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creganslover · 9 months ago

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I think it would be cool if you did a cregan x reader but reader has a dragon and her dragon is called the beast of winterfell or something like that and for the longest time even the people of winterfell have no idea what it means (they assume because of her family they are just referring to her) but while she’s giving birth or something the dragon hears and feels her pain and come out of hiding freaking out and finds her and like puts his snout up to the window to make sure she’s okay and it’s kinda like a crazy moment for the people of winterfell lol just a random idea I had hope you like it feel free to change any details about it

ofc! thank you for requesting, anon! i really hope you'll like it! i apologize if its not that great T^T

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

beast of winterfell, cregan stark x targ! fem! reader

wc: 1.4k

warning/s: mentions of blood, childbirth, lmk if i missed anything!

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

Ever since you had been arranged to Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and the Warden of the North, you knew you were about to live a completely different life as you were expected to live with him in Winterfell for the rest of your days.

It had taken a while for you to get used to being so far from the West and your family, yet Cregan’s presence was like a breath of fresh air, albeit cold, really cold.

The lighter clothes you used to wear back in Dragonstone now replaced with heavy furs, you could have sworn if you had listened closely you would hear your back crying in protest.

Alas you carried yourself with grace, it helped that Cregan had understood where you had come from and he always made sure the fireplace in your shared chambers had been extra warm, even if he had to get the firewood by himself.

One thing you had also missed in the West was being able to go on dragonback without feeling that you were about to freeze at any given moment.

Your dragon, Rhaegos or commonly known as the Red Beast, could not stand to be far from you either, even willing to visit from time to time due to his own stubbornness that reflected your own. Making himself a home far enough from Winterfell within a clearing in a forest, you think, he had been able to live and feed himself, keeping warm with his flames.

The folks of Winterfell had not even seen a dragon before, you’d wager, and you intend to keep it that way as they would not need to worry of such a magnificent beast nestled near their home, if they had only known.

Cregan had also known of Rhaegos, he very well knew the creature as the first ever day Cregan had seen you was you landing on your dragon onto the sands of Dragonstone, he was about to depart then, yet you made him stop in his tracks as the Red Beast had made its appearance.

And you noticed him upon your landing, the ship in the distance carrying the banner of House Stark, which you have soon learned who was going to be your betrothed.

Rhaegos did not take kindly to strangers nearing you but you just had to see who the ship carried, if it included your soon to be husband.

And when you hopped off your dragon and had reached him, Rhaegos was watching carefully, even crawling himself a yard behind you, though Cregan did not seem to waver, or was trying his best to keep his composure as a dragon was barely in the North and the way its eyes gleamed at him, had him gripping a little tighter on his gloves.

To your surprise, Rhaegos had nudged its snout against your back, almost shoving you to Cregan that had sent both your cheeks running hot as he caught you in his arms.

It seemed Rhaegos wanted to play cupid at that moment as you profusely apologized to the Lord of Winterfell.

The marriage came and went, devotion had come easy with you and Cregan, no sooner than a moon after your bedding that you had noticed the changes in your body.

It only took a look for the maester to confirm it. You were with child.

Cregan was absolutely delighted, he could not stop showering you with affection within the confines of your chambers, his big rough hands gently upon your stomach.

There were barely any signs of growth yet making you laugh. It was your first time pregnant, and of course you’ve seen and heard your mother Rhaenyra teach you a thing or two about it, yet it had always worried you as you saw how it could take a toll upon a woman’s body, like with your mother.

Cregan swore no harm will come upon you and your child as you carry it through the moons, always placing his most skilled men out your chambers if he ever was required someplace else than at Winterfell.

And when he would return, he would not even mind the cheers of his folk, going directly straight to you, enveloping you in a careful embrace, before he would kneel to press his forehead against your swollen middle, the baby within you kicking in response.

The days had inched closer to your due, and you had felt it with the way your body had increasingly been feeling heavy, the way you waddled while you walked.

Your scream had broken out the great keep of Winterfell as the moment had finally come when their lady was about to give birth. Your handmaidens paced around you in worry, the maester advising you on what you should do- yet it all seemed to drown out by the time it reached your ears.

Blood began to trickle down your legs as your handmaidens rush you to lay upon the bed, you were restless as your body had been covered in sweat, platinum hair matting to your face as you cried out for Cregan, the maester informing you he was well on his way.

Your breathing came in rushed, panting as your eyes blinked back tears as you were positioned necessarily for birth. Your muscles had contracted painfully, sending you with another wail.

Though on this day, not only your childbirth would be borne by Winterfell.

After your long cry, an unfamiliar loud screeching could be heard in the distance, making every folk in Winterfell pause in their actions. Could it be…?

“Dragon!” A knight exclaimed as people began to panic and rush around.

Cregan was on his way back to Winterfell speeding on his mount after having visited the Hornswood, but he was not alone. To the West of him was undoubtedly a creature he had not seen a long time, your dragon, Rhaegos.

His screeching may as well echo throughout the North as the dragon flew itself close to Winterfell. Its intimidating and thunderous roars caused worry for Cregan’s folk as he finally managed to rush inside, dismounting off his horse and quickly telling his people to calm- that the dragon would not dare harm them, that it was yours.

Cregan then rushed towards the great keep, where your screams and wails grew louder, tearing his own heart as he finally shoves himself in the birthing chambers.

“Cregan!” You cried as he came into view, rushing beside you as the maester had told you to push for the nth time. You wasted no time bearing a deathly grasp upon his hand, knuckles turning white.

The gap on the windows was then darkened by a shadow followed by a low rumble, the maidens in the room, even the maester was disturbed at the sight of a dragon’s nout, moving outside as its eyes tried to spot you.

“Calm down, it means you no harm.” Cregan said firmly. “My wife is the priority.” He commanded, glaring daggers at those within the room.

Your chest heaved up and down as you could feel Rhaegos’ bond clearly with you as your eyes found his slit ones through the window. “Rāpirī (Be calm) Rhaegos!” You managed to say out loud, the dragon grumbling weakly in turn as it hissed at the maester, who quickly got back to his occupation.

With one last push, you had felt it– the pain had numbed most half of your body, making you try and chase your breath, Cregan’s gaze flickering to you and the maester, with Rhaegos present out the window, his low grumbling ever a presence to your strength.

All your body seemed to be in a haze, unable to move your legs- or the whole of your body for that fact.

Until a cry of the babe was heard, Cregan’s heart thumping in his chest as he looked at you and the babe being wrapped in the towel.

“You did it, oh thank the Old Gods.” Cregan murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead before his pressed against yours. “It is a girl, my lord, my lady.” The maester announced as the bundle of joy was placed into your arms.

“Our- our own little girl…” You croaked out, a grin breaking through your face as tears of joy pricked your eyes, Cregan looking at the babe wriggling and making his heart near to bursting. “She’s a beauty like you.” He murmured.

Rhaegos outside began whirring as he seemed to be feeling your joy coursing through your bond, taking himself to the skies screeching happily, making you laugh weakly.

Cregan then nuzzled both you and the babe, with Rhaegos’ sounds echoing above.

Your children would need not worry for a protector, when they’ve got the beast and the wolf of Winterfell by their side.

─── ⋆⋅ ❤︎ ⋅⋆ ───

cregan tag-list: @misswynters @i-padfootblack-things

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vxnuslogy · 11 months ago

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𐙚 my love, mine all mine.

— some headcanons about certain things the hsr men would do while in a relationship.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: self-indulgent, once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners. this is lowkey dedicated to the stellaronhvnters <3

𐙚 AVENTURINE

would always accompany you on your spontaneous night drives around pier point. before you can even leave your room to drag aventurine to his car, he’s already leaning on your doorframe, his car keys in hand as he flashes you a smile; not the gambler like smile he shows to his enemies but a child-like one filled with uncontained excitement and wonder.

its half past midnight and your both in your pajamas (he insisted that you both wear matching ones) as he rolls down the roof of his very expensive car to let the wind flow with your hair. your phone connected to the speakers as you blasted your shared playlist. loud enough to satisfy your needs to have a mini carpool karaoke session but quiet enough you won’t disturb any civilians trying to sleep the night away.

aventurine shakes his head in fondness and amusement when you scold him as he skipped a song he didn’t particularly like. the pout on your lips would soon fade as he reached to pull you by the chin and give you a peck on the lips. your nagging turned into panic as you hit him in the arms for not keeping his eyes on the road.

𐙚 VERITAS RATIO

always comes home exhausted. even in his tired and slightly dazed state, he always comes home at exactly 7 pm and each time his arms wouldn’t fail to snake around your waist and his lips press a soft kiss on your neck in greeting.

when you ask about his day, the doctor just grumbles and complains about his students. but you knew deep down he was proud of them after they finally managed to solve this one particular problem he gave them without his help. they’ve been making fast progress, he once stated, making a smile bloom on your face when he checks their papers.

you chuckle under your breath as ratio continues to chatter away about his students' progress. your back flushed into his sturdy chest while arms kept a steady hold of you – tight enough that you could feel his muscles but still be able to move around the kitchen. a melody starts to fall from your lips as you hummed and swayed, and ratio follows with his own humming as you both start a pseudo dance in the middle of making dinner.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

date nights with boothill usually consisted of going bar hopping and hiding away in a dark alley as the IPC passed by. you’ve grown fond of the excitement as your lover drags you out the bar with officers high on your tails. it never fails to rip out an uncharacteristic laugh from you and cherry grin from him.

tonight was a lot tamer than other nights. sitting in a bar counter, a cup of whiskey boothill had asked you to hold while he gets another bounty for the both of you. he knows you wouldn’t take a single sip of his drink, your alcohol tolerance was nonexistent he says making you roll your eyes. your peaceful night was disturbed when a new face popped out from seemingly nowhere, taking the seat your lover once occupied as the man tried to buy you a drink

boothill always had impeccable timing. just as the man was about to take a hold of your – his – glass, a cold arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. you try to look up but a familiar hat was instead placed over your eyes as the glass in your hand was taken. the liquid disappeared in a flash as boothill downs it in one go. just to prove his point, he gingerly lifts his hat over your face and press a kiss at the corner of your lips, making it known to the man that you were with him.

𐙚 SUNDAY

not many would believe you if you told them the stories of how easily flustered the head of the oak family. everyone would picture him as a full package gentleman – opening doors for you, pulling back your seat, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, etc. – but what they don’t know is that, in your relationship, the one being worshiped wasn’t you.

without a doubt, you were the one who always opened the door to his office for him, offering to carry his things even if he protested, even going to one knee to tie the laces of his shoes. sunday was always in competition when it came to being a gentleman and he always loses to you every time. and he doesn’t make any effort to make you stop despite his embarrassment; one drag of your knuckles under his eyes when he’s overworked and tired and he’s putty in your hands.

how could he resist your pampering when you always take off his gloves when it's just you two in his office, pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles and whispering sweet nothings to him. admiring the writing calluses on his right hand as you talk about your day.

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studiopeached · 1 year ago

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THREE, TWO, RUN. ft. Peter Dunbar

♡ SUMMARY: After fleeing from your boyfriend, it isn’t long before the two of you reunite, against your will or with it.

♡ CONTENT WARNINGS: pwp, afab, fem!reader, ex-boyfriend!peter x reader, peter being a serial killer, moderate description of gore, NONCON/DUBCON, fingering, oral (fem receiving), big dick peter—not great prep, p in v sex, rough sex, biting/marking kink, fear play, predator/prey dynamics, size kink, bondage

♡ WORD COUNT: 2.4k plot, 1.9k smut. 4.3k total

♡ STREAM NOTE: SMUT BELOW THE SECOND NSFW BANNER. this is a spin off from my @peachedtvs blog called 'Til Death Dont We Part'

♡ MASTERLIST. cumming soon! Main blog @peachedtv

Peter felt you were quite silly, even from when his eyes first laid upon you through the windows of your diner.

So silly, in so many ways.

You were silly in the way you spoke. Expressive, lively, words filled with kindness and rhythm. Words Peter wanted to lock away for only him to hear. Your voice always melted into his mind like honey. Soothing, calming, just like the music he’d hum to silently as he got rid of your recent obstacles. A heavy saw in his hand slashing back and forth, splitting bone into two before stuffing remains of human flesh into a black tarpe—or when he'd bring the nuisances back alive. Screams of pain, terror, and torment vastly contrasting a smooth melody muffled through his earbuds.

Your smile was silly too. Loud, boisterous laughs pairing with it each time as you’d close your eyes tightly, breaths jagged as you’d brace your stomach from the joy. Your smile so mesmerizing Peter wanted nothing more to lock it away behind a key. To melt away in the melody of your laughter, to spread it across his lips and adorn the smile as sweetly as you do.

What was even sillier was how silly you made him feel. On the surface, the twist in his stomach was sweet. An admiration, an appreciation of something so pure. Although,

Peter always fell apart.

Even in the room of his own heart.

Every silly thing had something inside of him twist. A strange twist, a bubbling feeling that had his gut wrench around itself—curling around and laying discomfort deep into his heart, where it stood mockingly. Unable to be buried beneath other thoughts, placed behind distractions, or replaced with another. And this bothered him.

Peter was always in control.

Control of his job, control of his victims, the police, his therapy, the growing police patrols in your city. So why couldn’t he control this?

What were you doing to him?

He thought it was uncomfortable at first. But that strange feeling was quite addicting, stacking tenfolds in intensity ever since the first time he felt it with you.

“Are you okay?”

By now, this memory had occurred over 3 years ago.

The first day you two had met, Peter was not in a good mental space. His family was in ruins, the relationship between he and his mother deteriorating until he had finally decided to storm out of the house and leave for good. Leave his home for good.

With nowhere to go, and a rumbling stomach, Peter decided the best course of action was to first fuel his appetite. Damn Diner was loud, painstakingly so. There was a mess of voices, the clash of plates, cutlery, dragging of chairs against tilted floors, chaos that hummed against a muffled out melody of tunes through the ceiling speakers. Everything was so loud. There was a child in the booth next to his. A mess of ketchup and mustard spraying everywhere, a glob falling onto his cheek as his eyebrows knit together in annoyance. There was a couple in the booth across, arguing over the cries of their child whining for a crumb of their attention. There was yelling from the kitchen, scolding as a worker had done something wrong and sent an order to the incorrect table.

And then, there was you.

Timidly, you rushed over to his table. Clumsy and expressive as you stared down to him with empathy, apologizing profusely as you explained the mess around the diner. And there, all the loudness stopped. Your voice muffled, muffled until it became strikingly clear and the diner around him seem to slow. Peter's eyes traced your face, how you were out of breath, how kindly you looked to him, how you asked if he was okay. And in this world of distain, you were pure.

And there was the first twist.

Peter spent nights going crazy.

Absolutely insane.

When he had first broken into your apartment, his heavy steps drowned out by the moans of your roommate through the paper thin walls, he thought he would melt into the floor when he first inhaled the scent of you room.

It was a soft aroma, something that had his eyes rolling into the back of his skull when he saw you laying peacefully on the bed. Your head was smushed between a folded pillow, covering your ears as your face was scrunched in discomfort.

"Lucy's being so loud tonight, isn't she, Darling?" Peter spoke softly, the back of his hand gracing your cheek as he sat on the edge of your bed. Careful to dip your mattress slowly so as to not wake you. Carefully, his other hand trailed up the curve of your torso, hip to waist, before entangling with your fingers.

Your hand felt right in his.

Soft, smooth, and warm against his cold skin. And there, he knew even fate was in his hands the moment he had yours in his.

When Peter had mustered up the courage to approach you in the park, he felt his heart beating out his chest, his mind going hazy from everything he wanted to do to you—from hearing your voice up close again. It had been nearly a year since you two had first met at the diner, and it seemed as though you had forgotten him completely. Luckily, Peter knew enough about you through his year of...supervision, and was soon able to swipe you off your feet. There, he became yours.

Your boyfriend.

And you, his girlfriend.

Often the two of you shared late nights after your dates. The hum of cicadas drumming into the background as you'd lay into the grass of the park the two of you 'first' met in. Your hands would intertwine together as the other would hold the grass below. In this park, the two of you would often talk about your dreams, aspirations, or talk shit about whatever seemed to bother you in your life at the moment. And Peter always listened.

In other moments, the two of you enjoyed each other's company. A silence paired with the ambience of howling wind, crickets, and a glint in your eye from the reflection of the moonlight and stars twinkling above. And through this silence, your heart spilled.

“I want to be with you forever, Peter." You spoke softly, you eyes still stuck on the starlight above.

A twist, something twisted once more.

For the first time, Peter eyes looked away from you—a blush traveling to his cheeks, a pale red hue over his soft features.

“Forever, then, Darling."

And forever meant forever.

Years together flew by, and you both had your own jobs—despite Peter's insistence for you to stay at home and allow him to care for you. Although, you wanted to work. You wanted to experience the world. But what you didn’t want were the unreasonable hours of overtime your boss had subjected to you. Much to Peter's dismay, many late afternoons he would return to an empty home. Full of furniture, light, decoration, but never with the person he truly wished the presence of. Every evening, you would trail home hours after him. Enervated, dragging your feet along the floorboards as you slumped into his open arms.

“I missed you, Peter.”

Your voice was like honey.

“I missed you more, Darling.” Peter greeted you softly. There it was again. Something twisted. Peter looked down to your visage. Dark eyebags staining your soft skin, a pout dragging your lips, your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you sighed from exhaustion. His gut was twisting stranger than usual. A mix of annoyance for those who have exploited you, an annoyance that made his stomach curl inside.

Peter did not want you to continue working.

Your boss had gone missing for a couple days now.

The company was in disarray, having strangely lost employee after employee ever since you were recruited. The once bustling, lively atmosphere became quiet, dull, and empty. And with the new loss of your employer, there wasn’t an office cubicle you could return to. For the first time in months, you returned home before Peter.

Although, something felt off.

With Peter home, it was always lively. The ambiance of bustling trees against the wind outside, a hum of the dishwasher from the kitchen, a low vibrato of your home's ventilation system, and the comfort of your boyfriend's presence. He was such a soothing soul. Without him, the home felt strange. You felt the presence of another, many, an overbearing amount. As though invisible strings clumped together to weigh you heavier into the floor boards, creaking the dark oak louder than usual.

Without Peter, it felt as though something was calling for you—and curiously, you began to explore. Exploring the home you resided in, as this home empty of your lover didn’t feel like a home anymore. And that lead you to the door that stood at the far end of the first floor. Tucked beside the laundry room, you stood still and seemed confused.

Was there always a lock?

A sturdy lock it was. Heavy metal weighing it flush against the wood, holding the door firmly shut to keep everything in out. There was a strange smell, too. A scent that leaked from beneath the dark oak doorway, filling the air with a musk of cooper and spoiled eggs. Your hand reached for the lock, flinching when built up static pricked your skin. A warning. But you held firm. Giving a cautious, downward tug as the lock went slack. It was open. You pushed the door back slowly, a low creak humming your presence, a flood of a strange meat stinging the view in your eyes.

Firmly, a familiar hand held your shoulder.

The hand of your boyfriend.

You were terrified.

“Darling, what are you doing?”

You couldn’t think.

Not with the view of mangled flesh, the smell of copper and iron so strong your head began to haze strangely. No, you couldn’t think. Even more so with scattered limbs decorating the floor—being the remainder of the morbidly intact heads of your former colleges and employer, of your missing boss. Pieces of them did not fit like a puzzle. Limbs, skin, so much of their bodies were missing.

What was that dinner Peter served these passing evenings?

And it seemed as though fate enjoyed sparking your memory.

This time around, nearly three years later, it was not scatttered corpses, blood, or flies that greeted you. You stood before the door of the fourth apartment complex you were going to apply to. Advertised as a gated community of safety, an exorbitant lot you were willing to hack up the money for to get away from him.

