were a virgin. you knew things about sex and such, but you never acted upon those desires you had inside your head. mikey was also patient. he never really saw sex as something that had to be rushed.

eventually, you reached that point after your one year anniversary that you were ready to lose it to him.

mikey honestly couldn’t believe that he did so little to you, yet you were a dripping mess when he took your panties off. he believed if you weren’t a virgin he wouldn’t even need to do foreplay to make you feel good, but he wanted to make sure you were prepped and you got to experience a great first time with him.

his favorite part was watching you squirm and tremble as his tongue dove into your sopping pussy. you hadn’t experienced such a feeling before and it was so thrilling. his tongue dragged along your slit and you almost came from him just eating you out. mikey couldn’t get enough of how delicious you tasted. he was in disbelief that someone as good as you was hiding like this for so long. it took everything in him to not keep eating you out.

when mikey finally entered you, you were both in complete heaven.

mikey was fairly long and his size made you gasp. he was reaching spots that made your mind feel dizzy. with all of the prep he did it also didn’t feel as bad as you thought it would have. he couldn’t believe you felt that amazing. your pussy was hugging his cock so nicely he thought he’d never be able to actually leave it. it was so warm and perfect.

once you gave him the go ahead to start moving, he made you feel like you were on some type of drug. the feelings you were having were so euphoric. you craved more. you knew he was being gentle on purpose, but you were beyond wanting that soft and delicate sex.

“m-more, mikey! i need more.. please..” you begged, gripping onto his forearms to show how desperate you were for more of him.

hearing those words snapped something inside mikey, and he ended up quickening his thrusts into you. the tip of his cock kissed your g-spot, making you see white stars in your vision and your body to completely ignite. “fuck.. don’t you worry, baby, i’ll give you all you’ll ever need..” he looked into your eyes, making you feel somewhat flustered at his words.

you were so close to reaching your high. you were practically clawing at mikey’s back and letting out the most lewd noises every time he rutted into you. this was the first time you had ever felt something so intense in your life. not even your own hand could make you cum that hard. it was like that white hot pleasure in your gut was finally unleashed and it was making you go crazy. mikey had also cum, too. he was in utter shock at how much he released onto your stomach, but he was more than satisfied with the results.

he pecked your lips, a smile writing itself on his features. “you were so great.. i’m so proud of you.”

♡ KEN (DRAKEN) RYUGUJI

dating toman’s number two was definitely one of the best decisions you had made in your entire life. draken was a better man than your own father and he did everything right in your relationship. he was practically someone who had zero flaws.

there were a few times you and draken had gotten close to actually having sex. sometimes you’d come over to his place and end up with his hands down your pants, but it never escalated to you both carrying out such an act with one another. draken was well aware that you were a virgin and he didn’t really have an issue with that. he wanted to be the one to make you feel good and he didn’t care how much time it took. unlike some men, he had genuine patience.

you and draken had been in his room that night it happened. you were both watching a movie when his hands began to wander around your body, squeezing and massaging your skin to make you feel aroused. it didn’t take long for you to end up on top of your boyfriend with your crotch pressing right up against his aching bulge.

when you paused in your actions, you whispered to draken that you were ready to finally take that step with him. he was honestly a little surprised to hear such a thing, but he wasted no time pressing your body onto the mattress and going down on you. he almost came on the spot when he came face to face with your weeping pussy. he knew with his size that you’d need the prep, so he took his time with you.

draken used two of his thick fingers to push into your cunt. he was astonished at how tightly your walls surrounded his digits. he loved hearing you call out his name each time he pumped himself into you. you were such an angel.

once he had made you cum twice, he knew you were ready.

you were honestly kind of nervous. draken was the biggest you had ever seen. when he pushed his cock inside you, there was this sharp inhale that escaped your lips. he was so thick. the girth was stretching you out to almost your limit and you practically held onto him for dear life as he bottomed out into you. you didn’t think he’d be able to make it fit, but he did. he could tell you had some discomfort, so he peppered a few kisses onto your face and whispered sweet nothings to ease you. all he wanted was for you to be comfortable.

you gave him the nod of approval to start moving and you honestly thought he was going to split you in half. his cock was so big. you felt that vein dragging along your walls as he thrusted and it sent you into pure bliss. you could hardly contain the cries of pleasure that spilled from your throat. “d-draken! shit.. ‘feels so good!” you looked at him with hazy eyes while he fucked you so effortlessly.

your voice was like music to his ears. draken’s dick twitched when he heard how his name slipped off your lips. “yeah? you like that, princess? you’re so fuckin’ tight.. i can’t get enough of this pussy..” he grunted.

that knot inside your belly has finally snapped when those words processed through your foggy brain. draken groaned hard when your cunt clamped around his cock, milking him of what was left in his balls. he couldn’t hide his smirk when he realized he had filled you up with his cum. you seemed to enjoy it too, judging by the moan you let out when you felt him covering your walls with white.

he leaned towards your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. it sent shivers down your spine at the action. “round two..?” he asked, seductively.

♡ BAJI KEISUKE

sexual intimacy was never something that was a necessity in your relationship with baji. the two of you often focused on more romantic things than the physical aspects of a relationship, but that didn’t mean that you two never craved those inappropriate desires.

baji knew from day one that you were a virgin. he accidentally asked that “are you a virgin?” question when you both went on a date and almost slapped himself when he realized he came from his mouth. you thought it was kind of funny and you ended up revealing to him that you were a virgin. he didn’t mind at all, and he assured you that he’d never put you in a position where you felt forced to have sex with him. he said sex came naturally and when you were ready to do it with another person.

you and baji went on a nice ride on his bike that night. there was a gorgeous sunset that you both watched and he took you home, expecting you to go into your apartment and not look back. however, he was quite shocked when you tugged his arm to come with you. this hadn’t happened before, so it took him off guard. nonetheless, he followed you up to your apartment and went inside with you.

after you both shrugged off your jackets, you both ended up in your bedroom and baji was the one on top of you. the two of you hadn’t expected it to become so heated that quickly, but you were too far lost in your bliss to even think about stopping. he paused when he realized you were tugging at his belt buckle. he questioned if you wanted to do it and you nodded eagerly. you told him you were sure that you wanted to proceed and he wasted no time diving into you.

baji thought your body was so gorgeous. he couldn’t stop kissing at your skin and sucking to leave marks on it. when he reached your cunt, his mouth practically watered at the sight of it. it was so puffy and cute that he couldn’t help but have a taste. his tongue swiped over your sensitive bead, causing your thighs to trap his head. he was so talented with his tongue and his fingers that you swore you could cum from just him eating you out.

once his chin and lips were completely covered in your arousal, he decided to finally pull out his cock that was aching so painfully.

