#most of the time it takes too long and its not always granted

[formulahs]

yeah so in case ur wondering whats going on at the brazilian congress rn well they’re trying to qualify abortion as homicide. thing is abortion is already illegal here except in cases of rape, anencephalic fetuses or if the pregnancy presents a threat to one’s life; this essentially means that if the modification of the law goes through someone could get sentenced to up to 20 years for aborting a fetus whereas their rapist could maybe get 6 years.

[targaryen-dynasty]

WORSHIP ME INSTEAD.

Maegor Targaryen x Niece!Septa!Reader

The Gods have been unhappy with your uncle for some time now, but perhaps he's just needed to give them an offering… a sacrifice in return for a healthy heir all along. And what makes a better sacrifice than a septa?

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT - MDNI; very dubious consent, canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), blasphemy, corruption, corruption kink, size difference, semi public sex, female reader (mentions long, silver hair as appearance)

WORDS: 3K

NOTES: you're all getting some big tiddy daddy as a special treat and to officially end my 3k celebration! thanks to everyone that has participated by asking questions, by writing their own fics, and by just supporting me. also a special thanks to @zaldritzosrose and @arcielee for betaing this. <3

The atmosphere in the newly completed Red Keep is strange. It never was comfortable or calm, not even when your father sat the throne, but it feels as though a dark veil is hanging low over the castle and its staff, not even sparing the king and your uncle, Maegor Targaryen. 

You’ve been gone from court for quite a while, being sent to Oldtown to become a septa by the very hands of the man you’re serving now, which has made the change in atmosphere even more apparent to you. 

Several deaths haunt the castle — Ceryse Hightower’s being the most recent one — and you can only fathom the pressure your uncle holds on his shoulders at this very moment. He does not have an heir, one wife after the other perishes, and the boy that poses the biggest threat to his claim to the throne, your brother Jaehaerys, has fled the castle of Dragonstone with your mother after the passing of the Dowager Queen Visenya. 

You were not mad at being sent to the Starry Sept, for it allowed you to leave the insanity of your own House for an unknown amount of time. It was when you’d been called back to King’s Landing that you could feel your mood sour. You were brought there with no real task for you at hand which forced you to take over some duties Grand Maester Benifer assigned you with. 

Your whole day has been spent in the Keep’s library, making you forgo your hood at one point and therefore allowing your silver tresses to cascade down your back freely. Wearing the hood is no necessity, hence your lack of concern should someone walk into the library and catch you without it. 

With several books in hand, you sort some of the scrolls and books that had been brought to the royal chambers before, putting them back to where they belong. 

You are too engrossed in your task to notice that you’ve been alone for the longest of time, only aware of that other presence the moment the raspy voice fills the room. “Septa,” he almost says it in a mocking manner, and you immediately know who it is that has joined you. 

Turning on your heels, you crane your neck to meet your uncle’s eyes for a moment. “Y-Your Grace.” You dip into a slight curtsy, placing the books in an empty place on the shelf.

Heat warms your cheeks in his presence. Even during your childhood, you have always found a liking for your uncle and enjoyed the way he allowed you to leave the boredom of your princessly duties to take you flying on Balerion or let you watch him train with the sword. 

“At ease, Septa,” he replies, flicking his hand as if he means to dismiss your stiff posture. The library is not well lit, a few candles sparsely placed here and there granting for most of the light, and yet you still notice the way his eyes rove over your form slowly and deliberately. “I trust that all is well in the Keep?”

Your heart races in your chest underneath his gaze, as if he contemplates eating you, and it makes you swallow thickly. “Oh, yes, of course. Everything is well, Your Grace,” you say, trying to keep your voice as calm and polite as possible, though you can not help but feel your pulse quickening at the hunger in his eyes. 

His lips curve into a smile, clearly taking pleasure in the way you’re squirming beneath his gaze. “And your duties? All going smoothly?” He takes a step towards you, looming over your small frame. 

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to keep your composure, more so as his pleasant scent fills your nostrils in a way you can’t describe. Taking in a shaky breath, a shiver runs down your spine. It’s been easier being close to him when you were all but a child he’s bounced on his knee, not a woman grown.  

“Well enough,” you reply a beat later. “The new midwives are coming along wonderfully. The Queen can know herself in good hands should she be with child soon.”

Maegor just hums in response, reaching out a hand to drag his knuckles over your cheek, his calloused fingers rough against your soft skin. Even from this little contact he can feel how warm your flesh is, and a heat grows in his loins at the thought of how warm and sensitive your skin would be if it was no longer covered by your septa robes. 

“That is good then… Septa ,” he says, hesitating to use your title. His voice has dropped lower as his hand travels to your jaw, his thumb caressing your chin. 

Your eyes widen, but you don’t dare to step away from him for fear of the consequences. “... Your Grace?” You eventually find the courage to whisper. 

His fingers graze your jaw, gently tracing your features. A low hum rumbles in the depth of his chest. You don’t know that he’s always found you beautiful, much more than your younger sister Rhaena, and even more now that you’ve become a woman grown. You’re so unlike the women he usually entertains himself with. “Yes, Septa?” With these words leaving his lips, his hand travels down to your neck, gently wrapping around your throat, grasp firmly but not enough to hurt you. 

Drawing in a deep breath, that is the moment you decide to bring some space between you again, taking a step back. But much to your surprise, his grip does not falter, hand still around your throat with his arm just outstretched. “I–” you swallow thickly, not able to keep your gazes locked. “This… This is highly inappropriate, Your Grace.”

Maegor merely scoffs, and although his hand follows your movements, it’s clear it’s meant to stop you from getting away from him. His thumb gently runs along the sensitive skin of your throat, feeling your pulse quicken beneath the pad of it. “Inappropriate?” he murmurs, his dark blown eyes drinking in the sight of your slightly parted lips. “When have I ever cared for what was appropriate, Septa?”

It feels as though the gentle brush of his thumb coaxes another shiver to run down your spine, and you catch your mind straying to the thoughts of what it would feel like if his fingers were anywhere else but your neck. 

“Must… Must I remind His Grace that it was him sending me to Oldtown to become a septa? I–I have vowed–” you trail off, your voice shaking slightly. “It is not very proper for a septa to be touched in… this way.”

Moving forward again and closing the gap that has formed, his hand around your throat stops you from backing away. “It’s not proper, no…” he murmurs, leaning forwards to bring his lips on level with your ear. “But then again, I’ve never been a proper man.”

You suppress an involuntary gasp as you feel his hot breath fanning over your skin, enough to nearly melt you here and now. Perhaps his grip leaves you more as a willing prisoner to his mercy rather than his prey. A part of you wants to pull away, yet the other part is afraid of angering him by doing so. 

“Y–Your Grace…” you whisper, the sound of your voice almost breathless as his domineering presence makes it difficult to think straight, “... please.”

The wicked smirk on his lips grows wider at your pleading. He can feel himself getting lost in your voice, so soft yet sounding so helpless in his presence. If it hasn’t been obvious before, he takes immense pleasure in the way he towers over your frame, making you appear so small and fragile clad in your septa robes. 

“Please what, niece ?” he says, leaning in even more to brush his lips against the shell of your ear. 

You try to tilt your head to get away from him, squirming in his grasp, but to no avail. “Īlon kessa daor,” you try to reason with him in the tongue of your ancestors, a small flicker of hope that this brings some sort of clarity back to him. We should not. 

But Maegor just chuckles lowly, the grip around your throat tightening slightly. Your breathing is uneven, shaky even, with your body pressed against his, and he relishes in the feeling of your vulnerability. “Kostilus īlon kessa daor,” he replies, a dangerous lilt in his tone. “Yn gaoman sīr jorrāelagon raqagon ra nyke kessa daor.” Perhaps we should not. But I do so love to indulge in things I shouldn’t.

Before you can answer, you’re spun around by him, the movement unusually fluid and graceful, as if he’s done it plenty of times before. Your back presses against his sturdy chest, pinning you between him and the bookshelf with no way to escape. The hand from your throat rests on your waist instead, the fabric of your robe pinched between his fingers.

“That’s much better, is it not?” he teases in a murmur. 

The vow of chastity you’ve sworn plays over and over again in your mind, but does little to stop your knees from growing weak at the proximity. 

“This is not a good idea… uncle ,” you protest quietly. It’s completely out of place for you to address him as such, he is the king and you’re a mere septa that has set aside her last name, but neither the Mother Above nor the Maiden can stop him from getting under your skin. 

“Perhaps, but where is the fun in a good idea, huh?”

You’re a septa, and you’re supposed to be a pious and celibate woman, but at this moment all you can think of is how good it feels to have him this close to you, so very close to giving you more – something you’ve craved for a long time. 

Both your hands are captured by his paw, pinning them behind your back and making you unable to move. While his lips explore the side of your neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses, his other hand rucks up the skirt of your robe, bunching it around your waist. It’s pinched by the fingers of his other hand, held high and allowing him to pay more attention to your undergarments. 

If you weren’t so distracted by the coarse hairs of his beard scratching the sensitive skin of your neck with each kiss he pressed to it, you would have attempted to squeeze your thighs together, making it more difficult for him to tug down your smallclothes. But alas, your mind and body are too far gone from all the summers you have spent untouched and unsatisfied, addicted to the rush his touch sends through your body. 

He is hard and heavy behind you, the outline of his thick cock pressing against the curve of your arse. You're too desperate for something you have only imagined at night, making you arch your back as though you mean to make him hurry up. You can feel him fumble with the laces of his breeches, undoing them one by one. 

“We’ll just have to be good at not getting caught,” he rasps against your neck. The robe you wear offers almost no liberty to push it down to reveal more of your soft skin and the curve where your neck meets your shoulder to him, and so he has to make do with your neck alone. 

Your uncle is met with little resistance as he sheaths his hard cock inside of your warm cunt, filling you up at once. Not even the sharp pain of his teeth sinking into the skin at the curve of your neck grants you enough distraction from the stinging that comes with accommodating his size, your cunt struggling to take him completely. 

“By the Seven,” you whimper, your hands clenching to fists in his grasp while your walls flutter around him.  

Your soft whimpers are enough to drive him further into his need for you already, and the gentle rolls of his hips make your knees slacken, caught by him bringing his free hand to your chin to pull your body against his. “There is no need for the Gods here, my sweet Septa,” Maegor rasps into your ear, emphasizing his words with a particularly harsh thrust of his hips that makes you choke on a whine. “You may worship me instead.”

His grip on your chin forces you to tilt your head back and arch your back against him to hold up with the slowly increasing pace of his thrusts, and your teeth digging into your bottom lip is a fruitless attempt of yours to stifle a moan coaxed past them by that. 

The sound of your moans and whimpers sparks something in him, prompting him to growl against your skin. It tightens the grip he has on your chin to the point it becomes borderline painful with how much he has tilted it back. 

“Don’t hold back,” he grunts, resting his forehead against the crown of your head. “Let me hear you, sweetling.”

Although your mouth is agape, no more sounds than breathy whimpers and whines leave your lips, despite the reckless pounding of him. But when another moan manages to escape your chest, it strains your throat to the point you have to cough once. 

Sensing your discomfort, he eases the grip just slightly, shifting it to your throat and allowing your head to tip forward again. You’re desperate to fill your lungs with air, yet each breath is knocked out of them by the merciless snaps of his hips. 

“That’s it,” he groans, nudging your legs further apart with his foot. “The Gods have been unhappy with me for some time now, but perhaps I’ve just needed to give them an offering… a sacrifice.” He’s just rambling into your hair at this point, and your mind is too hazy to really process anything he says.

You’ve been so inexperienced and have spent so much time completely untouched that even the slapping of his heavy sac of stones against your pearl brings you a pleasure beyond imagination. 

He towers over you, your small frame completely hidden by his significantly taller one. It’s such an easy game for him to keep you where he wants, to use you however he pleases, and at this point you’d let him do whatever he desires with you for as long as you get to relive the sensations you feel over and over again. 

Your peak washes over you in an ambush, the pleasure all but soaring through your veins. But his assault on your cunt doesn’t stop, and when the urge overcomes you to squeeze your thighs together, it doesn’t seize. 

“Perhaps the Gods haven’t been giving me a healthy heir because they need me to fill you up,” he growls as if he’s been waiting for this since the moment he’d sent you to Oldtown, his voice raspy and thick with need. “Perhaps the Seven will bless me with a son if my seed quickens within you.”

His words nearly send you to your knees if it wasn’t for his muscular arm wrapped around your frame. A renewed wave of your arousal oozes out of your cunt at the thoughts of you carrying his child, yet it also makes you shudder, a feeling of guilt lingering in the pit of your belly. “By… By the Gods… T-The Seven would not–” you protest weakly, your voice a little more than a gasp. But even to your own ears your protest sounds more like a pleading than denial. 

Pulling you even closer against him, Maegor nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, teeth grazing the exposed flesh of your shoulder gently. “My little Septa,” he murmurs, the nickname almost sounding like an insult and a taunt. “You say we can not, yet you press yourself against me… are you so desperate for my cock?”

That is the moment you lose any resemblance of restraint you’ve held before, your mind becoming blank, his merciless pounding, and words forcing every thought right out of your brain. You whine a string of incoherent words, rambling one ‘yes’ after the other. 

It’s as if he’s just as desperate, because you can feel his thrusts becoming more and more erratic, a sign that lets you know he is about to topple over the edge. With a few more thrusts, he forces his thick cock into you, until a strained groan heralds his peak. His twitching cock spills his seed deep inside of your quivering cunt, and you squeeze him ever so tightly in response, all but milking him for every drop. 

He squeezes your flesh and trails both his hands over your body, mapping out the curves hiding beneath the robe. His thrusts grow leisurely, the feeling of pure bliss subsiding rather quickly for him. 

Shame and guilt for what just has happened overcomes you, growing stronger the moment he pulls out and you feel the remnants of his spend idly trickle down your thighs.

You don’t dare pull around. You don’t want to meet his gaze, to see the smugness and satisfaction written over his features at having convinced you to give in to him. 

“I suppose I have kept you away from your duties for long enough,” he says, his voice dripping with irony. “You’re a septa, and I believe you have some more duties to tend to.”

Nodding weakly in agreement, you can’t shake off the feelings of being exposed and vulnerable under his piercing gaze. It takes a moment for your brain to function again, the fog of need and pleasure only slowly clearing from your mind. 

“You’re right, Your Grace,” you say, voice weak and shaky. “I should… I should get going…” Dipping your head in a nod, you’re quick to scurry off, hastily looking around on your way out of the library in hope of no one having seen you in your moment of indiscretion.

Maegor Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @k4marina @foxyanon @peachysunrize @nats-whore

@palmer-hjp @sinarainbows @luvdella

General Taglist: @arcielee @userhotd @multyfangirl @zaldritzosrose @black-dread

@wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @thought--bubble @dixie-elocin @beautbuck

[divinesolas]

The Rockstar and Me

requested: would it be okay, if I requested a rockstar!jace x reader? were theve been best friends since childhood and the reader has a crush on jace. jace is a really popular upcoming rockstar and is super busy. he dosnt see reader the same way (just as there bestfriend) and kind neglects the reader bc he's really busy. so one night the reader has enough and they decide they need to take a break from there friendship, so they don't talk for a while. and then jace kinda realises he missed up and took the readers love for granted. In this time he he realizes he like her too.

w.c: 1.6k

c.w: just some minor angst and some fluff :3, not proofread

masterlist - requests open

--

You are going to scream.

Not of horror and certainly not of pleasure but you were just so annoyed.

Your roommate would not stop playing their fucking songs, most people would call you crazy but you swear you were about to look for a new apartment and put in big red letters, DO NOT REPLY IF YOU LIKE THE WEST DRAGONS. You have nothing against their music but it all just leads back to him.

Childhood best friend and crush turned ex-best friend rockstar Jacaerys Velaryon. He was your best friend for so long and you had liked him, a part of you still does. A part of you still misses him but you did what you had to do.

You could not just sit around and let him ignore you like that, time and time again he would blow you off to the point you grew sick of it and blocked his number and never looked back. You didn’t just ghost him. instead opting to send him a long messages about how you needed space and he was no longer the guy you knew anymore and told him you were gonna reach out anymore.

That was three months ago and your sure he hasn’t even fucking read it let alone try to reply to it. Three months since your life flipped upside down, moving to a new place, still in the same city but further away from him, new job and some new friends, it was odd at first and still is, being away from him but you won’t just let yourself be walked all over like that.

You had planned to stay in tonight like you normally would but your roommate had other plans, standing in the middle of the room bickering with you while you try to block out the sound of their music in the background.

“I don’t wanna go out sab.” “Come on live a little, come out to the bar with me.” “Maybe another night.” “Nope you are coming tonight. right now. get dressed.”

With that she sprints out of the room and you groan knowing she won’t take no for an answer and get up to get ready. Its just one night out, it won’t be so bad, plus it a good excuse so you don't have to hear his music anymore.

Yet when you walk into the bar its packed with people lining up in front of the stage, you turn to sab and tilt your head. “What is going on?”

She looks at you with a big grin on her face, “I didn’t tell you, oh my god the west dragons are performing here in a few.” Your stomach drops.

No you had to leave, maybe you could fake an illness? No she would catch on and force you to stay. You could make yourself throw up? that would cause too much of a scene. You were definitely going to be sick when you see the lights dim and they walk up on the stage.

He’s the drummer he should not even see you right? you’ll just sit at the bar and count down the seconds until the show is over and you can book it out of the room. Aegon greets the crowd as the groups lead singer and your stomach continues to churn. You met him a handful of times and he was always nice to you, he had a nice voice you could agree but you felt so sick anytime you heard their songs.

The show went on without a hitch and you wish the ringing in your ears would get louder so you wouldnt have to hear it. You find yourself reminiscing about your time with jace with every song that plays. You miss him. Much more than you’d like to admit.

You dont allow your eyes to drift behind aegon, yet you hear him, the sound of the drums, it haunts you, sometimes you can see his hands peak out, when aegon moves you can see his dark curls but never look too close to see his face.

They are taking a mini break with aegon entertaining the crowd, the show is almost over, you could not wait to go take a shower and try to act like this night never happened. Aegons eyes drift around the crowd while he’s talking and they land on you, you watch as his eyes widen and he stumbles over his speech for a moment as he turns back for a second to look at jace.

That was not good. Not good at all. “What was that? do you think he thinks your cute?” “definitely not.” Your words come out more strained than you would like and she looks at you confused, “Is something wrong?”

You open and close your mouth unable to know what to say. Your chest feels like its closing in on its self as she grabs your shoulders worriedly. “I need some air.” You quickly stand and rush out of the bar, sab quickly following after you. The two of you don’t notice the pairs of eyes that trail after you.

You lean against the wall on the outside and try to catch your breath. You did not think this would affect you so much, maybe because your whole life has been around him that now it just feels odd that he’s not around. This whole thing reminded you too much of going to his gigs and him coming up to you after the show to ask you what you thought.

“Who cares if i liked it jace? the people loved it.” “I care, you matter more to me than them.”

“Okay what the hell was that?” You run your hands along your face and stare at sab as she looks at your worried. “Its nothing.”

“oh fuck off its not nothing, nobody just runs out the room looking like they just saw their ex boyfriend over nothing.” She gasps at her own words and covers her mouth, “Oh my god wait did you actually date aegon? fuck if i knew i wouldnt have brought you here im sorry-” “I didn’t date ageon sab and i didnt date any of them.” “Then what happened?”

The two of you freeze as someone clears their throat and sab gasps as she turns around. “Im sorry to interrupt but, do you mind if we talk?” Jace. He was staring right at you. Sab looks between the two of you and gives you a look that says she wants to hear all about this before she runs off.

You stand in silence,, not wanting to be the first to speak. He puts his hands in his pockets and kicks on of the rocks on the ground. “How,,, um how are you?” “Im good.” He nods and continues to simply look anywhere but your face. “Thats good thats good um..” Its awkward. So awkward. It was never this way before but you guess thats just what time apart does to people. And you hate it.

“How are you?” He looks up at you shocked before he stumbles over his words, clearly very nervous. “Im good, im good, um, no no im not good actually. I miss you, so much.” Your breath hitches as you watch him continue to speak, “I regret how i treated you, so much. Im so sorry i miss you more than anything please, i just want us to be friends again, ill do anything to make it up to you.”

You don’t know what to say what to do. This is what you’ve been dreaming of for so long but your heart aches at the thought of returning to being just friends.

“I can’t be friends with you jace.” He stumbles back as if you had shoved him and he looks around attempting to compose himself. You swear you can see tears glazing in his eyes, “I um,” His voice cracks as he speaks and he coughs into his arm, “I understand yes of course, im sorry for bother-”

“I cant be friends with you jace because i cant bare being just friends. All ive ever wanted for so long was to be more with you, and if i go back to being just friends ill spend the rest of my life miserable because ill just be dreaming to be more with you.”

You do not even know when you had begun crying but you feel the tears begin to run down your face as you close your eyes and tilt your head down towards the ground. You feel his hands grip your face and pull you up to look at him, seeing his own tears running down his face.

“Im sorry, im so sorry. I love you. Im sorry it took me so long to realize this and that i had to be apart from you to know but ive realized i need you, i love you so much youre my best friend, the only person i need, i love you.”

You shake your head in disbelief, “You dont mean it.” “I do i do mean it, i love you so much.”

He presses his forehead against yours and you sob harder. “I love you jace.”

“I love you so much, i will work everyday to earn your forgiveness to even be worthy or your love.”

He shakily presses his lips against yours in a peck and you two smile at one another.