Although, just as three years ago, just as you were able to arrive to the complex, nails dug into your shoulder, holding you in place. A voice low, strange, and terrifyingly familiar. The grip dug into your flesh this time, keeping you from running—just as you did in the home you shared with him. With a door you shouldn’t have opened, and a hand on your shoulder that felt larger than usual.

Your boyfriend's hand.

“I missed you, my Darling.”

You didn't know what was happening.

You scrambled fruitlessly, trying to shove Peter's hand off your shoulder when a burning wet rag was drowned upon your lower face. You kicked, muffled screams and sobs as you dug into the palm that pinched the bridge of your nose, your body growing increasingly more limp. You didn't know what was happening, but by the next moment, it seemed as though you were melting into the floor—the world around you sputtering and glitching as your vision faded out and back in as you fell back onto a large bed.

You couldn't recognize the monster that was before you.

You didn't want to recognize the monster that was before you. Although, a rough, large hand gripped the lower half of your face, covering your mouth and pinning you down into the plush duvet to muffle horrified screams, forcing you to look deep into a being empty of a soul.

Even back then, you always felt Peter’s deep eyes had an errie glint. They seemed dull, strange, and detached from any wonder or interest. All until his gaze would flit upon you. A spark of light dashing his iris, a soft smile spreading his lips. He only looked human when he looked at you.

Peter still kept that smile. A smile that had morphed after his descent into maddness. Sharp teeth and bloodshot eyes that contrasted against sharp blues. He looked terrifying. His forearms were scattered with scars and wounds, peeled back scabs across his skin—likely from the amount of struggling you had done while in his arms. Your name was etched into his skin. Over and over and over, hearts and sharp lines littered as keloids formed in the place of his artwork. His size dwarfed you, a wolf to rabbit. Predator to prey.

“Pe—“

"You remember the time when you'd say it back, don't you, Darling?" He leaned down by your neck, breathing in shakily as though he couldn't believe you were finally here. With him. All to himself. "When you would say you missed me too." His voice was disfigured. A mix of insanity and dark undertone to his speech making your head spin and eyes well with tears. Your entire body was trembling, the skin on your back burning as every nerve in your brain set off sirens that resonated throughout your head. You felt too fearful to even choke out a pathetic sob, wanting to blend into the sheets below you.

Meanwhile, Peter felt himself going crazy. He couldn't help the way his mind ran a mile a minute as he stared down at your dicheviled form. You were always so pretty, absurdly so. Even as the strands of your hair fell misplaced over your face, even as you looked up to him with so much fear, hatred, and terror, his stomach twisted just as it did three years ago. That strange feeling laying addiction down into the lining of his stomach, soothing his body that felt run dry of how you made him feel.

He needed you. Now.

Peter brought a hand to his lips, hastily removing his right glove as he bit the fabric covering the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off by his teeth. His free hand pinned you pliantly down into the mattress by the lower half of your face, the other sliding beneath your shirt to tear the fabric off your body. You thrashed, muffled sobs and tears running down your cheeks, wetting the palm of his hand.

Your terror only fueled him further.

His hands groped and fondled every inch of your skin that one could imagine, a long tongue pairing with his touch as Peter licked a long stripe up your neck—sucking deep blotches and bruises of dark blue and purple hues across your neck and chest. Peter marked you as his, bit your flesh like a meal, and ruined your soft skin for his pleasure.

The mattress beneath you was in shambles. Inch deep tears lay by your head as Peter held back the urge to squeeze you blue, from ripping into your flesh, the torn mattress a goreish display of holding back the brutal cuteness aggression Peter got from the sight of you.

His hand slid from your mouth, gripping your neck tightly to restrict precious air from flooding your throat. He wanted you ditzy anyway. Nothing but a lifeless shell of who you were once he was done.

Pilant.

Obidient.

And what better way than halfway choking you out?

Your hands held his wrist desparately, nails scratching into his skin as he only smiled wider in response, stitches appearing on the corners of his mouth to prevent his face from ripping in two from his pure display of euphoria.

You hadn't stopped crying this entire time. Desparate pleas falling on deaf ears as you begged Peter that this was enough, that you'd listen, that you'd stay. And as convincing as it seemed, Peter was not giving you another chance to escape him. Not again.

His hand trailed down until it cupped your clothed cunt. Nothing on your body remaining besides your panties. A gift, perhaps—the best for last. Peter pushed your panties to the side, experimentally swirling the pad of his thumb onto your clit, causing you to wretch out a struggled moan.

"P-Peter—!" He only smiled in response.

"You've always been so sensitive, huh? It seems you haven't changed at all." His thumb pressed harder onto your cunt, rubbing your clit side to side as the palm of his hand pressed firmly down upon your womb. He watched you fall apart with glee, sliding his other hands between your thighs and gently nudging a finger inside of you. You threw your headback into the sheets, grabbing the duvet desperately, your hips trembling as you felt your sanity waste away to the pleasure wracked into your body.

You always fell apart so prettily.

Your hand shakily reached out to Peter, your lips quivering as a second finger curled into your cunt—the heel of his hand hitting the underside of your puffy clit as he kept toying with the bud. It burned, terribly so. Considering how much larger his stature was to yours, how much larger his finger would be to your own, it was a miracle you weren’t ripped in half yet. Although, it sure felt as though you were.

Peter stretched you out relentlessly, scissoring inside of you before curling the pads of his fingers plush against your g-spot. You arched your back desperately, crying out as your hips stuttered in response. And Peter kept prying there. His fingers pounding into your cunt, hitting your g-spot over and over and over until you felt as though you'd die from the overstimulation. As you reached out to Peter, he pulled a length of manila rope from his back pocket—grabbing your wrists before tying your hands together and in front of your chest as through you were praying—and perhaps you were. Praying to Peter to slow down, to be more gentle.

A third finger was nudged deep inside of you, pairing with the speed of his thumb on your clit increasing. His fingers pounded into you feverishly, sounds of your arousal soaking your inner thighs and his forearm—dirtying the sleeve of his pinstriped coat. You couldn't concentrate, no longer resisting against the firm hold his shadows had upon your wrists. No longer holding back your sweet moans.

A burning desire began to pool in your gut.

"Peter, p-please—"

A hand gripped your throat.

"P-Peter, please— I'm gonna cu—m!" He smiled to you. You were always so easy to please.

"Cum then, dear." His fingers sped up their speed inside your cunt, recklessly pounding and curling into you, bruising your g-spot painfully as you sobbed out, clenching your pussy around his cock as you squirt onto him. Peter smiled, leaning down to suck your clit and swirl his tongue around the bud as your mouth opened silently. Your hips struggled away, and yet his shoulders spread your knees firmly, the underside of your thighs thrown over them. Peter continued to bully your pussy past your orgasm, sucking and licking your clit as his fingers continued to curl and pound into you to ride out your high. You were crying endlessly. Begging him to stop, that it was enough. And yet, he didn't pull out his hand until you were merely twitching and whimpering in his bed. Broken.

"Have you lost yourself in the pleasure, Darling?" Peter was manic. Your pleasure felt like a high he couldn't describe. The way your fingers clenched around him, he felt as though it was a sign. A sign that all your struggling was only to encourage him to fight against you, a sign that you were only pretending to be scared.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Your eyes widened open when you felt the tip of his cock slide between your folds, Peter having removed his clothing now too. You struggled, trying to sit up when his hand once again held your throat warningly, choking you lightly against the mattress—gently enough that you could take slow, shallow breaths.

"Peter, it's not gonna fi—!" Your mouth fell open silently as Peter suddenly shoved the head of his cock inside of you. Your pool of arousal allowing him to slide in with just a minor amount of resistance—minor to his strength at least.

Meanwhile, your eyes blew wide as you whimpered out desperately, struggling against the binds on your wrists as your cunt stretched around him. He was big, painfully so. And you were thankful he decided to slide the remaining of his length in slowly, inch by inch. And yet, even when he was just halfway, you felt as though he was already plush against your cervix.

"Is she resisting, hmm? I guess I can be a little rough, you were always into that, anyways." Before you could understand what Peter meant, he slammed the remaining half of his length deep inside of you as you screamed out, your hands curling tight fists as your nails dug deep crescents into your palms.

Before you knew it, Peter pulled out to the tip, and slammed right back into you. His pace was unwavering. A hand gripped on your neck, the other pressing you into the mattress by a palm against your womb as he split you on his cock. Peter pounded into you, skin against skin as you soaked his cock, splashing your arousal onto his pelvis and lower stomach. He was big, too big. Tears streamed down your face, and Peter only wiped them with his thumb before licking it into his mouth. He wanted to taste your fear.

He wanted to rip you apart.

Your chest heaved as his thumb came down to your clit once more, roughly pressing onto you before swirling it harshly. You arched your back, clawing at the wrist on your throat as you moaned, crying around his cock when the underside of it would press into your g-spot, when the head of it would slam so deep against your cervix you felt he might fuck himself into your womb. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a hand gripping the torn sheets below you as you cried out when your pussy clentched around him.

"Please, please, can I c-cum—" You sobbed, looking down to where you and Peter where connected, seeing your cunt stretched impossibly wide for your ex-boyfriend's cock.

"Don't you dare."

"Please, Baby."

Fuck.

You drove him fucking crazy.

Peter swore he could’ve cum on the spot from hearing you finally call him baby once more, the name you neglected from him. The only name you should be calling him. Peter laughed.

"You truly know me so well, Darling." Peter's pace increased. His cock pounding into you hard enough to have your tits bouncing and the frame of the bed on the verge of giving out—your cunt clentching onto his fat cock even more.

"You can cum in three seconds." You nodded stupidly, too desparate to think.

Peter pulled back to the tip, slamming back inside.

"Three," His palm pressed into your womb, feeling the buldge of his dick against his hand, his cock dragging against your velvety walls. You swore you were going to die if you couldn't cum soon, Peter's counting teasingly slow as he fucked into you like a fleshlight. Like a pet.

"Two." Your pussy fluttered against him, Peter's fingers swirling your clit viciously.

"One," You whined, sliding your hands to his upper back as you raked down his skin.

"Please, please, please, let me cum." You were going crazy.

"Cum." You threw your head back, near screaming his name like a mantra as you clencthed around him, squirting for the second time that night as his cock continued to pound deep inside of you. Peter let go of your throat, his hands sliding beneath the underside of your thighs to push your knees into your chest—fucking you meanly in a harsh mating press as he refused to slow down. You felt like your soul was going to fall out your body, your pussy spasming as Peter continued to pound into you without any concern to your fresh orgasm and painful overstimulation that burned your walls.

"B-baby, Peter—please, I can'—"

And for the first time since three years ago, and for the first time together—Peter kissed you.

His kiss was soft, gentle, loving. His hips never stilled, continuing to rip orgasm after orgasm out of your poor little pussy. Although, his mouth was soft against yours, eyes closed and hand holding your neck lightly as the tips of his fingers graced your bruised skin. Bruised with the marks of his love, his obsession.

He held your face as kindly, as though you may be gone if he didn't keep you in his arms forever. Peter's tongue slid into your mouth slowly, and you moaned around him—letting him in. Your body missed him so much.

Maybe you still love him, even after it all.

Peter's pace became staggered, his hips slowing until he kept his cock deep inside and came directly into your womb. His load gushed out from the sides of your hole that stretched around him, stuffing you full. Peter allowed your thighs to rest by his hips, laying you back against the mattress as he continued to kiss you. His hands massaged your body, comforting the bites, hickeys, and bruises.

"I love you, Darling."

Peter spoke softly, pulling away from you. Admiring your fucked out state.

"So don't you leave me ever again."

You're watching...

#peter your boyfriend #your boyfriend peter #your boyfriend game #your boyfriend #yb game #yb peter #yb smut #yb fandom #your boyfriend visual novel #peter smut #yb peter smut #your boyfriend peter smut #peter your boyfriend smut

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twstedfreak · 29 days ago

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Not Even the Gods Can Keep Me from You — g. satoru

Ꮺ ⋮ pairing — odysseus!gojo satoru x fem!reader [greek au]

Ꮺ ⋮ synopsis — ❝ you were never supposed to fall for the prince of ithaca—especially not when war was on the horizon and the gods had already written tragedy in the stars. but you did. and any now, years have passed, the sea has swallowed his name, and you're left raising his son in a kingdom that’s slowly forgetting him. across cursed islands and shattered battlegrounds, gojo satoru is fighting his way back to you—but after all this time, will love be enough to bring him home? ❞

Ꮺ ⋮ c&w — 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—kinda ooc, kinda slowburn too, war, violence, death, grief, emotional manipulation, long chapters(?), separation, implied infidelity in the context of war and distance, strong language, betrayal, intense emotional conflict, Satoru’s inner turmoil and struggles with guilt, longing, and regret. tags might be added along the making of this Ꮺ ⋮ notes — it’s finally here… slowly but surely, i’m going to start uploading this series I’ve been working on for what feels like forever. seriously, the on-and-off relationship i’ve had with this story and the thought process behind it? Yeah, it’s been a ride. you wouldn’t believe half the stuff that went into it (just kidding, maybe you would). anyway, i’ll be posting the first chapter soon! just tweaking a few things here and there. upload times might be a bit inconsistent, as well as expect (ig)slow updates, idk it really does depend on my mood, so please bear with me while I get everything in order. thanks for sticking with me, y'all!! if you want to be added to the taglist, make sure to comment before i close it! i’m currently sorting out my tumblr theme (you know, the usual chaos of customization), but i’ll be back to posting soon. thanks so much for your patience and support, can’t wait to get this rolling! teaser post here! Ꮺ ⋮ status — new & ongoing

masterlist | drabble | headcanon ˚ 　 ⤹ 　 ❝ ©twstedfreak

TABLE OF CONTENT . . . . !!

PROLOGUE — BEFORE THE STORM The moment the thread was spun

01 | The Prince & the Spartan ⤷ A diplomatic visit. A shared glance. Their world begins to shift. 02 | The Lasting Days ⤷ He falls fast. She builds walls. But the heart doesn't always obey. 03 | The Archer in the Crowd ⤷ A masked suitor. A silent promise. A choice she never saw coming. 04 | Athena’s Watchful Eyes ⤷ Athena watches a child become a man—driven by love, tested by fate. 05 | The Ninth Dawn ⤷ Nine days. One child. One goodbye. Neither ready to let go.

MORE TO BE ADDED..... !!

Ꮺ ⋮ reminder — inspired by epic the musical by jorge rivera herrans. The banner and divider design is created by me. Please do not use, alter, or modify the template/design without permission. Do not steal, modify, tweak, translate, or plagiarize anything from my blog. Do not use / copy my template or theme. Respect my work, love u guys. 🚨

Ꮺ ⋮ TAGLIST OPEN comment to be added to the official list —

@sims-4lifers. @spiritkittten. @crystal-freak24. @not-aya. @n1vi. @kinkyvitch. @twistedbitcc. @abeitriz. @sims-4lifers. @artist1936. @ratedrrrr. @barbare2. @sheep-infog. @tojideckmuncher. @midnightlunasworld. @lovely-maryj. @the-queen-yn. @dairyfaerie. @qnqwr @poopooindamouf. @theanaoevre. @blueemochii. @tinykryptonitefairy. @thesimppotato11. @kyungjunnies. @tamishadawn. @corvid007. @linaaeatsfamilies. @borntoexplore11-blog. @dainslumi. @rjreins. @perffff0. @sillysushi. @bluepanda08. @joyfulweaselbananapanda. @crsdf4everr. @lem-hhn. @leave-rae-alone.

— ©twstedfreak

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obsessedwithceleste · 1 year ago

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Fighting Fate (It’s a losing battle)

Theodore Nott x gn!reader

Inspired by, and dedicated to @musingsofahufflepuff

Summary: soulmate!au in which everyone sees in black and white until they meet their soulmate. Bold of fate to assume it can tell you what to do.

word count: 3.1k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Ever since your first day at Hogwarts, you’d been told that you were lucky. A one in a million chance. Exceptional. Because as soon as you’d been sorted, and the sorting hat had been lifted up off of your head, your eyes had met his, and the world had burst into color.

It had been wildly disorientating at first- you almost fainted from the visual overload as the banners over each section of students burst into bright color. As you went to take your seat, you got strange looks from several students, but you never felt his eyes leave you.

You’d always thought it was rubbish. Even at the ripe old age of eleven. Your mother had first explained the idea of soulmates to you as a bedtime story. You remember her explaining how everything looked bland and colorless now because you hadn’t met your soulmate yet. But once you did, the world would come to life.

“When will I meet my soulmate?” You’d asked.

“Well, that’s the catch isn’t it? It’s different for everyone. Some meet their soulmate very young. At school even. But some, some will never meet their soulmate. They can be anywhere in the world, fate doesn’t discriminate.”

You’d scrunched your little nose up in distaste.

“That’s stupid. Why do I have to listen to fate?”

Your mother had only laughed, tucking you in and kissing your forehead goodnight. But the sentiment had remained as you grew up. How could someone really just be meant for you? Ridiculous.

Theo had known that you were going to be his soulmate before fate did. He’d watched silently from his seat on the train as you boarded, a nervous grin on your face as you waved goodbye to your family. You were perfect, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. At least until Mattheo swatted his arm.

“What’re you staring at, mate?” He’d asked loudly, gaining the attention of the other boys in the carriage.

“See them, there?” Theo asked, pointing to where you were boarding. “That’s going to be my soulmate.” He’d announced proudly.

“Yeah, okay mate,” the other boys had laughed, quickly moving on to the next topic.

But Theo didn’t take his eyes off of you until you disappeared through the train doors and off into some unknown compartment.

The next time he saw you was at the sorting ceremony. He watched as you confidently made your way up to the front, the smile never leaving your face as McGonagall lowered the hat onto your head. It only took a few moments of deliberation before the hat was being lifted off of your head and Theo’s eyes met yours.

It was like the wind was taken out of him as the room sprung to life, colors swirling around his vision as his eyes raced around the room in awe.

By the end of the night, all of Theo’s friends had been sorted into Slytherin with him. Mattheo, Enzo, Draco, Blaise. Even Crabbe and Goyle.

“I was right on the train. About them being my soulmate,” he’d announced proudly, pointing out different objects and describing the different colors to his friends who wondered in amazement.

You on the other hand, didn’t speak a word of it to anyone until you accidentally let it slip to your mother over break that you could see the pretty colored ornaments strung up on the tree.

She’d been thrilled of course, wanting to know every detail about this soulmate of yours. What did he look like? What house was he? Had the two of you spoken.

You answered each question with less enthusiasm than the one prior, and eventually she got the point and stopped asking.

As soon as the news slipped that Theodore Nott, a child of the sacred twenty-eight, and son of Tiberius Nott no less, could see in color however, it didn’t take long for people to start noticing you. Telling you how lucky you were to have found your soulmate. To be able to see color. As if you wanted a soulmate at eleven years old.

The first few years it was easy to avoid. Being only eleven or twelve, Theo was content admiring you from a far. Third year was when the boy finally got the courage to really try and talk to you for the first time. Sure he’d said hi a few times over the past couple years, but nothing you’d found particularly note worthy. Especially not for someone who was supposedly your soulmate.

“Are you any good at charms?” A voice asks, startling you as you look up from the essay you had been finishing up in the court yard. It was a warm, cloudy day, with only a light breeze, so you’d thought it would be the perfect day to take your studies outside.

You stare up in surprise at the brunette boy in front of you, watching silently as he takes a seat across from you.

In the past, you'd played the avoiding game, quickly scurrying off if you saw the boy or his friends approaching. This year, you hadn't been taking the same precautions, and it seemed Theodore was taking full advantage.