as soon as baji entered you, your eyes rolled backwards into your skull. the pleasure already felt so amazing that you were already feeling needy for your boyfriend. baji had a pretty impressive size, so taking it was a bit painful at first. he was, however, very good at talking you through that sting. he kissed your lips and whispered how beautiful you were, and he praised you for taking him so well despite the stretch of his cock.

once he started moving, you wrapped your arms around his neck so you could bring him closer to you. baji thought your pussy hugged him perfectly like you were made for him to make love with. you were so gorgeous. he could hardly keep his eyes off of you. “f-fuck me, baby, you’re so beautiful.. bein’ such a good girl for me..” he pressed his thumb against your pretty lips, in which you sucked on it obediently.

you whined as baji adjusted his angle. his cock was now repeatedly hitting your g-spot which sent waves of pleasure to crash over your body. he was taking such care of your body that you didn’t think you’d ever need to fuck anyone else but him. “baji! oh, god, baji!” your nails dug crescents into his skin as he fucked you.

you threw your head back as your orgasm snapped through you. your pussy creamed around baji, earning several grunts from him. he pulled out the moment he felt his high hurdling towards him. sticky white cum covered your stomach, making a mess on your skin.

baji kissed your cheek, a smile appearing on his face. “you were perfect.. let’s wash up and cuddle after, yeah?” he nodded, in which you agreed.

♡ HANMA SHUJI

dating someone like hanma shuji meant you had to deal with his sarcasm and also his flirty nature at the same time. however, he treated you like a princess regardless of those random snarky moments he had. he did anything for you and you couldn’t be happier with any other man.

hanma almost didn’t believe you when you told him you were a virgin. it wasn’t like he thought you were lying for some other reason, but most people your age weren’t virgins. he didn’t see it as a problem, though. hanma thought it would be cute to someday take your virginity. he craved that physical intimacy more than you anticipated, but he was patient with you when it came to the matter. he would wait as long as you wanted, even if there was a side of him that desired to fuck your brains out on a daily basis.

he took you out earlier in the day for some shopping. you were used to being spoiled by him at times, so it wasn’t unusual. he knew the routine fairly well but he was kind of surprised when you both got home and you were being more touchy with him than usual. you brushed yourself over his crotch a few times and kissed him a little longer than normal. he wondered what you wanted, because he couldn’t handle teasing whatsoever.

he was taken back when you told him you wanted to have sex with him. he thought it was a joke, but he knew you were serious when you gave him that look. he didn’t waste another second dragging you into the bedroom and pouncing on you like he was a wild animal going for his prey.

hanma took care of you. he made sure every inch of your body was kissed by his lips. he wanted you to know how stunning you were while you were naked. he swore god had favorites in that moment. it took everything inside of him to not completely ravage your cunt. when he slipped his fingers into you, he was shocked at how easy it was. you were practically soaking wet. his fingers were also quite lengthy. he curled and twisted his digits to find that button inside of you that would make you crumble in front of him.

you were shocked at how quick hanma had made you cum. before you knew it, he was hovering above you with his cock tip teasing your slit. you couldn’t wait any longer and practically begged him to enter you. he let out that usual chuckle and then pushed his cock into you, making your head fall backwards from how great it felt.

he made you feel like you were on the moon with how great he filled you. hanma could hardly believe you were taking him that well. you felt so full with him fully bottomed out in you. it took a little while for you to completely adjust to the size, but once that pain faded into pleasure, you had become a mess underneath your lover. he made your mind become cluttered and you couldn’t even think straight with how great the pleasure was.

“hanma.. oh, fuck! yes!” your fingers gripped the sheets underneath your body.

he smirked at your voice crying out for him. he could hardly hold back against you. he quickened his speed a little, but made sure to not overwhelm you completely. you were delicate to him and he only wanted you to feel safe with him. “god, babydoll, it’s like you were made for me..” he used the hand with sin to toy with your puffy clit. “‘gonna make sure you cum all over my cock..”

you couldn’t hold back anymore and completely let go on him. your pussy squeezed his cock tightly and covered it in slick arousal. hanma pushed a load into your womb, grunting as he reached his high. it was so intense he thought he might have cum twice from you.

he took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and pressing a few kisses onto your neck. “i’m so proud of you, doll.. you did so well..” he whispered, lovingly.

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ official work !#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x you #mikey x reader #mikey sano x reader #mikey smut #draken x reader #draken smut #draken x you #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji smut #hanma shuji x reader #hanma x reader #hanma smut #tokyo revengers imagines

4K notes · View notes

jaylaxies · 6 months

Text

NOW OR NEVER

PAIRING: spider-man!sunghoon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, choking, fingering, slight bondage, usage of nicknames, breeding.

SYNOPSIS: going around the city with your massive poster which said, ‘Choke me, Spider-Man!’ was something you did for fun, not knowing that your dream might actually come true.

WC: 1.4k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

A/N: hihi, loves! this one was requested by my anonnie and i’ve also posted this as a mark fic before! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33

“Shh, baby. Don’t want your parents to hear now, do we?”

You truly couldn’t believe that it was happening—that Spider-Man was in your room with his slender fingers wrapped ever so perfect around your throat.

You’ve always wanted this from the day you first saw him, on the day he saved a lift full of people from falling down and crashing to the ground. You were one of those who unfortunately got stuck inside the lift too, which was the traumatic onset of your tiny crush on him.

No one knew who was behind that mask, yet his suit clad figure was a sight to see, his build lean and slightly muscular, not to mention he smelled brilliant (a little something you gathered when he saved you).

To add to it, his ever so attractive voice always grasped everyone’s attention, you thought he was funny too, which is exactly why you ended up making a poster full of glitter saying:

Choke me, Spider-Man!

It was a silly joke, albeit you’d definitely be lying if you say you didn’t get wet dreams about the superhero, because you did. Detailed ones at that.

Maybe carrying the poster with you at all times was a stretch but you did it anyway, granted that your city was full of crimes and spotting Spider-Man was an easy task, which is why you proudly held up the poster in the crowd whenever you saw him, after he fought with the villain that is.

The people around you laughed, but it wasn’t mocking, it was more of an amused laugh, and you could have sworn you noticed spidey look your way, before swinging away, much to your dismay.

This went on a few times. You were practically waving the poster frantically when it was the fourth time, yet he didn’t pay you attention of any sort, leaving you dejected as you dragged yourself back home from Uni, chuckling at your state.

Crush on a superhero?

Pathetic.

He’s loved by countless people all over the world, what makes you think he’d have time to give you even a sliver of his attention when he’s so busy saving the world?

Clicking your tongue, you threw the crumbled poster in the trash can of your bedroom, dimming the lights as you sat down on your bed, ready to change into your nightwear before opting to sleep to take your mind off things.