“No more ignoring me?”

“Never, never again.”

--

perm jace taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @ravenn-darkholme

[xazse]

AFAB!SUGURU GETO X OLDERMALE!READER

Notes: I wanted to hop on the Afab!Geto because I love it!

Tags: Deepthroating, manhandling, blowjobs, NASTY SMUTTT, mentions of Afab!Gojo (little surprise near the end

Pairings: Afab!Suguru Geto x OlderMale!Reader

Suguru doesn’t know how to feel about his next door neighbor: you, you’re very nice, maybe even more than nice: you insist on bringing him and satoru your cooked food if you’ve made too much some days, but hell he isn’t one to complain about free, warm food. You’re an older gentleman, late 30’s, a very nice hefty build on you, Suguru won’t lie and say he isn’t attracted to your prominent features; anyone would be.

He makes eyes at you sometimes, coming out to talk to you when you’re doing yardwork offering you a sweet concoction he made. You’re so polite with your speech, the way you carry yourself, everything about you screams maturity.

But he also loves your mean side, the side where your gripping his hair so tightly he knows he’ll have a headache later: but it’s so worth it when you shove his face towards your crotch, inhaling your scent, your cock isn’t even out and suguru’s head already feels like he’s on cloud nine.

His tongue weighs his mouth down as he waits for permission, permission to have your cock in all its glory.

“Fuck.. ple” he pleads with you, when you finally grant him the privilege, he hurriedly pulls your pants along with your underwear around your knees. You waste no time in shoving his face into your crotch again, his tongue laves all around your cock, seemingly having no control or care to give you specific pleasure. Licking up all traces of your precum has him so distracted that he doesn’t even hear you telling him to suck you properly until a heavy hand pulls him back: and forcing him to take you until the hilt.

He’s sputtering while you use his mouth as you please: pulling him all the way off just to fuck his throat all over again, it’s a repeated motion you do multiple times, before you pull him off of your cock and have him give your heavy balls some attention, he alternates between then but always making sure to give some attention to your tip in the process.

Suguru doesn’t even have to look down to know his panties are sopping wet, he wants so badly to reach down and play with his clit but you won’t allow that, that’s for you and you only to do. But finally, finally after a few more moments of Suguru pleasuring you do you have him face down, ass up. You pull his thin panties to the side, His cunt really was dripping wet, it embarrasses him when you point it out over and over calling him a dirty slut, smacking his ass to emphasize just how dirty he is and of course he groans.

You line your weeping tip up with his hole, making sure to use your tip to press on his clit a few times just for good measure youll tell him. The stretch of you pushing past him is too good, better than those lonely nights where he’d have to use his fingers to get a half assed orgasm if he can even call it that.

You give him a few moments to breathe, allowing him to have calmness before you wreck him and that you do, after a few of experiment strokes do you really give it to him.

Hammering into his cunt has him howling into the couch, his naughty pussy keeps sucking you back in everytime you pull out: suguru feels like he has a lack of air from the strong thrust of your hips, he whines and whines, you feel his pussy clench around you. You take a hold of his hips holding him in place while his cunt contracts around you and he’s cumming around you, he yelps and pleads while you help him ride it out slowly.

You both go still before your cock starts fucking into him again, suguru knows this will be a long night of you wringing orgasm after orgasm out of him.

Satoru really can’t sleep, he’s wide awake and painfully throbbing in his shorts, hearing the hard grunting from you paired with sugurus loud whining has him breathing hard. He doesn’t bother with underwear most nights so it’s rather easy for him to slide his fingers inbetween his slippery cunt,

he knows he shouldn’t indulge, knows he shouldn’t be touching himself like this especially to someone he’s so close with.

But he can’t help but rub his clit, a circle motion done over and over, he should really really stop, it’s gross, but his lust outweighs everything. Satoru has felt a little attraction towards you but compared to the way suguru looks at you: he’s got nothing on the table, but he’d also never get involved with sugurus relations. He keeps up with the circle motions but feels empty: so empty, trying to finger himself just isn’t doing it: satoru wants more, something bigger, he can’t do anything but pathetically try to get off: already feeling tears decorate his eyeline from frustration.

[sukirichi]

[ DUSK ‘TILL DAWN : 012 ]

“we who bear the burden of the crown do not need to love. you only need to stay here, with me, in power, in greed, in lust – in victory.”

cw. 18+.modern royal au. infidelity. minimal angst. reader is confused with her feelings. toxic characters. toxic relationships. explicit smut. unedited. implied dub-con. smoking. physical violence. sex tapes. reader has a gun and almost uses it.

notes. i wanted the kiyoomi and suna girlies (/gn) to win so here it is! feedbacks / reblogs/ comments are appreciated <3

wc. 12.9k

series masterlist 

[ TWELVE ] for you, i would cross the line. i would waste my time, i would lose my mind. they say “she’s gone too far this time.”

You prided yourself in being logical.

There was little to no room for measly emotions when it came to royal affairs. Granted, you had no proper training, but you were raised as a noble, and the rules were clear. Set aside your emotions, always look towards the most plausible solution, and cry about it later – where no one could see. Those were your mother’s words. You held onto them for as long as you remembered, with the exception of making only one grand mistake: proceeding with the marriage after catching your fiancé cheating on you.

But now? Now, you were about to make your next worst decision – letting Kiyoomi walk away.

It wasn’t love, of course. It couldn’t be. The odds simply weren’t in your favor, but couldn’t a Princess hope? You met him first, had him as your last dance on your debut ball. He was the first Prince who ever held your hand, the first Prince to dance with you, and the first – possibly last – who reminded what love could feel like. What love should feel like. It was explosive and angry like fire licking up at your skin, begging, pleading at you to chase after him. Every nerve in your body protested as you watched him take one more step away from you. It’s a mistake, one I’ll regret – Don’t let him go. It screamed at you, its cries desperate to be heard. You didn’t want to be here in the Palace. You didn’t want to return to your shared quarters with Rintaro.

You wanted to go back to Itachiyama – his farmhouse, the castle ruins, riding aimlessly with Astra and Lucy, picking fruits from his garden, and spending hours in his library. You hadn’t even held your end of the promise yet to learn everything about him.

What did Kiyoomi love? What did he look like in his slumber? Does he talk in sleep? Does he steal the blankets? What about his favorite song?

You moved before you could think.

Closing the distance in hurried strides, you grasped the Prince’s elbow. He stiffened under your touch, his eyes unreadable through the dimly-lit hallways. “Your Highness. Wait,” you panted, “Listen… back at Itachiyama–”

“Do you want me?”

Your grip on him faltered. Briefly, you took a step back, but the Prince was having none of it. He easily closed whatever distance you attempted to put between you two, his face hard and eyes burning with passion. With yearning. You never thought a man could look so determined yet hopeless as he did, the picture-perfect image of ardor. His brows pinched together, his lower lip trembling as he sighed. “Do you want me?”

You shook your head.

If only it could be as simple as that.

“It’s wrong, my Prince. We couldn’t… We wouldn’t work out. I only meant to say that I do adore you, and I do not want whatever complicated feelings we have to ruin our friendship,” Lies. Every word uttered from your lips were nothing but measly lies. Kiyoomi could tell too – the hesitation written all over your face said otherwise. “I hope you understand. You and I – we’re impossible.”

You couldn’t tell which one you needed more: for him to deny your worries, or for him to agree that you were right. You figured both would be just as painful.

Kiyoomi’s nostrils flared as you looked away from him, feet shuffling in the other direction already. “Stop. Do not take another step. Don’t you dare,” with a low growl, you were suddenly pulled back against his warm chest. You gasped at the hardness of his body, the warmth of his skin, the tenderness of his touch. His lips were everywhere but the one place you needed it to be – lingering at the curve of your neck, his breaths fanning over your exposed collarbones. It was like he had set you on fire with one touch alone, his firm grip around your waist both eerily intimidating and lustrous. And he must’ve laughed – you weren’t sure anymore. All you knew was that you were completely under Kiyoomi’s mercy, and quite frankly, he could have his way with you as he pleased.

“If you do not choose me…” murmuring, your breath hitched as his lips briefly grazed your skin, making your pulse jump. “You will regret it. You will be unhappy with him.”

I’m already unhappy with him, you wanted to say, but the words died in your mouth.

You’d lost all forms of coherence under Kiyoomi’s spell. Especially in this compromising position, this scandalous way his hand now slowly trailed its way from your abdomen and up to the swells on your chest – Gods, what would any witnesses say? This wasn’t how a Prince held a woman that wasn’t his.

“Your Highness,” you tried to fighting from his grasp, only to fall momentarily back against him when finally, finally, his lips were now leaving marks on your neck. It took all of your willpower to not give in right there, to not sink your fingers in his delicious curls. You had to say no. “I-I think we’ve both had a long night. We should retire to our quarters.”

“I will allow it if it’s my quarters you’ll be sharing.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck – your gaze darted around the empty hallway, paranoid.

The lights had been dimmed hours ago, the staff retiring to their rooms, but it was so quiet your breathy moans could echo. Anyone could walk in and see you like this, pleading but not quite begging for the Prince to not stop holding you.

And it was wrong, so deliciously wrong.

“Please,” you closed your eyes, unable to stop yourself from craning your neck to give him access. Above you, Kiyoomi chuckled, the rumbling of his chest deliciously low.

“You should stop lying to yourself, Princess. You do not want him. Whatever attachment you still have for my brother, it is nothing but a pitiful excuse of familiarity. You keep him around because there is no other choice, but you cannot keep lying to yourself. You cannot keep lying to me that you do not feel as I do when I see the way you look at me,” grasping your chin with his much larger hand, Kiyoomi forced you to look into his eyes. Pools of inky depths stared back at you with part frustration, part lust – his skin already flushed with sweat. You couldn’t look away even if the world ended. There was only you and Kiyoomi, with his hand resting on top of your breasts and gently caressing, so light you might’ve thought he wasn’t there.

And you, breathless and reckless, clung to him like he was your last lifeline.

Kiyoomi dipped down. His nose brushed against yours, your breaths mingled before he breathed you in greedily. “I was never a man who had many desires, but you are the greatest of them all. You run through my mind even in my sleep, and you are the first thing I search for when I wake. So do not tell me you do not want me when I know it’s my name you cry out in your sleep.”

Your knees felt impossibly weak.

“What do you want me to do? I’m married. You’re married. Are you forgetting divorce is impossible?” you snapped back, shoving him until his back hit the wall. The painting above him clattered, yet the Prince seemed uncaring, his arms crossed against his chest as you breathed hard. This was preposterous – this could not go any longer. “This would never work. The people would never understand.”

“I do not care what they think.”

“I care what they think! My husband is already cheating on me, and his own people detest him for it. What more if they find out I have taken you as my lover?”

“Then tell me to go,” he whispered, tilting his head back as he stared at you almost defiantly, mockingly. Like he knew you wouldn’t have the courage to actually say it. “Tell me, and I will walk away.”

When Kiyoomi is met with silence, he scoffed. A smirk graced his handsome face before he’s grabbing you by the arm and twisting you, the positions reversed until your back hit the wall. There’s a slight ache pounding at the back of your head, but nothing – absolutely nothing – could tear your attention away from his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is nothing short of avidity. Kiyoomi devoured you like a man starved, molding the shape of his lips into yours while his large hand encompassed the entirety of your face. Thumbs running over your cheek, his imposing frame completely dominated you. Your bodies were now pressed into each other that it became difficult to tell where you began and the Prince ended.

All you knew was Kiyoomi kissed you like he spent most of his nights dreaming about it, sighing and groaning all at once before his tongue fought for dominance.

Pushing his tongue inside your willing lips, he tasted all of you. He spoke the words he struggled to say, the firm grasp on your hip keeping you in place beneath him a clear sign he didn’t want you anywhere but here. But you weren’t leaving. You’d be a fool to walk away now that you finally had a taste of him, and it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You wanted more, needed more.

Kissing him back harder, your palms flattened on his chest before you balled his shirt into your fists, uncaring if he’d walk back home flustered and wild. You simply needed him there; you wanted to breathe him in, to have nothing but him as your entire world.

“Stay,” you pleaded in between kisses, letting the Prince maneuver you until your bum landed flat on a table. Uncaring, the Prince swept aside all knick-knacks placed above it when his lips found yours again. And oh, a greedy man he was. Even after kissing you until you were breathless, he still hadn’t had his fill. His tongue danced with yours in this gentle melody only you two could sing, your bodies moving in sync like a choreographed dance. Your hand would wound up to tangle itself in his dark locks, his hands would scramble to undo his breeches, and willingly – wantonly – you would welcome him with all your being. It’s a dance between lovers, a forbidden tune you sang wholeheartedly, accompanied by your high-pitched moans once the Prince had himself buried in you – “Oh. Oh.”

“Who makes you feel good?”

“You, my Prince, it’s you,”

Biting down on your lip to muffle the noises you made, you heard the crescendo of the music. Rising and rising with overwhelming intensity at each note hit, each perfect thrust and drive into you. He hadn’t felt like anyone else. He was thicker and spread you open, impaled on his stiffness while you sat there helplessly to take it all. You felt empowered and weak at the same time, with your legs locking behind his chest as tears rolled down your face from the pleasure of it all, but Kiyoomi showed no signs of stopping.

Heavens, he might not even stop tonight, not when you sucked him in tight and made his breath stutter, his thrusts staggered.

“Kiyoomi,” you cried out, unable to keep quiet any longer. He simply held you carefully, a great contrast to his hips pistoning in and out of you – no, he held you like you were a porcelain doll he feared would break, someone he had to protect and cherish. And his eyes – droopy yet adoring – gazed upon you like you were worth more than any crown. “Oh, you are so…”

His forehead landed on top of yours, his lips minutely brushing against yours for a quick kiss. It’s rushed, frantic, yet intimate in ways you’d never experienced before. For once, sharing bodies with someone didn’t feel like just like sex.

For once, you finally made love with someone.

“Choose me, Princess,” he gritted his teeth, “It was always meant to be me.”

You awoke with a gasp.

Sitting up, your heart pounded in your chest, your skin clammy and drenched with sweat. A scan of your surroundings told you that you were in your room, the empty side of your bed a sign Rintaro kept to his word and left you alone. Closing your eyes, your head dropped down to your palms.

So it had been a dream, after all.

You really allowed Kiyoomi to walk away from you. And one mistake leading into another, you let Rintaro do the same.

Regret churned at your stomach. You could see it perfectly now – the drooping of the Prince’s shoulders, his gaze cast downwards when you bid him farewell. There were still traces of the happiness you felt in Itachiyama lingering on him just as he finally left, ones you were compelled to reach out to before it was too late. But it couldn’t be – you refused to give into your desires when it meant committing a sin. Rintaro didn’t deserve your loyalty, but he was still your husband, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing you’d been exactly like him.

In fact, you might be becoming like him with each passing day, and although you would never say it out loud, you understood him better now.

To find someone who could’ve been yours, someone who would’ve made you so happy against all odds, and to not have them at all – it felt like a cruel joke was being played by the Universe.

Is this what Rintaro felt like? Did he feel as if the world was being unusually cruel to him? Did he wonder what he could’ve done to deserve all this? Because those thoughts ran into your head long enough that you gave up on sleep, and rolled out of bed with a heavy heart and – shamefully – aching with need. Snatching your robe from the closet, you tiptoed out of the room. Rintaro was fast asleep in the sofa, his arm shielding his eyes from the lit candles. When he didn’t budge from his spot at you poking around him, you let out a sigh of relief and left the room. Clicking the door shut, you spun around, coming face to face with a wide eyed maid.

“Heavens!” you placed a hand on your chest, and then chuckled as the maid stepped back and bowed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone would still be around.”

The maid frantically shook her head. She scratched the back of her head as her gaze darted around, seemingly determined to not look you in the eye. “No, Your Highness, it was my fault for startling you. I was reassigned to you just now, you see, and… Uhm, I’m Airi. Prince Shinsuke sent me here.”

Airi… You’d heard that name before.

“Oh! Airi. Yes, of course, I remember you,” you nodded, tying the robe around your waist tighter. “Why are you up this late?” At your question, Airi’s cheeks flushed a deep red before turning away.  You smiled to yourself, chuckling under your breath as you gently squeezed her arm. “I understand. You needn’t say anymore.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Would you like to accompany me for a walk?” you gestured to the empty hall. Airi nodded, a little too enthusiastic in picking up her skirts. You figured neither of you wanted to stay here any longer where anyone could easily see you.

Turning to the other direction, you headed for the gardens at the outer wing. It was the closest to your shared room with Rintaro, and coincidentally, an infamous shortcut to Belleview’s surrounding gardens. There had been rumors that Belleview was added in the palace grounds as an afterthought years ago – how a sudden need arose to have a separate place for a married couple. It was bizarre, in your opinion, how this long, seemingly endless path would certainly end up right at Kiyoomi’s doorstep if you were patient enough to brave the half hour walk.

Could you?

Would you?

Absentmindedly, you gnawed at your nails. Your Mother would chastise you for the unladylike gesture if she were here, but it was only you and Airi. She wasn’t going to judge, although you didn’t miss the way she glanced at you so often. Curiosity, maybe, but a question imposed her eyes. Deciding to break the silence, you smiled at the dark-haired maid.

“You’re very pretty. I can see why the Prince fell for you.”

Airi stuttered in her steps. “Oh! Thank you, you’re too kind for that, but I doubt it’s because of the way I look. The Prince and I have known each other since we were kids, that’s all. My mother was a maid too before she died. She was the one who helped raise His Highness,” she babbled, grimacing when she realized your patient smile held little to conceal your amusement. “Uhm… If I may be so bold, my Princess, I think you look rather great for someone who has been cheated on.”

Your brows rose. That you hadn’t expected.

“I do?”

“Yes. You look unbothered by it, or at least, you seem to be doing a great job at it,” she offered a polite smile, “Being a royal must come naturally to you as a noblewoman.”

Unable to help it, you chuckled. Oh, how wrong she was.

“Not at all. I haven’t always been this way,” you told her, watching as your surroundings changed from the marble pillars and into the night sky, where the fresh, cold breeze bit at your skin. You were thankful for it – the cold atmosphere was a great contrast to the blooming, colorful flowers.

It somehow reminded you of Kiyoomi’s gardens, and how you probably wouldn’t see it anymore.

The smile on your face disappeared. The ring on your finger grew heavier, and unbeknownst to you, you started spinning it with your thumb. It was curious, truly, how a week was all it took before you completely lost yourself. You couldn’t remember who you were even like before Itachiyama, before Kiyoomi. Or could it be that the past you had never been fulfilled to begin with? What if you were merely a work in progress, and the you in this moment was the real one?

If that was true, then that could only mean two things you would never want to admit out loud.

One: that you weren’t as in love with your husband as you thought if you couldn’t get Kiyoomi out of your mind, or Two: that the traditional saying and belief was right – your last dance would be your fated lover.

And it would make sense, too. Of course, you were happy with Rintaro. Were. You fell in love with him simply because there was no other appropriate reaction. He was the Crown Prince, a man who called on you every single day and learned about your passions until night came. He charmed your parents, loved them as his own, and proudly presented you to his regal family. It was the kind of love little girls were taught to dream about. The kind of love everyone wanted. You couldn’t blame yourself for craving the Prince’s touch, for giving him all your firsts. It seemed only the right thing to do. He courted you, committed to you, loved you as much as he could – it was logical and methodical.

It was one plus one equals two.

But Kiyoomi? It didn’t feel natural, or a step by step process.

It felt all kinds of wrong because you shouldn’t, and all kinds of right because it’s him. It’s the way he smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking, or how his head is always turned in the other direction to act like he isn’t listening. He isn’t like Rintaro who never takes his gaze off of you – not because he can’t get enough of your beauty, but because he was watching. Rintaro was always watching, analyzing everything you did, crafting his actions and words perfectly to elicit the response he wanted from you.

His brother was the exact opposite.

Kiyoomi always stayed at the walls and blended in with the background. He never attracted any attention to himself, but would devote his entire focus on you simply because he’s entranced. Or you hoped he might. Surely it couldn’t be one-sided.

You felt it too – the frustration ebbing off of him each time you slipped away. You saw with your own eyes the way his face fell when news of your husband’s affair spread.

He didn’t hate his brother for sleeping with his mistress behind your back. He hated Rintaro for ruining a night that should’ve been yours. A night where his touch could linger on yours for a moment longer as you smiled for the cameras. A night where it’d be appropriate for him to look at you like you’re the star of the show – it’s camaraderie, you’d play off – and a night where he might’ve drove you back at the farmhouse and slowly, tenderly, begin with tugging your gloves off before he moved on to your dress.

Gods. You exhaled. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be thinking about Kiyoomi, his plump lips that looked inviting, his dark eyes hungrily roaming over you and hoping, praying, that it’d been him instead. These were all wrong – so why were you walking towards Belleview?

“Your Highness?”

Airi’s voice snapped you out of your trance. Blinking, you smiled back at her in apology and continued. “Sorry, I must have been lost in my thoughts. As I was saying, though, I spent most of my life hiding behind my parents’ shadows because I struggled talking to people. And then the Crown Prince came and swept me off my feet, which changed everything. When he came into my life, I figured I had to become someone worthy enough to stay by his side, someone he could be proud to be with. It took a lot of years and effort before I could be confident enough to say I was good enough for him,” you mumbled, stopping in your tracks to look up into the dark horizon before you.

Huh. Why hadn’t you realized that before?

You’d been trying so hard to impress Rintaro all along. Isn’t that why you were so frustrated? You’d spent years molding yourself to become who he wanted, only to be slapped in the face that it was impossible because you could never be her.