“I’m alright,” you reply hesitantly.

That was a lie. Charms was your best subject, but you were hoping the boy might go away. He didn’t.

"I know that you're top of the class," he responds, staring intently at you with a sly smirk.

That afternoon you begrudgingly helped Theodore with his charms homework, and he happily helped you with your DADA essay. There wasn’t a whole lot of interaction between the two of you, but he wasn’t horrible you supposed. At least he had brain cells to rub together.

After that he kept popping up sporadically throughout your third year.

At quidditch tryouts he'd insisted on partnering with you for several of the drills. You both were offered a place on the team. In the Great Hall he'd seek you out to ask about the homework assignment he'd missed after skiving off of class with Mattheo. The fact that you gave him your notes each time meant nothing. Obviously. And every so often, between the shelves of books in the library, you'd see a flash of soft brown hair, and intense eyes gazing at you before they disappeared as if you were imagining it.

With each increasing encounter, the both of you made idle conversation as you kept the boy at an arms length. It was nothing personal really. In fact the more you thought about it, he seemed perfectly alright. But something in your stubborn thirteen year old self just wanted to stick it to fate. So you continued to ice the boy out.

Theodore however, was nothing if not determined. He knew from the moment he saw you that he was meant to be yours, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers. Thirteen year old Theodore was a stubborn bastard and he knew he was willing to play the long game.

Things grew a bit more complicated in fourth year when you became friends with some of the Slytherin crowd.

It had been an accident really. You’d been reading down by the Black Lake when Daphne Greengrass had stumbled upon you, followed closely by Pansy Parkinson and Lorenzo Berkshire.

“Oh!” she’d said in delight, seeing the book in your hands, “I love that book!”

The two of you ended up talking enthusiastically about the novel for almost an entire hour with Pansy and Enzo butting in every so often to add their thoughts.

“Wait, you’re Theodore’s soulmate aren’t you?” Enzo asks, eventually recognizing you.

You eye the boy cautiously as you nod slowly, suddenly feeling self conscious.

Pansy just wrinkles her nose.

“Sorry you got stuck with such a tosser.” She says.

The four of you are quiet for a moment before your laughter breaks the silence, the other three following shortly after.

After that, you’re integrated into their little group seamlessly. You’d always been a bit of a loner. Sure people would wander up to you often enough to chatter about what it was like to see colors, but that was really all people wanted to know about you. Like it was some trivial party trick.

It was nice having your own friends to study with and wander about Hogsmeade with on the weekends. It was nice to have people who liked being around you simply for being you. Not because some magical force had decided to bind you to a whole other human and grant you the ability to see color.

It didn’t take long for Theo to notice you hanging about more frequently. How could he not? You were so pretty. So smart and witty. So perfect. He was just so happy to have you around more often. Even if it wasn’t to spend time with him specifically.

He reveled in any little morsel of information that he could scrape up from your friends. Your favorite color, your favorite sweets at Honeydukes, your class schedule. Theo was willing to admit the last one was a bit weird, but he was really just hungry to learn anything he could about his elusive soulmate.

Soon enough, it didn’t become unusual for Theodore and Mattheo to join the four of you on your little excursions. Popping up at the Black Lake, or meeting up with you at the Three Broomsticks. He was just always there. As if he was making a point of it. And begrudgingly you began to let him in.

A friend of your friends was okay you thought. Wouldn’t hurt to get to know him a bit. That wasn’t crossing any lines.

For Theo however, this was huge. He was finally getting somewhere. Even if you weren’t ready for any sort of romantic relationship, he was going to be the best damn friend you’d ever had.

By fifth year, there was simply no denying it. Theodore Nott was your best friend. You weren’t really sure how it had happened. The two of you just fit so well together. He had truly wormed his way into your life.

It had started with the study sessions.

"Remember when you helped me with charms in third year?" He'd asked. "I got top marks on that assignment."

As those became more frequent, it had turned into afternoons by the lake with both of you deep in your own novels, but sharing the comfortable silence.

Then it had morphed into weekends at Hogsmeade. Your friends thought they were being subtle when they consistently slipped away, leaving you and Theo to wander about the village. You couldn't find it in yourself to mind though.

You’d tried to keep him at an arms length. You really had. But Enzo couldn’t make you laugh as hard as you did with Theo. And Daphne just wasn’t the intellectual match that Theo was. And Pansy always made sure you let loose sure, but being around Theo was just- freeing.

You still weren’t sold on the whole soulmate thing though. Sure Theo was great. Perfect even. But you just couldn’t shake the icky feeling of blindly trusting fate to decide your life.

Then it happened. No one was expecting it. Especially not Pansy. But you and Pansy and Draco and Theo had all been working late on a potions assignment before dinner, and on your way back up from the dungeons, Pansy ran smack into a certain platinum haired Ravenclaw. You’d later find out that her name was Luna Lovegood. As soon as their eyes met, Pansy stumbled, leaning into you for support. You already knew what was happening as her eyes darted around wildly.

“Oh. I suppose we’re soulmates then aren’t we?” The girl said, a dreamy look overtaking her.

It all seemed too easy for them after that. It was like a flip had switched and the two were just mad for each other. A picture perfect example of what soulmates should be.

You found it to be slightly horrifying how blindly trusting fate could severely change a person and their relationship with an essential stranger.

Theo however, couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. He had what? Almost five whole years on Pansy, and was lucky to get a friendly hug out of his soulmate. Yet Pansy and Luna were inseparable after only a few short weeks.

Not that Theo thought he was entitled to your affection necessarily. But it would be nice if you’d at least acknowledge the bond you two shared he thought.

“Why don’t you believe in soulmates?” Daphne asks one night.

It was one of those rare nights where it was only you, Daphne, Pansy, and Enzo huddled together wrapped in thick, warm blankets inside Daphne and Pansy’s dorm room. Salazar knows where Millicent was off spending her night. A bottle of shared fire whisky sat between you and packs of chocolate frogs littered the floor.

You blink in surprise at your friend’s question. You didn’t talk about soulmate stuff much.

“I do believe in them,” you say with a simple shrug.

“Yeah but you don’t really believe in them, ya know? Why?” She pushes.

You pause again, glancing at Pansy who was looking back at you intently.

“I don’t know. I guess I just don’t like the idea of someone deciding to be with me, just because they’re supposed to.” You say finally.

“I suppose I know what you mean.” Pansy murmurs after a moment.

You look at the girl in surprise and can tell the other two are shocked as well.

“Don’t get me wrong. I adore Luna. Really. I always tell her that I’m so glad that fate put us together. But then sometimes I wonder. If it weren’t for fate, would I have even given her a second glance that day I bumped into her in the corridor?”

There’s a silent lull as your group mulls over Pansy’s words before slowly drifting off to a new topic.

In another dorm, not so far off, Theo lay on his bed staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Think they’ll come around soon?” Mattheo asks, sensing his roommate’s building tension.

“I dunno. But I’ll wait,” he replies, closing his eyes and letting images of you flood his mind. “They’re worth it.”

That night as you’re leaving to return to your dorm, Enzo catches your arm, pulling you off to the side.

“You can never tell Theo that I told you this, but the first time I met Theo, we were on the train waiting to leave for Hogwarts and he pointed out the window to a someone and said ‘they’re going to be my soulmate’. Then, at the sorting ceremony he got all dizzy all the sudden, and when we got to the common room, he said that he’d been right about who his soulmate would be. You. Just thought you should know.”

And with that, he’s gone.

It’s after that that you really begin to see Theo. You’d never really given him a fighting chance. But now, you kind of wanted to.

It’s the beginning of sixth year when Theo finally notices the shift. Notices you actually seeking him out on purpose, not flinching away when your hands brush, eyes hovering on his lips a bit too long for it to be accidental. And to say that he is ecstatic.

Meanwhile you were silently kicking yourself for taking so long to get over your petty bullshit with fate. Sure you still didn’t love the idea of it all, but after spending enough time with Theo, you could really, truly see the appeal.

After that night in fifth year, you began noticing how Theodore was one of the only students who could keep up with your academic prowess. He could always sense when you were tired, or stressed, or simply in a mood, and always did his best to subtly cheer you up. He was always there. Even after all the years you had put him through the wringer, he remained by your side. And that’s what really convinced you.

It’s also what landed you here, at the top of the astronomy tower, with your head in Theodore’s lap as his fingers raked gently through your hair.

It had become a usual meeting spot for the both of you. Theo had brought you up here a week into the school year starting. It was his safe place. His getaway when everything got to be too much, or when he just needed space to think. When those words had left his mouth you had melted. He trusted you. You had meant so much to him for so long, and you couldn't be bothered to give him the time of day.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, eyes gazing out at the swirling navy sky that seemed to stretch on forever.

“For what, amore?”

“Dunno. Making you feel like you weren’t good enough, or makin you feel like a bad soulmate.”

Theo looks down at you, and you meet his steady gaze.

“I knew I was good enough, amore. We wouldn’t be soulmates if we weren’t perfect for each other.” He replies.

You perk up at this. “You think I’m perfect?” You ask, a dopey smile appearing on your face.

Theo just rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he laughs. He'd grown used to your antics. Just another piece of you that he'd grown fond of.

“I said that we’re perfect together. But you’re perfect too I suppose.”

It hadn’t taken nearly as long as you had expected to reach this point. It seemed that Theo had just been waiting for the word to switch on boyfriend mode. All it took was one spontaneous, heated make out session in his dorm room, and you had the boy wrapped around your finger. (He already had been for years, but you didn’t need to know that.)

“Alright. Wrap it up love birds. You better be fully clothed,” Pansy calls, head peeping up from the top of the staircase leading up to the tower. “You two have been up here for hours, and you can’t have them all to yourself Theodore. They were our friend first.”

“Yeah! Time’s up lover boy!” You hear Enzo call.

Theo groans, head falling back as he rises lazily, offering you a hand up.

“I waited five years for this, can’t you guys let me have my moment?” He calls back.

“No!” The chorus replies.

With a laugh, you grab onto Theo’s hand, tugging him towards the stairs.

“C’mon. If we get Mattheo and Enzo drunk enough, they won’t notice if I spend the night,” you say with a cheeky wink.

“I heard that!” Enzo’s voice rings out.

“You wouldn’t say no to me anyway,” you shout back.

With a smile, Theo follows you down the stairs after your rowdy friends, hand wrapped tightly around yours. It had taken him five long years, and he certainly wasn’t going to let go anytime soon.

I'm a sucker for soulmate aus

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #harry potter universe #slytherin #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #theo nott #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #theo nott fanfiction #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #daphne greengrass #theo nott x reader #slytherin boys fanfiction #soulmate au #soulmates

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peachedtvs · 1 year ago

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TIL' DEATH DON’T WE PART ft. Yandere!Alastor

⃝𖤐 VALENTINES DAY 2024 SPECIAL…

⃝𖤐 SUMMARY: After fleeing from your fiancé, it isn’t long before the two of you reunite, against your will or with it—on Earth or not.

⃝𖤐 CONTENT WARNINGS: afab, fem!reader, yandere!ex-fiancé!alastor x reader, alastor being a serial killer, moderate description of gore, NONCON/DUBCON, fingering, oral (fem receiving), big dick alastor—not great prep, p in v sex, rough sex, biting/marking kink, fear play, predator/prey dynamics, size kink, alastor uses his shadows,

⃝𖤐 WORD COUNT: 3.9k | 2k plot, 1.9k smut

⃝𖤐 STREAM NOTE: SMUT BELOW THE SECOND NSFW BANNER !😋i am IN LOVE WITH THIS MAN GUYS

⃝𖤐 MASTERLIST. Main blog @peachedtv

Alastor felt you were quite silly, even from when the two of you were small.

So silly, in so many ways.

You were silly in the way you spoke. Expressive, lively, words filled with kindness and rhythm. Words Alastor wanted to lock away for only him to hear. Your voice always melted into his mind like honey. Soothing, calming, just like the radio he’d hum to silently during his auditory carnages. Screams of pain, terror, and torment vastly contrasting a smooth swing of jazz muffled through a radio’s buzz.

Your smile was silly too. Loud, boisterous laughs pairing with it each time as you’d close your eyes tightly, breaths jagged as you’d brace your stomach from the joy. Your smile so mesmerizing Alastor wanted nothing more to lock it away behind a key. To melt away in the melody of your laughter, to spread it across his lips and adorn the smile as sweetly as you do.

He’s adapted that wish somewhat.

What was even sillier was how silly you made him feel. On the surface, the twist in his stomach was sweet. An admiration, an appreciation of something so pure. Although,

Alastor always fell apart.

Even in the room of his own heart.

Alastor was always in control.

Control of his subordinates, control of his manipulation, his chaos around him. So why couldn’t he control this?

What were you doing to him?

He thought it was uncomfortable at first. But that strange feeling was quite addicting, stacking tenfolds in intensity ever since the first time he felt it with you.

“Are you okay?”

By now, this memory had occurred over a century ago, on the Earth he no longer lived in.

The first day you two had met, Alastor was a clumsy boy. His two feet carrying him slower than the beat of his heart, tumbling him down onto his knee into the unforgiving concrete. It hurt. A sting and burn that tugged the corner of his lips into a frown, holding back tears as other children ran past him without any acknowledgement.

He never wanted mother to worry, and so, he always sucked it up. Tugging his knee into his chest, he blew onto the wound and hugged his leg—his lips wobbling.

And suddenly, there you were.

A small, petite child then. Clumsy and expressive as you stared down to him with empathy, your hand extended to him as the other rested on your knee. Alastor was surprised. Enough so that for a split second, he had forgotten of his wounds, of the pain. Cautiously, he took your hand.

Your hand felt right in his.

Soft, smooth, and warm against his cold skin. Soon, your fingers were almost always intertwined with his. Alastor’s mother would coo at the two of you each time Alastor brought you over to dance, smiling happily as you stumbled over his feet in the living room—his favorite radio buzzing soft melodies in the background. Alastor moved gracefully, having danced with his mother in preparation. You were not the same. You couldn’t help but have your eyes stuck on the floor, eyebrows raised in concentration as you followed his steps.

One step,

two step,

three step,

four.

You weren’t a great dancer. And after a long afternoon of clumsily tapping your feet around, the sun began to retract past the skyline, and Alastor had offered to walk you home. It was bright, really bright. Your eyebrows furrowing at the light from Earth’s warming star, a small hand raised to your forehead to soothe your eyes from the bright light.

“Al, look!” You pointed to the sun. Orange hues trailing red as the two colors bleed together, warm tones mesmerizing your childish heart and sparking wonder into your eyes.

Meanwhile, Alastor was looking at a different star. His star.

“I want to make a deal.” Alastor spoke softly. And slowly, you turned to him, curiousity tilting your head as you met Alastor’s timid expression with a hum of acknowledgment. Alastor raised his pinky finger.

“I want to be with you forever.” Alastor tucked away into his body. For the first time, his eyes looked away from you—the warmth from the sky traveling down to blush his cheeks, a pale red hue over his soft features. To his surprise, your pinky hooked onto his in an instant.

“Forever.”

And there was Alastor’s first deal of souls. A deal that tied your essence to his until the end of time—for a promise between two whom are pure surpasses the strength of any other.

And forever meant forever.

Years together flew by, and Alastor became your fiancé, set to tie your love together by law in a couple months. You both had your own jobs, despite his insistence for you to stay at home and allow him to care for you. Although, you wanted to work. You wanted to experience the world. But what you didn’t want were the unreasonable hours of overtime your boss had subjected to you. Much to Alastor’s dismay, many late afternoons he would return to an empty home. Full of furniture, light, decoration, but never with the person he truly wished the presence of. Every evening, you would trail home hours after him. Enervated, dragging your feet along the floorboards as you slumped into his open arms.

“I missed you, Cher.”

Your voice was like honey.

“I missed you more, my Dear.” Alastor greeted you softly. There it was again. Something twisted. Alastor looked down to your visage. Dark eyebags staining your soft skin, a pout dragging your lips, your eyebrows furrowed slightly as you sighed from exhaustion. His gut was twisting stranger than usual. A mix of annoyance for those who have exploited you, an annoyance that made his stomach curl inside.

Alastor did not want you to continue working.

Your boss had gone missing for a couple days now.

The company was in disarry, having strangely lost empolyee after empolyee ever since you were recruited. The once bustling, lively atmosphere became quiet, dull, and empty. And with the new loss of your empolyer, there wasn’t an office cubicle you could return to. For the first time in months, you returned home before Alastor.

Although, something felt off.

With Alastor home, it was always lively. The ambience of radio would hum an electronic swing of jazz, a low vibrato of your home’s ventilation system, and the comfort of your fiancé’s presence. He was such a soothing soul. Without him, the home felt strange. You felt presences of another, many, an overbearing amount. As though invisible strings clumped together to weigh you heavier into the floor boards, creacking the dark oak louder than usual.

Without Alastor, it felt as though something was calling for you—and curiously, you began to explore. Exploring as the home you resided in, as this home empty of your lover didn’t feel like a home anymore. And that lead you to the door that stood at the far end of the first floor. Tucked beside the laundry room, you stood still and seemed confused.

Was there always a lock?

Firmly, a familiar hand held your shoulder.

The hand of your fiancé.

You were terrified.

“Dear, what are you doing?”

You couldn’t think.

Not with the view of mangled flesh, the smell of copper and iron so strong your head began to haze strangely. No, you couldn’t think. Even moreso with scattered limbs decorating the floor—being the remainder of the morbidly intact heads of your former colleges and empolyer, of your missing boss. Pieces of them did not fit like a puzzle. Limbs, skin, so much of their bodies were missing.

What was that dinner Alastor served these passing evenings?

And it seemed as though fate enjoyed sparking your memory.

This time around, nearly a century later, it was not scatttered corpses, blood, or flies that greeted you. You stood before the door of a new, Hazbin Hotel. Advertised as a place for refemption, a gateway of return to Heaven—the place you swore you should have ended up in. And yet, nostaglia always played its role.

Just as a century ago, nails dug into your shoulder, holding you in place. A voice staticy, strange, and terrifyingly familisr beneath it’s vintaged filter. The grip dug into your flesh this time, keeping you from running—just as you did in 1933. With a door you shouldn’t have opened, and a hand on your shoulder that felt larger than usual.

Your fiancé’s hand.

“I missed you, my Dear.”

You didn't know what was happening.

You scrambled fruitlessly, trying to shove Alastor's hand off your shoulder when sharp, black tendrils gripped your wrists in an instant. By the next, it seemed you were melting into the floor, the world around you sputtering and glitching as your vision faded out and back in as you fell back onto a large bed.

You couldn't recognize the monster that was before you.

You didn't want to recognize the monster that was before you. Although, a sharp, large hand gripped the lower half of your face, covering your mouth and pinning you down into the plush duvet to muffle horrified screams, forcing you to look deep into a being empty of a soul.

Even back then, you always felt Alastor’s deep eyes lacked light. They seemed dull, strange, and detached from any wonder or interest. All until his gaze would flit upon you. A spark of light dashing his iris, a soft smile spreading his lips. He only looked human when he looked at you.

Alastor still kept that smile. A smile that had morphed after his descent into Hell. Sharp teeth, discolored skin, bloodshot eyes that contrasted against dark red sclera. He looked terrifying. His body was misshapen, large, his face framed with blood-colored hair and root-like antlers protruding from his head. His size dwarfed you, a wolf to rabbit. Predator to prey.

“Al—“

"You recall the time when you'd say it back, don't you, my Dear?" He leaned down by your neck, breathing in shakily as though he couldn't believe you were finally here. With him. All to himself. "When you would say you missed me too." His voice was disfigured. A static like radio and dark undertone to his speech making your head spin and eyes well with tears. Your entire body was trembling, the skin on your back burning as every nerve in your brain set off sirens that resonated throughout your head. You felt too fearful to even choke out a pathetic sob, wanting to blend into the sheets below you.