Just then, a loud sound of knocking on your window caught your attention, which was funny considering you lived up on a pretty high floor in your apartment building. You thought that it must be a bird, still, you decided to open the curtains to check it out.

Shock would be an understatement to explain what you were feeling the second your eyes laid on the person right outside your window.

The reason for your sour mood, or rather, the reason you spent hours trying to ease the pent up frustration in you each night, moaning out with need, was hanging by your window.

“Oh god,” you breathed out, brain short circuiting for a few seconds before you shook your head, opening the windows for him to come in.

Who knew Spider-Man would actually care enough to notice you?

Then you realized just how awkward the situation was, and you didn’t have much to say anymore now that he was standing right in front of you, looking around as if he was inspecting your room.

“Spider man,” you breathed out, and he chuckled.

His attention was on you now, walking closer to you, “so, you’re the one who wanted to be choked by me,” he said smoothly, and you couldn’t help but shamelessly gawk at his figure, mouth watering at the sight.

“Uhm—I mean, holy fuck you’re actually here,” you tried to voice out your thoughts, but they were a mess, which only caused him to chuckle at your shocked state.

“Didn’t you want me here, baby?” He asked and you felt your knees buckling at the deep tone of his voice.

You took another step back, only to lose balance and trip. But good for you, your spidey was quick to shoot his web on your silky night blouse, pulling you close and right into his arms.

He smelled so good.

“Careful. We don’t want you hurting your pretty face,” he whispered, tracing his glove clad finger along your jaw, gripping your chin when he noticed how your body had gone still, “deep breaths, babe.”

“Are you gonna fuck me?” You asked, voice coming out in a low whine, eyes twinkling with hope.

He chuckled, pulling his mask up which had you bubbling with anticipation, you really wanted to see what he looked like. However, he stopped a little too soon for your liking, only exposing his lips, leaning in to mumble against your own.

“I’m gonna fuck the life out of you,” he whispers, a gasp leaving your lips as you pulled him closer into a rushed kiss.

He was quick to take over, kissing you harder as he pushed you down on your bed, you could feel his fang like canines biting down on your bottom lip, “undress, quick,” he ordered, and you fumbled while getting everything off your body.

Your cheeks were warm, your eyes on his figure, which was now devoid of his costume, faint abs and strong muscles on display for you, but your mouth practically salivated at the sight of his cock, thick and hard.

Just when you sat up to touch him, he grabbed your wrist, pushing them up your head and shooting webs to tie them, making sure they didn’t move.

You never knew you’d be into web-play but here you are, getting wet by being constrained by webs.

“Please,” you begged in hopes that he’d touch you, or do something, anything.

“So needy, aren’t you?” He clicks his tongue, his fingers caressing your cunt, collecting your wetness, “so wet already,” he smirked, “wanna be fucked all night, huh?” He asked, continuing working his fingers between your legs, arousal leaking from your cunt.

His other hand was wrapped up around your neck, fingers tightening enough for you to gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt lightheaded with the whole situation, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better.

He was so good with his fingers, thumb pads circling your clit while two digits plunged in and out of you, eliciting moans out of you.

“Shh,” he whispered, his hold around your neck tightening which caused you to open your mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to lean in and spit in your mouth, watching the glob travel down your tongue till you gulped it down, earning a praise out of him, “good girl.”

He pulled back right when your body started shaking with the orgasm building up in your lower abdomen, his hold on your neck loose to let you breathe some more before he took it to the next level.

He ran his lips down your neck, sucking harshly as he lined his cock to your eager folds, your expression blissful and your entrance so wet, it made it easy for him to bottom out, “so fucking pretty,” he groaned out.

His voice strained as he started fucking you into your mattress, his power was evident with how precise and hard his thrusts were. It was a lifetime opportunity for you, and you wished to savour every second of it as you wrapped your legs around his slender waist, pulling him even closer and deeper in your pussy.

He hit your spot over and over again, “cream my cock like a good girl, baby,” he rasped out, his own orgasm approaching.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, with his fingers still gripping your neck, the lack of air was evident but it somehow made you feel as if you were floating with unadulterated bliss around you as you finally reached your state of euphoria, coming undone on his cock, exactly when he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with yours as he emptied himself in you.

You whined when he pulled back, getting dressed after draining you, “you’re leaving?” You asked, frowning.

“Gotta save the world now, pretty,” he whispered, removing his webs from your wrists before pecking your lips and rushing out of the window, leaving you dazed.

Maybe making the poster wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

@jaeminvore @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @ikeuizm @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @luvswonyoung @ma-riiii @addictedtohobi @heeliopheelia @haanigurl

permanent taglist open! comment or send an ask to be added!

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #sunghoon smut #kpop smut #enha smut #enhypen imagines

2K notes · View notes

leclercsainzz · 8 months

Note

BEGGING for a charles leclerc x reader smau based on “some one like you” please 🙏🏼 where he’s married to someone else after reader and him broke up .. you can make it however you want:)

WISTFUL YEARNING

PARINGS: charles leclerc x ex gf!reader

TYPE: social media au

part 1 - part 2

charles_leclerc

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 720,038 others

charles_leclerc: dreams do come true, i love you, my love 💘

view 6,736 comments

user: OMG OMG

user: “dreams do come true” 😭

user: he’s officially married, guys

carlossainz55: congratulations, mate 🍾

user: YN LIKED OMG 😭😭

pierregasly: congrats, bro! wishing you the best ❤️

user: congratulations 🥰

user: *liked by yourusername* 😢

↳ user: my heart SHATTERED, OMGGGG 💔

user: i just want to know how yn feels

user: can ya’ll move on from charles and yn?!?

user: CONGRATS, CHARLES!! ❤️

user: yn 😭😭

joris__trouche: ❤️❤️❤️

user: he finally got what he wanted, omg 🥺

user: congratulations 🥳

user: i was doing fine until i saw that yn liked this post

user: im happy for him!!

landonorris: congrats, mate

user: HE’S OFFICIALLY MARRIED YA’LL 😩😩

user: idk why i was waiting to see a comment by yn

sebastianvettel: wishing you a lifetime of love and happiness

↳ charles_leclerc: thank you, sebs! 😊

lance_stroll: congratulations!

user: can’t believe so much time has passed since yn:(

user: i know all the drivers were invited but i NEED pictures

user: guess i won’t be mrs leclerc anytime soon 😩

danielricciardo: wishing you both lots of love ❤️

lewishamilton: congratulations

user: i wonder how yn must be feeling 🥺🥺

user: was hoping him and yn would get their happily ever after

user: i wonder if he calls his wife “mon cœur” or “mon ange”

↳ user: i doubt he calls his wife that considering those belong to yn but who knows

↳ user: maybe “my heart” but not “my angel” or idk

↳ user: ya’ll think she calls him “charlie” ?? the way yn did??

user: guess yn is never getting him back 😭

user: congratulations, charles! sending lots of love 💗

imessage

yourusername

liked by francisca.cgomes, lorenzotl and 610,840 others

yourusername: — la vie est belle <3

see translation: life is beautiful

view 4,810 comments

user: SHE’s HangING WITH KIKA 💗

user: babes, did you get the apartment you always wanted?!?