You let out a dry laugh. “But apparently not. He already had someone else.”

“I’m really sorry you were dragged into this. From the stories Prince Shinsuke tells me, you’re a kind woman who deserved better.”

“I don’t know about that,” you said, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t mad upon reading the tabloids about his affair? If anything, I was just furious he couldn’t stay out of trouble and ruined my trip to Itachiyama.”

“Did you like it there?”

“I loved it. I wanted to stay.”

Admitting it out loud felt… liberating. You were beginning to feel more like yourself, even if it meant being less of a Princess and more of this unorthodox woman who simply wanted to be. It must be the side effect of spending time with Kiyoomi. You would soon care less about the rules imposed on you, and unapologetically be yourself.

“But the world sure has a cruel way of bringing you back to reality.”

“Your Highness?”

Both yours and Airi’s head snapped at the sound. Amongst the rustling of the bushes, a tall figure suddenly appeared – all mighty and regal even in his creased blouse and loosely tied breeches. His hair, dark and tousled like he’d run his fingers through it, did little to hide the surprise on his face.

“My Prince,” you breathed out, “What are you doing out here so late?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And you?”

You fought back a smile at his raspy voice. You could almost picture it – Kiyoomi tossing and turning all night in a bed separate from Iris. The sanguine voice in your head fibbed, too, wondering if the Prince thought about you as well. “It’s a restless night,” was all you let on, and gestured to the shock-still maid beside you. “Airi, do you mind giving us some privacy?”

Vehemently, she shook her head. “Not at all, Princess. Please, call for me if you need anything. I won’t be far.”

You waited as Airi disappeared from sight before you stepped closer to the Prince, compelled by an invisible force to be closer to him. “Kiyoomi–”

“Are you well?”

“Me? Why do you ask?”

He tipped his head to the side, causing a lone curl to fall in front of his eye. You fought back the urge to brush it away, beguiled by his long fingers sweeping it away “You’re in a very difficult position right now, whatnot with the article spreading,” he gestured back to the castle, “Has he spoken to you?”

You shook your head. “He’s kept to himself the past few days. I think this is a lot harder on him than it looks. As for me, well… I’ve had better days.”

True to your word, Rintaro almost secluded himself from the world. He shut off his phone, chucked it at another corner of the room, and never touched it again. It was painful seeing your husband that way when you know of his hobby of endless scrolling. But now, he couldn’t stomach the social media wishing him ill, seeing so blatantly with his own eyes his people’s deference to him. It hurt – more so for him than you – but still, a small part of you wished he’d say something. You were there, were you not?

You cut off your trip short because your husband needed you, and he barely uttered a word since you arrived. It got at your nerves. Nevertheless, you’d give him the time he needed. You planned to keep to your word that you would fix this all for him, regardless of what that might take.

You weren’t so cruel to let your husband be dragged into the pits of hell. Because quite frankly, that wasn’t the media’s right to begin with. If anyone would unleash hell upon Rintaro and Iris, it had to be you.

Kiyoomi scanned your face. “You don’t seem upset about all of this.”

You shrugged. “Their secret would’ve gone out one way or another. It was only a matter of time. Besides, I have far, bigger things to worry about, like you,” you leveled your gaze with his, watching as the Prince sucked in a breath.

Your last conversation with him the past night still played in your mind. It ate away at you to have to say goodbye when you didn’t want to, but he was here now. You woldn’t waste the opportunity to make things right.

Steeling yourself, you shut your eyes tight to gather courage. “Kiyoomi… Your Highness. I… I do not wish to stop talking to you. I know I sound absurd because I haven’t known you that long, but everything we shared in Itachiyama, I cherish it. I won’t forget a single memory I shared with you. So please allow me to take back what I said. I didn’t mean it when I said I would stop talking to you.”

“You should, though.” Opening your eyes, your heart dropped into your stomach when the Prince took a step back. “I don’t think we can be friends, Princess.”

Your hands grew cold and clammy.

“W-Why not? Have I done something to offend you? Tell me, and I will correct it–”

“We cannot be friends because I do not wish to be just your friend.”

Whatever distance he created between you disappeared. In the blink of an eye, Kiyoomi had closed the gap in one smooth stride, leaning down close enough his nose nearly brushed yours.

You inhaled sharply at the proximity. Kiyoomi’s heat blanketed you, making you realize you’d been shivering from the cold prior to his arrival. Now, he was here, and your senses were filled to the brim with him – his scent, his warmth, his frame looming over yours making you feel protected instead of small. You couldn’t help it; your fingers twitched to pull him by his collar and finally have his lips pressed to yours. It’d been eating away at you for several nights.

A peck couldn’t hurt.

But you made no move, greedily sharing in the same breaths instead. Because if it was all you could have, then it was all you could get.

“You’re right. It does sound absurd. We have barely spoken to one another, yet I’m already tired  of this stupid game my brother is playing – his foolish plans to become King, make my wife his concubine, all with the intention of keeping you around like a pet. It makes my blood boil,” Kiyoomi grinned, though it was more sinister than genuine. “He cannot have everything for himself. I will not let him.”

“My Prince. I–”

“–Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with you, nor do I have any intentions of stooping down to Rintaro’s level and stealing what isn’t mine,” cruel, you think, as the Prince effectively cut you off with a brush of his thumb to your lips. You were now putty at his hands; melting and knees weakened with nothing but his touch holding you up. “But I am tired of seeing you this distraught over a man who cannot see your worth. I have had enough. So whatever plans you may have to retaliate, tell me, and I will gladly be a pawn in your game. Make your move. You may command me as you please.”

It took a moment before his words dawned on you. When it did, your palms flattened on his chest, absorbing its warmth and feeling the flutter of his heart underneath your fingertips. He felt so alive, whole, and well – you couldn’t possibly drag him into your mess.

“I could never use you like that. You know this.”

“So you do have a plan in mind,” he noted with a smirk, fingers crawling up to circle your wrist. “My brother really underestimated you, hasn’t he? You’re already proving to be far more dangerous than any sword.”

You flushed warm at his compliment. Pretty, yes, Rintaro has called you that multiple times. Beautiful, gorgeous, even, but dangerous? It made you feel powerful, like the crown was already on your head, and the kingdom was all yours for the taking. But greed often started out as a small flicker of fire, and you stomped on it as quickly as it breathed into life. You were no thrill seeker – you would not dabble or tread in dangerous, unknown, forbidden paths. Such paths like Kiyoomi, but it was there. The temptation. The calling to just reach out to the hand he’s offered.

Its voice beckoned you. Come, it whispered oh-so-sweetly at your ear, he is your puppet.

You bit the inside of your cheek in contemplation. “It isn’t a good plan at all, and the Queen has summoned us – all of us – to inform us of her decisions on how we will proceed with this scandal. There’s a good chance Her Majesty might get in the way, but I’m determined. I need this plan to work.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I plan on turning the tables around and pinning it on Iris. I know it’s dangerous – she’s your wife, and you might get caught in the crossfire–”

“Do as you please.”

“Are you serious?”

Kiyoomi nodded with resolve. “When I said I do not wish to be just your friend, I meant it. I want you to use me. I want to be your weapon,” nudging his nose with yours, he brought up your hand to his lips, kissing the glimmering diamond on your ring. A kiss of rebellion, a war cry, or a silent plea to be dominated – it said everything and too little all at once. “If there is anything I can do to help you escape this royal hell, I will do it.”

You closed your fist around his lips, and basked in the ghostly flutters it will leave upon your skin hours after he has gone. Then, you questioned it all: how could something so poignant evoke a raging will within you?

“It will be hard for you, Your Highness,” you warned him, “My plan is not a kind one.”

“I do not have very kind thoughts myself,” he chuckled, the sound dark and ominous. “But you should be careful, Princess. Iris is not who you think she is. If you are to proceed with your plan, you need to watch out for yourself, and Maiko especially.”

Maiko? What could Maiko’s involvement with Iris be?

“She won’t hurt Maiko, will she?”

“She wouldn’t dare, but I can’t guarantee she won’t try doing something to you,” with a wary gaze, Kiyoomi immediately masked it with that of indifference. Scanning the surroundings, and hearing nothing but the crickets of insects and the rustling of bushes from the wind, Kiyoomi wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “It’s getting late. Let me walk you back. Iris is probably somewhere close.”

You were never one to feel much fear, but in that moment, a sense of numbing chill settled in your bones. Goosebumps arose on your skin. It was almost like you could feel it – her sharp gaze, her wicked and deceivingly innocent smile. You shivered despite yourself and huddled closer to the Prince, letting him guide you through the garden’s maze when his lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“Do you wish to know what would make Iris tick?”

“What?”

“It may be Rintaro who she wants,” his breathy voice caressed you, sending a different set of shivers down your spine. “But it is I whom she would kill to keep. Present yourself as a threat, make her believe you can steal me from her, and you will find her willingly offering Rintaro to you.”

You scoffed. “And if I don’t want him?”

“Then you shall always have me.”

Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi…

The Prince’s last words haunted you. Moreover, the way he looked with the moonlight illuminated upon him… he felt surreal. He came to you in your dreams more than once, caressing you in places he shouldn’t be touching, filling you in ways you never thought possible. A part of you wondered if it was merely your brain coping with the fact you’d mistakenly lain in bed with Rintaro. How you’ve felt disgusted with yourself ever since, and found it hard to look in the mirror. Perhaps it was simply a trick of the brain – replacing the man who left marks on you with the man that could’ve made you feel better. And you knew Prince Kiyoomi would – with those large, calloused hands, and luscious lips you spent countless hours gazing upon… would it be such a sin to wish they hadn’t been dreams only?

Picking up the nearby body wash, you scrubbed yourself clean of Rintaro. Your body still ached from last night’s events, but your heart clenched for an entirely different reason. Seriously. You couldn’t believe it. First, he’d let himself get caught in the action, and you let him sleep with you? You could’ve pushed him away. You could’ve said no.

It didn’t have to lead to whatever happened last night.

But then again, laughing to yourself, why did you chastise yourself so much? He was your husband. You were both married – sleeping with him wasn’t a mistake. Yet why did it feel like it? It felt as if… you kept on letting him take and take from you. How long until you’ve had enough? How much more could you give before there was nothing left of you?

You sighed, sinking deeper under the water. It’d been hours since your previous encounter with the older prince, and he hadn’t left your mind since. His offer for you to make use of him like he was a weapon, or worse, a tool, wasn’t an opportunity you could let pass by.

You could make use of him. He had more access to Iris than you ever could, and planting spies in Belleview Manor sounded terrible. She’d probably won over their loyalty judging by the way they kept their mouths shut that first night you arrived there to give her tea for her ‘headache.’ She had secrets, that you were sure of, but did Kiyoomi know them too? What was her connection with Maiko? Surely… Maiko wasn’t involved in whatever schemes they had in mind. The Princess was too sweet and innocent for that, but then again, so was Iris. The so called ‘dear friend’ of your boyfriend before he’d asked for your hand in marriage.

This was proving to be nearly impossible.

It was hard to tell who to trust within the Palace. Kita would be at your side, but you couldn’t possibly involve him in your plan. He might not even approve of it. It would be against the law, and it wasn’t the kindest thing one could think of. Kita would call it ‘the opposite of justice.’

“I hope the meeting went well, Princess?”

Popping your head from the water, you watched as Airi entered the room, folded towels in her arms. She’d prepared a bath for you long before you arrived, the water warm and filled with bubbles – just how you liked it. The room smelled faintly of roses, too, and you made a mental note to thank Airi for her efforts.

“It was great. His Highness and I discussed a lot,” he almost kissed me, too, but she didn’t need to know that, or the fact you wished he did. “Oh, and Airi.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

You pondered over it, you really did it. It was out of your character to abuse the power you had, yet you couldn’t stop the heat flaring in your veins. The pettiness that begged to be revealed. “Could you have someone call L’Essenxe Royale? Tell them I want them to discontinue their Vanilla Candy line because I’m allergic to it, and it would be a shame if I had to stop purchasing their perfumes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Airi nodded, stopping in her tracks after a beat. “I wasn’t informed you were allergic to vanilla. I’m sorry, I’ll do better in catering to your needs more.”

“I’m not allergic. I just don’t want to smell Iris ever again.”

Just before Airi could respond, the doors swung open. Suna sauntered in like he owned the place, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone and loose. His collarbones and the top of his chest shone with sweat, his skin flushed and his dark hair messily swept to the sides. He must’ve gone for his early training – and damned him for looking good.

You snorted inwardly. But Prince Kiyoomi probably looked better.

“There you are. I didn’t get to see you before I left.”

“Airi, please give us a moment,” you requested from where you sat, arms lazily resting on the sides of the tub. Airi scurried out of the room with reddened cheeks – no doubt picturing what events could transpire between a naked wife and her insatiable husband. And speaking of said husband, he’d leant against the pristine white walls, arms crossed against his chest as he let those dark, hooded eyes roam over your exposed skin.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I think the real pleasure here is this view.”

You rolled your eyes. “Is that what you told your mistress too when you fucked her in my bed?”

Suna paused. It was a bait; he was sure of it. Choosing not to bite at your provocation, he pushed his weight off the wall and gestured to the doors. “You redecorated the room,” he announced, “Without my permission.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed your permission. I thought we made it clear – under your suggestion – that I was to sleep in that bed, and you take the couch outside. Technically, that would make it my room, no?”

“You made Airi burn the sheets.”

“Sue me.”

“You threw away Iris’ clothes.”

“They barely counted as clothes, Your Highness. They were just thongs.”

“If this is about last night–”

“Last night was a mistake. Never speak of it again,” you warned, and just the mere reminder that you’d let him have his way with you, and you were too weak to refuse, again, no longer made the relaxing bath enjoyable. All of Airi’s efforts poured down the drain because having Suna around had your muscles stiffening with tension again. Rising from the bath, you wiped off the bubbles and suds off your body before stepping out. “What did you truly come here for? You never bother me when I’m bathing.”

Suna’s hungry gaze followed your every movement. The perverted bastard wasn’t even trying to hide it – his poor attempts of adjusting his breeches a failure once you’d put on your robe. “Her Majesty has summoned us for breakfast. She has an important announcement to make. I suggest you make haste so she won’t be anymore upset with us.”

“With you, you mean,” you waved around your lip balm, “What? Don’t look so offended. I am not the one who caused a scandal here.”

“I’m tired of arguing with you.”

You couldn’t agree more. Smacking your lips together, you walked past him, making sure to sashay your hips as you did. But before you could leave the room, Suna’s hand shot out to wrap it around your wrist. Gently, he pulled you back into him until your breasts brushed with his chest, the dampness of your robe making his shirt stick even harder on his skin.

 “Wait,” he breathed out, not once taking his eyes off you as he blindly swiped for a towel. “Let me dry you off properly. It would be a shame if you made a mess on your newly decorated room.”

Your husband fell down on his knees before you could say a word.

You almost asked him what he was doing when his hands tugged at the ties of your robes, his tender touch pushing them past your shoulders until the robe pooled at your feet. You inhaled sharply. Suna was kneeling before you, caressing your leg and urging you to place at his thigh. You don’t know what compelled you to obey, but you did. Resting it on his leg, you felt too exposed – his nose was right at your stomach, his hands touching everywhere but that one place near your heat.

It was torture.

The entire act was done with slow, purposeful motions. Like an artist taking great care with his sculptures, he pressed hard on your hips to keep you in place when you shivered. His strength, his silent gestures that he wouldn’t let you slip and fall – it broke your heart.

Why couldn’t he love you?

Why couldn’t he touch you this way and mean it?

Why did he have to remove his ring?

The glint of the golden material caught your attention from the vanity. You picked it up where he left it last night, unconsciously hugging it to your chest until you fell asleep. Until now, you’d brought it with you, and stared at it hard enough it might’ve melted. It never did, just as he would never belong to you. And then – his finger swiped over your nipple, the cloth on his hands now damp and his breath staggering as he moved to kiss your bare stomach.

You pushed his head away.

Suna stumbled back, barely. He sat there with a dazed expression, the towel he used to dry you with now forgotten. His hands shook in his lap, his eyes blown wide with something you couldn’t quite name – longing, regret, frustration. Whatever it was, it matched yours.

“I’m dry enough,” you told him, snatching off his ring from the counter and flicking it his way. The two of you watched as it stumbled along the ground with a loud clink, clink, clink, before it rolled right at his feet. When you finally found the courage to speak, your voice was so quiet – you couldn’t hear yourself at all. “Wear it. I don’t care that it no longer means anything to you. I won’t have you causing anymore problems for me when your mother asks about it.”

When you and Suna sat next to each other at the dining hall, neither of you spoke a word.

In fact, not a single person present dared to. Her Majesty sat at the head of the table, the clink of her utensil the only thing audible as she furiously cut into her steak. She was furious, that much was obvious. Even Crown Prince Ushijima hadn’t touched his meal, and his young son, barely a boy of eight, had his lips shut the entire time.

Finally, she takes a bite, takes a huge drink of her wine, and slams the glass down. All of you jump at the sound.

“It is not every day we can all be gathered here, but as you are all aware, it is a trifling time for the Crown. We as the royal family need to be united now more than ever,” she announced, her back straight as she looked everyone in the eye. “Which is why I am here to inform everyone of some minor changes we will implement from now on, and some events we have planned for the next season. First of all, Princess–” she pointed her knife your way, “-I need you to hold your mother back. She’s getting on my nerves with all her incessant calling.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she lifted her chin, “Your Mother hasn’t stopped bugging me ever since that article was released. She demands I return her to you, but I think she forgets her place and yours. You are a Princess now; you are the Crown’s property. You are to stay here and see to your duties until you take your last breath.”

Forcing a smile, you willed yourself to calm down. “My mother was merely concerned, Your Majesty. I’m sure she doesn’t mean any harm.”

“Which is exactly why I’m telling you to tell her to stand down. I have already spoken with my advisors our next course of action and have all decided that we will deny Rintaro and Iris’ affair by all means. We are to pretend as if the article never existed. We need to show we are the Crown, the monarchs and rulers of this grand kingdom. We will not be swayed by measly gossip and defaming rumors.”

“But it wasn’t a rumor. The Crown Prince did sleep with the Princess.”

Her Majesty sighed, the sound dramatically drawn out. “Do you have any complaints, my dear? Because if you did, then you should have attended the meeting this morning.”

You gritted your teeth. “I wasn’t informed there was one.”

“That’s a shame – I thought Rintaro would tell you. It seems he likes to keep his secrets, then,” she jabbed, and your husband nervously sipped his wine as you glared at the sides of his head. “Now, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, we planned a few events for this season. For this month, the four of you will be showing up to public events and you are to appear united in marriage. Laugh, kiss, hold hands – I do not care. Just make sure the cameras get it, and if anyone dares ask on any clarifications about the affair, simply tell them that it is very easy to fabricate photographs nowadays. You will deny everything. Understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” agreed Suna, and you scoffed. Snaking his hands under the table, he squeezed yours in assurance and whispered, “Don’t cause a scene in front of the Queen. We will talk later about this.”

“I was hoping we would.”

“Next, Iris and Y/N will be having weekend dates to show they are friends. We have already contacted an orphanage you will pay a visit to. Play with the kids, read storybooks with them, and get as many pictures as possible. Not only will it show that there’s camaraderie between you two, but hanging out with children will also imply that we can expect a next line of heirs soon.”

“A splendid idea!” Atsumu beamed, the first to dig into his meal. Rather, the Prince was halfway finished stuffing his mouth, happily rubbing his hands together at the thought. “This will all be good for the Crown, and to win the people’s trust back.”

“You really don’t know how to shut up, huh?” muttered Osamu.

“Your Majesty. Don’t you think this is going too far?” Tobio spoke up, slamming his hands on the table as he stood up. Beside him, Prince Shinsuke was pleading for him to sit back down. The youngest Prince merely slapped his hands away, looking betrayed by his brother’s words. “Why is no one speaking up? Is this how the royal family really is? You would all lie to your people, deceive them we are all in one heart and mind when we are not. Is that the kind of rulers we aspire to be? Are we really the rulers they look up to?”

Prince Shinsuke pinched the bridge of his nose. “I understand you’re upset, but the throne wouldn’t have lasted this long if none of us pulled some strings and kept up deceiving acts. Trust me, I also do not wish to take a part in this, but Her Majesty is right. The people are already growing restless that we have been without a King for years – having Crown Prince Rintaro’s reputation tarnished will not make this better. And as far as I know, there are still many protests against having an illegitimate child on the throne,” he reminded, causing Prince Ushijima to clear his throat awkwardly. Still, Shinsuke pushed on. “Rintaro is the King the Cabinet wants. We must follow the law. Ushijima can only be crowned King until we have ran out of options.”

Your jaw dropped.

“And what of me?”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, the future of the Kingdom is a heavier matter at hand than your broken heart,” Iris quipped, “Besides, if you knew about our relationship prior to the marriage, then you cannot blame anyone but yourself. You’re in this predicament because you were too cowardly to let go when given the chance.”

“That’s enough!” Tobio yelled. “You all need to stop talking about her like that. You’re all right – the Crown is more important. We need a stable ruler and for the people to not lose their trust in us. But the Princess is still a human. She was lied to, manipulated, and constantly looked down on. The least you can do right now is let her acknowledge her pain, seeing as it is clearly too much for each and every one of you to be decent human beings!”

Her Majesty paid him no mind. Waving her hand in the air dismissively, she sighed. “He is young. He will understand someday.”