Meanwhile, Alastor felt himself going crazy. He couldn't help the way his mind ran a mile a minute as he stared down at your dicheviled form. You were always so pretty, absurdly so. Even as the strands of your hair fell misplaced over your face, even as you looked up to him with so much fear, hatred, and terror, his stomach twisted just as it did nearly a century ago. That strange feeling laying addiction down into the lining of his stomach, soothing his body that felt run dry of how you made him feel.

He needed you. Now.

Alastor brought a hand to his lips, hastily removing his right glove as he bit the fabric covering the tip of his middle finger, tugging his glove off by his teeth. His free hand pinned you pliantly down into the mattress by the lower half of your face, the other sliding beneath your shirt to tear the fabric off your body. You thrashed, muffled sobs and tears running down your cheeks, wetting the palm of his hand.

Your terror only fueled him further.

His hands groped and fondled every inch of your skin that one could imagine, a long tongue pairing with his touch as Alastor licked a long stripe up your neck—sucking deep blotches and bruises of dark blue and purple hues across your neck and chest. Alastor marked you as his, bit your flesh like a meal, and ruined your soft skin for his pleasure.

The mattress beneath you was in shambles. Inch deep tears lay by your head as Alastor held back the urge to squeeze you blue, from ripping into your flesh, the torn mattress a goreish display of holding back the brutal cuteness aggression Alastor got from the sight of you.

Pilant.

Obidient.

And what better way than halfway choking you out?

You hadn't stopped crying this entire time. Desparate pleas falling on deaf ears as you begged Alastor that this was enough, that you'd listen, that you'd stay. And as convincing as it seemed, Alastor was not giving you another chance to escape him. Not again.

His hand trailed down until it cupped your clothed cunt. Nothing on your body remaining besides your panties. A gift, perhaps—the best for last. Alastor pushed your panties to the side, experimentally swirling the pad of his thumb onto your clit, causing you to wretch out a struggled moan.

"A-Alastor—!" He only smiled in response.

"Quite sensitive, hmm? It seems you haven't changed at all." His thumb pressed harder onto your cunt, rubbing your clit side to side as the palm of his hand pressed firmly down upon your womb. He watched you fall apart with glee, sliding his other hands between your thighs and gently nudging a finger inside of you. You threw your headback into the sheets, grabbing the duvet desperately, your hips trembling as you felt your sanity waste away to the pleasure wracked into your body.

You always fell apart so prettily.

Your hand shakily reached out to Alastor, your lips quivering as a second finger curled into your cunt—the heel of his hand hitting the underside of your puffy clit as he kept toying with the bud. It burned, terribly so. Considering how much larger his stature was to yours, how much larger his finger would be to your own, it was a miracle you weren’t ripped in half yet. Although, it sure felt as though you were.

Alastor stretched you out relentlessly, scissoring inside of you before curling the pads of his fingers plush against your g-spot. You arched your back desperately, crying out as your hips stuttered in response. And Alastor kept prying there. His fingers pounding into your cunt, hitting your g-spot over and over and over until you felt as though you'd die from the overstimulation. As you reached out to Alastor, the black tendrils appeared once more. Grabbing your wrists before tying your hands together and in front of your chest as through you were praying—and perhaps you were. Praying to Alastor to slow down, to be more gentle.

A burning desire began to pool in your gut.

"Alastor, p-please—"

A hand gripped your throat.

"What was that?"

"A-Al, please— I'm gonna cu—m!" He smiled to you. You always were a quick learner.

"Cum then, dear." His fingers sped up their speed inside your cunt, recklessly pounding and curling into you, brusing your g-spot painfully as you sobbed out, clenching your pussy around his cock as you squirt onto him. Alastor smiled, leaning down to suck your clit and swirl his tongue around the bud as your mouth opened silently. Your hips struggled away, and yet his shoulders spread your knees firmly, the underside of your thighs thrown over them. Alastor continued to bully your pussy past your orgasm, sucking and licking your clit as his fingers continued to curl and pound into you to ride out your high. You were crying endlessly. Begging him to stop, that it was enough. And yet, he didn't pull out his hand until you were merely twitched and whimpering in his bed. Broken.

"Have you lost yourself in the pleasure, Cher?" Alastor was manic. Your pleasure felt like a high he couldn't describe. The way your fingers clencthed around him, he felt as though it was a sign. A sign that all your struggling was only to encourage him to fight against you, a sign that you were only pretending to be scared.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Your eyes widened open when you felt the tip of his cock slide between your folds, Alastor having removed his clothing now too. You struggled, trying to sit up when his hand once again held your throat warningly, choking you lightly against the mattress—gently enough that you could take slow, shallow breaths.

"Al, it's not gonna fi—!" Your mouth fell open silently as Alastor suddenly shoved the head of his cock inside of you. Your pool of arousal allowing him to slide in with just a minor amount of resistance—minor to his strength at least.

"Is she resisting, hmm? I guess a little force would be needed in the end." Before you could understand what Alastor meant, he slammed the remaining half of his length deep inside of you as you screamed out, your hands curling tight fists as your nails dug deep crescents into your palms.

Before you knew it, Alastor pulled out to the tip, and slammed right back into you. His pace was unwavering. A hand gripped on your neck, the other pressing you into the mattress by a palm against your womb as he split you on his cock. Alastor pounded into you, skin against skin as you soaked his cock, splashing your arousal onto his pelvis and lower stomach. He was big, too big. Tears streamed down your face, and Alastor only wiped them with his thumb before licking it into his mouth. He wanted to taste your fear.

He wanted to rip you apart.

"Please, please, can I c-cum—" You sobbed, looking down to where you and Alastor where connected, seeing your cunt stretched impossibly wide for your ex-fiancé's cock.

"Don't you dare."

"Please, Cher."

Fuck.

You drove him fucking crazy.

Alastor swore he could’ve cum on the spot from hearing you finally call him Cher once more, the name you neglected from him. The only name you should be calling him. Alastor laughed.

"You truly know me so well, my Dear." Alastor's pace increased. His cock pounding into you hard enough to have your tits bouncing and the frame of the bed on the verge of giving out—your cunt clentching onto his fat cock even more.

"You can cum in three seconds." You nodded stupidly, too desparate to think.

Alastor pulled back to the tip, slamming back inside.

"Three," His palm pressed into your womb, feeling the buldge of his dick against his hand, his cock dragging against your velvety walls. You swore you were going to die if you couldn't cum soon, Alastor's counting teasingly slow as he fucked into you like a fleshlight. Like a pet.

"Two." Your pussy fluttered against him, Alastor's shadow taking his place on your clit as it swrled the bud ruthlessly—his now free hand grabbing your face to squish your cheeks.

"One," You whined, sliding your hands to his upper back as you raked down his skin.

"Please, please, please, let me cum." You were going crazy.

"Cum." You threw your head back, near screaming his name like a mantra as you clencthed around him, squirting for the second time that night as his cock continued to pound deep inside of you. Alastor let go of your throat, his hands sliding beneath the underside of your thighs to push your knees into your chest—fucking you meanly in a harsh mating press as he refused to slow down. You felt like your soul was going to fall out your body, your pussy spasming as Alastor continued to pound into you without any concern to your fresh orgasm and painful overstimulation that burned your walls.

"C-Cher, Al—please, I can'—"

And for the first time since 1933, and for the first time together, in the new realm of Hell—Alastor kissed you.

He held your face as kindly, as though you may be gone if he didn't keep you in his arms forever. Alastor's tongue slid into your mouth slowly, and you moaned around him—letting him in. Your body missed him so much.

Maybe you still love him, even after it all.

Alastor's pace became staggered, his hips slowing until he kept his cock deep inside and came directly into your womb. His load gushed out from the sides of your hole that stretched around him, stuffing you full. Alastor allowed your thighs to rest by his hips, laying you back against the mattress as he continued to kiss you. His hands massaged your body, comforting the bites, hickeys, and bruises.

"I love you, my Dear."

Alastor spoke softly, pulling away from you. Admiring your fucked out state.

"So don't leave me ever again."

You're watching...

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project-lumen · 1 month ago

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Project LUMEN: APPLICATIONS ROUND 2 OPENING SOON!!!!

As you can see on our lovely lil poster (made by @pinkish29) we're opening applications for the next round on the 30th of April! The period the apps are open will be for nearly three weeks (ending on May 20th) to give anyone plenty of time to apply. See below the Project Lumen banner for more info on the roles we have open!

Have you ever wanted to know what the life series would look like as a video game? Well we've got the answer for you! Project Lumen is an RPG-like game revolving around all the series of the life smp, with twists and turns, multiple storylines that can possible diverge from the 'canon' timeline. There will be mini games, quests related to each episode of a season, and much more!

Here's a basic rundown of what we're doing:

You, the player, are introduced as the Watcher Child (WC for short. They're the character in the poster above!). You are an apprentice within the Watchers, and your job is to follow and guide the champions chosen by the Watchers themselves through challenges and enemies. Featuring unique leveling systems, DnD inspired classes, and, most importantly, the ability to impact the story with the choices you make… because, after experiencing all the Life Series seasons from both the Watcher and the Player side, maybe you’ll have a change of mind. After all is said and done and seen, the world is yours to shape, Watcher Child.

We are looking for both writers and background artists!

Writers will be in charge of helping getting the script together, creating dialogue and helping create both canon timelines and alternate timelines. Your job is to make the world real through the characters, the story, and the world. You don't need script writing experience though, you'll be given opportunities to learn if you're selected. We're just looking for those willing to learn and dedicate time towards this beautiful game!

Background artists, which are the most awesome people ever you should really become a background artist, will create the backgrounds for things like fights and loading screens. It's your job to mold the world of the life series for this project. You get to draw things like the Secret keeper from secret life, the relation-ship from double life, the forest burning and the desert deserting in third life, and everything in between!

Please keep in mind this project is a long-term project that takes many months to complete. The workload, though, is extremely manageable and everyone currently working on it is having a blast!

If you have any questions at all, give us a shout (an ask)! We'll be extremely happy to answer any questions, especially of what it's actually like creating for this project (it's awesome), because we're already partway through third life.

Looking forward to seeing all of your applications, and meeting all you lovely people who manage to get in!!!

-Team LUMEN

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imaginespazzi · 9 months ago

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Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team.

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face.

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up.

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up.

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back.

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again.

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too.

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her.

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes.

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again.

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs.

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen,

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend.

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence.

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond.

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way.

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening.

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously.

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly.

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana.

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath.

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that.

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately.

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips.

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is.

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours.

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look.

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends.

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage.

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them.

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her.

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger.

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said.

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly.

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again.

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly.

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore.

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate.

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple.

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did.

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her.

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh.

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly.

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-”

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender.

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever.

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist.

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel.

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows.

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames.

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother.

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her.

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them.

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently.

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands.

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch.

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be. That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort.

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas.

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them.

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt.

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults.

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side.

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other.

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years.

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe.

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this.

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige.

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes.

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay.

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake.

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly.

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away.

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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novaursa · 3 months ago

Text

A Lion's Folly (the broken)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: a lion and a wolf

- Next part: the uncertain

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @butterflygxril @lordofthunderthr @mrsnms @itisjustwhatitis @urdxrling @meowmeowmothermeower @nen-nyy

The banners of House Lannister fluttered in the wind as the golden lions of Casterly Rock stood in rigid formation, awaiting the arrival of their lord. The towering gates creaked open, revealing the column of men riding under the red-and-gold banners of the Westerlands. At the head of the procession rode Tywin Lannister himself, his face as unreadable as ever, his posture rigid with the weight of expectation and unshakable authority.

Jaime stood at the forefront of the welcoming party, his golden hand resting against the hilt of his sword, his flesh-and-blood hand curling and uncurling at his side. It had been three moons since his wedding, three moons since he had last seen his father. In that time, King’s Landing had been reshaped—Tommen now sat the Iron Throne, Margaery Tyrell had been crowned his queen, and the kingdom had been soothed into uneasy stability under Tywin’s iron grip.

But there was another matter pressing on Jaime’s mind.

As soon as Tywin dismounted, Jaime stepped forward, his gaze sharp. “Is it true?”

Tywin barely glanced at him before handing his reins to a waiting stable hand. “Be more specific, Jaime.”

Jaime’s jaw tightened. “Tyrion.”

That made Tywin pause, his face darkening slightly. “Yes,” he confirmed after a moment. “He escaped the night before I left King’s Landing. There has been no word of him since.”

Jaime exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching. He did it. Tyrion had done what Jaime had hoped for but never dared act upon himself. He had slipped the noose. But the question remained—at what cost?

Tywin turned away, removing his gloves one by one, his expression calm but calculated. “Come. We have much to discuss.”

Jaime fell into step beside him, his mind still reeling. “And what of Cersei?”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She is displeased. But she is queen regent now. Her focus is on securing her son’s reign, as it should be.”

Jaime huffed a humorless laugh. “I imagine she’s blaming me for Tyrion’s escape.”

Tywin didn’t deny it. “Her grief has made her reckless. But we have more pressing concerns.”

Jaime sighed, already knowing where this was going. “The North.”

Tywin nodded. “The Boltons hold it now. The Stark boy is dead, and with him, any serious resistance to our rule.”

Jaime’s steps slowed. The words felt like a hammer blow to the chest, even though he had known they were coming. He had felt it in his bones the moment you stopped looking at him with defiance and started looking at him like he was nothing.

“And Y/N?” Jaime asked carefully, his voice quieter now.

Tywin finally stopped walking, turning fully toward him. “That is precisely why we need to speak in private.”

Jaime’s stomach clenched.

Tywin’s gaze was cold, assessing. “I have heard troubling rumors.”

Jaime forced himself to keep his expression neutral. “About?”

Tywin studied him for a long moment before saying, “Your marriage.”

Jaime exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders. “What about it?”

Tywin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Three moons have passed, and yet there has been no heir announced. No signs of a child. And, more importantly, no confirmation of consummation.”

Jaime clenched his jaw.

He should have known this was coming.

He had been careful, had made sure to uphold the illusion of duty in public, had ensured that appearances were kept in court. But behind closed doors, you had barely tolerated him, and he had not pushed for more.

Tywin’s voice was low, steady. “Did you expect me not to notice?”

Jaime exhaled through his nose. “And what would you have me do? Force her?” His voice was edged with something sharp now.

Tywin’s expression remained unreadable. “She is your wife. It is her duty.”

Jaime let out a humorless laugh. “Is it? Or is it just another way for you to cement your hold on the North, even now, when there’s nothing left to rule?”

Tywin’s eyes darkened. “This marriage was meant to solidify our power. Yet you treat it as if it is nothing but an inconvenience.”

Jaime’s jaw tightened, his temper flaring. “Because that’s what it is. A political move. A transaction. Not a marriage.”

Tywin stepped closer, his voice lowering dangerously. “Then perhaps you should stop acting like a love-struck fool and start acting like the heir to Casterly Rock.”

Jaime felt his stomach twist. His father’s words hit a nerve deeper than he wanted to admit. Love-struck? Was that what Tywin thought?

Tywin studied him carefully, as if gauging his reaction. “You have a duty, Jaime. You wanted this marriage to keep her away from Roose Bolton, did you not?”

Jaime remained silent.

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then it’s time to ensure it wasn’t in vain.”

Jaime exhaled sharply, his hand curling into a loose fist. “She doesn't even tolerate me anymore”

Tywin’s gaze was impassive. “Then she will learn.”

Jaime looked away, swallowing hard.

He had spent three moons trying to be careful, trying to keep from becoming the monster you already saw him as. But now, standing here with his father, hearing the cold finality in his voice, Jaime realized—

Tywin would not let this stand.

Jaime had fought for you, had stolen you from Roose, had done everything in his power to keep you safe.

But he couldn’t protect you from this.

Tywin turned, beginning to walk once more. “Prepare yourself, Jaime. There is much work to be done.”

Jaime stood there for a moment longer, his chest tight, his mind warring with itself.

Then, with a slow exhale, he followed.

Because he had no other choice.

The great doors of Casterly Rock swung open, the banners casting shadows against the stone as Tywin stepped inside, his measured stride echoing against the marble floors. Servants bowed as he passed, the atmosphere within the keep shifting instantly at his arrival, as if the very walls themselves straightened in deference to the Lion of Lannister.

Jaime followed, his thoughts still tangled with the conversation they had just had, his fingers twitching at his side. The weight of his father’s expectations pressed down on him like a suit of armor too heavy to bear, suffocating, unrelenting.

But the moment they entered the grand hall, all thoughts of duty and obligation momentarily halted.

Because Winter was there.

The great silver-and-white beast lay stretched across the polished stone floor, his massive head resting on his paws, his piercing blue eyes watching them with an eerie stillness. The direwolf had become a presence in the castle, a silent guardian that never strayed far from your chambers. Jaime had fought to free him from that damned kennel, convincing Kevan that locking him away served no purpose other than antagonizing you further.

Kevan had relented—reluctantly—and Winter had been allowed to roam within reason. You had been grateful, for the briefest of moments, before retreating back into yourself, closing every door between you and Jaime in the wake of Robb’s death.

Tywin came to an abrupt halt at the sight of the beast, his expression flickering with the slightest hint of displeasure. He regarded Winter the same way he would regard a poorly-trained hound, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Jaime smirked faintly. “Ah. I see you’ve met my wife’s loyal shadow.”

Tywin’s gaze did not shift. “You should have had it put down.”

Jaime’s smirk faded, his shoulders stiffening. “She would have never forgiven me.”

Tywin exhaled through his nose, finally turning to face his son. “She already hasn’t.”

Jaime’s jaw clenched.

Tywin continued, his voice calm but cutting. “Do not mistake tolerance for affection, Jaime. The girl has done nothing but endure your presence. And if what I hear is true, she no longer even looks at you.”

Jaime inhaled slowly through his nose, his temper flaring despite himself. “And you believe forcing her will change that?”

Tywin tilted his head slightly. “I believe that reminding her of her duty will.”

Jaime’s grip on his belt tightened, his golden hand a heavy weight at his side. He could feel Winter’s eyes on him, unblinking, the wolf sensing the tension in the air.

Before he could formulate a response, movement from the far end of the hall caught his attention.

And there you were.

You stepped into the hall with slow, measured steps, your expression unreadable as your gaze swept across the room, catching sight of your father-in-law standing beside his son. Your posture was poised, regal, but there was no warmth in your eyes—only the cold resolve of a woman who had already lost everything.

Winter lifted his head slightly at your arrival, his tail thumping once against the stone before settling again.

Tywin turned, his gaze assessing as he took you in. “Lady Y/N.”

Your chin lifted slightly, your voice cool but polite. “Lord Tywin.”

Jaime studied you carefully, searching for any trace of the girl he had wed three moons ago, the one who had once spat fire and fury at him, who had fought against her fate with every ounce of will she had left. But you had changed.

Robb’s death had stripped something from you.

You had not spoken more than a handful of words to Jaime since you had learned of it. You did not argue, you did not lash out, you did not even glare at him as you once had.

You simply ignored him.

And Jaime wasn’t sure which had been worse.

Tywin observed you for a long moment before speaking. “I see you have made yourself comfortable here at Casterly Rock.”

You didn’t react, your hands folded neatly before you. “As comfortable as a Stark can be in a lion’s den.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at Jaime’s lips despite himself.

Tywin, however, remained impassive. “Your position is not so tenuous as you think, my lady. If you are wise, you will see that.”

You met his gaze steadily. “If I were wise, I would not be here at all.”