↳ user: wait— the one her and charles always wanted right?!?

↳ user: with the view, yes! it seems like it in the third post

pierregasly: hey! that’s MY girlfriend

↳ yourusername: OUR* get it right 🙄

francisca.cgomes: tú es belle 😘

see translation: you’re beautiful

user: “life is beautiful” LIES ik deep down you missing charles

user: i miss you and charles 😭😭😭😭

user: i really thought you and charles would’ve been endgame 😭

user: charles is married but not to yn 😭😭😭

danielricciardo: oui

see translation: yes

leclerc_pascale: belle comme toujours 😍

see translation: beautiful as always

↳ yourusername: ❤️❤️❤️

↳ user: mama leclerc 😭

user: how do you feel about charles’ marriage??

user: crazy to think how charles is married while yn’s not

user: i really thought you and charles would’ve been endgame

user: charles’ got a whole wife, bro 😔😔 and it ain’t you

user: charles got his dream but yn???? 😭😭😭😭

user: she got her apartment with the eiffel tower view

↳ user: but without charles 😢😢

user: times flies fast … it feels like her and charles were still together:((

user: wonder if she congratulated charles

↳ user: she definitely didn’t 🤣 why would she??

user: charles was suppose to be her love forever 😭😭

↳ user: well as they say, “sometimes it last in love, but sometimes it hurts instead”

user: her and charles were supposed to live in france together

user: ya’ll seriously need to move on from those two, he’s a married man ….

charles_leclerc

liked by sebastianvettel, arthur_leclerc and 772,046 others

charles_leclerc: surprise!

view 5,940 comments

user: i just know yn feeling SICK right now

user: he got married, he’s gonna become a dad, now he just needs that ferrari championship (FERRARI GIVE IT TO HIM)

carlossainz55: you’re both going to make amazing parents! congratulations on your new baby!!! ❤️

↳ charles_leclerc: thank you, carlos!

user: he’S GONNA BE A DAD 😭😭😭

user: we’re getting a mini leclerc 🥺

lewishamilton: congratulations 😊

↳ charles_leclerc: thanks, mate!

user: he’s achieving his dreams

↳ user: without yn 😭😭😭

user: ya’ll gotta stop with the whole charles/yn relationship, they BROKE UP! i don’t think his wife appreciates you all bringing yn up every chance you get

user: can’t wait!!!!!

sebastianvettel: congratulations on your new adventure

↳ charles_leclerc: 😊😊

leclerc_pascale: ❤️❤️❤️

user: we’re all happy for you, charles 😌💗

alex_albon: congrats!! 🥳

↳ charles_leclerc: thanks, alex

user: i’d be crawling back into his life, if i were yn

lorenzotl: ❤️

user: he’s getting his mini leclerc 🥺🥺

maxverstappen1: favorite uncle max is gonna spoil her/him

↳ charles_leclerc: favorite uncle?!!?? absolutely not

joris__trouche: at your service 🫡

arthur_leclerc: ❤️❤️

user: he finally accomplished his dreams

user: this could’ve been yn’s life 😩😩

yourusername: congratulations, charlie!

↳ user: MOM, OMG 😭😭

↳ user: ik she’s lowkey crying about this

↳ user: “charlie”

↳ user: i want them back together, idc 😭😭😭😭

pierregasly: congrats ❤️

user: he’s living his dreams

user: yn 💔💔💔💔

user: mom’s comment 😢

user: i’d be feeling sick to my stomach, if i were yn

imessage

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 649,083 others

yourusername: bonjour

see translation: hello

tagged: @yourbrother

view 4,081 comments

user: when she listens to lana del rey >>>

user: LA LA LAND, OMG 😭😭😭 PAIN

pierregasly: yourbrother & toby >>> you

user: charles liked!!! OMG

user: she’s watching la la land!

user: i didn’t realize the 5th slide was @yourbrother

leclerc_pascale: ma belle fille 😘

see translation: my beautiful girl

↳ yourusername: je t’aime ❤️

↳ user: “my beautiful girl” i cant 😭😭😭

↳ user: pascale LOVES yn so much even after all these years

francisca.cgomes: 😍😍😍😍 my wife

lorenzotl: avez-vous oublié monaco? 😔

see translation: did you forget monaco?

↳ yourusername: jasmais ça

see translation: never that

↳ arthur_leclerc: 👍🏼

user: the way charles family still interacts with hers 😭😭

↳ user: i miss them 😔

user: third slide is lowkey for charles

↳ user: girl, MOVE ON! he’s married, get over them

user: ARE WE JUST GONNA IGNORE THAT CHARLES LIKED

user: i miss yncharles 💔💔💔💔

kellypiquet: 😍😍

danielricciardo: bonjour

yourbrother: mon chein est meilleur que toi

see translation: my dog is better than you

↳ yourusername: toby m’aime mieux que toi

see translation: toby likes me better than you

charles_leclerc: toby est tellement grand 🥺 @yourbrother

see translation: toby is so grown

user: missing mom and dad 😭😭

user: i know charles is married but i can’t help myself thinking about him and yn all the times:(

user: he commented

user: she’s the one that got away 😔

↳ user: what should’ve, could’ve, and would’ve been

2K notes · View notes

shjsnjkj · 13 days

Text

Kinktober Masterlist '24

-`♡´- This masterlist is made by me and @luviwon, the sweetest girlie I know. We decided to split the list in half but you can also find some episodes we wrote together! I will post on the odd days while she will on the even ones. ♡ You can find @luviwon's masterlist here! -taglist is open I hope that everyone will love our work as we put a lot of effort into it. Make sure to reblog and leave feedback if you liked it! Sending lots of love! ૮₍ • ˕ - ₎ა♡₊˚

OCTOBER 1 --- LEE HEESEUNG' COME 2 ME

☆ boyfriend!heeseung x girlfriend!reader ; After a rough day at work, you finally stepped out of the office building, only to find yourself caught in a sudden downpour. That would've been no problem because you love rainy days, but you didn't have an umbrella, and your phone's battery died as well. You prayed that your boyfriend, Heeseung would pass by your workplace and pick you up, but you knew he was working late. But not today, he came to you with his new car. You were so happy to see him and couldn't wait to thank him for saving you tonight. “You know, I’m ready. Waiting for you every night. Entrusting myself to your touch”

OCTOBER 2 --- YANG JUNGWON' MY PERSONAL STYLIST

☆ stylist!jungwon x model!reader ; Jungwon always finds the most fashionable pieces of clothing for you to try out, but when one day he decides to wrap you up in his own hands, well that becomes your new favourite fit.