At her nonchalance, Tobio’s nostrils flared. It was the last you saw of him before he kicked his chair back, storming out of the hall before everyone erupted into protests. Keiji slunk back into his seat, Shinsuke was immediately making efforts to appease the Queen by apologizing on everyone’s behalf, and Maiko was crying. And you? You glowered at the Queen before following after Tobio, the three other Princes right at your heels.

The doors slammed shut behind you.

You could hear the Princes running after you. Two pairs were rushing, but one pair of footfalls sounded more like stomping. Before you could turn down the hall where Tobio went, you were dragged by, Suna firmly gripping your elbow as he halted you in your tracks.

“Her Majesty was speaking,” he hissed, fingers digging harder to your skin. “Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, fuck off, Rintaro. I can’t believe you right now. Letting me be friends with your mistress? Really? And you didn’t even tell me there was a meeting this morning!”

His free hand ran through his hair. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you would act like this. You would’ve embarrassed me in front of the advisors. Besides, you left before I could–”

“I embarrass you? Do you even hear yourself? You’re the embarrassing one for going behind my back and sleeping with your mistress–”

“She’s not my mistress!”

“Isn’t she? I wasn’t aware there was another word to describe a woman frolicking with a married man!”

His grip grew tighter as he spoke, and you squeaked out in pain. You tried to pry his fingers off of you, but Suna wasn’t having any of it. “You’re one to talk, leaving me here in this country to go around dancing with my brother–” Your husband’s face disappeared before you. In the blink of an eye, he was shoved nearly across the room and falling right at his ass.

Kiyoomi stood protectively over you, his chest rising and falling as he shook with anger.

“Stay away from my wife!”

Meanwhile, Tooru dodged between Suna and Kiyoomi, the former rising on his feet and reeling his arm back in a punch. Tooru effortlessly caught his brother’s arm, but holding him back was a different struggle of itself. “Rin, that’s enough!”

“Are you okay?”

You blinked back from the scene. Kiyoomi was now holding your arm where Suna grabbed you, checking for any injuries. Aside from a little aching, and a possible bruise that would show up tomorrow, you were unharmed. Still, the Prince wasn’t assured. His thick brows pinched together in concern, turning your arm over and over as he muttered to himself the violent things he wished to do to his brother. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really, but I want to go after Tobio.”

Kiyoomi nodded in understanding. “Go. I’ll handle this.”

You shared a knowing look with him. I’m on your side, his eyes said, and that was enough to reassure you. Giving him a nod, you quickly turned on your heels and ran. You ran and ran until you were out of breath, your corset digging into you uncomfortably. The youngest Prince sure was a fast one – he’d already reached his own study in such a short time.

Peeking through the partially closed door, your heart broke at the sight.

Prince Tobio sat on his painter’s stool, an unfinished portrait of you – smiling in your wedding dress – lay before him. He was crying, sniffling to himself and wiping his tears with the collar of his blouse. Even the sounds of his cries were too painful to hear.

Shutting the door behind you, you took your place behind him, gently squeezing his shoulders to make him look up. When he did, his bloodshot eyes greeted you.

“I’m sorry you had to witness all of that,” you tell him softly, “I didn’t mean to ruin breakfast for you.”

Tobio shook his head. He pulled out a handkerchief before blowing on it, and you smiled despite yourself – he’d grown so much, yet he was still that sweet, naïve boy in your eyes. It felt like a lifetime ago when he had his debut, and now he was flourishing into such a great, young man. Your little brother, the sweetest Prince – you would do anything for him.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, sis. You’re the victim here.”

You laughed a little. Victim sounded too poor of a word choice. Turning to the canvas before you, you gestured to it. “What are you painting?”

“You,” he admitted with red cheeks, “I started on this when Rintaro announced he’d be marrying you so I could give it as a wedding gift. But Her Majesty wanted me to focus on my studies, so I didn’t have enough time to finish. I mean, it’s not even the same dress you wore on your wedding so it’s inaccurate–”

“-It looks beautiful.”

“It’s still unfinished,” his shoulders slumped in your flattery before he lightened up, already moving to pick up the brushes as he wiped his snot with his hanky. “Since you’re here, would you like me to paint you as you are now? I’ll get a new canvas.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to lose all your efforts on your previous painting.”

“It’s fine,” he reassured, and per his instruction, you sat stiffly to ‘pose’ for him. It’s a little awkward, and Tobio struggled to sketch you each time you fidgeted, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. Midway through his sketch, though, he placed his pencil down, his eyes brimming with tears again. “I still can’t believe Rintaro was capable of being so cruel. I’ll never forgive him for what he did,” he said, his lower lip quivering. “Are they really like this? Is everyone in the Palace truly so heartless? Will I… never find love of my own, too?”

“Oh, Tobio,” you reached your arms out, crushing him to your chest. The Prince’s tears dampened your dress, though you paid it no mind. He was too young for all this hurt – this war over the crown. He was too good for a cruel place like this. “It will get easier someday.”

Fisting your skirt, he buried his face to your neck, his whole body shivering under you. “I never wanted to be a Prince. I-I wanted to keep playing sports and go pro someday. There’s a whole world out there for me to see, and I’m so afraid I’ll never become the person I want to be. I’m afraid I might turn out like my brothers.”

You pulled back to make him look at you. Cupping his face with your hands, you shook your head firmly. “That’s not true, Tobio. You’re already a thousand times better than your brothers. Look, you’re sweet, kind, and passionate. Who says you don’t deserve to achieve your dreams? You can be who you want to be. You can see the world. I promise you that I’ll support you in anything you want to do. Anything.”

“Really?” grinning, he wiped his cheeks free from his tears. “Then… will you come to my game? There’s a match and the Coach just added me to the team. It… Well, it might be a good opportunity for you and everyone else to show you’re unaffected by the scandal, too.”

“Oh, forget the scandal. I only want to see you play,” you tell him, and the Prince’s innocent smile is so big and bright it soothed all the aches in your heart. You promised to yourself, then and there, that you would do what it takes to protect that smile. “Now, should we get to this painting?”

That talk with Tobio filled you with unwavering resolve.

The poor boy didn’t deserve to spend a minute longer in the Palace. It simply wasn’t a place for him. He needed to be out there, living his life to the fullest, and to be surrounded by good people who were healthy for him. Not his greedy, cheating brothers, and most especially not with the heartless Queen as his only mother figure.

You had to do something for him. You had to weaken the throne even further, exploit their weakness and make the monarchy crumble. If not for you, then you would do it for Tobio.

It was the reason you’d gained enough courage to dial the number weighing heavily in your pockets long before Itachiyama. That piece of paper Kiyoomi slipped into your coat just before you parted ways. You should’ve known it back then – Kiyoomi was somehow always one step ahead of you. It’s like he knew what you wanted to happen before you said out loud. What you needed before you told him what it was. And you’d done it – scheduled the meeting, hired a private chauffer, and rented out a restaurant in the middle of nowhere at the dead time of the night before you could change your mind.

Do it For Tobio. For Kiyoomi. For you.

He arrived not a minute later than the designated time. He stood tall and confident – seemingly unbothered by the mass of hate he’d accumulated. Sauntering in through the doors with a smirk, he let out a low whistle, impressed with the lack of people. You had promised him privacy, after all, and if you wanted to succeed in your plans, you couldn’t be shy in splurging a little bit of money.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, was it?”

“Your Highness,” he greeted with a bow, his smile growing wider as he pulled out his chair. He’s handsome, with a smile you wouldn’t deem trustworthy, and he held an aura to him that warned you to tread carefully. He was, after all, the man who singlehandedly exposed your husband’s affair. “I am flattered by your efforts, though I must admit. I did not expect you would reach out to me of all people. I assumed you wanted my head.”

You offer him a polite smile. “You have it all wrong. In fact, I’m thankful for the opportunity you’ve presented to me,” leaning forward, you slid a thin envelope his way. Inside it contained a document of your own words, one you trusted Kuroo would twist to sound more convincing. “I want you to publish another article.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. He waited for a beat, a moment or two, for you to say you didn’t mean it. You could’ve been joking. But you hold his gaze, your smile just as firm, refusing to waver from his intense gaze. “With all due respect, Ma’am, I think I’m already in enough trouble for that last one.”

Fair enough. You didn’t think he’d be that easy to convince.

Reaching beside you, you pulled out a case and clicked open the locks for him. If Kuroo was surprised before, he was most definitely flabbergasted by now. Wads of cash piled against each other stared back at him – temping him to reach out and take it. Smiling to yourself, you gently nudged the case in his direction.

“This is half of what I’ll pay you. I’ll pay you twice as much once you’ve done your part,” you promised, “You don’t need to fear, Mr. Kuroo. I’ll guarantee your protection if you do this for me.”

Kuroo chuckled to himself. Shutting the case back shut, he was quick to slide it to his side – deal done and closed. “If a lovely Princess is asking so nicely, I can’t possibly turn it down, can I?” pulling out a small notebook from his coat, Kuroo uncaps his pen with a twist of his teeth. “So let’s get into it. What story do you want, Ma’am? Do you want the truth or… something more scandalous than your husband’s affair?”

“I want you to ruin Iris,” you declared, “Inside that envelope is a list of people the Princess frequently interacts with, as well as records from her history dating back from when she moved here with mother. I want you to look into everything and pick apart whatever could destroy her reputation. There are secrets that she keeps, and I want them out in the public.”

Kuroo doesn’t bother writing that down. “Her reputation is well ruined already, Ma’am. I doubt much could make it worse.”

Your brow shoots up. “Are you doubting my abilities or questioning my demands?”

“Neither,” he reassured with a mischievous grin, “I shall write something about her, then, but what about the Crown Prince? Do I still have the assurance of your protection if he comes after me for messing with his precious little thing?”

Oh, please. His ‘precious little thing’ doesn’t even want him.

Spinning your wedding finger with your thumb, you stared at it. “Tell me, Kuroo. You’re a journalist, one that wasn’t invited at that private party my husband was in. So why were you there that night? Most importantly, how did you get their photos?” you brought your gaze back up to him, “You’re not secretly planning for the downfall of the crown, are you?”

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness. But to answer your question, then no, I wasn’t invited. I wouldn’t even know a single thing about their affair if it wasn’t for one of you.”

“One of us?” you echoed, “Are you saying someone in the royal family hired you as well?”

“Indeed. Though I must say, I never expected working with just one of you could have me set for life. What more if I teamed up with you too?”

So your theories were right. That article didn’t appear out of nowhere – someone wanted it to happen. “It was Iris, wasn’t it? She asked you to publish that because she knew I was with her husband… but that wouldn’t make any sense. That article puts her in a bad light. It couldn’t be her, right?”

“You’ll be surprised, Ma’am, but it was not the Princess,” he clarified.

Kuroo’s face pinched in contemplation, and then suddenly, pulls out a different phone from his pockets. It’s a beat-up iPhone with its battery nearly dead, but with a few clicks here and there, the video played loud and clear. The camera is shaky, the angles all wrong. Whoever recorded it clearly seemed to be inebriated. Yet there it was – the unmistakable masculine voice groaning, the slapping of skin against each other, and a high-pitched womanly moan. The camera caught nothing but long, blond hair flowing on top of her bouncing breasts before the camera was flipped, finally showing the culprit –

“Atsumu?”

Atsumu gripped Yuki’s hips, shoving the phone between their bodies to show the pistoning of his cock in and out of her. There was no point denying it now. Both their faces were clear from the video, and if this got out…

Kuroo paused the video. “I’m not supposed to be showing you this, but the Prince hasn’t kept up to his end of the bargain, so I might as well ask for your help, too,” shutting the phone off, Kuroo rested his chin on his hands. “That night, he slept with an intoxicated actress and accidentally filmed themselves in the act. The Prince was drunk himself, made the mistake of posting that video online, and merely eighteen minutes later, any traces of their sex tape disappeared. Curious?”

The pieces of the puzzle finally fit.

“He called you to write about Iris and Rintaro to cover up his scandal.”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo! And he succeeded, even if it was an impulsive decision on his side. Still, the Prince paid me handsomely because he was desperate, but he hasn’t offered me protection like he promised. I’m being hunted down by the Queen’s goons as we speak. Isn’t that why you offered to have me chauffeured here?”

You knew Kuroo prioritized his safety over money due to his current predicament. It was the reason why you risked sneaking out of the Palace and meeting him alone. His terms were clear – no witnesses, no guards, just you and him. You would keep to your word if it meant cornering Iris, but with Atsumu and that poor actress thrown into the mix… things just got more complicated.

Reaching out for Kuroo, you squeezed his hand. “You will be safe with me. I promise you this.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.”

You glanced at the iPhone between you two. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Kuroo, but now that you know he’d do pretty much anything for money, you couldn’t risk it. It wasn’t just Atsumu’s reputation you were worried about – firstly, Rintaro would kill him if he found out it was all his doing. Second, that poor actress. She rose to fame in her career recently; this would ruin her image. If things took the wrong turn, who was to stop the Queen from forcing the two to get married if that tape was leaked? You couldn’t risk any cracks in your plan.

“Kuroo, may I have that phone?”

“It’s all yours if you throw in another five grand, Princess.”

“Consider it mine then.”

You and Kuroo left immediately after everything was settled. Just as promised, you would cover all his travel expenses. He would stay overseas to ensure his protection while he reached out to his connections to get all the information he needed, and once the article was ready, he’d publish it and disappear from the media. You covered that too – he was paid enough to live comfortably while in hiding. Now, you only needed to wait for everything to go according to plan.

First, the downfall of Iris. Next, her separation with Kiyoomi without having to let Rin ascend to the throne. And once she’s finally out of the picture, you’ll move on to your beloved husband. You’ll seduce him, have him fall completely to your whim, make him realize he could never have anyone like you again – and once he’s wrapped around your finger, you’ll plea for divorce.

A heart for a heart. A marriage for a marriage.

And if the odds play into your favor at the end of it all, there’s only one destination in mind: Kiyoomi’s farmhouse in Itachiyama.

You smiled to yourself – it would work out. You had a good feeling about it. Kiyoomi is supporting you and acting as your spy, Kita is backing you up on the grounds for divorce, and the nation has unwaveringly showed their support for you in these trying times. After all, you were just the poor, neglected wife. They expected you to spend your days crying and chasing after your deceitful husband, or to simply take it all – be silent and smile for the cameras.

Fuck what the Queen said. You won’t let her win.

Driving back to the Palace, you glanced at the time. It’s almost four in the morning, and soon, Her Majesty would be beginning her routine and expecting her daily calls from the Princes. Pressing harder on the gas, you sped up until a glint catches your eye. You glance at the rearview mirror, eyes widening at the fast approaching car from behind – a sleek, black car with the royal family’s crest on it. Shit. But – it couldn’t be the royal guards. You’d made sure no one would see you, and Airi had gotten your note to slip some sleeping pills into Rintaro’s tea so you could sneak out. Kiyoomi was informed of your plans, too, and he’d reassured he’d hold the fort down while you dealt with Kuroo.

Unless Iris had snooped through his phone and found everything out, then –

You wasted no time. You drove faster, reaching for the gun in your glove compartment as the roaring of the car behind you moved in closer and closer. Heart pounding in your chest, you speed-dialed Kiyoomi, praying to any God who was listening that he would pick up. It couldn’t be Iris, it shouldn’t be her. God forbid she does anything to provoke you into pulling the trigger.

Infidelity was one thing, but the murder of a royal family member was not something one could merely frown at. You didn’t want to be thrown into jail.

The call did not push through.

“Fuck!” you slammed your feet on the gas, watching as the car sped up even more until it was now next to you. You were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but the mammoth of trees and a never ending road with darkness clouding the path. Just then, the windows rolled down, and you waited with bated breath as the face finally came into view.

Dark hair was the first thing you saw. The windows rolled down, down, down, until you were staring deep into your husband’s eyes. Brow cocked, he smirked, raising the phone to show he’d been calling you – that’s why you couldn’t call Kiyoomi. Suna was interrupting the line. Shit, how was he even awake right now?

Moreover, how did he find you?

You scowled to yourself. There was no outrunning him now. Suna was a ridiculously good driver, and there was no way you would ever use a gun on him. Steeling yourself, you forced yourself to regulate your breathing – your efforts boon when Suna suddenly pressed on forward until he was a feet away from you, maneuvered his car with the hood facing your direction, and then just – stopped.

Bracing your hands on the wheel, you forced all your energy to release its power on the slamming of your brakes. The skidding of your car squeaked for what seemed like minutes until finally – finally – your came to a halt. You were breathing hard, the back of your head aching from the impact of it crashing to the headrest. Meanwhile, Suna opened his car doors in slow, languid movements, the ends of his leather black trench coat hitting the pavement. With nothing but the headlights of his car illuminating him, he looked more like an omen of death than a Prince – dressed in a white turtleneck, black pants, and a long coat that highlighted his tall figure. He looked ominous, like he carried sorrow and pain with him – pain that he was about to make you feel.

Because you knew – of course you knew; you knew him better than anyone – that the placid smile he wore was anything but.

He slammed the car doors shut. Leaning against the hood, Suna’s gloved hands reached for a lighter in his pocket as he lit his cigarette, the stick hanging from between his lips. As soon as it flickered, he pocketed the lighter back, using two of his fingers to make a ‘come hither’ gesture at you.

Clearly, you spoke too early. The odds were not in your favor.

You exited your vehicle, hands gripping the edges of the door as you gathered to courage to take one more step towards him. It wasn’t that you were afraid – he wouldn’t hurt you, not really. But too much could be taken away from you in such little time – Kuroo couldn’t have gone far, and Atsumu’s sex tape was still in the backseat. You didn’t trust Rintaro to not ruin your plans. And you wouldn’t let him, not now when you were so close to victory.

One step, two steps, three steps – your heels clicked against the road as you walked, making sure to keep your chin pointed north. Hips swaying to the side, you finally ended up before him – right between his spread legs – your husband leaning back at the hood of his car whilst he sized you up, his free hand resting behind him.

“Funny seeing you here,” he drawled out, his voice thick with barely-held back rage. “They told me you were sleeping, but last time I checked, driving while falling asleep was illegal.”

“Cheating is also illegal.”

“Your comebacks are getting old, my love.”

Your head snapped to his direction. He hadn’t called you that in forever, not since you’d returned from your honeymoon. To have him call you that now, with such a deeply rich, smooth voice and sounding like he’d just woken up, all breathy and rasp – could it be possible to fuck someone to death?

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” tipping his head to the side, Suna’s lips slowly formed into a smirk. He took a drag of his cigarette, keeping his eyes on yours as he wrapped those lips around the stick – delicately and tantalizingly slow – just like how he did when he worshipped you in bed. You breathed out hard and attempted to take a step back, but he was having none of it. Swiftly, he’d tugged on your shirt to pull you close to him, causing you to stumble and fall into his lap. Above you, your husband’s chest rumbled with amusement.

“Look at you. Always so weak for me.”

He leaned in close, his scent of smoke and expensive woodsy perfume enveloping you. It’s addicting, just as he is, and your knees grew weak. Your legs slid down just as Suna wraps a strong arm around your waist to hitch you back in place, your core resting above his thigh. There, he spreads you open with just his knees, his warm lips suddenly attaching themselves to your neck. You gasped out, hands falling to his shoulders in a measly attempt to pull him away – and oh.

Suna had different plans in mind.

“You,” he breathed in your ear, his gloved fingers popping the button of your blouse one by one. “cannot get rid of me that easily, Your Highness. You can slip in as many drugs you want in my drinks, you can kill me a hundred times and fuck me over again and again, but don’t you dare forget,” growling lowly in your ear, your husband took your chin in his hands and forced you to gaze deep into his eyes – pools of hazel swirling with need and wrath – “Not even death can do us part. I’ll keep on looking for you even if you try to hide at the ends of the earth.”