Jaime watched the exchange with thinly veiled amusement, though he knew better than to voice it aloud.

Tywin merely regarded you coolly before shifting his gaze toward Jaime. “We will speak later.”

Jaime inclined his head slightly, knowing better than to press the issue further.

Tywin left without another word, his cloak billowing behind him as he strode down the hall, his presence as heavy in departure as it had been in arrival.

Silence followed in his wake.

Jaime turned toward you, exhaling slowly. “You always did know how to make an impression.”

Your expression didn’t shift. “I have no interest in impressing him.”

Jaime tilted his head, watching you closely. “Or me, apparently.”

You finally looked at him then.

It lasted only a moment, but it was enough.

Because for the first time in weeks, Jaime saw something flicker behind your eyes—something real, something raw.

And gods, he wanted to reach for it.

But you looked away just as quickly, stepping past him without another word, moving toward Winter, your fingers brushing against the direwolf’s thick fur in silent comfort.

Jaime turned, watching you go, his throat tightening.

She already hasn’t, Tywin had said.

And for the first time, Jaime feared he might be right.

Jaime came to his father a few hours later into the private solar, the heavy oak doors closing behind them with a dull thud. The room was exactly as he remembered it from his youth—grand, lined with shelves of old tomes and polished silver goblets, a massive desk at its center. The Lannister lion was embroidered on the rich crimson banners hanging from the walls, a reminder of who ruled these halls and who always would.

Kevan was already waiting inside, seated near the hearth, his face schooled into careful neutrality. He had never been as harsh as Tywin, but there was no mistaking the fact that his loyalties were unwavering. His uncle had always been Tywin’s shadow, carrying out his brother’s will without question.

Jaime leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, waiting for his father to speak.

Tywin poured himself a goblet of wine before turning, his gaze keen as ever. “The girl still hasn’t warmed to you.”

Jaime smirked, though there was no real amusement behind it. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Tywin ignored the remark, setting his goblet down with a clink. “Three moons, Jaime. Three moons, and yet your marriage remains unfulfilled. You have done nothing to secure your position, nothing to ensure an heir.”

Jaime’s jaw tightened. “And you expect that to happen when she barely even speaks to me?”

Tywin’s expression remained impassive. “Then make her.”

Jaime pushed off the desk, scoffing. “Oh, yes, because forcing myself on my wife will do wonders for our already thriving marriage.”

Kevan, who had remained silent until now, finally sighed. “No one is suggesting you force her, Jaime.”

Jaime turned to his uncle, eyes flashing. “Aren’t they? Because I know exactly how this goes. My duty is to take what’s mine, regardless of what she wants. That’s the Lannister way, isn’t it?”

Tywin’s gaze darkened. “She is your wife. It is her duty as much as it is yours.”

Jaime ran a hand through his hair, letting out a slow exhale. “She hates me.”

Tywin studied him for a long moment before speaking. “She hates what you represent.”

Jaime barked a humorless laugh. “And what’s the difference?”

Kevan leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “She is grieving, Jaime. That much is obvious. The loss of her brother has hardened her against you, but that does not mean she will never bend.”

Jaime scoffed. “You don’t know her, Uncle. She would rather burn this entire castle to the ground than bend.”

Tywin remained silent for a long moment before stepping closer. “Then give her something else to hold onto.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

Tywin’s voice was calm, calculated. “You cannot change the past, but you can shape the future. She is here, and she will remain here. Whether she accepts it or not is irrelevant. What is relevant is whether or not she finds a reason to stop fighting it.”

Jaime frowned. “And how do you suggest I do that?”

Tywin studied him for a long moment before finally saying, “You make her see the benefit of being a Lannister.”

Jaime stiffened. “You want me to buy her loyalty?”

Tywin’s lips twitched slightly. “You want her to trust you, don’t you?”

Jaime hesitated. He hated that his father could see through him so easily.

Tywin continued, his voice unwavering. “Then give her something. Offer her security. Offer her power. Make her see that she stands to gain more as your wife than as a grieving Stark.”

Jaime clenched his jaw, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “And if she still refuses?”

Tywin’s gaze did not waver. “Then you remind her of what she has already lost.”

Jaime exhaled slowly, looking away. He hated how easily his father played this game, how effortlessly he turned emotions into weapons, vulnerabilities into tools.

Kevan cleared his throat. “Perhaps a child would ease things.”

Jaime snapped his gaze back to his uncle. “You think that’s the answer? To tie her down even further?”

Kevan shrugged. “It would make her needed. If she carries the future of this house, she will have no choice but to accept her place in it.”

Jaime gritted his teeth, the words striking a nerve he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Tywin’s voice was final. “You have a duty, Jaime. To your house. To your future. Whatever fondness you think you have for her, whatever guilt you carry—it is irrelevant. Your marriage will be fulfilled. It is only a matter of how long you intend to delay the inevitable.”

Jaime inhaled sharply, holding his father’s gaze.

There it was. The ultimatum.

The decision he had been avoiding since the day you became his wife.

Kevan leaned back, watching him carefully. “She was always going to be a prisoner, Jaime. Whether here, in King’s Landing, or in the Dreadfort. At least here, she has some say in how comfortable that prison is.”

Jaime turned away, staring at the golden Lannister banners, his hands tightening at his sides.

He hated this.

Hated that they were right.

Hated that, despite everything, he wanted you to choose him.

He just didn’t know if he could live with himself knowing that the choice was never really yours to begin with.

The summons came at dusk.

A Lannister guard had arrived at your chambers, standing stiff and unreadable as he informed you that Lord Tywin required your presence in his solar. The words had been clipped, almost impersonal, but there was no mistaking the weight behind them. This was not a request.

You hadn’t argued. You had simply risen, smoothing down the fine Lannister-red gown that you despised wearing, and followed. Winter had growled lowly as you left, watching you with piercing blue eyes, but he had remained in the chamber, knowing instinctively that he could not follow.

Now, standing before Tywin Lannister in his grand solar, you wished you had ignored the summons entirely.

The room was dimly lit by the flickering glow of a dozen candles. The scent of parchment and ink filled the air, mingling with the rich aroma of Tywin’s untouched goblet of wine. He sat behind a massive wooden desk, his expression as impassive as ever, his pale green eyes appraising you with something akin to curiosity.

You stood before him, your arms crossed, your posture rigid. “If you’ve called me here to discuss something as trivial as the color of my gown or the way I hold my goblet at feasts, I’d rather return to my chambers.”

Tywin exhaled slowly through his nose. “Your tone, Lady Y/N, is as sharp as ever.”

You tilted your head. “Perhaps if I were treated like a guest rather than a prisoner, my tone would soften.”

Tywin regarded you for a long moment before leaning back slightly in his chair. “You remind me of someone I once encountered at Harrenhal.”

You stiffened slightly, though your face remained unreadable. “Do I?”

He studied you carefully, his gaze assessing. “A sharp tongue. Fierce eyes. A wolf in the body of a girl.” His voice was measured, as though he were testing the waters, waiting for a reaction. “She claimed to be a boy, but I knew better.”

Your fingers curled slightly into your palms.

Arya.

He was talking about Arya.

Your heart clenched at the thought of your sister—lost, gone, her fate unknown. But you forced your expression to remain still. You would give him nothing.

Tywin let the words linger between you before finally shifting, dismissing the topic as easily as he had brought it up. “But that is neither here nor there.”

You swallowed down the bitter taste of grief, your voice cold when you spoke. “Then why am I here?”

Tywin didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached for his goblet, taking a slow sip before finally setting it down with deliberate care. “It has been three moons since your wedding, and yet your duty as Jaime’s wife remains unfulfilled.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose, your shoulders tensing. “My duty?”

Tywin’s expression did not waver. “You are a married woman now, Lady Y/N. Your role is to provide heirs to this house. To continue the legacy of House Lannister.”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “House Lannister already has heirs.”

Tywin’s brows furrowed slightly.

You tilted your head, your lips curling into something sharp. “King’s Landing is still a home to two golden-haired heirs of Jaime Lannister, unless you’d have me believe they belong to Robert Baratheon instead.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Tywin’s face darkened, his grip on the goblet tightening slightly. “Mind your tongue, girl.”

You crossed your arms, unflinching. “Why? Are we not speaking of duty and legacy? Or do you expect me to bear children that will be passed off as someone else’s while you sit there and pretend you do not know the truth?”

Tywin’s jaw clenched, his voice lowering to something dangerously calm. “Those rumors are nothing more than slander spread by your father and brother—both of whom paid the price for their treason.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

The reminder was a blade against your ribs, biting and merciless.

You swallowed the grief threatening to claw its way up, your voice quiet but unyielding. “You murdered them.”

Tywin exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. “Your father was a good man. An honorable man. But honor is not what keeps a kingdom intact. Power does. And he lost.”

Your nails bit into the fabric of your sleeves. “And Robb?”

Tywin regarded you carefully. “Your brother’s fate was sealed the moment your mother released Jaime.”

Your breath was shaky, your entire body coiled tight like a bowstring ready to snap.

Tywin studied you for a long moment before leaning forward slightly. “I did not summon you here to discuss the past. Your grief is of no consequence to me. What is of consequence is the fact that you are the Lady of Casterly Rock and yet you refuse to embrace the role given to you.”

You scoffed. “Given to me?”

Tywin’s gaze sharpened. “You may despise this arrangement, but you would do well to accept it. You are no longer a Stark. You are a Lannister now.”

You took a step closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I will never be a Lannister.”

Tywin’s expression did not change, but his voice cooled. “You will bear the name. And you will bear the children. That is all that matters.”

The words struck something deep, something raw, something furious.

Your hands trembled slightly at your sides, but you clenched them into fists, refusing to let him see the cracks beneath your mask.

Tywin exhaled slowly, pushing himself to stand, his towering presence looming over you. “You have a choice to make, Lady Y/N. You can remain defiant, remain stubborn, but it will change nothing. Your future is here. Your role is set.”

You lifted your chin, your voice shaking with restrained fury. “And if I refuse?”

Tywin’s eyes gleamed with quiet authority. “Then you will learn.”

The threat was not spoken, but it was there.

Your throat was tight, your heart pounding against your ribs.

Tywin regarded you for a moment longer before turning away. “You may go.”

You did not hesitate. You turned on your heel, your steps measured, controlled, refusing to let him see how deeply his words had cut.

But as you stepped out of the solar and the heavy doors shut behind you, you felt it—

The walls closing in.

The cage tightening.

And for the first time since you had been brought to Casterly Rock, you realized—

There was no escaping this.

Jaime had spent the evening drowning in his father’s words, the weight of expectation pressing down on him like an iron gauntlet. Every conversation with Tywin left him feeling like a boy again—small, powerless, molded into whatever shape his father deemed necessary.

Now, as he climbed the stairs toward his chambers, he felt none of the confidence he usually wore like armor. He had been warned, ordered, and reminded of his duty, and yet the thought of forcing something that wasn’t freely given made his stomach churn.

When he pushed open the heavy wooden doors to his chambers, he found you already there, standing near the fireplace, your hands clenched into fists. Winter lay stretched across the furs beside the hearth, his massive form unmoving, but his eyes snapped to Jaime the moment he entered.

Jaime sighed, running a hand through his golden hair. He could tell instantly that something had happened. The tension in your shoulders, the way you stood rigid, barely looking at him—it was all too familiar.

“I take it you spoke with my father,” he said smoothly, closing the door behind him.

Your gaze flicked to him then, sharp and full of fire. “And I take it you already knew what he would say.”

Jaime exhaled slowly, stepping further into the room. “I had a fair idea.”

Your laughter was hollow, devoid of humor. “Of course you did.”

Jaime watched you carefully, his fingers twitching at his side. “What did he say?”

You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned toward the fire, the flickering light casting an angry glow against your face. “What do you think he said? That I must submit, that I must produce an heir, that my grief means nothing because my purpose is to serve House Lannister.” You turned back to him, your jaw tight. “I will never be a Lannister, Jaime.”

Jaime inhaled slowly. “That’s not what he wants to hear.”

You glared at him. “I don’t care.”

Jaime sighed, stepping closer, his golden hand resting at his side, his left hand reaching up to unfasten the clasps of his tunic. The day had been long, draining, and the last thing he wanted was another battle.

But he should have known better.

You weren’t done.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Your voice was quieter now, but it was still edged with bitterness. “You knew what he would demand, and yet you said nothing.”

Jaime stilled, looking at you carefully. “What would you have me say?”

You took a step closer. “Anything.”

Jaime exhaled slowly. “Would it have changed anything?”

You clenched your jaw, looking away.

Jaime took a cautious step forward. “Y/N—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, stepping back. “Don’t act as if you care.”

Jaime’s patience was thinning. “You think I don’t?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I know you don’t. This is convenient for you. You get to be Tywin’s perfect heir while I rot in this damned castle.”

Jaime’s nostrils flared. “You think I wanted this?”

You turned to face him fully now, your chin lifting in defiance. “Didn’t you?”

Jaime closed the distance between you in two strides, his jaw tight as he stared down at you. “If I wanted to be my father’s perfect heir, I would have consummated this marriage the night we were wed.”

You inhaled sharply, your fingers curling at your sides.

Jaime lowered his voice, his breath warm against your skin. “I would have forced you beneath me, like some savage, and ensured that you carried a Lannister child.”

Your breath hitched.

Winter growled lowly, the sound vibrating through the room, but neither of you moved.

Jaime leaned in slightly, his voice quieter now. “But I didn’t.”

Your chest rose and fell heavily, your pulse quickening.

Jaime studied you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. “Why do you think that is?”

You swallowed, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips.

Jaime tilted his head slightly, watching you. “Say it.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t know.”

Jaime exhaled softly, his fingers twitching at his sides. “Then let me tell you.”

Before you could react, his left hand came up, his fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your chin slightly upward.

The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, as if he expected you to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Your hands curled into the fabric of his tunic, gripping it tightly as his lips pressed against yours, firm and unyielding.

Jaime felt something snap inside of him, something raw and desperate that he had been fighting for far too long.

The fire crackled beside you both, casting flickering golden light over your faces as Jaime deepened the kiss, his golden hand hovering at his side, useless, while his left hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Your breath hitched against his mouth, your fingers tightening against his chest.

And for the first time in three moons, you didn’t pull away.

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cvnntagious · 5 months ago

Note

babydaddy!matt's reaction if brat!reader tells him that the person she's seeing is meeting mazzy soon...

🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒

(from cherry anon - i wanna do this cherry 'banner' to show its me !)

so cute, love the banner !

matt smiled as he picked his daughter up off of the couch, tossing her up in the air as the two giggled in excitement. he held her against him, white shirt and carhart jeans dirty. "you look all pretty," he spoke in such a sweet tone to mazzy, hand coming up to toy with the light blue ribbon tied in bows in her hair, "y'guys goin' somewhere?"

as mazzy shook her head, the sound of your heals stopped behind matt, causing him to turn both him and your child to look at you. "matt?" you called for him in a confused tone, head tilting slightly as you stood in your hallway a few feet away, "what're you doing here?"

there was a moment of silence as matt gavr you a one over, eyes narrowing a bit at the extra put together outfit you had on. he looked back to mazzy, clearing his throat as he observed the rest of her clothing. "uh— got off work a little early today," he stated simply, shifting in his spot as his eyes met yours again, "thought i'd come take mazzy out of your hands for s bit." he then lifted up the spare key between his fingers, showing you how he got in.

"oh-!" you chriped awkwardly, taking a few steps to get close enough to grab for mazzy, "mm-mm, we're okay."

pulling mazzy from his arms, matt gave you a look of disbelief. "w– no, what's going on?" he asked, suspicion laced in his voice.

"i'm gonna meet daniel!" mazzy exclaimed excitedly without warning, throwing her arms up as you kept her from falling.

matt's head immediately snapped towards his happy daughter, utter bewilderment spread across his face. "daniel?" he echoed in question, a bit of annoyance rising within him. matt knew who daniel was—the cock blocker; the reason you'd been ignoring all his attempts to get back in bed with you. but did mazzy know who daniel was? he was sure not... he was certain you hadn't told the poor girl anything. and yet, here you were, trying to bring him around her.

you instantly noticed matt's shift in demeanor, giving him an exasperated sigh. "don't look at me like that," you warned, rolling your eyes as you walked past him with a feigned nonchalance that only served to further get on his nerves.

matt turned with you, his eyes following you in the nice dress you'd put on... all for daniel. he bit the inside of his cheek, nodding as the annoyance only grew on his face with each passing second. "but you didn't think to tell me?"

"no, matthew," you answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, turning on the tv for mazzy after you'd gently placed her on the couch to watch, "and that is exactly why." your finger pointed at his tapping foot—a habit he acted upon whenever his anger was building.

his eyes glanced down as his foot, the repeated motion immediately stopping as he threw out his hands. "i mean, yeah, i'm pissed," he replied, his voice the slightest bit reasoning, "but come on, don't i have a say? she's our child, and you want to bring some random dude you've barely been seeing five months around."

you were quick to shake your head, adamant that, no, he didn't have a say. "exactly. listen to yourself, five months," you quipped, face twisting as if he were some idiot in your face.

"which is, like, barely any time... almost six years of us, in case you forgot."

"oh please," you rolled your eyes once again, "we both know this isn't just about mazzy. do you not get it, matt? move on. like i did."

#cvntagious #love grandma cvnty .ᐟ #✎ ꒰ rory's inbox ᝰ.ᐟ ꒱#↳ 🍒 anon .ᐟ ‧₊#★ ⋮ babydaddy!matt #★ ⋮ brat!reader #★ ⋮ mazzy sturniolo #˗ˏˋ rory's wips #matt #matthew #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo au #matthew sturniolo au #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo fanfic

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the20thangel · 10 months ago

Text

As My Queen Commands

Summary: This was a request: The war has ended, leaving a few survivors for the Targaryen family. As the oldest living child of Queen Rhaenyra and King-Consort Daemon, you have been crowned as Queen. Your council worries this is insufficient to stabilize the realm and urge you to marry. So, a ball is hosted to find a potential husband. There, you happen to meet again a certain lord from Raventree Hall.

Targaryen!reader X Benjicot Blackwood

Tags: no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.9k

masterlist

It has been five moons since the war officially ended, with only a few survivors left: Your sisters, Baela and Rhaena, You, and your brothers Aegon and Visery. In contrast, poor little Jaehaera was the only survivor of the greens. They wanted to marry the little princess to your brother Aegon to show peace to the realm, but you fought tooth and nail against it. Luckily, it worked, with the princess warding in Driftmark with Baela. Rhaena decided to stay in Kingslanding to continue helping in looking after Aegon and Viserys. You were forever grateful to her, not knowing how you would have juggled caring for two small princes and bringing peace to a kingdom on your own.

You sighed as your maid finished braiding your platinum hair into beautiful Valyrian braids. Lord Corlys Velayron, one of your advisors, decided that if Aegon did not marry Jaehaera, a ball needed to happen; you required an heir. You needed to marry someone to strengthen your reign and have said heir. You grew upset at the news, stating that Aegon and Viserys were your heirs. You did not need to marry so soon but to focus on the realm. But the lords opposed it, stating that an alliance would help strengthen prosperity for your reign. After countless arguments, it started to weigh on you. You surrendered yourself to finding a husband to ease the tensions. You knew that, realistically, you should have been married already, but with a war, nobody besides Cregan Stark would have the luck to find a spouse. So it was decided the ball was a host to find lords who would gladly become king consort.

“Thank you, Diana. That will be all tonight,” you dismissed your maid as you finished placing your red ruby jewelry on your body: a necklace, earrings, and rings.

As you rose, making sure you seemed presentable, you heard a knock on your chamber doors, calling for them to enter; came in little Viserys, wearing a red and black doublet and a black cape. Smiling, you went to your brother, kissing him on the forehead, asking him what brought him to your room.