OCTOBER 3 --- PARK JONGSEONG' THE BOY NEXT DOOR

☆ bnd!jay x reader ; Thunderstorms, no electricity, no key to your apartment. The only thing you could do was to stay for the night at your neighbor, Jay's apartment.

OCTOBER 4 --- SIM JAEYUN' ANNIVERSARY BREEDING

☆ boyfriend!jake x girlfriend!reader ; Before you know it, you reach your 5th anniversary with your boyfriend, and before you feel it, he is 8inch deep inside you. but this time, he will leave a special present there for you.

OCTOBER 5 --- PARK SUNGHOON' MY SUMMER LOVE

☆ sunghoon x reader ; It was August 31st, and you were heading back home tomorrow because of school. Unfortunately, sleep didn't come easily. Your mind kept replaying all the memories you had with Sunghoon this summer, except for one. The one you'll be making tonight with the help of his camera. “Fly through the deep night to you. In the thick darkness, I will hold you again”

OCTOBER 6 --- KIM SUNOO' MUTUAL TOUCHING

☆ bestfriend!sunoo x reader ; Someone once said that having a sleepover with your boy best friend is not the smartest idea. you wondered why, until you returned to your bedroom to find Sunoo touching himself and ultimately agreeing to pleasure each other.

OCTOBER 7 --- PARK SUNGHOON' BEST FRIENDS, RIGHT?

☆ bestfriend!sunghoon x reader ; Jealousy. This was the first time you felt that emotion while seeing your childhood best friend, Sunghoon around girls except you. You hated to admit it, but you found out yourself craving his touch every time you saw him. Maybe today is the day, to be honest and open up to him.

OCTOBER 8 --- NISHIMURA RIKI' CLASSROOM HOOK UP

☆ classmate!niki x reader ; You really hated the physical education class, and so did your classmate niki. but skipping it together didn’t keep you from finding another way to burn some calories.

OCTOBER 9 --- SIM JAEYUN' MIDNIGHT FICTION

☆ roommate!jake x reader ; You have this little habit, of reading fanfictions before going to bed. Every night you'd dream about him touching you, heavily making out at the wall. But you never thought that this would come true tonight with your roommate Jake.

OCTOBER 10 --- PARK JONGSEONG' MY FITNESS INSTRUCTOR

☆ fitness instructor!jay x reader ; Wishing to get in shape for summer, you hired your own instructor to help you reach your goal. yet later one, your only fitness target turned into feeling him press hard against your ass while bending down to stretch your body.

OCTOBER 11 --- LEE HEESEUNG' FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS

☆ fwb!heeseung x reader ; “I’ll be alone tonight, do you wanna come over?” This was Heeseung's first time at your place. You were on your own at home, and he couldn't wait to touch you again after agreeing to this relationship. It was snowy outside, but inside your home all the windows became foggy that night due to the hot air between you two.

OCTOBER 12 --- KIM SUNOO' PHONE SEX

☆ dating app stranger!sunoo x dating app user!reader ; “lonely at night? don’t worry, ‘call a lover’ will bring you the company you need in just a couple of seconds”. out of curiosity, you downloaded the dating app mentioned in the ad, just to say goodbye to boredom. I mean, it’s not like you’ll end up moaning a stranger’s name tonight, right?

OCTOBER 13 --- SIM JAEYUN' STARRY NIGHT

☆ chrucrchboy!jake x reader ; “You and I under the moonlight. We bloom at night.” Jake and you have been friends since you relocated to the same area. You never imagined that this sweet guy you go to church with every Sunday would have these naughty fantasies about you, and no one else. After your birthday, he took you to a beautiful garden far from your home, where you could make love in secret, unheard.

OCTOBER 14 --- YANG JUNGWON' PORNSTAR COLLAB

☆ pornstar!jungwon x pornstar!reader ; Having been in the adult industry for only a year, you’re constantly surprised by what the directors come up with next. but who would have guessed that their latest surprise would be filming a scene with your favorite actor?

OCTOBER 15 --- LEE HEESEUNG' BIRTHDAY SEX

☆ boyfriend!heeseung x girlfriend!reader ; Heeseung’s 23th birthday. You decided to surprise your boyfriend with the members after their concert. He loved every single minute of it, especially the ones you two shared throughout the night. You didn’t hesitate and relaxed in the indoor jacuzzi with some champagne and strawberries covered in …

OCTOBER 16 --- SIM JAEYUN' POST-MATCH

☆ football captain!jake x cheerleader!reader ; When it comes to football, you know that for Jake a new victory means a following night out with the boys. this time, though, luck is not on their side and Jake’s frustration needs to be buried somewhere else. maybe inside you would be just the great spot for that.

OCTOBER 17 --- PARK JONGSEONG' LULLABY

☆ uncle!jay x niece!reader ; Going on a vacation with your uncle looked like a wonderful idea. But little did you know, you will share a bedroom with him.

OCTOBER 18 --- KIM SUNOO' FAMILY DINNER FINGERING

☆ fiancé!sunoo x reader ; It didn’t take long for everyone in your family to hear about your engagement, so they organised a dinner to celebrate the two of you. but truth be told, can sunoo really keep his hands away from you under the eyes of other people? or will he just not give a damn about it and let his fingers do their trick?

OCTOBER 19 --- PARK SUNGHOON' GLASSES

☆ boss!sunghoon x worker!reader ; “I can’t endure it anymore, come to me. Just a little bit closer.” Stealing glances with your boss wasn't the best idea, especially when you're working on an important project and you're supposed to give it your all. He didn't like the result, it was full of mistakes and you had to get yourself together, as he said. So you had to stay overtime. Nevertheless, you were not alone, Sunghoon stayed with you and helped you get yourself together in every way possible.

OCTOBER 20 --- YANG JUNGWON' BEACH SEX

☆ ex boyfriend!jungwon x ex girlfriend!reader ; Going on a trip with your highschool group of friends sounds all perfect until you find out your ex will be there too. And you feel annoyed about it, that until you end up on top of him with your swimming suit buried somewhere in the sand. “We don’t need to tell your new boyfriend about it, sweetheart”

OCTOBER 21 --- LEE HEESEUNG' DAD'S BEST FRIEND

☆ heesung x reader ; Heeseung was your favorite person when you were a little girl, but after moving to a new country, you slowly started to forget him through the ages. Forget all his beautiful features, the memories you shared with him, and the song he sang to you the last night you saw him. Receiving little kisses and sleeping with him wasn't the same as you remembered either.