[gomu-fer]

Kiss

Ace x reader

fluff drabble + fem reader

“Oh god, I don’t even remember the last time I was kissed” embarrassment and booze tinted your voice as you giggled at your hopelessness, the moon hanging high above you the only witness of your statement besides your dear commander and friend

Ace’s eyebrows jump in surprise, surely you were just being modest right? You were the most beautiful person that had crossed his path, funny, clever, easy at conversation and so unique; there was no way you didn’t had people begging for your attention and at least a peck, hell he’d give everything for just one kiss of yours

“You’re joking” your face drops, that natural shyness creeping its way to your cheeks making him regret his teasing tone

“Am not” you say now serious as you balance yourself on the edge of the ship, eyes looking at the bottom of your glass in regret or embarrassment? Ace couldn’t tell since his attention was being stolen by your pouting lips “Before becoming a pirate, I only dated this one guy,”- you trailed off, your tongue running lose and a sour taste spreading at the memory.- “He was not only my last kiss but also my first”

Ace stays silent clinging at every word that leaves your pretty mouth. You’d always restrained from talking about your love life whenever the crew bring the topic to the table, staying still and quiet as you listened attentively, claiming to never having anything important to say on the matter, and he now understands why

“Do you… love him still or…?” The idea of your heart belonging to someone else made him burn, nevertheless he would understand, after all, he wasn’t that big of a deal and in his eyes you deserved better

“Absolutely not”- it’s almost comical how you were quick to answer. -“I did love him I guess once upon a time, but he wasn’t a good lover” your eyes trail off again now to look at the ocean waves crashing below, there’s certain hurt that fills your atmosphere that has Ace’s mind reeling

He wanted to show you how you deserved to be loved, every fiber of his being burning at the thought of this stupid guy taking you from granted; you alway caring and thoughtful, witty and kind heart that accompanied your otherworldly beauty that had charmed him

So lost in his thoughts he doesn’t catch how he’s looking at you heavily, eyebrows angry with a frown that makes you take a swing of your drink already hating the course of the conversation

Your voice brings him back to earth “You must think I’m a loser”- an awkward laugh follows, hanging in the air as you wished you had more alcohol to down

“NO!” Ace practically screams, immediately feeling embarrassed as your big eyes gaze at him surprised- “I respect that”

The silence that follows his statement makes you want to crawl out of your skin before the ocean takes you away and spits you out on the opposite side of the grand line, too ashamed to even walk away and run from him you remain focus on the stars twinkling above the commanders head, alike the ones that paint his face

“But if you want to change that, I could help” your vision quickly falls on him, his freckles that you had recalled before being dusted in pink, his brown orbs patiently awaiting for a response as they trace every inch of you over and over

Your breath starts to pick up speed, your breasts peeking from your shirt when you take in air that you fight to keep in but it just escapes you. Your mouth stays agape as it struggles to concoct a yes or a no, only luring the man before you like a light house in the middle of the merciless sea. You wanted this so bad like nothing ever before, your heart that laid on the hands of the fire fist the moment your eyes met now being close to combust

“Yes, I would like that” a whisper could be louder than the words that had escaped you, landing right into Ace’s heart

He can’t believe it, his ears only understanding the yes that started your sentence as the rest died before he could make them out. He had been dreaming of you so long it was almost pathetic

Your eyes stay still taking in their favorite view of each other as he walks closer caging you in, his wide frame covering you like a warm blanket against the cold sea breeze. One of his hands travels to cup your cheek, immediately melting under his touch like wax over a candle. His face shows his hesitation, afraid you are already regretting this but you immediately reassure him by hanging by his neck, your hands grasping his raven locks making him hold in a shaky breath of pleasure

His head finally falls so he can meet your lips halfway as you reach up. The moment he delicately grazes the lips he had been staring at the whole night making hi mind buzz

Ace kisses you with much feeling, basking in the way your mouth fits in his, having to stop himself from losing control of his actions as to not scare you away. Eventually as you grow more confident after feeling acquainted with the way he kisses, you let go. It becomes urgent and greedy, breaths mingling as your mouths open so you can access more of each other, a dance of lips, tongues and yearning that numbs every other sense

However, you cannot kiss forever, so it ends as Ace steps back to allow you to catch your breath, an understanding sinking in both of you as you finally realize that the thoughts and feelings that plagued you also went after him

“Let’s do that again”

Masterlist

[anantaru]

— rejecting his cuddles

including dan heng, jing yuan, gepard, blade x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff, crack, we‘re evil

— dan heng

"nope!"

you quickly place your hands on top of dan heng‘s chest to swiftly push him away— although tied with an eased and playful shove, your boyfriend was still left baffled and most of all, supremely confused out of his damned mind.

primarily— since when did you ever reject a comforting, cozy cuddle from your pretty man the moment he rushes straight home to come and see you, principally spoil you with all the bundled up physical affection he could possibly channel and provide?

one hundred percent, never. in point of fact was it you instead who would hug him first afresh.

"oh— i‘m sorry." dan heng backs away, as to not cross any boundaries with you. his voice shakes and creaks in the back of his toughened throat. it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he in fact, did not expect to have such a hard time being rejected by you.

"s-so.. uh, yeah."

dan heng corrects himself— or lets work something out to express it differently, at least tries to spell out a follow up sentence because you actually managed to make him speechless, at loss of words with nothing more than arbitrarily prattles bubbling past the tip of his tongue and leaving his lips.

there‘s a punch of cold silence, stolen by a deep sigh from your irritated lover— one might think that dan heng strongly thought about what he had done wrong or if he messed up in some way. yes, the possibility on you playing tricks on him was always there but this time you really put in all your acting skills into this one moment, carving it to almost perfection.

"can— can i ask why?" he nervously whispers, deciding that there, nothing was as gruelling as not receiving a hug from his significant other, "i don't know, can you?" which unbeknownst to him, was playing a devilish play with all expenses falling flat on top of his shoulders.

you smirk, your body moving on its own as you suddenly shelter his body into your frame, "surprise! it's a prank!" and nuzzle yourself into his chest, cheeks flushed on top.

granted, his facial expression was hilarious, but you could only go that far before the man would suffer from a heart attack.

"you're unbelievable." dan heng rolls his eyes while leaning his head into your neck, his nostrils slightly flaring at the pocketed entry of your signature scent welcoming him at last.

"you still love me though."

— jing yuan

to wholly fool someone, precisely form their running thoughts anew, was it wishful thinking or actually possible? what an absorbing charge to partake in, you figured.

but despite that, you were awfully aware that someone as hellishly meticulous and careful to their surroundings such as jing yuan was without question to be an utmost arduous task to accept— yet, who were you to give up so easily?

your heart had been softly pounding with a minuscule increased pace signalizing your nervousness the minute your boyfriend unlocked the door to your shared home. if you had been honest to yourself, the following sequences that would normally happen work as followed— if you didn't decide to be a little evil today, they never change, you greet the man in addition to embracing him in a warm hug, point blank, and jing yuan unreservedly savored such implementing like no other.

the man sought after a soothing embracement all day long, he thinks about it, and when closes his eyes he imagines it too. it's a crucial source of serotonin to him and he requires it each night before passing out into a deep slumber with you by his side.

"i'm home, my love."

your ears point at the all too recognizable voice dotting a comforting timbre into the living room as you silently moved up from your seat to walk towards jing yuan who had made it his own personal duty to part his arms the second he sees you saunter towards him.

"hello, love." you greet him with a smile, your voice had been soft and actually managed to fool him for the short duration of your prank.

but then, "oh, no thank you!" you skillfully dodge his attempt to wrap his arms around you, waving your hand in between the awkward space of your bodies, shaking your head.

"excuse.. excuse me?" that's a little less confident than how jing yuan would for the most part articulate himself— to underscore his brilliant irritation, he cocks up a brow in disbelief.

but he's cautious, your darling— so don't be fooled, the man had a sharp and blazing eye on remote sections that might go unnoticed to other people, to the innocent faces and crowds, it was jing yuan who was keeping the control interlaced in the palm of his hand.

"hmm?"

you play the guiltless, in the clear significant other a little too well and you applaud yourself for your very own performance— at this rate it makes you wonder if you should have actually pursued a career in acting after all.

while your boyfriend was now feeling a sense of dread in his joints and limbs, the color of his eyes had gotten hidden by a dusty darkness.

"ah, i understand." he smiles, but the way he approaches you was almost tactical, and that grin on his face— on the outside, modest and upright while on the inside, it concealed a bristling confidence that yes, figuring you out was easier than he thought.

"that's okay." jing yuan walks past you, slow, each step echoing and slipping past your ears, his hand too, was listlessly tapping your shoulder once twice, as he made you turn around to face him again.

"i do not need it anymore." huh, for him to not even utter a single complaint, something, anything would do, really.

your lips pucker into a pout when you realized it‘s over, when you noticed that your boyfriend was getting way better at this, as if he had you wholly figured out from the very start— did you never stand a chance to fool him to begin with?

"ugh." you cross your arms around your body, "you knew from the start, didn‘t you?"

"of course i did, love." he breathes his words featherlight, but his smile stays strong regardless.

"i always do."

— gepard

in the beginning of your comical scheme, gepard was convinced you didn‘t want to hug him because he had just returned from training the new recruits of the silvermane guards and fair enough— he didn‘t have the chance to take a shower prior to returning to you.

yet, keep in mind, in any other instances you did not care about said fact, more so was it you who‘d practically hug him for hours on end and pepper him with kisses all over. being the mighty captain of the silvermane guards of beleborg not unexpectedly came with a tightly shut package of both it‘s very own positives and jarring negatives.

while the positives would greatly outweigh the stormy negatives by a tenfold, having limited free time to spend on each other would sometimes be a strenuous obstacle you can only manage together, as a team.

"i can shower right away." gepard panics, he didn't think it was possible for his body to sweat even more than earlier when he fought against the new recruits and your poor boyfriend curses himself underneath the warm racks of his fastened breathing on why he didn't manage to be in the bestest shape for you tonight.

he adds on, "don‘t move, i‘ll be right back!"

the sides of your mouth twitch in an amusing snort and you carry on to gnaw down on your bottom lip to suppress yet another wave of laughter, "oh, i think you‘re misunderstanding me." and step back just a little bit more to accentuate your evil plan and push your boyfriend over the edge for good.

"i don‘t want to hug you tonight." you raise your brows while scratching the back of your neck.

this sentence alone was like a sharp stab into the blonde's heart as he sets his eyes to meet your own.

"like at all." and you finish him off with an indirect blow right against his handsome features, "at— at all?"

if you were aware of one thing, it was that gepard never wasted any time to talk things out with you— basically being transparent and working together, "okay, baby'" he pauses, "listen to me." and almost squeals in sadness, placing both hands on top of your shoulders.

"if you're still sad i had to cancel our dinner the other time, i can try to figure something out—"

how adorable, you realise.

pinching his cheeks with your fingers, you smile, a shadow of intense guilt poking on your heart, "i’m sorry!" you yell, "everything is fine, i‘m sorry." and abruptly lean into his warm body, arms crossed around his chest as you sensed the upping beat of his heart underneath his ribcage.

gepard couldn’t believe you this time, truly, and lets his eyes fall close before sighing out— in relief but also a slight bit of annoyance written across the rest of his heavenly features.

"i‘ll get back at you for this."

— blade

"hmm, you sure darling?" he acts innocent that's for certain but blade’s next look on you, fuck, if you didn‘t know any better you would've sternly stated that it entirely formed into a menacing demeanor— stone cold and fierce as you felt it wash over your trembling skin.

a followed sharp click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth is all it took for you to whole-heartedly regret and loathe even considering to work out a prank against your boyfriend, at all.

"yes, i pass."

notwithstanding, you couldn‘t back away now, quite obviously would it blow up in your face with you becoming the pranked one instead. at this graven point the entire situation had already been in great favor of blade instead of you— the most plausible solution would be to somehow make it out as a winner regardless while your lover thoroughly found delight in engaging in those games with you.

"what a shame." he sighs and tilts his head to the right— pending his eyes from your lips to your legs and up, then approaching you a step closer so your cheeks could immediately sense his warm breathing.

"and here i thought my significant other actually liked me." and slowly whispers his finishing line against the shell of your ear while idly leaving it to his gravelly voice to place a shivering thunder-like sensation on your skin, in this cold your body welcomed the flames of your flustering frame, the furnacing warmth and the fuel this man was capable to inflict on you was ridiculous, but so did you work wonders on his psyche.

you knew your boyfriend, entirely— his sweet perceptions, his personal views and his virtually scary attention to detail for bodily responses of his usual targets.

"ugh, cut the crap blade." you roll your eyes at him playfully, laughing out a frustrated heave with a deep scowl on your lips.

"me?" blade dramatically places his hand on top of his chest, his mesmerizing eyes growing at the size of saucers, what a pain in the neck, literally.

"yes you."

despite everything, you, with the kindness of your heart, attempted to silently move forward to cuddle him, practically leaving your failed prank in the past while blade, in his radiating confidence, was swift to dodge you.

"no thanks." blade says sternly, "i‘m rejecting this hug."

how unwelcomely, indecently, annoyingly typical for your boyfriend to turn this entire malfunctioning situation upside down and play it into his very own favor.

if only he wasn‘t so breathtakingly handsome when he greeted you and presented his confidence so tastefully, smiled so prettily at you too, his shining whites and canines poking from under his lips and greatly accentuating the rest of his bewitching features while his large hands slowly ran up and down your shaking arms.

"tsk." you avert your gaze, not being certain if you're more embarrassed that you lost or that he beat you so effortlessly too, "you‘re unbelievable blade."

okay, hold on— even though you started this game, now witnessing it in a different perspective on how it would‘ve played out the other way around was a little frustrating, to say the least— while you also made sure that you‘re calling yourself out for that sprinkle bit of hypocrisy climbing up on you.

"i‘m unbelievably funny." he drawls back at you with a wink and kisses your forehead playfully— then your nose, which he found adorable and lastly your cheeks before gently trapping your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger to make you look at him, "and i have to put you in your place sometimes, you know?"

as he at last, conveniently pulls you into a warm hug, both smiling and laughing into the comfort of the situation.

2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[ahqkas]

♯ TOO SWEET ; mattheo riddle

❛ i take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at 3, you’re too sweet for me ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS! in which mattheo recalled the two times you were too sweet for him (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 4.1k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! consummation of alcohol, lovesick mattheo, fluff, angst, a lot of my hcs for mattheo’s past (i wrote him the way i see him), lmk if i missed smth !!

NOTES! this is purely my view on mattheo’s character bc the hc i wrote suit him sm 😿😿 reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated <3

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

ONCE A MAN FALLS IN LOVE, he finds himself drawn to not just the physical beauty of his muse, but for the essence of who the person truly is - their quirks, intelligence, kindness, and their unique way of seeing the world. Every interaction, every shared experience, every memory he brings, adds another layer to his adoration towards the love of his life.

His love for them is evident in the little things - the way he watches them when they aren't looking, the small gestures of thoughtfulness, the silent support during their dark moments of life. It's in the way he listens, truly listens, to the hopes and dreams, fears and frustrations, always eager to offer his thoughts and ideas. This love manifests in his desire to be their anchor in times of storm, their cheerleader in moments of triumph, and their person in all the in-betweens. It is a love that values their independence and individuality, recognizing that they are their own person with their own journey, and yet, he longs to be a part of that journey, to walk alongside them and share in their joys and sorrows of life.

Mattheo Riddle was no different.

He marvels at your kindness, your sweetness, and the light you bring into his life. You are his muse, his inspiration, a spark of the goodness that stands in stark contrast to his own perceived flaws and insecurities he feels deep inside himself. He sees you as an angel, a pure and radiant being who somehow chose to share your life with him, despite his own imperfections and inner demons.

He sees you as an angel in a human form, who chose to live among the devils, just so he could feel the heavenly touch for the first and last time in all eternity.

He often wonders how he, with all his rough edges, hidden scars, and a past life without a happy memory, could be worthy of your love. He feels like a monster, haunted by past mistakes and burdened by the weight of his own fears and failings. You, on the other hand, are everything he aspires to be - kind, compassionate, and endlessly forgiving. Your presence in his life is a constant reminder of the beauty and grace that he lacks, and yet, your love makes him strive to be better, to rise above his darkness and become someone worthy of your affection.

In his heart, he knows that your love is transforming him, helping him to heal and grow. Your existence is a light that dispels his inner darkness, a reminder for him to cherish that even monsters like him can be loved. He clings to this, that your love is making him a better man, one day at a time.

01. THE PARTY

The Slytherin common room was full of shadows and flickering lights, transformed into a wild moment of freedom for the night. The music, a thundering beat that echoed off the stone walls, could be heard from miles away, yet no professor or ghost visited the common room to cancel the party. It was as if the ancient castle itself had granted this one night of freedom to its most cunning and ambitious students. The rhythmic thrum of bass notes and the infectious melody of the latest wizarding hits filled the air, blending with the sound of laughter and the clink of glasses.

Bodies moved in a hypnotic dance, swaying in sync with the music. The students had discarded their usual aloof demeanors and uniforms, lost in the euphoria and joy of the moment. Green and silver decorations adorned every surface, shimmering under the enchanted lights that hung from the ceiling like glowing jewels. Laughter rang out, high and clear, mingling with the deep, resonant hum of conversation.

In one corner, a group of seventh years huddled together, their heads bent close in a whisper, before erupting into loud laughter. Nearby, a couple twirled around each other, their bodies intertwining like dark waves, eyes locked in their private world amidst the chaos around them. The fireplace, usually a place of quiet contemplation, was now surrounded by students perched on its stone ledge, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the night and alcohol.

Long tables filled with food and drink stretched along one wall, bearing the weight of a feast other students could be jealous of. Platters of magical meals, charmed to stay warm, smelled of aromas that mingled with the scent of butterbeer and stronger beverages. Bottles of firewhisky and elf-made wine were passed from hand to hand, each sip fueling the atmosphere more and more as drunken the students got. The alcohol flowed freely, loosening tongues, transforming even the shyest students into party animals of the night.

The Slytherin common room had never felt so alive. Tonight, they were not just the students of Hogwarts; they were a family, united by their house and their understanding of what it meant to be a Slytherin.

Mattheo Riddle was one of those students who were enjoying themselves tonight. His breathing features were illuminated by the green lights as he leaned casually against a stone wall, a cup of firewhisky filled to the brim in his hand. The amber liquid sloshed perilously close to the edge with each of his slowed gestures, but Mattheo seemed unconcerned, clearly lost in the haze of alcohol. His dark curls, usually styled in the way that made uncountable amount of girls fall on their knees, now fell loose around his face as you watched from a close distance.

He was engaged in a drunken conversation with Theodore Nott, whose tall, lanky frame was the opposite to Mattheo's more athletic build. Theo's typically serious demeanor had softened, his features relaxed into a rare, genuine smile as he listened to Mattheo's ramblings with a giggle threatening to spill out from his lips. The two of them, often seen together, now looked like true brothers. It was almost scary how much they resembled family when they were drunk.

Mattheo's voice, rich and slightly slurred, carried over the music as he recounted a particularly outrageous story from his recent fight. Theodore threw his head back and laughed. It was clear to anyone how close those two boys were, drunk or sober.

"Can you believe he actually thought I was serious?" Mattheo snickered with a big grin stretching across his face, taking a swig from his cup, the whiskey burning a warm path down his throat. "I mean, I barely managed to keep a straight face!"

Theodore laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're a menace, Riddle. One of these days, you're going to get expelled."

"Ah, but tonight isn't that night, mate," Mattheo replied with a slow wink, raising his glass in a mock toast. "To living dangerously and laughing in the face of consequences!"

They clinked their cups together, the sound barely audible over the throbbing beat of the music and you thought now was the best time to approach your boyfriend. 

Mattheo's brown irises scanned the crowd, catching a look of you as you pushed your way through the crowd of dancing bodies. The sight of you instantly brightened his expression and a genuine smile spread across his face. He felt a rush of emotions that the whiskey in his hand only intensified, each beat of his heart echoing with the certainty that what he held for you was pure love. The Slytherin straightened up, his posture shifting from the casual slouch of a carefree boy to the attentive stance of a man. Theodore noticed the change and a knowing smirk made its appearance on his lips as he stepped aside, giving the two of you a moment of privacy. 

"[Name]," your boyfriend called out, his voice full of warmth. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you came closer. "There you are, love."

You beamed up at him, your eyes reflecting the party's enchanted lights, making them look like twin stars. "Having fun, are we?" you teased and the tone of your voice carried a playful match that always managed to make his heart skip a beat. 

"Only now that you're here," he replied. The world around you seemed to blur as he gazed down at you, all the noise and chaos fading into the background. "You make everything better."

Drunk on both the whiskey and his overwhelming affection, the boy's usual reservations melted away. He held you close, his hands resting on your waist as if anchoring himself to your presence. When he was sober or feeling down at heart, his love for you was often hidden beneath layers of stoicism and insecurity, but now, in this moment of happy drunkenness, it shone through. 

He bent down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips, enjoying the sweetness of the contact. "I'm so lucky to have you," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't deserve you, but I'm going to spend every day trying to be worthy of your love."

 “You have no idea what you mean to me. I look at you and . . . it’s like you’re the sun and I’m just a planet orbiting around you, soaking up your light,” he continued without a break. The boy wanted to get every one of his words out as fast as humanly possible. To show you his hidden feelings he wasn't able to tell you before. “You’re my everything, [Name]. I don’t know how I got so lucky. You’re so kind, so . . . good. And me? I’m just . . . I’m a mess, you know? A monster sometimes.” 

You shook your head lightly and took his hands into your own, enveloping him with your warmth. He was starting to get emotional, and you didn't need to have your boyfriend drunkenly mopping around. His mood changed like weather when alcohol got involved. “You’re not a monster, Mattheo. You’re human. We all have our demons.”

“But you,” he didn't allow you to finish your sentence before he spoke up again, his voice raw with sincerity, “you make me want to be better. For you. I see you, and I just want to be the man you deserve. I’m not always good at it, but I try. I try because you’re worth it.” 

You could see the glazed look in his eyes as he swayed slightly on the spot. He was rough around the edges, you couldn't deny the truth, but he was the sweetest boy when he managed to fall in love. Which wasn't exactly difficult, Mattheo fell in love easily. But when he did, it was worth everything. Mattheo was your sweet boy. “Love,” you said softly to him, your voice filled with gentle concern to the brim, “you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Maybe it’s time to slow down a little, okay?”

Mattheo blinked, giving you a lopsided grin, his expression a mix of boyish charm and pure happiness. “But I’m fine, [nickname]. I feel great. Better than great, actually. With you here, everything’s perfect.”

“I know you’re having a good time, but I don’t want you to feel terrible tomorrow. Let’s take a break from the firewhisky for now, alright?”

He pouted slightly, his shoulders slumping as he realized you were actually serious. “You’re probably right,” he admitted, a hint of reluctance in his voice. “But only because you’re asking me.” You chuckled softly at his behavior, threading your fingers through his and gently leading him away from the dancing crowd. You navigated through the common room, moving towards a quieter corner of the space where a plush couch sat, inviting you both in with open arms. The room’s enchantments cast soft shadows on the walls, the flickering lights creating a soothing atmosphere.