“Aegon and I decided to escort you and Rhaena to the ball. I wanted to escort you!” Viserys excitedly explained, his purple eyes glowing.

You smiled at him, your heart growing fond of his childish excitement at a party in his own words. You gladly extended your hand to him as you both walked to the ballroom. Servants, knights, lords, and ladies smiled at the scene of the young prince escorting his queenly sister. As you grew closer to the ballroom, your heart started racing. You needed to find a husband, a husband who would defend you without hindering your rule. A Husband who will love you and not stray in lovers. A husband who would be okay with not being the center of attention or being unable to spend time entirely at his keep. More importantly, you need a husband who would love your brothers as sons as you have grown to love them as your sons. These two boys suffered so much that they needed parental figures. You gladly took on that role, and you knew other lords would instead ship them off to the ward and focus on their children from your union. You would not allow that to happen; your brothers would be raised together with any potential children.

As your royal titles were introduced, you entered the ballroom; the once somber room brought back to life like the times of King Viserys I. Numerous houses' colors and banners hang from the gilded walls. You walked with your head held high, noticing how every male in the room turned to you, looking at you like a piece of meat or prize to be won. Disgusted, you knew this night was going to be a long one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After two hours of mindless chatter and many toes sore from lords clumsy stepping on your feet, you felt like you would burst. If one more lord came up to you talking about their “accomplishments” or your hand for a dance, you were considering feeding them to your dragon.

Rhaena, noticing her sister’s mood, quickly went to her side.

“Sister, why don’t you step outside for a while? I will distract the lords… tease them that I also might be willing to marry one,” advised Rhaena, squeezing your hand.

You smiled gratefully at her; she knew you well as you nodded and sneakily walked out of the ballroom. You decided to go into the courtyard, where there was silence; walking alone, you sighed in relief. Away from the court’s hungry eyes, you felt like you could finally breathe; you heard the chirps of crickets and the noises of the small folk outside the walls. At least your people had the chance to have fun and eat after suffering for so long due to the war. If people were happy, then you would be willing to suffer through 100 more balls. Walking further to the training yards, eyes filled with tears. Remembering when you secretly train with Jace and Luke here once, you pick up a bow. You were more of an archer than a sword fighter. Feeling the need to release some stress, you notched your bow, aiming at the targets, letting it go. With glee, you smiled, seeing how it hit the center of the target. Notching another, you continue your meditation of aim, notch, release, and hit. You forgot about the outside world, silly lords, and their silly ideas. Let yourself forget the constraints of marriage that will soon find you one way or another. As you notched your bow again, you heard footsteps close to you; you aimed at the intruder, who quickly froze, raising his hands in peace.

Seeing the familiar red and black clothing, you sighed, lowering your bow, “I would think you knew better than to sneak up on a dragon princess, Lord Blackwood.”

“Dragon Queen, you mean? And I did not mean to; I was just walking around when I heard the sound of arrows, and my curiosity peaked, not expecting to find the queen here.” teased Benjicot, smirking at you.

You snorted with an unamused brow raised. You tended to forget that you were now the queen, not a princess.

“Hmm, what about you… Does the Bloody Ben not do ballroom dances?” you ask, not letting yourself falter from his teasing. You grin as you see him flush red and look down at the floor.

“ I’m sorry, my queen, but I fear, no, dancing is not one of my skills, and after stepping on a few toes, I thought it best to save more maiden’s poor feet.” embarrassedly explained Benjicot, his eyes still to the ground.

As you began to giggle at the mental image, he raised his head sharply, his eyes widening as he heard your soft giggles. He hoped you would not notice his cheeks flushing red even more, but he thought seeing you laughing was beautiful. He always admired you from afar during the war, but he was so busy leading the armies and you with the stress of your mother’s state. Neither had a chance to speak to one another properly. Then, after the war, he had to return to his lands and tend to them, and you were crowned the queen.

After your giggles, you smiled at him, noticing how he stared at you like you were the moon, blushing you asked him to walk with you. Walking in serene silence, your fingers brushed against one another. You smiled at the feeling as you wondered how his lands were doing.

Benji smiled at you, “It's going well; we are recuperating from the war; it helps that since my lady aunt Alysanne has married lord Stark, the Brakens haven’t tried to enter our lands…forgive me, I should…” Falter Benji worried you would become upset hearing about his house's feud with the Brakens.

Seeing this, you turned to him, grasping his hands, “ Benjicot… we fought a war together. I saw how the Brakens treated your family. I do not mind hearing your worries, my lord. On the contrary, I wanted to ask why there hasn’t been an official border separating your lands from theirs?”

Benji smiled wry at you, “We have in the past, but… no offense to your grandsire, but he did not deem it essential to discuss.”

You sighed, knowing your grandsire had made many mistakes, including allowing Otto Hightower free reign in his kingdom. You will not make the same foolish mistakes.

Smiling, you replied, “How about a moon after the ball? I invite houses Blackwood and Bracken to set a clear border separating your lands finally. Hopefully, this will stop the bloodshed between the two houses.”

Benji gaped at you. He couldn’t believe you would do that for him and his family after many years and losses. He quickly thanked you, kissing your hand as you graced him with a pearly smile. You noticed you had been gone for a while, and Rhaena would probably start worrying. You two walked back towards the ballroom, taking your time, not wanting to leave each other's company, as Benji asked how he could repay your generosity.

Humming, you finally clicked that he was here at the ball; he was an eligible suitor, and House Blackwood was loyal and fierce. What better match than them than him?

“Lord Blackwood, I just remembered you are here tonight. Were you going to try for my hand like the other lords?” you asked, hoping he said yes. It would be easier to explain your decision to him.

Benjicot froze as he tensed his shoulders. He hoped you had forgotten the purpose of so many houses here. He decided to tell you a white lie so your rejection would not hurt.

“I came to celebrate you, my queen, but yes, I came to look for a potential wife… so many houses came that my advisors are pushing me to try and…charm a lady to want a marriage alliance with my house…but-”

You frowned, a lady? “Not a queen?” you interrupted as you watched his face; he seemed shocked by your question.

Gulping, Benji noticed your eyes sharpened. “No, my queen, I could never insult you like that. What could my house ever bring to you in a marriage?”

Your eyes softened at his humble words; all these lords came flocking their houses and praising what a potential marriage would bring to the realm and the crown. Yet here was one lord who truly enjoyed her company, not looking for marriage because he believed he was not worthy of such a thought.

As you walked closer, you stroked his cheek before moving your hand to his lips, your thumb caressing his lips as you whispered.

“House Blackwood stood by my mother throughout the war; you fought bravely in battles for my family, reclaiming Kingslanding and all without thinking of any sort of payment. Even today, while every lord flocked to me like peacocks showing off their ‘qualities,’ you humbly state how you feel you are not worthy. You still expected nothing from me, even once I said I would build a border to keep your lands safe from the Brakens. What more could I ever ask for a future king consort? You, my lord, are different, and I cannot help but ask for you at least think of marriage with me.”

Benji smiled, leaning closer to you, “Is that a command from you, my queen?”

Grinning, seeing how he never rejected your confession, you leaned closer, your lips nearly touching, “If it is, would you accept my lord?”

Huffing in a quiet laugh, “As my queen commands of me,” he replied, kissing you sweetly.

Melting into his embrace, you smiled at his kiss, feeling the future in his arms seemed brighter.

#fanfic #hotd #hotd fanfic #benjicot x reader #house of the dragon #benjicot blackwood

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itstheghostofmypast · 8 months ago

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Kiss, Kiss, Fall In Love

Non-Idol Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: Just a babygurl trying to show her bigboy her love.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.7

Est.Read Time: 8 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: Idk...I just had to, okay. I don't even know what this is. This song didn't even inspire the fic- but THANKS TO @edenesth I HAVE UNLOCKED A CORE MEMORY AND WHILE WRITING THIS NONSENSE I WAS LIKE- WAIT, THIS MATCHES THE VIBE

“What did we learn?” She asked, turning off the extra lights, leaving the little lamp on, turning to admire the way it complimented the bronze skin of his broad shirtless back, the faint droplets of sweat trailing down the curve of his spine- man, her man was a treat.

“That you're a bad spotter?” He groaned, tossing the shirt aside before kicking off his sweatpants and flopping down on the bed with a strange sound- well he was in pain so that's what we'll call it. Blinking at the ceiling he tried to imagine he wasn't in pain, but truth be told he had done this to himself, she did tell him it was too much weight and she did tell him not to remove his shirt since he was all sweaty and he'd get cramps. His girl would always be right, especially when it came to his well-being, he should give her a bit more credit for that-

“Next time, don’t act like a man-child and just listen to me.”

His eyes snapped open at the statement, turning his head to glare at her-

His girl was rude and annoying

And like hell he'd ever admit any of those nice things about her to her now.

“Now turn over,” she mumbled, tossing her bag on the other side of the bed, after taking something out of it, “The oil will help relieve the tension.” Showing him the oil she gestured for him to get on his belly so she could help him out.

His girl really was an angel.

With a quick pouty smile, he mumbled a thank you and turned to his side all excited and giddy, laying on his belly, arms extended, almost resembling a star. His form occupied most of the bed as he lay in the middle, the sheets crumpled up under him.

“Man, look at that cake.” She hummed, earning a giggle from him as she sat on his lower back, making sure to not put a lot of body weight or pressure, “Is there a reason why we discarded the pants, hmm?”

“Technically, I had to go shower….”

“Technically you were on your bed all sweaty,” Mumbling back she poured a generous amount of oil in her palm before flicking the cap close and tossing it aside, “And last I checked, you don't do that.”

“Gotta change the sheets anyway,” a sigh escaped him when he felt her hands on him, feeling her palms press onto his shoulders, applying the right amount of pressure before trailing down his back, “God…I love you.”

“You better, people pay money for this, you know?” With a joke she sighed, feeling his tense muscles under her fingertips, gently trying to massage out the knots the idiot had graciously created as soon as he realised taking his shirt off in an air-conditioned gym was smart, “I complained to the management about the AC but they said it was at a moderate temperature…I think we were sitting under a duct…”

“Mhmm…” with a small hum he closed his eyes, a quick nap before he hit the shower wouldn't be a bad thing. So, the last thing he thought of before falling asleep was how he'd have to change the sheets after this, followed by a whispered, “Thank you.”

A small smile graced her lips as she felt him go lax under his touch, relishing the way he felt so safe and loved by her. Her heart fluttered at his little thank you, even though he didn't need to thank her. Especially when she was glad he was in pain right now, don't get her wrong, she hated how he was hurting, but she hated those hoes at the gym even more. From the moment he had taken off his shirt to check on his progress, their eyes were glued to him, hell, they didn't even look away when he had turned to look at her, flexing his arms at her, earning a giggle from her- HE WAS CLEARLY TAKEN.

That's exactly why she had asked him to put his shirt back on, people had no shame these days. The irony lay in the fact that her handsome man was dumb as hell, he had no idea that a group of girls, who usually never came this late to the gym, had been eying him like a bunch of rabid dogs. Initially she thought he had figured out, she had assumed he was either enjoying it or using it to make her jealous, which made her blood boil, and perhaps increased her strength momentarily, for the way he had called her out with a breathy “Babe…” had her glance down at him, shocked to see him admiring her, staring up at her in awe as he continued, “That’s some weight you're lifting…I think you're better than Jongho at this point.”

She had smiled at his compliment, a sense of relief coursing through her veins at the realisation that he had eyes only for her, but that didn't last long, as soon as she heard them giggle, she had gotten distracted and let go of the weight, leaving him struggling to lift it up, trying to ignore the burning in his spasming muscles. Yeah…that’s probably what caused the issue of the day.

With a sigh she leaned back, admiring his sleeping form, shaking her head at the snoring man, clueless to what he'd do to her, how he'd make her burn green with jealousy. Usually when they'd go the gym would be empty, or rather the moment they'd enter the gym those girls would be leaving, at least that's how it was for almost a month. Moreover, Mingi and Jongho would accompany them, but since both of them had work tonight they couldn't come, but why is it that those little hyenas somehow changed their routine? Hmmm?

She placed her hands flat on the small of his back and thought about it, irritated by how she couldn't get them out of her head, irritated by how her idiot of a man was clueless to all this, irritated by the fact that they clearly knew he was in a relationship and if wearing booty shorts or sports bras was a way to get him to look at them- then she really had a problem with them.

She needed to tell them he was her’s, with that thought she pulled on the strap of her purse, pulling it closer and taking something out as she smiled at the sleeping man before eying his shoulder blades, “Good enough.”

“Sannie~ wake up…go shower…the water’s warm,” shaking him awake she gently patted his arm, moving so he could sit up properly. She smiled at her sleepy, clueless boy who pouted at her with droopy eyes, “Go, I'll change the sheets…gonna stay over tonight.” With a quick soft kiss, she pulled him up and patted his arm, “Hurry up, you gotta drop me home before going to work tomorrow.” With that she watched him stumble out of the room, mumbling some nonsense about ‘never letting her go’ followed by an ‘I think I need to retire’, though all she could focus on was the pretty art piece on his back, between his shoulder blades, till the middle of his spine, oh she did some good work.

With a sigh he walked out of the shower, a towel hanging low on his hips as he hummed a tune, closing the door behind him as he walked down the hall, only to stop at his bedroom door, slightly opening the door to peek into the cold dark room, the small night light illuminating the bundled up figure on his side of the bed, as a smile graced his features, his little princess worked so hard, she’d go to work, help him at the gym, take care of him- she deserved the world. Right now, however, he had to tend to his growling stomach, demanding his attention. The gentle ‘ding’ of the washing machine caught his ear, as he opened the fridge, oh so she washed the sheets too, huh?

“What’s that?” He turned to look at his flatmate, who was placing his bag on the small table, “On your back dude.”

“What is it?” San asked, walking over to the counter as he placed the almond milk carton on the counter, reaching for the cupboard to take out a glass, “Is it a scratch? I took my shirt off today at the gym, maybe- oh shit, it’s not a rash is it?” panicking he craned his neck back, assuming that he’d magically be able to see his back.

“Ohh…no, no, I think it’s a case of jealousy.” Mingi mused, taking out his phone and striding over to the man in the towel, “Though I’m impressed at the craftsmanship, that’s some detailing.” With that he pushed San to face the counter, telling him to hold still before an audible snap was heard.

San felt his eyes bulge out at the sight, a giant heart made out of little kisses- did she use some kind of permanent tint? How did this not wash off?

“Man, didn’t know girls could be this territorial.” Mingi snorted before opening the fridge, “How did you not know what she was doing?” Taking out last night’s leftovers he sat down on the opposite chair, staring at the man who had been staring at the picture, a pink hue tinting his cheek, almost as dark as the red kiss marks on his back.

“I was asleep…” he whispered, before looking up at Mingi with an unfamiliar fire in his eyes, “I’m never gonna wear a shirt again.”

Mingi only shook his head in disbelief, munching on his pizza slice as he looked at the man who was now sending himself the picture, before he joked, “Just, make sure to wear one for work tomorrow, Sannie.” He glanced at the man who tossed the phone back to him and shook his head, too delusional and high on endorphins right now to care as he giggled, “You’re just jealous you don’t get a girl who loves you,” turning around he showed him his back, pointing at his back with his thumbs, “this much.”

With that he ran back to his room, ready to wake up his lover, ready to beg her to use the lip tint to decorate his lips, his face, wherever she wanted- only this time, he’d be awake enough to feel her love.

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

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jeonsbabygirlsworld · 1 year ago

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SUMMARY : In which you let your husband take your virginity on your wedding night.

PAIRINGS: Dilf Taehyung x virgin reader

WORD COUNT :2K

SMUT WARNINGS: Unprotected sex (off course) ,cum eating, oral f. Eating out over panties, fingering, squirting, mention of blood (her cherry popped)! Titty sucking, aftercare ladies <3

A/N: A little something as I’ve reached 1k heheh thank you so much lovelies and i hope you liked this one and thank you my love 💖 @jj-one who helped me with this one and also @kingofbodyrolls who made this sexy banner💖

The beach was filled with fragrant blooms, an array of white and pink tulips adorned the set up, a gentle breeze softly tickles the groom's hair and he smiles looking at you walking hand in hand with your father holding a small bouquet of lilies.

Your wedding veil cascades down your back, complementing the silk lace and pearls embroiled on the dress, making you feel like a fairy princess. Nervously walking down the aisle with your father you blush the moment you see your husband, soft music and doting cheers follows in the background the moment you took each step.

Soon reaching upon you face the love of your life Kim Taehyung, your dad places your hand on your husband’s and some tears brim his eyes, asking him to always protect you and keep you happy forever. He chuckling upon his request, promising to keep you happy for the rest of his life while kissing the back of your palm and whispers "you look so beautiful my love." You visibly chuckle and mutter him a small "thanks, you look handsome as well".

You never thought you would end up with your casual fling that you met from an app, remembering it was one of your friends who had signed you up on the app after you broke up with your toxic ex. On the other side, Taehyung's friend, Jungkook, had signed him up when divorced his wife, thinking it was a good idea to get out of the grief and have some fun.

Your interests he was afraid if he came clean about his son you would leave.

He was sure he had fallen in love with you over the past year from just chatting and calling each other daily. It made him feel like he was a young man again and not a 38-year-old man who had a kid who would depend on for a few more years.

Taehyung was also afraid of the 16-year-old age gap, thinking it was too soon for you to commit to a lifelong relationship which included a child.

He had enough of it when he finally decided to take you on a date and coming clean about it. He came fully prepared to tell you about his son and break this situation you were in, he liked (read: Loves) you, but he didn't want you to live with the pressure of living with a child as you were young, and you had so much to experience.

In the cozy coffee shop, soft jazz played in the background while you nervously fidget on the chair, summing up the courage to tell him that you had started liking him and can see a future together. The man in front of you gave a crooked smile, continuing to surf through the menu.

"What will you have Y/n?" Taehyung asks as he skims each and every item written on the menu, his leg bouncing under the table due to anxiety.

"I love you Taehyung," you say at the same time as he began talking, he goes blank, the menu dropping from his hands while you mentally facepalm at yourselves. "Fuck I shouldn't have dropped this bomb this early.”

"What?" Taehyung gasps and then visibly gulps, and you return a crooked smile back. "Yes tae, I love you I've been loving you for a while now.." you confess once again, and he shutters "We-ll y/n m-e too" he says as if he's exclaiming, and you smile wide.

"But wait y/n, before I properly confess I want to tell you something," Taehyung nervously adds, becoming restless. Observing his moments you grab his spare hand which rested on the table and tell him to calm down.

"Y/n, you know I’m divorced, right? But I'm sorry I have hidden something very big from you, I have a five-year-old son Yi-hyun" he says, and you gasp "Oh my god, tae why did you hide this for so long?" you question, he fiddles with his fingers and explains his insecurities and chances of you leaving him.

"No tae, I would never, in fact, I love children and I would really love to spend my whole life with you." You blush as those words come out and Taehyung giggles, "I'll be more than glad and feel honored to stay with you for the rest of my life."

Taehyung gazes into your eyes, his eyes full of love and promises, the gentle breeze makes the few whips of your flix fly, and he thinks you look so pretty, soon the calm breeze carries out your wedding vows and seals all the promises of this lifetime commitment.

Yi-hyun stands right in the middle of you and Taehyung's parents, an uproar of cheers and claps filled the atmosphere when you exchange your rings. Glancing at him, you give a flying kiss and he acts to catch it, your husband won't stop at looking you with heart eyes.