OCTOBER 22 --- PARK JONGSEONG' BACKSTAGE SUPPORT

☆ idol!jay x girlfriend!reader ; Performing on stage is indeed stressful, so sometimes Jay just needs his antistress toy to calm down. that’s why you wait for him patiently in the backstage, just in case he needs to recharge in between performances.

OCTOBER 23 --- PARK SUNGHOON' MOONSTRUCK

☆ sunghoon x reader ; Your fiancé, your parents, and your loved ones are waiting for you to show up at the altar in that beautiful white dress. But you are not even in the same place with them. Right now you're with Sunghoon, hand in hand, melting into each other's touch with your engagement ring on the ground.

OCTOBER 24 --- YANG JUNGWON' MIRROR KINK

☆ boyfriend!jungwon x girlfriend!reader ; A new house brings new surprises, and the bedroom ceiling mirror is no exception. at first, you don’t give it too much thought —until you catch your boyfriend’s reflection in it, relentlessly pleasuring you.

OCTOBER 25 --- NISHIMURA RIKI' LIPS

☆ rival!niki x reader ; You and Niki were the best dancers in the whole school, but everyone knew that you were enemies. One day, someone spread a rumor that the two of you were secretly dating. As soon as you heard it, you ran to Niki and asked him what was going on. "I wouldn't mind if the rumors were true." -He said.

OCTOBER 26 --- KIM SUNOO' SHOWER SEX

☆ step brother!sunoo x reader ; “What about we just share this one today?” Sunoo whispers into your ear, slowly taking more of your personal space inside the shower cabin. “let’s just wash these sinful desires of ours away here for now.”

OCTOBER 27 --- NISHIMURA RIKI' ONE PLUS ONE EQUALS ORAL TIME

☆ rich boy!niki x tutor!reader ; as Niki's grades keep considerably going down, you are being in charge of bringing them back to an average score, giving him private lessons at his house. Niki's stubbornness, though, and his constant dirty lines to flirt with you, do not help at all. so coming to an agreement together, you offer a little bit of you to every right answer he gets. it goes without saying now that by the end of the day, he would have mastered the subject just as much as your body.

OCTOBER 28 --- MAKNAE LINE' DRINKING GAME

☆ boyfriend!niki x girlfriend!reader x best friends!sunwon ; One too many drinks lead to the raise of unexpected secret fantasies, and that's how a birthday party for Jungwon turns into a dirty race, fighting for who to fill your holes next. and you would think your boyfriend Niki could never allow that, but the growing bulge in his pants when Sunoo is fucking you from behind, well, says something totally different.

OCTOBER 29 --- HYUNG LINE' ACT LIKE AN ANGEL, DRESS LIKE CRAZY

☆ brother!niki x sister!reader x brother's friend group!hyung line ; You always captured the models and the million-dollar products from afar. To be honest, you always wanted to try on some jewelry or something luxurious after being done with your work. Tonight you not just tried on the gems, you felt them as close as possible. Not to mention you got the chance to admire the streets of Tokyo from above with the help of the two ambassadors of Cartier.

OCTOBER 30 --- PARK SUNGHOON & KIM SUNOO' PANORAMA

☆ ambassador!sunsun x photgrapher!reader ; You always captured the models and the million-dollar products from afar. To be honest, you always wanted to try on some jewelry or something luxurious after being done with your work. Tonight you not just tried on the gems, you felt them as close as possible. Not to mention you got the chance to admire the streets of Tokyo from above with the help of the two ambassadors of Cartier taking turns behind your back.

OCTOBER 31 --- ENHYPEN' DARK MOON

☆ enhypen x reader ; Holding a halloween party on an abandoned island does not sound like the greatest idea at first, but it gets so much better when you get the best prizes for simply being there. as they wish to fulfill your dirty desires, enhypen organises a small game of hide and seek for you. but this one is a little different, as the prize for finding each and everyone is feeling them deep inside you, one by one, taking over your body and treating you just like the sex doll you wished to be. be careful, though, as there might be scary traps on the way to your reward (even though you can confirm that the only scary thing would be chocking on anything else other than their cocks)

412 notes · View notes

crazyforboys · 20 days

Text

i. the first encounter

pairing aemond targaryen x fem!reader genre best friends brother, summer home, modern au, eventual smut, secret relationship, college students

you marvel at the targaryen summer home and find yourself intrigued by helaena's mysterious brother, aemond.

warnings for this chapter. a bit of rhaenyra slander (i love her this is just a fic). aemond talks once lol. mother alicent! targaryen girls suspect alicent and criston are hooking up (they are). reader and aemie share a bathroom smirks. aemond lore unlocked. SHORT HAIR AEMOND RAHHH. aemond does not wear an eyepatch here sorry. not much for this one sorry, it will get better trust me!

word count. 3,172

SERIES MASTERLIST 𖤐 KO-FI 𖤐 CROSS-POSTED TO AO3

With Helaena Targaryen as your roommate, your first year of university flew by. She was like a burst of caffeine when you were feeling drained — her presence was as noticeable as the moon in the night sky, shining brighter than all the stars. Helaena’s easy going nature made her an instant friend, and her keen awareness of her surroundings meant she could read you well. Knowing you lacked the courage to make other friends (just as she did), she had no trouble inviting you to join her friends Baela and Rhaena — who you later discovered were actually her cousins (by discovered you mean you suspected they were because of the violet eyes and the silver hair). Although their family connection initially intimidated you, they never made you feel like an outsider.

As summer drew to a close, you dreaded the approaching end of your break. Other summers, most of your time off was spent indoors, lying in bed and binge-watching one series after another. Your parents weren’t neglectful, but they were far from attentive. As a result, you didn't share the same excitement for summer as everyone else.

Helaena soon noticed that you seemed upset. Her instincts were as sharp as they were uncanny — despite your efforts to mask your mood, she saw right through it. When she asked what was bothering you, you hesitated to explain how dull your summer had been, fearing you might come across as a snob. However, Helaena was persistent and wouldn’t let the matter drop until she got to the bottom of it.

You confided in Helaena about how you felt, not expecting her to do anything about it. You knew that even if you stayed in the dorm over the summer, she would still have to go home, making your situation no different from returning to your own place. Your year at university had been made wonderful not by the academic experience, but by Helaena and her cousins, Baela and Rhaena.

To you, the Targaryens were like heaven on earth. So when they offered to take you home with them for the summer, it felt like a dream come true, as if angels were granting your wish.

Kings Landing, where their summer house was located, was only about an hour from the university, so the train was a convenient option since none of you had a car. You took the window seat — essential for you, as you couldn’t bear to be in a vehicle without gazing outside. Helaena sat beside you, with a throw blanket spread over both your laps while she embroidered on her stitch sampler. Baela sat in front of you, nose deep in a book, and Rhaena sat beside her, headphones on and brows furrowed as she sketched doodles in her sketchbook.