“Here, sit down,” you instructed as you guided him to sit on the couch. Mattheo obeyed, sinking into the cushions with a contented sigh. You sat beside him, your hand never leaving his. You took the half-empty cup of whiskey from his hold, reaching for a glass of water on the table nearby instead and handing it to him. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Mattheo took the glass, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. He took a long sip, the cool water a welcome relief from the heat of the alcohol he consumed. “You really do take good care of me, don’t you?” he murmured, his head resting against the back of the couch as he looked at you with a mixture of admiration and exhaustion.

“Someone has to,” you replied playfully, brushing a stray curl of hair from his forehead. “And I wouldn’t want anyone else to have the job.”

As the night wore on, Mattheo felt a warmth spreading through him that was only partly due to the whiskey. It was the warmth of belonging, of being surrounded by friends who understood and accepted him, flaws and all. Despite his often rough exterior, he was deeply grateful for these moments, these stolen hours of joy in the corners of the Slytherin common room.

02 - THE MARK

The past has a profound power to shape a man, especially when that past is influenced by suffering at the hands of a father. 

For Mattheo Riddle, his family history was the darkest shadow of all the shadows that clung to him, a reminder of the pain and fear that had molded his entire life. Raised in a home devoid of warmth, where love was a foreign concept and cruelty was a daily reality, Mattheo had learned to build tall and thick walls around his heart. A shield to protect him from more hurt that would come his way. 

The orphanage was a harsh place, stripped of the luxuries the boy had unknowingly been born into. It was a world of strict discipline and a poor form of affection. The caretakers, overwhelmed and underfunded, had little patience for a child with such a notorious legacy. Mattheo grew up under the weight of whispers and sideways glances, the infamous name "Riddle" ensuring he was never just another child. The women of the orphanage knew his father, having taken care of him when he was around the same age as his son. What a wicked child Tom was. Mattheo was different because of that, marked, and this awareness shaped his formative years in ways he could barely comprehend.

As he grew older, the whispers about his family name became more pronounced. The children at the orphanage were cruel. “Monster,” they called him, creating the very fears that nested within his own heart. He began to internalize these taunts, seeing himself through the lens of his father's sins. The idea that he could be worthy of love seemed more and more distant, more of a fantasy that had no place in his reality. But the same idea of letting someone see past his defenses, of allowing someone to love him despite his flaws, seemed not only impossible but dangerous. For how could anyone love a monster, especially one crafted by his own father?

Despite this, Mattheo yearned for something more. He longed for the kind of love he had never known, a love that was gentle and kind, that saw past his scars and accepted him for who he was. But every time he felt himself getting close to someone, the fear surged up, a wave of doubt and self-loathing washed over him and forced him to retreat behind his walls again. It was a never-ending cycle.

Hogwarts had saved him. 

Mattheo Riddle’s first steps into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were met with a mixture of curiosity, awe, and apprehension. For the other students, he was a figure of whispered rumors, his infamous last name carrying with it a weight of fear and fascination. They had heard the stories of his father’s dark acts, of the legacy that haunted the halls of the castle like a ghost. But for Mattheo himself, Hogwarts represented a new beginning, a chance to escape the personal hell he called the orphanage and create his own path. The boy was no longer just another orphan. Here, he could be anything he wanted to be.

He wasn't deaf. The young boy could feel the weight of his father’s name bearing down on him like an invisible burden. And he wasn't blind either. He saw the way the other students looked at him, their eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and suspicion. They didn’t openly taunt him as the children in the orphanage had done, but he could sense the whispers and the wary glances that followed him wherever he went. For Mattheo, however, their fear was a source of power. He reveled in the attention, in the way his presence commanded respect, even if it was tinged with fear. He was finally someone. 

He excelled in his classes, his natural talent and restless ambition setting him apart from his peers. But it was on the Quidditch pitch that Mattheo truly came into his own. Flying high above the castle grounds, he felt a sense of freedom unlike anything he had ever known. With every twist and turn of his broomstick, he left behind the weight of his past and embraced the thrill of the present, making him feel like a bird. 

Six years had passed since Mattheo Riddle first walked through the grand doors of Hogwarts, a hopeful and determined young wizard with dreams of greatness he was so sure he'd achieve. But now, as he entered his sixth year at the renowned school of magic, the world around him had shifted irrevocably. The return of Lord Voldemort two years prior had plunged the wizarding world into chaos, and with it, Mattheo’s life had been destroyed once again.

Even among his fellow Slytherins, Mattheo felt like an outsider, a traitor to his own house and everything it stood for. He had once prided himself on his ambition and cunning, on his unwavering determination to succeed at any cost. But it didn't matter anymore. 

Mattheo sat alone in the quiet atmosphere of the Astronomy Tower, his gaze fixed on the night sky that sparkled with millions of stars. Each twinkling light seemed to mock him, making fun of the darkness that now stained his soul even more than before. His fingers gripped the sleeve of his jacket tightly, as if seeking some comfort in the fabric, but finding none.  

 On his left forearm, the Dark Mark burned like a brand upon his skin. It was a mark of shame, of betrayal, and every time he looked upon it, he felt a sickening sense of disgust and self-loathing. He had thought that by aligning himself with the Dark Lord, his father, he would finally be able to escape the shadows of his past, to prove himself worthy of the name Riddle and his father's presence. But now, he realized that he had only succeeded in plunging himself deeper into the deep hole. Even the orphanage was better than this. 

The footsteps behind him shattered the sweet silence, echoing off the stone walls of the tower. Mattheo tensed, his heart racing as he turned to face the intruder, steeling himself for whatever judgment or punishment awaited him. But as he turned, he was met not with the accusing glare of Filch or the triumphant sneer of a rival, but with the concerned gaze of a familiar face. It was you, with your eyes filled with worry as you approached him slowly, as if he'd disappear if you were a bit louder. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Are you alright?”

No, he wasn't alright. But he would be caught dead sooner than having you worry about him like that and more. 

He forced a tight-lipped smile, attempting to mask the emotions raging within him. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining the facade. “Just . . . thinking.”

You stepped closer, taking a seat on the ground beside him. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Mattheo. I know something’s been troubling you lately. You can talk to me.”

You were his angel, full of that purity and light he adored about you in a world darkened by his own sins. He longed to confide in you, to unburden himself of the guilt and shame that had consumed him since he had received the Dark Mark. But the fear of your rejection, of you seeing him for the monster he believed himself to be, held him back. It would shatter his heart, to see the pained expression on your face. 

“I . . .” he began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the words, "there's something I need to show you." With a heavy heart and trembling hands, Mattheo finally mustered the courage to reveal the truth to you. For months, he had carried the burden of the dark secret alone, pushing you out and shutting you down in an attempt to shield and protect you from the darkness that was his father. But now, as he sat before you, his heart and his soul laid bare, he knew that he could no longer hide from the truth. The boy reached for the sleeve of his jacket, his fingers fumbling as he pushed the fabric up to reveal the twisted lines of the Dark Mark etched upon his skin. The sight of it made him recoil, a wave of shame washing over him as he exposed his deepest, darkest secret to the one person he had sworn to protect.

Your eyes widened in shock as you took in the mark, your palm flying to your mouth in disbelief. For a long moment, there was silence between the two of you, broken only by the sound of your shallow breathing and the distant hum of the night owls. 

“I received this a few weeks ago," Mattheo confessed, his eyes avoiding yours. "When he decided I was good enough for him."

He felt your gaze on him, eyes searching his face for answers. He could see the confusion and concern written in your expression, but beneath it all, he saw something else - a flicker of understanding and acceptance that filled him with both hope and fear. How can someone be so good to someone like him? "I've been living with the Malfoys ever since," he continued, the words tumbling out in a rush as he struggled to explain himself. "But it's not what you think, [Name]. I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be a part of his plans, to be branded as one of his followers. But I had no choice. He made me do it."   

Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke, and he felt a desperate plea for forgiveness in his chest. He needed you to understand, to see past the mistakes that consumed him and into the depths of his soul where his love for you burned bright and true. The thought of losing you hurt him more than the Cruciatus curse ever could. 

“Forgive me. For shutting you out, for pushing you away. I was scared, I was ashamed . . . but I can't bear to keep this secret from you any longer. You deserve to know the truth, even if it means losing you forever." 

Your heart swelled with a bittersweet mixture of sorrow as you gazed upon Mattheo, your sweet boy, sitting there before you with tears in his eyes and the weight of the world upon his shoulders. In that moment, all you wanted was to wrap him in your arms and shield him from the pain and darkness that threatened to consume him. With shaky hands, you reached out to him, fingers brushing against the mark of his father's followers etched upon his skin. The sight of it filled you with a fit of fierce anger, but beneath it all, you saw the boy you so dearly loved - a boy who had been shaped by his past but who was so much more than the picture of his scars. 

"Love," you whispered into the dark, taking his face into your hands and wiping away those tears that managed to escape his control, "there's nothing to forgive. Nothing in this world could ever tear us apart, not even your father or that mark."

In that moment, Mattheo knew that he would do anything for you, that he would move heaven and earth to ensure your happiness and safety. You were his light in the darkness, his angel in a world filled with demons, and he would cherish that for the time being his heart swelled at the thought of you. You were simply too sweet for him and you knew that Mattheo’s struggles were far from over, but for tonight, that was enough.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified.

[iznsfw]

Hey Iz! Just would like to say that I love how you show Eunbi as softie in your fics which makes me go back to them every now and then. Hope you could do more of Subby Eunbi.

Maybe Wife Eunbi in the future perhaps?

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IZ*ONE's Kwon Eunbi x Male Reader Smut

11,834 words

Categories | wife!Eunbi, fluff, fluffy-to-rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, (is it really IZ who's writing Eunbi if there isn't) daddy kink, praise/degradation kink, choking, squirting, BREEDING

Here you go, thank you so much for the feedback + kind words. Fulfilled this request not only because it was sitting in my inbox even before I announced commissions, but also because it's her 28th. Still a baby 😭

Oh, and also because I feel like shit after reading "Birthday Blues." It makes me cringe and I feel like I could write her better than that.

Happy birthday to the best tokki! To celebrate, take a shot everytime Eunbi says "daddy."

You want to be anywhere but here. 

When will it all even end? It's nighttime but the evening doesn't even try to compensate for the heat in the morning. Where’s the departure of warmth? Where’s the cool breeze that could dull your aching bones? You're starting to believe that the world’s doing this on purpose.

If it explains anything, since your hatred for the sun is so solid: your job requires more than a degree and a calculating mind, so you're out in the fire of the large star for more than a few hours at a time with sweat pouring down on you more than the light is. You still have sunburns from the first time you underestimated it and went out without lotion. Oh, and from the time you overestimated it and still ended up with dark spotting your skin anyway.

It’s no different than what other employed people your age go through, but it remains… tiring. You get up before dawn even has a chance to call itself one and come home when the night’s on the brink of turning into day. The workload always renders you weak, when it's all physical rather than something you can get over with a keyboard, but you force a smile on your face. It'll all be worth it when you come home.

Click your phone on solely to see your wallpaper. It's her, of course, with your daughter in her arms. Yep, they're the ones you call the loves of your life. You simply can't wait to come home.

Well, coming home is a hell of its own, but it's the trip that makes it so. Often, there's the usual road rage from student drivers too inexperienced to be granted the right to let it out, and of course, traffic. 

That also renders you weak, if that’s anything that matters.

That's your current situation: stuck in a public bus in a concrete jungle ridden by vehicles. All the seats are filled with passengers of varying ages but the same exhaustion. That's the reason for your legs threatening to give up, and you wouldn't blame them. You barely had time to sit down for a break the whole day. Oftentimes, it results in your feet starting to quiver of their own accord, even when you lie down, as if still processing the strain it bore the whole day.

"Need a seat?" asks a man who's around the same age as you, but looks completely different. You wear a shirt stained with coffee and sweat; he’s dressed in a suit and pants. "Your legs are shaking."

At least, unlike the other men from offices you've met, he could read the room.

"Thanks," you say, smiling. You can't even muster politeness to refuse the offer when yes, your legs are shaking. Can't say "no, they just do that" or "ah, it's a talent." 

"No problem, man." He returns the smile. He gestures a brow to your phone, which you didn't even notice was still on. "Not to pry or anything, but—"

You know who he's referring to. Chuckle and nod. "Yep, my wife."

My wife. The words echo in your mouth long after leaving. Just two words bring so much happiness crashing into your heart.

"Could have figured." He leans against the pole. "You smiled like hell when you looked at her."

Did you? Most likely. Glancing at her still gives you butterflies in the stomach. Whether from afar, on a screen, or in person, the girl always has you in a chokehold. (Not that she could choke anyone with a heart and height like hers, but it counts metaphorically, for you're down bad. Down crazy for her.)

"Well, she makes my day.” Pause. “I love her."

"She must be a good wife, huh?"

Look down at her and now you're acutely aware of the big smile on your face. "The best,” you affirm. “Just the best.”

-

It takes hours for you to get through the traffic, and by the grace of god above, you're only going to bear the last of it now. Can't fall asleep—you're nearly there. Your subdivision is coming up to view. Nice place, really, rather nice for a first home, and—

There. You get off the bus and thank the man. You had a nice talk with him, and you hope to have more. He pats you on the shoulder and bids you goodbye.

Then, you thank the driver. He doesn't bother to say that you're welcome or anything. Can't be mad at that. You've all had a rough day.

The arc of your subdivision welcomes you to the aisles of houses lined up. You're home, but not quite. It takes walking to and opening the door of the house you've worked for and being engulfed in the arms of the woman you love to be truly home. It's cliché, you know, but it isn't anything far from the truth. 

Open the door to the world where you belong.

"I'm home," you say, because you are. This is home. You have coworkers and friends you love to hang out with, but nothing beats the comfort of being with your family. 

Gently close the entry to the doorway so as not to alarm your daughter and wife with the jingle of the mobile. Or worse, disturb their sleep. You don't expect them to be awake; it's barely two hours to midnight.

But still, there she is.

Kwon Eunbi, the woman you gave your last name and your love to. The ends of her long dark hair brush over the sweater she shares with you, or rather, has stolen with how many nights it hasn't been used by you. Her pretty little face shows exhaustion, but also a smile. Of course, it's that adorable grin you'll never get enough of.

Her steps pick up a faster speed as she rushes to you with light feet. Open your arms, and she fills them, fills them with her small body and fills the air with soft whines of complaint. They're complaints that say: where were you? Why were you gone so long? Please be here forever. Baby? Please. 

She really needed this hug from you, especially the lift. She needs someone to raise her up when she feels small. So, you sweep her off her feet.  Automatically, her legs join behind your waist. Heavy lifting at work has paid off—your arms barely struggle when you carry her, or maybe it's just Eunbi being as light as a feather as usual. 

Your heart aches at the hours she must have spent getting none of the help she needs from you. You nuzzle your nose to hers—if her whines speak of complaints, this act of yours tells her of your apologies.

"Hi there," you mumble through ruffles of her hair. She's still your baby girl after all this time.

"Hi," she says softly.

Press your lips to the crown of her head and pull her in tighter. "What are you doing up so late?" 

"Putting your kid to sleep," she replies. Eunbi juts both of her lips out. "She's such a brat these days."

"Got it from her mother," you reply testily, letting go and setting her on the ground to raise her chin anyway.

"Don't be mean. I had a terrible day. I missed you so bad."

You feel bad now for teasing her. While you have your share of trials, it's Eunbi who spends most of her time attending to your daughter. It's Eunbi who goes day after day helping you out with chores and paperwork with little complaint. You really should choose the right time and place for your banter.

"I'm sorry, pretty. How can I make it up to you?"

"Let's watch a movie," she says hopefully. Her thumbs create gentle patterns on the sides of your head. 

"A movie?"

"Yes. Just you and me."

-

That's how you end up on the sofa, with Netflix on and Eunbi with her head on your shoulder. Her thigh rests on yours, and if it weren't for her hair being the main focus of your fingers, you'd be caressing it. 

"You want some water? A snack?" She snuggles up to you, as if you were her favorite pillow. It's as on the nose as it gets; Eunbi loves being close to you, having your body on top of hers and just feeling your touch.

You shuffle through movie choices with the remote. The posters come up to view one by one with each click. What should you watch tonight? Nothing else than the usual, but you still have to check.

That one. You give her a question with a look though you know she'll nod. It's her favorite, too.

"You don't have to do that for me," you tell her. She really doesn't. You're satisfied having her in the crook of your arm, with one of her beautiful legs thrown over your thigh. "Just enjoy the movie. You worked hard today."

"But so did you."

"It's fine, Eunbi, I promise." 

Cup her jaw and squeeze those soft cheeks together. Her lips look particularly beautiful today. They're pouty, speaking wordlessly about something that's kind of like love. Love and other things. Love and things like virtues that you two aren't really required to follow when morality is common sense. Mostly. But Eunbi's a good person. A good wife. A good girl.

Lean in to kiss that flawless mouth. "Thank you for working hard."

"And thank you for coming home," she whispers quietly. Her gaze is soft. You could see your smile reflect in them.

It takes a strange soul, a soul that’s more than the right amount of grateful, to thank someone for being there. She says it everyday, a constant reminder of how loved you are. It’s weird to others to hear Eunbi say that while she sticks to your arm, but she’s your little oddity. She has been since the day you met her.

The film goes on and so does the familiar dialogue. You let out the occasional laugh—it’s still good with every watch. The characters say the same stuff, go through the same stuff, run through the same stuff yet you're on the edge of your seat. That's the thrill of rewatching favorite movies.

"You remember this one, babe?" Her pretty head angles, making her look more endearing. "I'll be so mad if you don't."

Her lips. Can't take your eyes off them. Brush your fingers on them, feeling their softness, and she giggles. "I do," you say truthfully, tipping her chin up, "but tell me anyway."

"Hmph. You just want me to tell you 'cause you forgot, right?"

"Please." Smile at her. "Pretty, why would I ever forget that night?"

She grins. It's maddening the way the ends of her lips tilt upwards to make her eyes small. All those flashy whites on display, she explains it to you.

"This was the movie we watched on our first date." She kisses your thumb that plays on her lip. Her eyes shine with the narration. "The Notebook."

That seems like so long ago, but it feels like just yesterday when you were nervously shuffling on your then sofa, with the most beautiful woman in the world right next to you. She was and still is so charming, those brows full and mouth always in a state of joy.

Rachel McAdams was your first crush, but Eunbi owns your heart. She has her position locked into the core of your chest for eternity. 

"Y-you asked me what my favorite movie was," Eunbi says softly, stroking the back of your hand, "and you bought me chocolate and popcorn so we could watch it together."

Yep. You were broke back in those days, but you were also very young—that only meant you fell easily for girls with a pretty smile and a soft heart. You hadn't tripped anymore since then. When you fell for her, Eunbi stood you back up and gave you that sweet little smile again, then told you there was no more falling from here on out.

That was why you made ends meet and bought the chocolate you always saw her eat before she took tests. You even talked a cinema worker into letting you get two large buckets of cheese-flavored popcorn for a crashed price, just the way she liked it.

If there was a will, as they said, there was a way.

Things changed since then. You now had the money to go by and support your wife and Yujin, but your heart kept its strings hooked on Eunbi. She had knotted them to her little finger and never left you once.

Remembering these makes you chuckle. "I was a loser, wasn't I?" It's no meaningless self-deprecation—your college student self was down bad for her in ways you can't begin to describe. "I acted so stupid in front of you all the time."

"But I haven't had a guy that willing to be mine."

"Damn. I really am the best, huh?" You stroke her hair. Direct her face to the television screen but she looks back up at you anyway, and when she does you notice her eyes are full with love.

"You are,” Eunbi whispers. She wraps her arms around your waist. "You are."

Your heart beats positively with feelings of wholesomeness for the girl you're so lucky to have. She's amazing, and you feel so fortunate to have someone who loves you the same way you love her.

"Did I mention you were so cute?" you say with a laugh. "You cried while watching it even though it was like the millionth time, and that's—"

"—how we first kissed," Eunbi finishes. She covers her face, humiliated by how she acted in those youthful memories that come back. "You kissed me because I couldn't stop sobbing."

"Even back then you were a crybaby, huh?"

She sulks. "You know me. I'm very emotional. I was so upset and then more upset that when you kissed me I was all puffy and sniffly and—"

"Shhh." You pull her closer and kiss her head. "It was the best kiss I've ever had."

Eunbi looks down with a smile. Content with that, nods understandingly. You resume toying with her locks of ebony while the movie goes on.

You're watching an old favorite, yes, the one that got you and Eunbi linked by hand and eventually ring. It's special to you, a foundation of some sorts. But by the unfocused serenity in her eyes, you can easily figure that Eunbi didn't ask to watch it just for the sake of it. She wants more than alone time.

She wants you.

Halfway through the movie, the look in her eyes is still there. Hence, stringing her hair in between your digits, you ask, softly, "You didn't really want to watch something, did you?"

Eunbi's cheeks flush. Looking down shyly, she shakes her head. "No," she says in a small voice. "I mean, I did! But it was supposed to be like buildup so it can lead to the actual… you know, but…"

You smile. God, she's adorable. You love it when she gets so small. It's an everyday look on her, but it remains as sweet as the first time you had the privilege to witness it.

You lift her up seamlessly and place her on your lap. Notice that the shorts she's wearing live up to their name with how they taper just barely at the beginnings of her soft thighs. They hide beneath the sweater that's twice her size, making her look cuter than she already is.

"Oh, Eunbi." Your hands hug her waist. It doesn't take much to figure out what she really wants. There's only one thing those watery eyes could possibly desire. "You could have just told me."