It was soon evening while you and your husband basked in the warmth of newly wed love, surrounded by all your supporting family and friends. He occasionally steals a few kisses from you when you both slow danced and enjoyed the dance until it was time to make your grand exit and walk hand in hand till you reached your car.Your parents insisted on keeping your son for a couple of days until you come back from the honeymoon.

"Yi- hyun, don't trouble your grandparents okay baby? Be a good boy for me and your mom okay?" Your husband tells your son and he nods , he kisses yours and his father's and climbs down from his grasp and tells you both a "goodbye".

"Let's go baby been waiting for this day ever since I met you, gonna fuck you hard," Taehyung says with lust-filled eyes, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. He lays a few soft pecks, soliciting a gasp from you, letting out the smallest whimper of his name.

The ride to your house was short, your husband helped to get you out of the car and quickly thanked the driver, not even a minute later your back meets the door of your penthouse as your husband starts to devour your mouth with his, heavy kisses full of spit coats your lips.

You were taken aback for a few seconds until your mind processes his action, kissing your lover back with the same burning passion, you struggle a bit until you get the keys from the back pocket of Taehyung's pants.

"One Sec baby, let me just open this, and we can go inside," you say almost breathlessly in between kisses, turning around. Once inside, both you and his clothes join the ground soon. "I'll go slow baby okay? It's your first time, right? Gonna savour every last moment of this." Taehyung assures you, and you nod.

Never in your twenty-two years of living did you have sex with your boyfriend. Sex was a whole different thing you’ve yet to experience but you weren't a saint when it came to it either, the curious teen in you would look up porn and even tried masturbating before, but you just didn’t feel anything from it, you thought you were doing something wrong.

Taehyung helped you to get comfortable in the bed whilst he removes the last piece of his clothing, his boxers, while you had kept your panties on, feeling your cunt coating the plumpness of his lips with your slick. You moan at the movement as he hovers above you, "ready baby?" your husband sweetly asks, you nod and voice a simple "yes.”

Soft, gentle kisses are first felt on your neck and the light touch of his fingertips tickles your lower belly, coming dangerously close to your core. His nimble fingers nudge the bow on your lace panties, sucking in your breath when he slowly goes down to explore the rest of your body, sucking on your skin lightly as he trails his way down. Soon purple hues are decorated all over you.

Once he faces your core, his hot breath leaves you tingly inside, whimpering out his name as he slowly licks a wet strip of over the fabric of your panties and sucks on the ball of your clit, repeating his languid motion again and again, his eyes watching you above him. You’re left nothing short of a moaning mess, "fuck feels so good tae, just like that baby.." you express him how good he’s making you feel when he sucks and licks you over your panties, this new sensation was like no other.

Soon after a while he completely removes them off your body, groaning at the mess you made and his fingers rub over it so he could have some of you on his fingers. "Open baby" he affirms, you ecstatically take them in your mouth sucking off each finger one by one, he chuckles and bites back a moan. He thinks you’re the sexiest woman he’s ever seen.

"Gonna finger you baby, stay calm okay? I promise it's gonna soon feel okay." He assures and slowly inserts one of his fingers, you moan out loud as it feels different from what you felt while playing with yourself.

One finger soon turned into two and you felt something weird coming out, "Taehyung stop-stop, something's coming out," you breathlessly warn but he tells you to go on and doesn’t stop fingering you, only upping his pace. Liquid soon gushes out, "fuck baby, pretty girl" never failing to fluster you and make you blush, shying away and looking everywhere but his eyes.

His frame hovers above yours and tells you to rest properly, "Baby, is it okay?" He asks before continuing. His hard cock brushing over your soaked pussy lips, itching to be inside your warm cunt, his fingers part your lips while you involuntarily twitch, feeling weightless as his thumb rubs gentle circles along your sensitive clit. "Ready y/n? Look we don't have to do it tonight you can always back out baby" he says while you whimper at the loss. "N-no want it so bad I can take it" you eagerly said, leaning in to kiss his lips. "It might hurt at first, but then it's going to be okay, I promise my darling." With that, he slowly aligns himself with you and enters inside, causing you to both moan in unison.

Kissing your forehead to calm you down when he sees faint tears brimming your eyes, he pulls out just enough so he can spit in between you two to make the slide much easier. He notices some blood as you were still a virgin— up until now, beads of sweat drip from the sides of him and some of it lands onto your boobs. He attached his lips to suckle them, seeing your pretty mouth open wide and decides to slip his finger in, your body rises a bit when he tells you to see the bloody mess and you whimper while he pets your head with his other hand.

"Calm down baby you’re gripping me so hard.." he groans from the way you’re sucking him up and you try your best to relax your muscles and try to enjoy this feeling while occasionally kissing him, moaning at his touches. He rests his forehead on top of yours and soon he cums inside, gasping from his overwhelming orgasm, he slowly pushes himself up and removes his now softened cock. You feel the cum dripping down to your ass. “Wait up baby, I'm gonna get something to clean you up.” He smiles dotingly and you nod back at him.

Soon he cleans you both up and brings you a glass of water to drink, he’s cuddling with you as his fingers lace with yours. Soft kisses resound the room until you both knock down in each other's embrace.

You decide to wake him up with a good, morning blow job but who knew it would be him to be waking you up instead.

#Taehyung smut #kim taehyung #kim Taehyung smut #kim Taehyung fanfiction #Kim Taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #Taehyung fluff #bts smut #taehyung fanfic #v smut #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #Dilf Taehyung #Virgin reader #cherry prick #bts v #Bts #bts fanfic bts smut

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phoward89 · 1 year ago

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Banner by me, dividers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Warnings: Dark!Stepbrother!Coriolanus Snow, Bigot General Crassus Snow, Implied child abuse, cussing, obsessive behavior, smut. AU of sorts.

When your mother started dating some war hero general, you didn't think much of it. Your mother's dated men, mostly officers, over the years and nothing ever came of it. So when your mother announced that Crassus proposed and she said yes, you nearly had a stroke.

Your older brother, Rein, had signed up for the peacekeepers the very next day. You think it was to get the hell out of the house, since Crassus Snow had a reputation of being a very cold, stern, and cruel man.

Not that you knew much about him. But you kind of knew his son. Well, you didn't know Coriolanus, but you went to the Academy with him.

Little did you know, Coriolanus has been secretly watching you ever since his balls dropped and his voice changed. He always thought that you were a beautiful little dove. His darling rose. He had a crush *cough* obsession *cough* with you, but would only watch you from afar.

His group of friends (rich asshole kids he had to play nice with) weren't the type of people that would accept you. You weren't from one of the great Capitol families.

But, despite not being able to be seen with you, he was determined that one day he'd have you pinned down on his bed.

How he planned on doing that if he never talks to you, well, who knows…

So, when Crassus Snow told his son that he was getting married to your mother, well, Coriolanus was over the moon. He was finally going to be able to fulfill his fantasies; pin you down on his mattress and fuck you into it until you begged for mercy.

The day after he found out you were going to be his new stepsister, he approached you at the Academy. You were talking with one of your friends, waiting for classes to start, in the main hallway. He felt that now was the perfect time to introduce you to the right friend circle to have; to claim you as his own too.

“Why isn't it Y/N Halvir, my new stepsister.”

“Your mother's marrying his father? Oh, I feel so bad for you…” Your friend whispered so only you'd be able to hear her.

Giving Coriolanus a fake smile, you simply greeted him with, “Hi, Coriolanus. Shouldn't you be with your own friends?”

“I’m actually here to take you with me so that you can meet them, now that you're a Snow.” Coriolanus replied, his icy eyes taking in every inch of you.

“Our parents aren't married yet, I'm nothing to you, but your classmate at the moment.” You reminded him, since he's never shown interest in you before; doesn't need to either since your parents’ are still planning the wedding.

Well Crassus’ mother, your soon to be new Grandma’am, was planning it while her son was footing the bill. You hope she doesn't pick out some frilly, gaudy, girly puffball of a dress for you to wear.

Coriolanus gave you a smile that was all pearly whites and sickeningly sweet. “Dear sweet stepsister, in time they'll be married, and I just want to introduce you to my friends.”

Your friend noticed the glint in Coriolanus' icy eyes and was afraid for you. She didn't know much about him, but he always intimidated her. Gave her the creeps for some reason she couldn't pinpoint. Your friend looked between you and your soon to be stepbrother, hoping that he'd just leave you alone.

Sadly, that didn't happen.

Coriolanus' large hand grabbed your arm, his long fingers wrapping tightly around it like tentacles. He leaned in close, so close that his breath was fanning your face, and gritted through his perfect teeth, “You're going to be a Snow, Y/N, so you need to start acting like it. The first step is to let me give you friends that are worthy of the Snow name.”

Your heart raced and you felt fear bloom in your chest. You nodded at him, giving into his will.

Coriolanus smirked when you turned to your friend and told her you were going with Coriolanus.

You were his now. His, and he’s never letting go.

Integrating yourself into the Snow family was easier said than done. First, you were stuck moving into their 12th floor Corso penthouse right away. Right away being mere days after the engagement was announced.

Your mother was so happy to be living in the grand penthouse, but you missed your old apartment.

At least your old, albeit smaller, apartment was warm and felt lived in. The Snow penthouse was cold and felt dead despite its large size and grand decor.

“Coriolanus, show your new sister to her room.” Crassus sternly ordered his son while standing in front of the fireplace in the main room, sipping tea.

Your mother and Grandma’am, Coriolanus’ grandmother, were sitting in chairs around a glass star shaped coffee table, sipping on tea and hot chocolate. Grandma'am was the one with the hot chocolate.

Grandma’am and your mother seemed to get along well, while Crassus didn't seem to care.

Hell, the general had a scowl on his face and looked a bit miserable.

You wondered if Coriolanus would grow up to be like his father since he already looked like him.

“Yes, father.” Coriolanus nodded. Grabbing your hand and leading you away from the adults, he said, “You'll be in Tigris' old room, little dove.”

“Who's Tigris?” You innocently asked.

“My cousin; she moved out into her own apartment not long ago.” He explained, dragging you down the hall.

You knew what Coriolanus truly meant. His cousin left after his father announced the engagement with your mother.

“My older brother just joined the peacekeepers, so it looks like we both had some family move out.”

Coriolanus stopped at a door, only to push it open and drag you inside of the room. “Mark my word, sweet stepsister, father will be pushing for your brother to take an officer's aptitude test as soon as he's eligible.”

“I don't see why, Rein's not his son.” You told the blonde as he let go of your hand and flipped on the light switch.

The room was spacious. The only furniture in it was a bed, a nightstand, and a desk with a chair. The bed linens were simple too.

The room felt more like a guestroom then a room that had once belonged to somebody in the Snow family.

Maybe it was the lack of personal decorations that made the room feel so lifeless?

But wasn't that to be expected considering Tigris has vacated the room; took any decorations and personal touches with her.

Coriolanus guided you over to the bed. “Not by blood, but as soon as our parents marry, your brother will be another son of Crassus Snow.” You both sat down on the soft mattress. You felt as if his blue eyes were studying you, taking you in like a fine piece of art, as he explained, “Being a part of the prestigious Snow family, Rein will have certain expectations to stand up to now, as do you.”

“I didn't sign up for this, Coriolanus.” You shook your head. Staring at a wall, you bitterly remarked, “My mother decided to marry Crassus, but I didn't know that meant I'd have to be some perfect, rich military brat.”

“Yes, well, we just have to make the best of our circumstances.” Coriolanus told you, his voice a bit crisp and tight. His large, pale hand heavily rested on your thigh. His face got dangerously close to yours, causing his breath to warm your skin. His icy eyes flashed with a fire as he smirked, “At least you have me to guide you, ensure that you're perfect.”

Your heart was racing wildly in your chest. Was your soon to be stepbrother coming on to you?

No. He couldn't be.

He couldn't.

Could he?

But before you could find out, Coriolanus was called by his father to help show the movers where to place your things.

Leaving you alone in your room with a million different thoughts swimming in your head.

Not long after moving into the Snow penthouse, you were asked out on a date by Sejanus Plinth. He was very cute and sweet. Plus he came from a good family.

And you accepted, much to Coriolanus' horror.

Dinner that night was interesting, to say the least.

“But father, you can't let her go out with him. He's district.” Coriolanus protested after hearing Crassus approve of your date plans for the following night.

Grandma'am’s wrinkled face shook with worry. “Coriolanus is right, Crassus. The district boy might hurt her. He’s not Capitol blood; he's not civilized despite living amongst us.”

“Sejanus is a sweet boy. I’ve heard only good things about him from Mrs. Plinth.” Your mother smiled in between daintily eating her spoonful of soup.

Correction, not soup, but a tomato lobster cream bisque that was the first of 4 courses. Which also included a desert.

Yea, dinners were a lavish affair in the Snow household. But since Crassus had a cook on staff, you guess they could be.

Coriolanus’ jaw twitched at your mother's words. He felt that she was foolish for taking the words of a district woman to heart. That she shouldn't be encouraging you to go out with that dirty district dog just because his mother- no his ma, said he's a sweet boy.

He's district and anyone with a drop of district blood in them hated those born and bred in the Capitol. Even those who were district transplants that were allowed into the Capitol as a reward for making their fortunes from betraying the blood of their own couldn't be trusted. No, not when their blood wasn't pure, but was tainted.

Sejanus Plinth, although living in the Capitol and being from a filthy rich family, was and always will be a filthy, dirty blooded, district dog. He was undeserving of you. Infact, even a boy from the Capitol was undeserving of you.

Because you deserve nothing, but the best. You were a part of the Snow family, so only the best for you.

And that was him.

Coriolanus was the best. The only one worthy of you.

He knew it was taboo, forbidden even, but he didn't give a fuck.

Coriolanus was going to have you and his father approving of your date with that damn district born Plinth boy wasn't going to stop him.

General Snow reached for his goblet of wine, only to announce in a deep, authoritative tone, “I've given my approval of Y/N’s date with Sejanus Plinth, so all protests of it will stop.” Giving his son a hard look, Crassus cruelly remarked, “Coriolanus, son, perhaps you should find a girl to entertain yourself with instead of your studies. I wonder about you sometimes, if you even like girls at all.” An evil glint appeared in the light blonde general's cerulean eyes. “Perhaps you'd rather go out with the Plinth boy tomorrow night instead of sending Y/N.”

The room went deadly silent. One could hear a pin drop.

“Crassus…” Grandma’am shook her pearl encrusted turbin covered head at her son. Her blue eyes were full of disappointment.

Your mother didn't say a word, just kept eating her soup. If she felt bad, well she didn't show it. Her grey eyes were glued to her spoon, as if the liquid in it was the most fascinating thing she's ever seen.

Coriolanus flew up off his chair, causing it to loudly clatter to the floor, and stormed out of the dining room.

“Coriolanus!” You called out after him, rising from your own chair with the intention to follow after him.

You felt bad for Coriolanus, for what his father said at the supper table. It was uncalled for. It was disgusting and rude. He was trying to shame and embarrass his son, it wasn't right.

Before you could even make it an inch away from the table, your future stepfather rose from the table and rounded on you. Roughly grabbing your wrist, he coldly said, “Let him sulk like the weakling he is. Sit down, Y/N, and finish your first course.”

Everything inside of you screamed to listen to Crassus, to just sit down and eat that damn tomato-lobster bisque, but your need to run to Coriolanus, to make sure that he was alright, won out. You don't even know why, but you seemed drawn to your future stepbrother. You couldn't just abandon him to wallow in misery by himself.

You wretched your arm out of the general’s cold, tight hold. Looking up at him, you said, “I'm not hungry anymore, Crassus.”

“You'll address me as father now, you little brat.” Crassus ordered, towering over you. The imposing war hero looked ready to kill. It seems that nobody has ever stood up to him before, but always fell in line with his command.

You nodded and went to turn around, only for your ‘father’ to grab your wrist once more in a tight hold. His grip on your small wrist was so hard that you could feel the bones squeezing painfully together.

He twisted your arm behind your back, making your wrist flare as if it was on fire while the rest of your arm threatened to snap like a twig, and spin you around to look at the table.

Crassus' voice was deep and full of cruelty as he told you, “Take a good look at your soup, dearest daughter, because your serving will be given to the Avox.”

Your eyes looked at the table, but not at the soup. No, you looked at the pair of women seated at it. Silently, you begged them to help you. Sadly, they wouldn't.

No…

Your mother was too preoccupied with her bowl of soup, or maybe she was afraid of crossing her future husband. And Grandma'am, oh the elderly woman just gave her son a pitiful look, but wouldn't dare speak up against him.

“In fact, for your insubordination you'll starve tonight.” You heard your mother's fiance chuckle cold-heartedly.

Crassus shoved you to the side, causing you to hit the ground with a loud thud. The force of your side colliding with the hard marble floor knocked the wind out of you. So much so, that you didn't even hear the sound of large, loud footsteps hurrying over to you as you weakly pushed yourself up.

You felt a large hand wrap around your upper arm, but the touch was different than before. The long fingers weren't bruising around you, but surprisingly gentle with their lithe hold.

You felt yourself being lifted up to stand on your own two feet as Crassus seethed at his son, the one helping you, “Coriolanus, take that bitch with you and keep her all night. I don't want to see either one of your disrespectful faces until morning.”

Coriolanus’ eyes were full of icy hate as he curtly nodded at his father. Without a word, he ushered you away from the dining room.

Sadly, he'd have to teach you that General Crassus Snow likes his children to be seen and not heard. That he enjoyed slinging out biting, stinging remarks to cut down his children. That he was worse then the devil to deal with. That life could either be hell or something worse then hell with the Snow patriarch.

Coriolanus Snow would teach you how to navigate life under his father's roof because you're his.

Yes, your mother might be marrying his father, but nevertheless you are his and therefore he must protect you.

“What did you do to make him lash out?” Coriolanus asked, sitting with you on his bed.

His room, you discovered, was sparsely decorated. Just like yours, all he had was a bed, a nightstand, a desk and chair. A couple of portraits hung on the walls, and a few trinkets were stacked on the window sill. Oh, and a couple of pictures frames and small items were on his desk, overlooking his school books and papers.

But, all in all, it felt as empty as your room did.

Damn…

This house was cold and empty, full of nothing but sorrow and hate it seemed.

And your mother willingly brought you here.

Fuck your life…

“I got up from the table to follow you; make sure that you were okay.” You honestly told Coriolanus, listening to the sound of his father yelling at your mother about how unmannered you were.

Oh, and they were still in the dining room.

Yea…

That's how loud Crassus was.

Biting your bottom lip, you looked at the boy with platinum curls that you were stuck with for the night, and told him, “Thank you for coming back and helping me, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Y/N, my darling, you belong to me. I'll always come back for you, help you when in danger.”

Before you could even ask him what he meant by belonging to him, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours. It caught you off guard. You honestly weren't expecting his lips to be so lush, so soft. And you definitely weren't expecting him to kiss you.

He's going to be your stepbrother soon.

For Christ's sake!

He's going to be your stepbrother!

That revelation caused you to place your hands on his chest and gently push him away, while leaning your head back to break the one-sided kiss. You looked into his icy blue eyes, only to see something dark swimming in them.

Correction: not something dark, but lust.

“What's wrong, Y/N? Why did you push me away?” He asked, voice heavy with wonder. Lust blown baby blue eyes never leaving yours.

“You're going to be my stepbrother soon, Coriolanus. We can't kiss and stuff, it's not right.”

“Oh, darling, we're not blood related, so it's perfectly fine for us to kiss and to fuck.” Coriolanus assured you with a whisper in your ear. His breath was hot against your cheek as he confessed, “I've been watching you at the Academy for years, my little dove. Fucking my fist every night to fantasies of you and now that I have you with me, well, Y/N, I'm not ever letting you go.”

“You've liked me for that long?” You asked in bewilderment.

He couldn't have liked you for so many years, only to never make a move.