“Okay,” Helaena announces, drawing your and Baela’s attention. Rhaena, too engrossed in her music, was oblivious to the conversation. You couldn’t help but think she might end up deaf by thirty with the volume she had on. Baela nudged her twin to get her attention, and Helaena continued. “Before we get there, we just want you to know that our family isn’t like most families… rather—”

“Dysfunctional?” Rhaena interjects. “Chaotic? Oh, oh, problematic! Did I mention dysfunctional?”

It was clear that the three girls had mixed feelings about their family and its dynamics. You couldn’t help but wonder why they were heading back home for the summer if they felt this way. You hoped they were just being dramatic and that it wasn’t as bad as they made it seem. However, their reactions whenever they talked about their family suggested otherwise.

“Well, yes, but perhaps we should tell her about everyone,” Helaena suggests. “The good things, of course.”

“What good thi–oof!”

Baela interrupts Rhaena with a shove to her side. Rhaena winces and rubs her side while pouting at her sister.

“There’s Alicent, Hel’s mother,” Baela begins.

“Although, we suspect she’s sleeping with Cole, the butler.” Helaena whispers, as if anyone who shouldn’t know this is around. Baela and Rhaena nod in agreement, humming their assent.

Your jaw drops. It seemed that the Targaryen family might indeed be as chaotic as they’d hinted.

“Um, then there’s my brother Aegon,” Helaena continues. “He has a tendency to flirt with anything that has a vagina, so if he makes you uncomfortable, let us know and we’ll deal with him.”

“Oh! Tell her about Aemond!” Rhaena chimes in eagerly.

“You talk about Aemond as if he’s a scary story time character.” Baela says.

“He is a scary story time character. Have you ever been in a room alone with him? Even his silence scares me.”

“Who is Aemond?” you ask, curiously.

“One of my brothers,” Helaena answers. “He’s just… different.”

“As in?” you prompt, encouraging her to elaborate.

“As in he's scary and a bit weird.” Rhaena interjects, earning another nudge from Baela.

“He just keeps to himself.” Helaena says in nicer words. “When we were kids, our nephew Jace and him got into a pretty serious fight. They were pushing and punching, and Jace’s brother, Luke, stepped in. He ended up taking Aemond’s eye out with a rock. Luke was just protecting his brother; they were all kids at the time. My sister never apologized for her sons doing. But Aemond could never forgive them even if she did. Losing his eye has caused him much more pain than any of us will ever know.”

“Things just get awkward when the boys and their mother, Rhaenyra, come around.” Baela adds. “Especially between Alicent and her.”

“She still comes by?” you ask.

“Yep,” Rhaena confirms. “She’s her fathers favorite.”

Helaena stiffens at that, head hanging low.

Gods, this family had much more layers than you initially realized.

Rhaenyra sounded like the main root of the family chaos. It was appalling for her son to take out her brother's eye, even if it was an accident. Whether or not Aemond would forgive Luke for what he did, losing his eye would cause him pain eternally, surely there would always be some sort of resentment towards the boy. And with Rhaenyra being her father’s favorite, it was understandable that Helaena — and possibly her brothers — might have complicated feelings about it.

The conversation tapered off, and everyone returned to their activities for the rest of the train ride. Yet, you could sense a subtle shift in Helaena beside you, a quiet tension that hadn’t been there before.

Once the train arrived in Kings Landing, you grabbed your bags and followed the Targaryen girls through the crowded platform. They were scanning the sea of faces, struggling to locate who they were looking for. Somehow, they spotted the person — a quite attractive man with dark, long curly locks and facial hair. You only realized they did when Rhaena grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you along with them.

It wasn’t until Baela referred to him as ‘Cole’ did you register that this was the Targaryen butler. And you wouldn’t say it out loud but you did not blame Helaena’s mother if she was actually hooking up with him. Just saying. Apparently, Alicent ordered Cole to drive to the train station and pick you four up. Now, you don’t know if the speculations are true, but whatever kind of leash Alicent has around Cole’s neck, you might need.

The drive to the Targaryen summer home was captivating, especially since you had never been to Kings Landing before. You gazed out the window in awe, hardly paying attention to the conversations inside the car. The city was vibrant and bustling compared to your hometown. The streets were teeming with activity, the people seemed more alive, and the sun shone more brightly with a bluer sky. As the Targaryen summer home came into view, you felt certain that this summer was going to be the best three months of your life.

When the Targaryen girls mentioned their summer home, you expected something modest. Instead, the mansion before you was far beyond your expectations. Tall gates encircled the estate, with even grander gates marking the entrance. As Cole confirmed his identity, the gates swung open like doors, and as he drove inside, you felt like a child discovering a toy store.

In the front yard, a majestic water fountain stood with a dragon statue perched on top, adding to the surprise. The Targaryen girls had never hinted at their family's immense wealth, making this sight even more astonishing.

As Cole drove around the fountain, you spotted a woman with red hair in a green dress standing near the front doors, with guards positioned in front of them. Her face lit up with a warm smile as Helaena stepped out of the car, her arms outstretched, clearly eager to embrace her daughter.

“Oh, my sweet,” she said, her voice filled with emotion as she hugged Helaena longingly. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, Mum,” Helaena mumbled into her mother’s shoulder, clinging to her waist as if afraid to let go.

You were surprised by how young Helaena’s mother looked, especially for someone with three children (as far as you knew). There wasn’t a wrinkle in sight, and her skin was practically flawless. If you hadn’t known better, Alicent could easily pass as Helaena’s sister. You watched as the two embraced, completely absorbed in each other, as though no one else existed. Throughout the months away from home, Helaena often expressed how much she missed her mother. You knew how close they were. On some nights, Helaena would cry, longing for the comfort of her mum after a long, stressful day. It pained you that you couldn’t do anything to help, but seeing them reunited now eased some of the guilt you felt for those nights.

Alicent finally pulls back, her eyes scanning Helaena from head to toe. Then she immediately bombards her with questions: “How’s university treating you? Have you been eating well? Are you drinking enough water?”

Helaena chuckled softly, reassuring her mother over and over that she was fine until Alicent was finally convinced. Alicent’s large brown eyes then shifted to you, acknowledging your presence for the first time. Sensing the moment, Helaena took the opportunity to introduce you to her mother.

“Hello, Mrs. Targaryen. Thank you for letting me into your home.” you say softly.

“No worries, my dear. I’m glad Helaena and her sweet cousins could make you feel comfortable,” Alicent replies with a warm smile. “And please, call me Alicent.”

You smile back at her. Acknowledging the Targaryen twins, she greets and hugs them warmly. You were initially concerned that she might not be so welcoming — after all, who wants their child’s friend staying for an entire summer? Thankfully, she was charming, and her demeanor quickly put you at ease.