Eunbi realizes this and starts to whine again. "I'm sorry. I—"

"No, no." Your finger on her lips, you hush her before she could blame herself. "Don't be, understand? Just tell me what you want."

You want to hear her say it, to hear her tell you just how much she needs you. She looks at you nervously, and you rub down her thigh to encourage her. It's what the two of you are made for: to push and pull, go forward and take a step back. 

Eunbi stares at an odd spot on your shirt then sighs. "But you're so tired," she says wistfully.

"Listen: I never am for you. What is it?"

Silence full of hesitation and fear. 

Then, a revelation.

"I want you to fuck me, daddy."

She could have said that nickname alone and you would've known what she meant.

Eunbi's stomach presses against you. Each knee of hers is beside one of your respective hips. She's swallowing, clearly nervous, but continues closing herself to you. She finds comfort in the warmth of your body, and your encouraging timed squeezes on her waist.

Her breathing grows sporadic with every grope. She tenses up, too, and it's no use massaging her to help her loosen up when you swear to god she gets tighter each time.

"Daddy…" she moans, lip trapped under her teeth.

"Pretty?" You kiss the collarbone that peeks from the curved neckline of the sweater. "What is it?"

"Please, hold me. Take me to bed."

"Of course I will."

She whimpers when you take her into your arms and carry her again. Her little arms curl around your neck as you take her to your bedroom with the assurance that your daughter is asleep. Wouldn't want her to see how she was made.

You lay Eunbi on the bed. Kiss her. You're hung up on every aspect of her—her neck, her jaw, her collarbone. All those places deserve kissing since she's so perfect. Such a good girl, in every little way. 

But it's those lips that deserve yours. Her pink tiers are full and plump, and you dive into them gladly. Softness upon softness, you push her deeper into the soft resting place with how your lips ache to be engulfed with her. 

Eunbi closes her eyes. She's floating in the clouds. Your straying touch is too good, and your lips are more so. They know where to kiss so that she's giggling and squirming, know how to kiss so that her breath is gone. She's shuddering beneath you, and you have got to hold her steady as her soft whines fill your ears.

"You're so good, daddy," she gasps. "Oh, ohhh. So so good."

"You're better." 

Kissing Eunbi is always an ethereal experience. She's so eager and needy—she floats her back so her lips could clash deeper into hers and locks them so that they don't have anywhere else to go. Her hands are on the sides of your head, also locking it in place. You're going to be here forever, touching and feeling her.

You're okay with that.

"Not really," she says, shaking her head. She can't speak too well with your teeth nudging the skin of her neck. "Ah, I'm always so talkative and stuff and you have to listen. And you do, a-all the time."

"No no,” you tell her reassuringly. “I love hearing your voice, pretty. Mmm. Of course I would."

You're about to reach between her legs when you hear a soft bell sound come from your phone. Yujin's doctor? Your family? You don't know, but with the bell notification sound you reserved for messages from important people, it must be urgent. 

"Hold on." Stop and get up regretfully. Wipe your forehead of the sweat that accumulated from the heat of the moment. "I have to answer this."

"Awh." Eunbi isn't afraid to speak out her concern, even in a pouty little whine. 

"It'll be just a minute, I promise."

Ruffle her hair while checking your phone. Squint your eyes when you see that the notification is a text message from… Eunbi?

Open it. Then, your voice gets stuck halfway in your throat.

It's a video she sent. Just the thumbnail tells you this isn't just any video. The automatic run of the clip only proves that.

There, on your screen, Eunbi dances in your bathroom, a flimsy see-through cardigan stuck in a wet sheen on her body. The Burberry bikini stands out as it holds her heavy breasts. She's running her fingers down on her figure, eyes never disconnecting from the camera, as the spraying water runs down her legs.

The audio is a familiar sound to Eunbi. Deja vu connects two and two together, and soon her hands are on her face. Your smile extends to your ears.

"What's this, pretty?" You wrap an arm around her and guide her closer. Make her watch her sultry video. "Wanted to make daddy need you?"

"No… no, I'm sorry," she says meekly. Her eyes are all round and bright as they look up at you from behind curled fists. "I wanted to give you a gift, but then I thought it didn't go through since the internet got cut and—"

"You really thought to distract me at work? What if my coworkers see you on my phone putting on a show for me?"

"Daddy, I'm sorry." 

Your next command is blunt, almost intimidating: "On my lap. Bent over. Now."

It's supposed to be a punishment, but Eunbi's face lights up. She nods and does as she's told: she folds that amazing body on your thighs like it always does at your beck and call. Lift the ends of the sweatshirt so that her lower body is revealed to you. Her pretty backside is subjected to firm squeezes.

"Wanted this for so long, right, Eunbi?" 

You know her. You know she's been sexually frustrated all these weeks. You have been, too, but all these change today. You're actually going to work something out. 

The calm before the storm: your meaningful gropes on her supple ass cheeks. Fuck, no panties. Eunbi's just been waiting for it to happen all day, the naughty girl. She's looking back at you in anticipation as if this were something other than a punishment. 

"You waited, didn’t you? You wanted daddy to bend you over his lap and hit this perfect ass. I know you do." Your touch makes its rounds on her. "You're so fucking wet, too."

She nods. God, yes. She's been wanting this for so long. Working and caring for your daughter has held her up and left her deprived of your touch. You send shivers on her skin that's grown sensitive after weeks of no stimulation.

Then, it happens.

You raise your hand as high as it could reach, then throw it at the swells of her ass. Her cheeks bounce, a mesmerizing sight.

"Mmm, daddy," your wife purrs. Her backside blooms with red at your smacks. "That… that feels so good. Really good."

"You're a freak," you chuckle. Don't stop, though. Spank her again as hard as you could; she tosses her head back.

"Of course. O-oh my god." Her eyes float shut. "Fuck, yes, daddy. I'm so wet, I need you so bad."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. I want it, please."

"We’ll see. You wanna say you're sorry?"

"Sorry," Eunbi whispers, muffling her face into the mattress. Maybe she is. "Hnn. Sorry. Sorry."

"I bet you are. Count."

As time goes by, your blows on her ass grow harsher and she barely gets the numbers out of her mouth. You have a feeling she'll lose count along the way. She does. Of course. You've been with her long enough to know how she works, how she unravels.

For example: this spank guarantees sticky wetness on your fingertips. 

It does.

Second: if you grope her tits right here, right where they rest above your thighs, she'll moan louder.

She does.

Third: if you tease your finger on her pussy, slightly rubbing her clit, she'll scream.

She—

"Daddy!" Eunbi sobs, rutting on your lap. "Fuck, fuck, why does it have to hurt so good? Daddy—"

"I said count, pretty," you reprimand her. As much as you love to hear how desperate she gets for you, the rules are clear. 

"God, please…"

"I know I fuck your brains out until you can't think, but I promise you I'm not the almighty."

"So mean. So full of yourself. H-hnn—!" Eunbi retracts her ass from your hand once you deliver what would have been the final scolding slap if she weren't acting up. "Daddy, please don't stop."

She should be hating the idea of this when it's supposed to be a punishment. She should be quivering under your hand, promising to be a good girl, your good girl. Instead, she's sobbing, begging for more like the pain it brings is essential for her to breathe. Like if you don't slap and smack her rippling ass, she'd go weak.

She's weak with or without. Real tears leak from her eyes and her whines have reached the maximum point of need. You can feel her wetness on your lap. 

"Count," you sneer. "From the top. I'll only ask again."

"Sorry. Hah. One."

"Bet you love this, don't you?" Slap her butt so it bounces in response. "Your cheeks are all sore and red for daddy now. But you want more. Why do you think you want more?"

She grows delightfully wetter. Your fingers stick with her juices.

"Oh," she whines, shutting her eyes. "Two."

"I think I know why. You're weak for anything daddy does to you. I could fuck you on the desk, fuck you in the waiting room at Yujin's school, and you'd be such a good girl. You'd be bending over letting me do it. Am I right, Eunbi? I think I am."

A waterfall starts from between Eunbi's legs at your words. She wants you to use her, to know that everything you said is right. She is a sucker for every little thing you want to do to her. 

She has to take a breather before saying, "Three."

"I think I know something else, too: you just want to be daddy's pretty little girl. It's all you ever want that you'd let me kiss and fuck you dusk to dawn. You'd even let me smack your ass all day and make you weak at the knees. It would be a shame if you came just from this spanking. But I know you will."

She clenches yet she can't fight off your harsh blows and firm squeezes. She can't count that many! Her poor butt is red and aching. Stopping is not an option though, not when she's looking at you with watery bunny eyes full of want and denial.

"Aww, princess, gonna cum? You look so close. You're shaking so much. Are you gonna cry? Cry because you want to cum so bad? Then do it, Eunbi. Cum all over me."

She shakes her head. "W-won't, cum…" She purses her lips and squeals, trying to fight off what's already in store for her. "Won't… cum, da– daddy!"

It's the way she screams your name for help even if you're the one hitting her; the way she wails in your lap and remains there in spite of the spanks that follow each other at the heel; the way she screams out for you and a god that would have disapproved of what you two were doing. Eunbi kicks and struggles and spasms, actions ridden with tears. It's what drives your slaps to unfurl with a fury that you'd never dare do unto her if this setting were any different.

"Daddy, daddy! Ohh shit, please—"

Stuff your fingers into her small mouth and smack her rapidly. She screams and cries, clinging onto the last bits of sanity. You're too harsh with her. Shouldn't daddies be taking care of their baby girls? So why are you so mean?

And why is she loving it? 

"Oh no." Palm her ass. Gently squeeze its round globes then kiss her neck. "My poor, pretty little thing. Who did this to you? Who made you so wet and needy?"

It's the mixture of mockingness and concern that has Eunbi trembling on your lap. You could be so kind yet so cruel to her. Seeking solace in the gentle circles your hand makes, she whimpers out, "You, daddy."

"That's right." Nudge your erection to her mound. "And who's making me this hard?"

"Me." As she says it, her ears turn pink. You've praised her so many times and still her face grows warm with self-consciousness.

"Of course. You're too fucking pretty. Want to sit on daddy's lap?"

"Yessss, please." 

Eunbi wipes the tears from her eyes. Her legs are liquid, and you're required to help balance her when she stands up to sit down anyway on your legs anyway. 

She curls her legs into your lap and raises her fingers to her lips. You're rubbing her arm and telling her you're here, yet another truth. You'll always be here for her, even when you get rough with her. Don't mistake it all for merely lust.

This is what home feels like. 

Rock her for a while. Let her breathe. Carefully brush away a stray tear and kiss the place it used to reside. 

"I love you," you tell her. "I love you to death."

"I love you, too, daddy," she whispers. "My daddy."

She's trembling. You furl her into your arms more tightly and press your mouth to her hair. She pushes herself deeper into your touch appreciatively. 

With her hands returned on her lap like the good girl you made her and eyes tearful, she looks so cute. She looks like the girl who's exactly the type to get on your thigh and let you do whatever you want to her, and it couldn't be more accurate. She's perfect.

"Pretty girl, pretty girl. Eyes up here."

Eunbi's sniffling quietly, and you run your hand up and down her back to calm her sobs.  She redirects her focus. She's obedient now, following all the rules. 

You ask, gently, "Need to breathe?" 

"I'm okay, daddy," she says. She leans against your chest. "Thank you."

You nod. That's your go signal. Your green light.

So, your touch traces from her shoulders to under that big sweatshirt. Right there between those fantastic legs. The spanking left her weak and wet. Just a few rubs make you hear the slick sounds.

You feel her then, right there on her drenched core. She tenses up again. Her legs close yet you part them to gently, gently tease her nub. It only goes up and down like that but she's already quivering again.

That draws a gasp out of her. She looks at you, swallows, then closes her eyes tightly as you continue. Only soft whimpers squeeze past her lips. She's taking it all with such resilience that you're actually amazed. 

"That's it. So pretty and good for me. Maybe I should reward that, don't you think?"

Eyes still closed, she nods. Excellent. Test her limits with poking a single finger into her waiting pussy. 

That's how her eyes end up fluttering open. You finger her fast and hard, making the poor girl have to go through another bout of harshness. She's enjoying it in spite of it all; her pretty pussy just clenches perfectly around you, ever so wet. 

"Daddy." She says this with urgent breaths. "Daddy? Need you." Then her voice gets higher. "Daddy, please—p-please—"

"I'm here, hon," you say, reassuring her as you toy with her cunt. Her legs shake, but you carry on. "What does Eunbi want me to do?"

You're blocking her thoughts from forming. She lifts herself up and grinds blindly, but she knows she has to answer. She knows she has to tell you something, because that's what good girls do, right? And Eunbi's exactly that: your good girl. Your good, sweet little girl.

Oh, but she can't, she can't. She can't answer it when your fingers are all the way inside her, constantly shoving and pulling strings of moistness out of her. She turns to you and opens her mouth, but she never gets to say anything. 

It continues like this for lengthened moments, with Eunbi barely holding on and squirming on top of you, and your fingers neatly sheathing and unsheathing from her pussy. Her vulnerable expressions show that she can't talk or act properly—all she can do is moan and squeal and beg. 

It isn't a fair game. Recognizing this, you kiss the side of her head and propose, "Let's make this easier, pretty." 

And you make it anything but. You spread her legs and press her back snug to your arm. From there, you keep fingering her. Aim to ruin all the resistance in her pussy. Impossible; she's too damned tight. 

"Where would you like me to touch you?" you ask. "Your tits?"

Reach up under her clothes to feel her up. Squeeze her breasts. She squeezes up once more and sobs a little. The breaths leave her nostrils sharply when you start to grope her. 

"Mmm." Eunbi nods, but still looks unsure.

"Your thighs?"

Rub them down. They're always so meaty and soft. She purses her lips and nods at that, too.

"Or your ass?" you ask with a wicked grin.

Take one finger out of her and instead lead it to her asshole. Tap it teasingly. She scurries her butt into your hands.

"It could be anywhere, Eunbi. Just tell me."

Eunbi nods. But she needs to enjoy this for now. She lets you fuck her with your digits before settling for a decision. 

She touches your mouth with a quivering finger. "I need your mouth on my pussy, daddy," she says. "Please? I'll be careful not to hurt you, I promise."

You stop fingerfucking her. Place her gently beside you. Then, you move upwards before staying right below the headboard of your bed. Your back is flat on the mattress.

"No need to be careful," you tell her. She could break your neck and you wouldn't care. "Just come here and sit on my face."

Your blunt words make her blush. But she crawls up and spreads her legs. You're there to appreciate her beautiful legs and her shaven, pink little pussy. She looks down at you with concern, but you tap her thigh reassuringly. 

Convinced, Eunbi places herself gingerly on your mouth. The first contact is effective in breaking her again for she lets out a vulnerable little moan and raises her hips again, only to sit back down on you.

As expected, Eunbi tastes like everything sweet, everything beautiful. You slide your tongue up and down between her pussy lips, then flick it on her clit. She cries out, her hands instinctively going for your hair. But she remembers her promise to be careful. She's forced to have to bite on the back of her hand.

You make it more difficult for her. You love keeping her on her toes. Rest your hands on her thighs—her thick, full thighs—and pull her down. You don't care if she'll suffocate you; you'd give anything to have her reeling and crying. Her legs squeezing your head is your reward for eating her out so well.

"Daddy," she hiccups. She seals herself on your head and freezes due to the pleasure. "Feels so good, keep doing that, please."

How could you deny her of anything? She tastes so sweet and whines so prettily that you have no other path to go down than the way to eating her pussy harder. 

Kiss her labia lovingly, a teaser for the main thing, which is slipping your tongue all the way into her tight hole and circling it inside her. Waste no time in licking up and down, appreciating her folds. 

Her body barely weighs down on you. She remains afraid of hurting you, and you have to grip her hips to keep her down. Soon, it becomes a game of lifting and chasing, as if her cunt were a distant dream you only wish to attain.

You're determined though. Too determined for a dreamer. Your hands caress her fit ass to ease the pain your spanks induced and you reach deep inside her to trigger more juices into your mouth.

"Please, please, please—" Eunbi's voice cracks and she buries her face in her hands. She doesn't even know what she's begging for now. All her thoughts have vanished. You're dumbing her down into a shaky, squirting mess who needs only her daddy's mouth.

She's carefully grinding down on you, keeping herself slightly aloft so as not to crush you. But you insist on the opposite; you tug her down and seize her clit between your lips. Start to suck, hard.

She's not so careful anymore. 

"Daddy!" Her pussy crashes down on your face and begs for more of you, begging you to draw her needs beneath and fulfill it. 

Of course, you give in. You torture her clit with sucks that transcend control, keeping it latched tight between your lips, and grab your wife's hips to scurry her downwards. She can't go anywhere now.

"Oh—oh no, daddy," she gasps, her fingers curling around the headboard like ribbons, "don't do that! Don't do that, I'll cum!"

That's exactly your intention. Pulling down her thick thighs so that her pussy covers your face, you let your tongue dance and glide everywhere on her eager little core. Eunbi screams. Tears pour down her face as her juices spill down on you. You lap her nectar up the best you can, but some still slide on your chin, as well as the sides of your face. You make up for the lost drops and instead go for those that are dripping directly from her cunt—yes, this will make you a god. Feels accurate when you’re already in paradise with Eunbi’s legs around you and her screams filling your ears like prayer.

"Daddy, slow down a little!" Eunbi yells. Her thighs crush your head while her hips cringe to and fro. She purses her lips before letting out a feral cry. "Daddy!"

You follow up with a few last licks at her sensitive clit. Eunbi's out of breath, but you're not, despite being held captive by her thighs just a few seconds prior. That's why your lips still find her pussy, bringing it to complete weakness, cornering its sensitivity and preying on it. Eunbi sobs, wrists on her face, as you continue violating her pussy. You're never leaving it unattended.

"Daddy," she says tiredly. "Oh, daddy, too much, daddy—"

The natural flood of her orgasm overflows. You tap on her thigh encouragingly and open your mouth to taste her. "Yes, yes, that’s it, you’re so fucking delicious. Daddy loves when you cum on his face. Come on, baby, come on, my good girl."

Eunbi's legs give out. She moves away from your head in order not to hurt you and collapses on your bed. Her whole body is aquiver.

"Daddy," she calls out for you. "Daddy, please."

"You're alright, baby," then trail your thumb along her chin and jaw; guide her with demonstrations and soft words, "take a deep breath." 

The overstimulated girl quivers and mewls. 

"You're alright," you say. Kiss that forehead that's recently been covered with a cute fringe, and then kiss her mouth. "My pretty girl's alright. Daddy loves you."

It's a reminder that you'll make again and again without getting tired. Eunbi's so lovely that you want to make her know she's safe with you, that she's loved.

Her reply is expected but relieves you anyway. "I love you, too, daddy." 

Her breath catches as you kiss her. It's messy, torrid, too, when her hands hook into your head with a touch that's weak yet worshipful. 

“Mmm, my daddy, my only daddy.” She kisses you sloppily, almost drunkenly. One thing leads to another, and your hands are on her hips to lead her on your lap again. Her breathy bedroom voice turns you on so much. “I love you. Daddy, I love you so much.”

"Just wanted to taste yourself on my lips, didn’t you?” you ask. You see right through her.

She blushes. There's your answer.

“No problem with that. You taste delicious. Here.” 

Swiping up a line of slick from her delicate pussy, you guide your slick fingers into her mouth. She latches onto them and holds your wrist in place as her sweet mouth seeks to taste everything. 

"Thank you," she murmurs. "Love you. So good to me."

This is what paradise is. Eunbi's broken words spill from the sides of her mouth while she licks her cum off your fingers. Her eyes are closed, deep in worship for you. What a worst time to be religious. After having just spanked her and eaten her delicious pussy, she has no place to be saintly. Sacrilege at best. 

But you let her, since she's so good. Such a good girl for you.

"You’re good to me, too, pretty." The nickname has not once left your mouth with how it fits her so much. The bangs she sports and those naturally full, pouty lips make her the most beautiful woman in the world. "Since you're such a thankful princess, you deserve to cum again. You want to cum again?"

"Really? Daddy? Daddy, you'll let me cum again?" 

"You don't want to?"

"No, no, I want. I want it." Eunbi nods her head and looks up at you with desperation. "Make me cum again."

"So demanding," you reprimand her. "Guess you don't want me to go through and worship these?" 

Reach up behind her and touch her right where everyone expects you to: her large, round tits. They're what everybody looks at, and it honestly makes you feel a little possessive. But you always are reminded of how right they could be. They look so full even behind thick fabric.

"Daddy!" They're also where she's most sensitive. She lets out tiny squeals all while you're having your wicked way pinching the pink tips.

"Ohh, you like that, huh?" You squeeze; she locks her legs together and whines. "Makes you want to scream for me? Scream and yell like a needy little girl?"

You know how this goes. Given the sensitivity on her breasts, she'll whine out and beg more than she would if you touched her anywhere else. She'll probably even cum on the spot like she did when you spanked her. There's a common factor here, you think. Gotta place what that is.

Eunbi's eyes water and she says, "Daddy, please. I need you, don't be mean to me."

Found it. It’s you. Not to be narcissistic and everything, but it’s definitely you.

"Alright. Take your clothes off. Want to see how pretty you look under all of them."

She lifts her shirt up. Your mouth waters. Each bit of her perfect, curvy body is uncurtained—the flat of her tummy, the curves of her hips, the undersides of her breasts. Then her breasts themselves. The deep cleavage has your eyes coming out of their sockets, along with the massive recoil they do as they're released from the hem.

Her hair is messier now. The neckline and fabric did a number on them. The fringes are all over the place. 