Could he?

It just didn't seem possible.

“Mhm…” Coriolanus hummed, only to nip at a spot right below your ear. “You've consumed my thoughts since we were 13, my darling rose.”

What? He's had a crush on you since you were 13?!

Like what?....

He's liked you for that long and never said a word? Never made a move, until now?

Wow…

“Corio-” You began, only for him to sigh and cut you off with, “Please, call me Coryo.”

Nodding, you turned your head slightly so you could look at him. “Coryo, you should've told me how you felt years ago.” Your eyes flickered to his hand, that had found its way on your thigh, and back up to his baby blues. “It's too late to do anything about it now. Our parents are getting married and I'm Sejanus' girlfriend now.”

Coriolanus did not like that remark. Oh no, he didn't like it one bit.

You're NOT Sejanus' girlfriend!

You're his girl, you belonged to him. Hell, you're part of the family now too.

His, his, his!

You're his and he's going to show you.

“You don't belong to him, Y/N. You’re mine.” Coryo darkly declared, only to kiss you.

He kissed you with so much fervor. He was a man possessed as his lips slid against yours. Kisses you as if you were the air he needed to breathe.

This time you didn't push him away. Instead, your lips moved against his. Your hands tightly fisted his shirt; pulling him closer as your lips clashes with his.

Coriolanus pushes you onto your back, causing you to let out a surprised gasp. He used your shock to deepen the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth.

His hand caressed the inside of your thigh as his tongue explored your mouth. Tasting you as if you're the sweetest treat.

Your hands ran up his chest and snaked around his neck as your tongue flickered against his, causing you both to moan. As your tongues began an intimate dance, his other hand found its way to your neck.

You pulled away slightly, catching your breath as your lips hovered close to his.

“Coryo.” You breathlessly moaned, feeling his long fingers brush against your soaking wet panties.

“You're so wet for me, darling.” He smugly told you. “You need me, don't you?” He asked, even though he knew that your entire being aches for him at this very moment.

Coryo wanted, no needed, to hear you tell him that you wanted him to fuck you dumb. That only he could take away the ache in your cunt.

Him, the very reason for your wet pussy.

“Coryo…we can't…” You weakly protested as your core aches with a fiery desire. One that you've never felt so fiercely before.

Or at least until now.

“We can, little dove.” He told you, using his fingers to slip your panties to the side. The air hitting your wet pussy causes you to shudder.

Your reaction has him smirking. Pulling your legs open wide for him, he announced in a dark, lustful tone, “I'm gonna fuck you and you're gonna like it, Y/N.”

Breaking eye contact with him as his hands ran over the insides of your spread thighs, you confessed, “I've never done this before, Coryo.”

“You’re a virgin.” Coriolanus stated, not asked. He knew you’ve never been fucked before. He would've known if you had since he stalked looked after you from afar for years.

“Yea…” You trailed off, blushing in embarrassment.

God, your skirt was bunched up and your legs were spread wide open, like a whore in heat, with your panties pushed aside exposing your dripping tight hole to your step brother. And here you were, blushing at having to confirm that you're a virgin.

Coryo took a sick pleasure in you being embarrassed about your innocence despite the wanton state he had you in.

“Don't worry, your stepbrother's going to change that.”

“God, Coryo, don't call yourself my stepbrother while my legs are spread for you. It's dirty.”

“And you're my dirty little slut because your cunt’s drooling and clenching around the air from my dirty words.” Coriolanus taunted as his hands rested on either side of your pussy, thumbs spreading open the lips to expose your tight dripping hole to him. “Oh, darling, you've got such a pretty pussy for me.” He cooed, dipping his head down between your spread legs

“Oh god…” You shakily moan, feeling Coryo lick a thick stripe up your cute with his hot, wet tongue.

You could feel him smirking against you before his tongue flickered your clit.

“Coryo.” You moaned as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked on it.

He smacked the inside of your thigh, only to lift his head away from your pussy and hiss, “Shut up, bitch. Don't wanna get caught, do we?”

“Sorry, it just felt really good.” You apologized, your voice tinted with need.

“You're forgiven, darling, but don't be loud again or else I won't prep you. I'll just fuck you face first in my pillow to muffle your screams and call it a night.” He told you, making new gush of wetness spill out of your pussy. “Oh, looks like me fucking you face first in the mattress turns you on, stepsister.” Coryo darkly chuckled, his breath hot against your aching core. “Don't worry, I'll do that to you, but not tonight. Tonight's your first time and I don't want to hurt my girl. I want to swallow your moans of pleasure, not muffle your moans of pain.” He told you before placing his mouth back on your dripping cunt.

“Mmmm….” You bite your lip, preventing your moan from being too loud, as Coriolanus sucked on your clit.

Your hands found their way into his platinum curls as his tongue teased your tight, wet hole. His thumbs let go of your pussy lips as his mouth latches onto your cunt, tongue messily lapping thru your folds. His hands grabbed onto your thighs, spreading them even wider.

Painfully wider.

But you couldn't help, but curl your toes into the mattress as his icy blue eyes pierced into your soul. He looked at you with such hunger as he messily ate you out.

It was as if he craved you; couldn't get enough of you.

As if he was starved and you're the only meal he's eaten in days.

Your hands tightened in his hair as you felt his tongue enter your hole, fucking you.

“Coryo…more…” You begged, for what you didn't quite know, as your chest began to heave up and down heavily.

Coriolanus knew exactly what you needed.

You needed your tight cunt filled and fucked.

And he was going to give you exactly what you needed.

He wrapped his lips around your clit sucking it harshly, as he slipped his middle finger into your pussy.

Coriolanus moaned at how tight your hole clenched around his long fingers. The tightness of your virgin cunt clenching around his digits had him rock hard and grinding into his mattress. Fuck, he couldn't wait to have his cock inside your tight pussy. Stretching it to its limit, making it fit around his large cock.

“Coryo…feels so good…” You panted as he fucked you with his finger while sucking on your clit.

He smirked against your clit, only to add his pointer finger into your cunt. He curled his long fingers up inside your slick walls, causing you to writhe in pleasure every time he hit that spongy spot deep inside of you.

“I-I think…” You trailed off, biting your lip to keep a moan from spilling out, as you felt pressure build up in your lower belly.

“You think you're gonna cum?” Coryo supplied for you, his breath hot on your cunt, as he began to piston his fingers deep inside of you. He knew you were close by how tight your cunt was squeezing his fingers. He couldn't wait until it was squeezing his cock.

“Yea.” You squeakily nodded.

“I want you to cum on my face like the little slut you are. Can you do that for me, darling?” Coriolanus told you, his voice raspy and thick with lust, before dipping his head back between your spread legs and sucking your clit.

“Please…make me cum, Coryo. Please, so close…” You begged, causing him to fuck his fingers up into furiously while sucking hard and fast on your clit.

He needed to taste your juices spilling out onto his chin, needed to feel your pussy tightening around his fingers. He craved it like the headmaster at the Academy craved a fix of morphling.

Your toes curled tightly in the sheets and your nails scratched Coryo's scalped as you came with the sound of his name on your lips.

He slowed his movements just enough to help you ride out your high. His tongue greedily lapped up every bit of your juices that came squirting out of your pussy.

Your hands fell out of his curls as you began to calm down from your high. You couldn't help, but smile at how messy his hair looked as a result of you pulling on it.

When Coryo pulled his fingers out of you and sat up, sucking them clean, you were horrified to see that his chin was glistening, that your juices were dripping down his chin and onto his neck. Your cheeks flushed red and you quickly sat up, trying to clean the wetness from his chin. “I'm so sorry, I-” You attempted to apologize, only to be cut off by Coryo chuckling, “Don't apologize, darling. You squirting all over my face turns me on.”

“Really?” You asked, eyes wide with shock.

“Really.” He nodded, grabbing your hand that you used to wipe his chin with. Bringing your palm up to your face, he huskily ordered, “Now taste yourself.”

You blinked, feeling your pussy begin to pool and ache again, only to obey Coryo’s command and lick his hand clean.

The taste of yourself was a bit sweet and tangy. It was also intoxicating.

Standing up and pulling you up with him, Coryo said, “We need to get undressed.”

“Okay.” You nodded, feeling a bit nervous despite having just had Coriolanus’ platinum blonde head between your legs mere moments ago.

You went to grab the hem of your dress, only to have Coryo bat your hands away and grab it himself. “Lift your arms up, darling.” You nodded and did what you were told. Quickly, he pulled your dress off and tossed it to the side. “Take your bra and panties off.” He instructed while quickly working to unbutton his shirt.

Coriolanus’ lust blown eyes were glued to you as you reached behind your back and unhooked your bra. He felt his breath hitch as you took off your simple, white lace bra.

“Oh, little dove, your tits are perfect.” He cooed while removing his shirt and tossing it to the side.

You shook your head, only to look down at the floor and sigh, “No they're not, Coryo. You don't have to say that.”

Being nearly 18, you're self conscious about your boob size. Especially since you didn't seem to be as developed as the most popular girl in school. The girl that every boy (well, maybe not every boy since Coriolanus was half naked in his room with you) wanted to fuck. The perfect, pretty, popular, dirty blonde with jewel tone eyes.

Livia Cardew.

Coryo had just toed off his shoes and unbuckled his belt when your self doubt caused him to stop undressing. He closed the small space between you and reached his hands out to grab your tits.

You shyly bit your lip as he squeezed them. “Your tits are perfect because I say so, my darling.” Coriolanus huskily told you as the pad of his thumbs roughly ran over your nipples.

“But I'm not-” You began to protest, a feeble attempt at explaining your thoughts, only for Coryo to cut you off with, “Shut up, I told you that I think your tits are perfect.” He roughly squeezed them. “As long as I say they're perfect, little dove, then they are.” He declared before bending his head and taking one of your, now pebbled, nipples into your mouth.

The feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipples while his fingers tweaked your other one has you rubbing your thighs together, seeking friction to relieve that growing ache between your legs.

Letting go of your nipple with a wet pop, his lust filled blue eyes bore into yours as he orders, “Unzip and pull my pants off, Y/N.”

“Okay.” You nodded before doing as you're told with shaky hands, all the while Coryo was biting and nipping at a spot on your left boob.

You knew he was leaving a hickey there and, for some reason, it turned you on. The idea of him marking you as his made something flare up in you.

You've never had somebody want you before, but Coryo wants you so much that he's putting his mark on you. Staking his claim.

Coryo pulled his head up off your chest as his pants pooled around his long legs. Stepping out of them and kicking them to the side, he smirked, “You should take your panties off. But put your kitten heels back on, I want to fuck you in them.”

“Okay.” You nodded, pulling down your lace white panties while watching him pull off his socks.

You bent over and grabbed your shoes from the floor. Putting on your black kitten heels, your eyes popped out of your head as you watched him pull down his boxers only for his big cock to spring free and slap up against his lower stomach. You've never seen a cock before, but you knew his was big. It was long and girthy. Must be at least 8 inches, had veins on the underside and an angry red head that's tip was leaking precum.

You felt yourself gushing just from looking at it. Oh my God, how is that going to fit inside of your pussy.

“Don't worry, it'll fit.” Coryo assured you, a proud grin on his angular face.

What the hell? Did you say that out loud about him not being able to fit? Oh hell…you must've.

Taking your hand in his large one, he brought you over to the bed. “Lay down and spread your legs as wide as you can for me.” He instructed.

Nodding, you quickly laid on the bed and spread your legs for him. Your knees slightly bent, kitten heels slightly digging into the mattress.

“Fuck, your pussy’s so perfect.” Coriolanus swore while kneeling onto the bed, right between your shaking thighs. “Perfect and all mine.” He said while using his thumb to smear his precum around his cockhead. He began to give himself a few shallow pumps, to coat his cock with his precum, as you stared up at him with anticipation dancing in your eyes.

“You want me, Y/N?” Coriolanus asked, lining his dick up with your pussy. “Once I have you, take your virginity, I'm not letting you go.” He told you, teasing his cock thru your wet folds. “I fuck you and you're mine forever. You understand me, my darling rose?” He seriously asked, giving you a last minute opportunity to back out, as his dick bumped your clit.

Your hands held onto his shoulders as you looked him square in his icy blue eyes and confidently said, “Make me yours, Coryo. I want to be yours.”

That was the sweetest thing he ever heard. You begging him to make you his. Saying that you wanted to be his.

Coriolanus was in heaven.

He dipped his head down and captured your lips in a quick, but needy kiss before lining his tip up with your tight hole. He leaned his forehead against yours as he surged forward, pushing his length inside of your tight walls.

Your nails clawed at him and your eyes teared up at the stinging sensation of being stretched wide open on his large cock for the first time in your life. You bite your lip, swallowing back a cry, as your walls struggled to accommodate his large cock.

Coryo was about halfway in whenever he brushed away a stray tear rolling down your cheek. “You're taking me so well.” He praised. Kissing your cheek, he said, “Just a little bit more, Y/N. I know you can handle it. You cunt's made for my cock.”

“It stings, Coryo.” You gritted out, feeling him pop your cherry before sliding the rest on the way in and bottoming it.

“I know, it does. I know it does, darling.” The platinum blonde told you in a feeble attempt to soothe away your pain. With a proud smile, he pointed between you and said, “Look, a perfect fit.”

You looked down to see that he had disappeared inside of you; the only evidence of his cock being the outlining bulge in the bottom of your tummy. You ran your fingers over the outline in awe, causing your-hell you don't know what to call him right now except for Coryo, to shudder blissfully.

Bringing his large hand to cover yours as it traced over his bulge in your tummy, he proudly announced, “My cock’s deep up inside of your womb, darling.” Lacing your fingers with his, he pinned your hand onto the mattress and began slowly thrusting into you. “I'm gonna fuck my baby up into your womb. Show everyone that you belong to me.”

His words were like a bucket of ice water being dumped over your head. The reality that you weren't on birth control and had your soon to be stepbrother's cock in your not so virginal pussy anymore had you slightly panicking.

“Coryo, you can't do that. You can't cum inside of me. I'm not on anything and our parents’ll be mad if-” You began to frantically ramble as Coryo fucked his cock slow, but deep inside of you, only for him to cut you off with a rough toned, “I don't give a fuck what those assholes think, Y/N. I'm 18 and soon you'll be 18, so they have no say over us fucking.”

You bit your lip, leaving out a mewl, as your felt his dick brush up against the spongy spot inside of you.

“Hell, come mid-summer we'll be graduating the Academy, so knocking you up won't interfere with your education cause there's only a handful of months left til the games and the graduation ceremony.”

“Coryo, were too young. Just, please, pull out before you cum.” You pleaded with innocent eyes.

Coryo couldn't grant you that. He couldn't do that for you. He's selfish and wants you all to himself. What better way to ensure that you stay with him then to baby trap you?

It's perfect, really.

Knock you up and you're stuck with him forever.

Nobody will ever want you let alone look twice at you once they see you're pregnant with his baby.

With your stepbrother's baby.

Oh, yes, knocking you up will make the perfect scandal that'll keep you two together forever.

Plus, Crassus won't want the shame of having a bastard grandchild, so he'll push for Coriolanus and you to marry in order to give the baby a legal name.

Sadly, Coryo underestimates how evil and cruel his father can be (even to his unborn grandchild). If he wasn't so pussydrunk, maybe Coryo would've realized that knocking you up would only enrage his father.

But he wasn't thinking clearly. He's pussydrunk and high on his obsessive love for you.

“I'm not pulling out, Y/N.” Coryo firmly told you. Speeding up his movements, he grunted, “Now stop whining and enjoy me fucking you.”

You didn't argue about the subject of him pulling out anymore, just nodded your head and let the feelings of pleasure wash over you.

Your breath hitched and you let out a mewl when Coryo's hands grabbed a hold of your legs and pressed them into your chest, causing them to rest on his shoulders as he began to thrust harder into you.

“Coryo…you feel even bigger…’ You muttered, the position change making him hit deeper inside of you.

“You like my big cock fucking splitting open your pussy, don't you? Fuck, your taking my cock like such a little cock slut, Y/N.” He darkly told you, lust tainting his voice, as you scratched his back and babbled his name.

“Coryo, please. I'm so close. So close…” You begged him to make you cum as your head got heavy, making you feel like you're underwater.

“I'll make you cum, darling. I'll make you cum right now on my cock.” Coryo told you, snaking his hand between your bodies only to roughly rub and pinch your puffy clit.

The feeling of his thumb roughly abusing your clit and his cock deeply plowing into your pussy has you clenching around him, cumming hard with his name on your tongue like a prayer.

Coryo fucked your thru the aftershocks of your second orgasm, only to sloppily speed up and chase his own release.

“I'm gonna cum inside your pussy and you're gonna take it all, Y/N. You're gonna drain my cock dry, little dove.” He told you as he felt his heavy balls, that were slapping relentlessly against your ass, tense up.

“Coryo, I think I'm gonna cum again.” You told him, feeling that warm fluttery feeling well up in your lower belly once more.

“Fuck, your creaming my cock like such a good little slut.” Coryo groaned at the sight of the white creamy ring you were leaving around the base of him. “Fuck…” He gasped, about to cum. “Cum with me, darling. Cum with me.” He demanded, his hips stuttering before he let out his release.

You came again once you felt his hot cum shoot up deep inside of you in thick ropes.

“Oh fuck…” Coryo panted, collapsing on top of you.

“Oh fuck…” You agreed with him, kicking your feet and causing your black kitten heels to go flying across the room.

Your legs limply slipped from his shoulders as your hands shakily carded thru his sweaty light blonde curls. All while his face nestled into your perfect tits. Coryo's softening cock was still nestled inside of you, but you didn't mind. The closeness felt nice.

Your first time was amazing. It was nothing like the horror stories you heard other girls at the Academy gossip about. You were lucky that Coryo knew what he was doing. You felt wanted for the first time in your life after losing your virginity to him.

Coriolanus felt that fucking you was the best experience in his life. Honestly, it sure beats all those stupid quickies he had with dumb whores in the alley behind the club. He'd never tell you that tho.

No, you didn't need to know about his sexual past.

All that you needed to know was that you’re the only one that he wants. The only pussy that he’s getting his dick wet with for now on is yours.

You were cuddling in bed together, blankets pulled up around the both of you. Your head was resting in the crook of his neck as his long fingers raked thru your hair.

You felt happy in this moment, but you knew that it couldn't last. That it has to end. Your parents were getting married.

You could never be together, not truly.

You were going to be stepsiblings soon. Being together would be considered taboo.

Coryo could sense something was bothering you. “What's the matter, darling?” He asked, searching your eyes.

“We can't do this again, Coryo. Despite how we feel, it's taboo.” You told him, breaking eye contact with him because you didn't want to see his reaction.

“Y/N, I don't care what society thinks about us, our situation.” The platinum blonde spat. Lifting your chin up, so you had to look him in the eyes, he swore, “You're mine and I'm not giving you up. I'll kill anyone that tries to take you away from me, Y/N.” Coryo leaned in, kissing you on the lips. “It's us against the world, my darling rose. And you know what? Snow always lands on top.”

You were tired and didn't want to fight, so you decided to give in to him, to the man whose arms you were in. “Okay, us against the world then.” You smiled, eyes fluttering tiredly.

“One day when I'm the president and you're my first lady, nobody'll even remember that our parents decided to get married. And if they do, well, they won't be breathing for long to say anything about it.” You heard Coriolanus tell you while drifting off to sleep, warm and safe in his strong hold.

If only you knew how many people Coriolanus would kill in his lifetime, would you still stick by his side?

Probably, since he was ingrained in your soul once you gave him your precious gift that was your innocence- your virginity.

After all, you discovered quickly after becoming a part of the toxic Snow family that it truly was you and Coryo against the world.

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