Her attention then shifted to Cole, who stood by the car with his arms behind his back and his eyes fixed on the ground. The atmosphere grew tense, and because of this, you realized the girls’ speculation about the two of them wasn’t just speculation — it was true. The four of you felt awkward; Cole looked clearly intimidated by her gaze, while Alicent showed no sign of discomfort.

“Ser Criston,” she called. His head lifted immediately. “If you would grab everyone’s bags from the car and take them inside.”

Obediently, he opened the trunk and began unloading the luggage.

“Come,” Alicent said to you. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Helaena, Baela, and Rhaena went off to help Cole with the luggage, while you followed Alicent. When you and Alicent walked up the stairs to the entrance, the big doors creaked as the guards opened them. As you stepped through the grand entrance, you were immediately struck by its opulence. The walls were a rich, deep green, adding a touch of elegance to the expansive space. A grand spiral staircase ascended gracefully to the upper levels, its intricate ironwork gleaming in the sunlight. The light poured in from the tall, arched windows, casting a warm, inviting glow across the room. Below, the checkered black-and-white floors added a striking contrast and a sense of timeless charm. Each detail, from the sweeping staircase to the delicate vases on the mantelpieces, seemed to whisper stories of luxury and history. Overwhelmed by the sheer beauty and grandeur, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe, marveling at the lavish surroundings that seemed straight out of a fairy tale.

Before you could vocally express how beautiful the home was, Alicent surprised you by linking her arm with yours, holding on tightly. Although it startled you at first, it didn’t make you uncomfortable. In fact, it was quite touching how Alicent welcomed her guests with such open warmth, treating you as if you were one of her own.

“I’m sure Helaena’s mentioned her brother, Aemond?” Alicent asks as she guides you toward the stairs.

“Yes,” you reply, focusing on your feet to avoid tripping on the steps.

“Good,” she says, her initial tension easing into a more relaxed tone. “He’s a good kid. Quite quiet, which some people mistake for rudeness, but he doesn’t mean any harm. And, well, the scar can be a bit intimidating for some. I hope you understand.”

“I do,” you nod. “I’m not one to judge someone so quickly.”

“That’s great,” Alicent replies with a soft hum. “Your room is directly across from his, so I wouldn’t want you to feel any sort of discomfort during your stay here. The bathroom is also connected to both rooms, so you’ll be sharing that. I would have put you in another room, but they’re all taken since Rhaenyra, Helaena’s half-sister, and her sons will be arriving tomorrow.”

“I really don’t mind, Mrs. Targaryen,” you assure her. “I’m just grateful for your hospitality.”

The corners of Alicent’s lips curl into a grateful smile, appreciating your understanding. She leads you down the hall and opens the door to reveal your room. The space exudes a serene and inviting charm. Much like the foyer, the walls are painted the same shade of green. At the center of the room is a bed with crisp, plain white sheets, its simplicity adding a touch of understated elegance. The walls are adorned with a selection of paintings, each frame carefully chosen to complement the room’s color scheme and add visual interest. A bookshelf in one corner is decorated with faux vines that drape playfully over its edges, enhancing the room's cozy, natural feel. Next to the bookshelf, a plush reading chair invites relaxation, perfectly positioned for enjoying a good book. The polished wood floors gleam with a warm luster, reflecting the soft light and contributing to the room’s overall sense of calm and refinement. It felt surreal that you would be living here for a few months.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Alicent says. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

You thank her again as she leaves, still processing the luxury of your surroundings. Helaena enters the room and notices the stunned look on your face.

“You alright?” she asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“When were you going to tell me how filthy rich your family is?” you exclaim, trying to wrap your head around the splendor of it all.

Helaena merely shrugs her shoulders, a nonchalant smile on her lips. “It never came up.”

You chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief. As you start unpacking and settling in, Helaena continues to chat casually, easing you into the rhythm of life at the mansion. Suddenly, the door across from yours opens, revealing a tall man. His short silver hair has a few strands falling across his forehead, and he’s dressed entirely in black — a black polo shirt, black slacks, and black dress shoes. You notice a long scar running from his forehead down to his cheek. One of his eyes is violet, while the other is blue, clearly a prosthetic replacing the eye his nephew had taken. This was the infamous Aemond everyone kept telling you about.

Helaena smiled warmly as she gestured toward her brother to come into the room. She introduced your name to him as Aemond glanced briefly in your direction, his violet eye meeting yours for a moment. You gave him a soft smile before he gave a slight nod. Without a word, he let out a noncommittal hum and turned, his black-clad figure moving with a casual grace as he walked down the hallway.

"Well," you say, "he's not one for conversation, is he?"

"He means no harm," Helaena replies. "He’s just a very reserved person. He’ll warm up to you once he gets to know you. Meet me downstairs once you’re done packing."

As she leaves, you take in the elegant surroundings of your new room, a sense of unease creeps in knowing that you and Aemond will be living in such close quarters. You’re determined to avoid any awkwardness between you, especially given the high stakes of this arrangement. Striving to maintain a cordial and comfortable atmosphere, you remind yourself to be friendly and open, hoping to navigate this delicate situation with grace. The last thing you want is for any tension to overshadow the peace of this lovely setting.

The rest of the day passed quickly.

After finishing unpacking your clothes into the dresser, you went downstairs. The three Targaryen girls gave you a thorough tour of their home, and by the time you completed the tour, dinner was ready. The four of you, Alicent, and Aemond all gathered for the meal. Aegon had arrived the previous day but was out with friends for drinks, while their father, Viserys, was resting upstairs. You hadn’t met him yet, but Rhaena mentioned that he was much older than Alicent and wasn’t doing well health wise.

Dinner was pleasant. Alicent was lively, engaging in conversation with everyone, while Aemond remained quiet, seemingly content to linger in the background and enjoy the meal in silence. Still, you noticed him stealing glances at you, and once, when your eyes met, you expected him to look away. But he didn’t. His gaze held yours, steady and intense, until you, unnerved, were the one to break it.

After dinner, everyone retreated to their rooms. As you gathered clothes for a shower, you heard a door creak open behind you. Assuming it was one of the Targaryen girls, you didn’t turn around.

“I’m going to shower,” a soft, yet distinctly masculine voice spoke.

That's when you turned around, seeing Aemond standing in the doorway of your shared bathroom. The sound of his voice, so rarely heard in conversation, and his presence, caught you off guard.

“Oh—um, okay,” you stammered, trying to gather your thoughts. “I’ll just wait until you’re done.”

Aemond gave a small hum, much like the one he'd given earlier when Helaena introduced you, then quietly shut the door. Moments later, the sound of running water filled the silence, and you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

This summer was certainly going to be interesting.

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