Laugh fondly. Meanwhile, you straighten her bangs. "You alright there, pretty?" you say. 

"Mhm," she hums, giggling, too, albeit shyly. Then her eyes turn needy, their glimmer unmistakeable. "Please?"

You push her down gently on the pillows, pinning her back to the blankets. Her long hair is in a disarray behind her as you kiss her body. The flat of her tummy tenses when you press your lips there. What really gets her moaning, however, is your mouth on her tits. Her beautiful, perfect tits.

Press them together with a hard squeeze. Run your tongue on one of the hard nipples. She sharply gasps, looking down at your sinful little doings. You gaze back up at her with unwavering eye contact as you suck on her nipple as you did to her clit.

Same effect. She's whining again. 

"Daddy, daddy, daddy—" 

You've lost count of the many times she's said that. 

You don't mind adding a lot more to the list.

"What is it, baby?" 

Eunbi makes her desires known through bated breaths and little moans. "Now,” she says. “Inside me. Please."

It takes no time taking your pants and briefs off. It is painful, though; your cock is a rod solid and lengthy for the idea of fucking your wife after all those weeks of being held back. Her naked body waiting for you just tempts you even more. Her legs are spread, her face radiates need, and her pussy is dripping wet. You know she wants you the same way you want her.

So why hold back?

You can’t hold back your feral pump nor your groan either. Slipping inside Eunbi’s warm, drenched pussy is like reminiscing a wild memory. Her grip brings you back to all the times you’ve made love to her, right on this bed, until she curled up and begged you to go faster. It makes you promise to give it to her this time hard and fast, the way you know she likes it.

Give her every inch, then take them back. Give them again. Withdraw. You choose this cycle and Eunbi couldn’t love it more. You have to battle with the tightness her pussy inflicts all the time, and it’s both a pro and a con with how it hugs your length and caresses it with the texture of her walls while refusing to let you in. You can see Eunbi’s face twist as she tries to relax, but each part of you that she’s fed, she ends up tightening and moaning again.

“You’re fucking me s-so well,” says Eunbi strainedly. Her fingers sink into the sheets as she trembles with your unforgiving thrusts. “I missed this so much.”

You did, too. You missed controlling Eunbi sexually, having her weak and on her knees. You missed the comfort of her warm little hole that’s always skilled in its job of milking you dry. It’s still strong and exceptional in its talent.

Eunbi’s noises are loud and unbridled. She always drones on and on, something that makes her cuter than she already is, and there’s no difference in the bedroom. She moans and talks about how amazing it feels, how you’re penetrating her perfectly. And all the same, you love hearing her.

“So fucking tight,” you say. You just have to drive your hips upwards, to send her rocking to and fro. “Take it all, okay? I know my pretty girl can do it. She’s the perfect thing for daddy’s cock, isn’t that right?”

Eunbi’s ears grow pink. She nods, because that's another thing that’s true. She is your perfect girl, your only girl you’d take at night. Your husky words of praise go at odds with how you’re fucking her, with her ass up in the air and her legs in your hard touch, but it turns her on so much that she’s willing to do anything—anything for you to go on and have your way with her.

And have your way with her you do. You push yourself past her pussy lips and let them hug the sides of your length after you fill her up entirely. Her cunt pulsates, and it drives you to drop the whole of your hips in between her legs, flicking past her G-spot.

“M-mmm!” Even with just a hum, Eunbi stutters. Your hands on her tits kneading and tightening make her lose all common sense. Coupled with your cock ruining her insides, she can’t think straight. 

She doesn’t have to when you’re here to catch her. You’ll think for her so she’s allowed to lie back. Right now, you’re thinking of completely ruining her.

“Oh, oh my god, daddy,” she says the moment you thrust up into her with more precise strokes. She looks down at your cock swiftly drilling her. "That's—so—ffffuck!"

Eunbi begins to curl up, the heat overtaking her, but you spread her legs. Force her to take you by stuffing her cunt even more. Her tightness grows and soon she's yelling, almost in an episode of frenzy. 

You're humping her like you need it as much as you would water and food, without care for how much you're digging her into the blankets or how much she screams. There's only one thing you want and that is to be buried all the time in her sweet little pussy. You can tell that it's what she wants, too—her hips gyrate, weak yet determined, and she's filling the room with her screams.

"Yes, yes, yes." She places a hand over the back of your own that's on her breast. "Fuck me, hurt me, d-do whatever you want with me, I'm just your pretty girl—daddy, don't stop, please!"

To hear her talk about herself so lewdly and feed your mind with the idea that you could do anything to her makes you force your groin up and slam her legs on your shoulders. Fight against the resistance of her pussy, slap her bouncing thighs, push only forward to fill her up.

"I promise, Eunbi, I'm not stopping," you say, a new oath made. You lean in darkly and stare right into her eyes. They're that of a prey's; she had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. "I'm gonna fuck you until you're squirting and crying, and I know that's what you want, right? To have daddy make you cum like he always does?"

"Yes, faster, please!"

"Fuck." You pause, and before she could complain, you place a hand on her throat and push her down. "Then you're gonna fucking get it."

She's talked to you about this before. She's proposed to have you pin her down and choke her, shyly saying it with a cutesy plea to her words, but you always refused. You didn't want to go too far. Now, however, you give her what she wants: 

Close your hand around her neck. The look on her face is immaculate—her eyes are wide with both bliss and thrill, and her mouth is open. For the first time, she doesn't make any noise. She's letting it all out in a silent, withheld scream. 

Squeeze. She gasps. There's a river of wetness inside her; it flows freely and limitlessly, pouring onto your shaft and the sheets. 

"God, pretty," you say lowly. "Your pussy gets so tight when I choke you. Like you want me to keep choking you until you beg and beg. What's with that now? I thought you wanted me to be gentle."

Your hips don't stop; they're almost invincible. They don't tire of pistoning in between her legs. And Eunbi doesn't get tired of squeezing, of crying. Her whole body's in desperate heat, and you're the bad predator giving in to it. You’re using her, violating her—and she’s sprawled out taking it all, loving each second of it.

You firmly pinch her nipple. Her frozen, desperate look is broken with her loud scream. Its volume is tightened when you curl your fingers harder into the flesh of her neck. That's the neck you've kissed before, when she wanted to make love and when she needed a hug—it's so out of character for you to suddenly be using it in depriving her of a breath she so desperately needs.

“What? Can’t speak?” you say. Words say themselves without your mind registering them first. Even so, Eunbi clings to each and uses them to roll her core harder into your erection. “Is daddy choking you too hard? You’re so fucking wet from me doing it, pretty. I should do this more to you. I’d fucking keep you here and choke the hell out of you.”

Oh, the fantasy is tempting. You imagine calling a day off from work, as hard as it is to register for one, and using it to fuck your wife in all the corners of the house. With Yujin at school and the schedule empty, you could fill her pussy with cum and have her bent in all the best positions, each done with your hand on her throat. By the helpless look on her face, you know she loves the idea, too.

“Yes, daddy!” she screams. Those are your words of affirmation. Her gasps for air leave her more often, yet you keep your hand pinned to the base of her neck. “More, I need more, please give me more!”

“Look at you. You’re crying so hard. I can feel your throat pulse. You need to breathe so bad. But you want daddy’s cock more. What should I give to you then, huh, baby?”

“M-make me cum! Make me cum instead, daddy, I don’t need anything else!”

You could do that. It’ll happen anyway. She’s far too tight for one person to handle, backfiring on her so much that it drags her closer to the edge. And you’re pushing her with each thrust, with no offer of rescue.

“Such a spoiled little girl,” you tut, leaning in to bite her ear, “but so fucking pretty.”

Pretty girls like her, no matter what they do, deserve to cum. Swing yourself deep in between the hanging pillars of her legs and cum she does. Mouth open and on the cliffs of desperation and submissiveness, she lets out a squeezed scream. Her fist is firm on your wrist, making sure it doesn’t leave her throat as the thrill of the danger makes her cum harder than she thought she would.

Finally, your hand loosens. She gasps. Her wonderful chest rises and falls, air finally entering her lungs. Her head feels light; it’s the most gratifying experience she’s had in a while. 

It’s the same for you. Maybe the sexual frustration that accumulated over the weeks was a good thing. You let it all out on her and now you’re throbbing.

“Daddy?” She’s a survivor of a storm who just emerged from the flood of lust.

“Yeah?” You soothe her, like you always do whether after sex or when she’s overwhelmed. “You want anything?”

“Think… you need to look at the time.”

“Let me run you a bath first, please, baby?” You lean down and kiss her forehead, rubbing the space on her chest where her heart beats fastly. It worries you, and for a moment you wonder if you should ever do this again. She’s catching her breath and failing. “You’re so worn out.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, daddy, listen to me, please?” She closes her eyes to collect her composure that was lost after and while you fucked her.. “Look at the time.”

“It’s…” You steal a look at the digital clock sitting on your bedside table. It’s sometime after twelve midnight. “Midnight.”

“And you, haah, know what that means, right? Right?”

“It’s…” 

It hits you. The knowledge infiltrates your brain and suddenly all lust is gone. Your heart’s only filled with feelings of affection for the girl you’re incredibly lucky to share your love and home with. You welcome her into the depths of your embrace.

“It’s the twenty-seventh,” you murmur. “Your birthday.”

Your own heart starts to beat faster at the thought. Eunbi’s just spent another year with you, another year with Yujin. Your family grows everyday with love, and it brings you more satisfaction than your job could.

You look at Eunbi. Observe her sharp nose, beautiful hair, and lips that are always calling out for you. You realize in that moment that you can’t be more grateful that she’s the girl you married. There are plenty of girls out there who might have wanted you, but your heart doesn’t belong to them. It belongs to her, your wife. Your princess.

“Happy birthday.” Stroke her hair and gently tuck it behind a red ear. “Baby girl, I’m so grateful to have you, you know?”

She flushes. Eunbi loves that you’re always there to tell her she means something. “Thank you.”

You ought to do something special for her. She works so hard and loves so hard that it’s only right that her birthday is special. But your ideas are simple, and you decide to just let her choose. Anything she wants, you’ll give.

“What do you want us to do today?”

Eunbi takes a moment to inhale, then opens her eyes. She’s never looked more sure. Though her voice is weak, it holds conviction.

“I want us to stay here in this bedroom, daddy.” She clasps your hand and places it from her face to her pussy. “I want you to fuck me harder. I want you to do it until I can’t feel my legs.”

Your eyes widen. She’s never been this upfront. It’s rare to see that firm look in her irises.

“Then…” Eunbi pauses although she knows what to say next. She knows what she wants from you. “I want you to breed me, daddy.”

The silence from your end is lined with shock. You can’t say anything—your words are lost in the ends of your mouth due to the feeling of Eunbi’s slick, hot pussy under your touch. She’s as wet as she was before. She obviously wants more.

“You didn’t cum yet,” she explains. She grinds your fingers on her lacy, wet core, and whimpers at how hot it feels post-orgasm. “So when you do, I want it all here. Right here. It’ll fill me up so much that I might get pregnant.”

It’s been a while since you released inside Eunbi. You’ve always taken special care to practice safe sex, even unprotected. You’ve let her swallow your cum instead or unloaded into a rolled condom. Now, the offer she’s making—of bearing you another child, of letting you give her another little joy to take care of—has you speechless. Would she really let you?

“You’ll do it for me, right?” Eunbi rolls on top of you, her amazing body pressed to your skin. Although she’s above you, she couldn’t be more of a submissive, needy girl. Each limb of hers strains to be touched and controlled. There’s a reason she wants you as her birthday present. “You’ll pound me full of cum and drill it all into my womb, all so I could be your pregnant birthday girl?”

“Pretty…” you say, not knowing what else to tell her. Hesitation curls around your mind and body. You’re not totally convinced she’s sure about this.

Her large eyes are wanton with lust and her lower lip’s sealed beneath those teeth. She nods, happy that you finally responded. 

“Yes, yes, that. You always call me pretty, daddy, and… I really like it. But can you imagine how much prettier I could be if you gave me your baby? My tits would look even bigger, and they’d be so sensitive that if you sucked them, I’d cum on your lap instantly.”

How do you breathe again?

“And when people ask me about us, I’ll be the good wife at your side, standing there and saying I’m just so happy to have my daddy’s baby.”

The thought of Eunbi shaking as you overstimulated her by just playing with her nipples makes you warm on the inside and out. Additionally, that image she painted of herself: the silent girl, the pretty wife beside you who’s full with a baby and wearing a smile so innocent it deceives people of what she wanted today—it makes you feral. Not even warm or hot, just the pure carnal desire to knock her up.

“And you know what else, daddy?”

“W-what?” Now you’re the one who feels like they were just left in a chokehold minutes ago. Your mind just runs with ideas of fucking her senseless.

“They’re going to think we planned it all along. But no; what they don’t know is that it was by chance. That Eunbi asked for it suddenly, and you gave in. You gave her creampie after cream—”

Well, you could say that you’re easily convinced.

Eunbi’s prone when you switch positions, quickly taking back your lost power and pinning her back down. You press her legs together and push them down; she peeks from behind them, thrilled to see what you would do after she successfully riled you up. Obviously, you don’t give it to her just yet; you set your cock on her splayed pussy lips and start to grind down on her. 

“Thirsty brat,” you tell her. You tighten your squeeze on her ankles so she remains still while you hump her, but never really giving her the real thing. Groan; even without penetrating her, she feels wet and hot. “When did pretty become such a bad girl?”

Her clit throbs and you do, too. Why are you lying to yourself and acting like you don’t want to dick her down? 

“Bred, bred, bred. Need to be bred.” Eunbi’s lower body rolls. She’s panting. “Need to feel your big cock inside me.”

Fuck, you’re gonna give in anyway. You say: “What’s the magic word?” 

Eunbi swallows. You think you’ve seen that before. She was underneath you that time, too. “Please, daddy.”

The magic word is “please,” but if she says your favorite name with that, there’s a hundred percent chance she’ll get what she wants. She increases the chances with her downturned little mouth and her hands folded together. You don’t know if you should cuddle or fuck her. That’s your daily dilemma with Kwon Eunbi.

“Ahhh, so big!” 

Her shout of pleasure is instant, and it continues with the rhythm of your pumps. You don’t bother creating a buildup—it’s her birthday; she’ll get what she wants. And you know that Eunbi likes it rough and hard. Don’t mind the bruises and spots of red on her skin and ass; it’s what she craves more than anything.

You do, too. But this experience is more gratifying because you actually get to stay inside her hole when you cum. Your seed would go straight to her womb, and everyone would know that it’s you who made her pregnant. Moan at that concept which gives strength to your muscles to keep pushing, keep thrusting, keep bringing you to orgasm so your wife, who you’d do anything for, would get what she wants.

You make sure each thrust you inflict on Eunbi’s fertile body hits her cervix, a prophecy of what’s to come. She groans helplessly—her knuckles turn white as they grip the fabric beneath her that’s sure to be stained with both of your juices. Who cares, though? It would be a constant reminder of the night you made Eunbi’s birthday wish come true. It would be a memory of what brought your future child into the world.

“I want it deep, daddy!” gasps Eunbi. “So deep that I can’t feel anything, daddy, harder, please!”

She knows the power in her begging and how easily you fold for a girl like her. You’d give her another spanking for that, but you give her a punishment she benefits from anyway: rougher thrusts that slap your balls to her spanked ass.

But she’s the birthday girl. So you fulfill her desire and drive yourself into her core until your balls aren’t just slapping her ass anymore but are pressed firmly to her crotch.

“Oh yes! Just like that!” Eunbi levitates her back off the creaking cushions and screams. You’re starting to fear she’ll wake Yujin. Good thing she sleeps like a log. “Pound me, cum inside me!”

It seems like there’s degrees of roughness you haven’t reached yet. Your thrusts grow in speed and harshness as time goes by, and the strength is limitless. Although you’re only doing the same thing which is fucking Eunbi in hopes of breeding her, your tempo doesn’t stay the same. It hits her with a force impelled by lust, pushing the sins deeper inside her that it starts to corrupt her, too.

Your balls are heavy with an impending load. Slapping her thighs, you momentarily part them so you could rub her clit side to side, the way you know she’s weak for. Eunbi’s expression changes into bliss to paradise itself—her tightness chokes your length from head to base.

"God fuck!" Eunbi lets out a spray of wetness as her body thrusts upwards. "Cumming!"

Oh she’s cumming alright, but she’s also squirting. There’s no time to weep over not putting a towel beneath her; you’re stuck watching Eunbi’s pussy become soppier while it releases a messy jet of girl cum. You marvel at how more comes out if you give it to her harder.

Ever the crybaby even in sex, tears start to fall down in little droplets down her red cheeks. They source from all three: pleasure, pain, overstimulation. It’s destroying her and yet she relishes each hit.  

“Do it now, please, it’s too much! Breed me now—c-can’t—take—it!”

Shove yourself to the depths of her and unload. Your wife exhales repeatedly. There’s so much of your sticky load that it overflows inside her hole and creams her outer lips. Push yourself further and pull her legs up so it’s all guaranteed to go to her womb.

“Like this, pretty? Your pussy’s gonna take every drop, right?” Even in your craze of lust you could hear yourself weakening.

The cum that shoots into her never seems to stop.

“Yes, so much,” Eunbi moans quietly. Her arms are limp beside her. As her consciousness dies, her orgasm lives on. “Breed me, daddy, ohhh… breed me… breed… me…”

-

Yujin’s thick black hair, all inherited from her mother, looks perfect today. What makes it more satisfying is that those braids running down her head and the cute pigtails were fixed by you. 

“Wow, it’s so perfect!” Your daughter admires herself in the vanity mirror and grins up at you. “Thank you, papa!”

Her young yet advanced vocabulary makes you chuckle. As you hear it, you realize you can’t wait until she grows up and starts to talk even more beautifully, like the words she takes from the books you always see her nose buried in.

It’s 7:00 AM, and Yujin’s bus is about to come to the driveway. You’re lucky to have finished fixing her hair on time. That’s partly why you reciprocate the smile. The main reason is that your daughter manages to chip away your tiredness and make it all worth it.

“Of course, Yujin,” you say. “Be good at school, okay?”

“I always am, papa!”

Your daughter always carries this confidence wherever she goes. You’re glad you and Eunbi raised her properly so she isn’t doubtful of herself. She’s going places—the girl’s only six yet she speaks and multiplies better than you can. Not that you’re embarrassed; it makes you more proud of her.

“And behave for your mommy, okay? It’s—”

“—her birthday!” she finishes giddily. Yujin never forgets anything, especially birthdays. She just celebrated hers a month ago. “Can I greet her?”

Pause. Has Eunbi recovered or is she laying there getting off to what happened? “Maybe later?” you say, hoping not to sound suspicious. “Mommy’s… just having a sleep-in day. Just make her a card or write her a poem when you come back home.”

“Okay!” Yujin replies. She turns her head to the yellow bus peeking at the semi-circular window of the door. “Bye, papa!”

You tell her the same. Wave goodbye to her. You make sure she gets on the bus before turning away. Time to attend to your other princess.

Usually, you’d spend time admiring your house as you walk to wherever you need to go. You’re proud of the bookshelves and design, but today is a day different from all the others. You only have one clear vision the moment you open the door of your room with your wife.

She’s sound asleep. Her little body’s curled up under the comforter and her head is nestled in the hood of the zipperless jacket you changed her into the night before. She looks so adorable in it that you want to just take her into your arms and bite her cheeks. You have strange instincts when it comes to seeing your wife, who could switch between being a sexbomb to a girl you’d protect any time of the day.

Unlike Yujin, she’s a light sleeper, for she catches your footsteps seconds before you crash down into the mattress with her. 

“Daddy?” she asks sleepily. She reaches for you. You catch her hand.

“Too early for that, isn’t it?” You smile into her hair anyway. “Good morning, pretty. Happy birthday.”

The nickname isn’t sexual anymore. It’s a pet name now, a call for you to take care of her. And you do your duty well, gathering her into your touch and keeping her protected from the cold.

Eunbi says her thank you, then blinks.“Y-Yujin, she still has to dress—”

“I took care of it.” You gently guide her back down in your arms. “She's on the bus.”

The panic dissolves from her face. She turns around to hug you back. All she says is contained in a little whisper: “Thank you, daddy.”

She throws a knee over your hip and ushers you to herself. As expected, to be honest. Eunbi loves all forms of affection, especially the physical kind. So you give her all of it: a kiss, a tighter embrace, a touch that wanders but not too far. Like you said, it’s too early.

Eunbi hums into your neck. “I’m so happy.”

“Yeah?” 

“Mhm. You make me happy.”

“You just want to get bred again,” you joke. Kiss away the pouty look on her face. “I’m kidding. You make me happy, too, pretty.”

What you say is nothing short of the truth. Eunbi fills your life with purpose. You wake up and keep doing so to make sure she has someone. You work so she’s well provided for, even if she has her own job herself. You come home so that the nights aren’t lonely. You know a lot of men who couldn’t say the same about their relationship with their wives.

You’re happy to be the different one for once. You’ll always love Eunbi. Even after you die, you’d be looking out for her, if there ever is an afterlife.

“You and Yujin are the most important people to me,” you tell her. 

“Well, after you bred me…” Eunbi smiles slyly. “There’ll be another important person in your life, daddy.” A pause. “Maybe we’ll name them Wonyoung?”

You shrug. You don’t know. But then you’re overcome by the urge to kiss her. You act on it, pecking her. It turns into something deeper, and soon you’re on top of her again, rendering her whining once more.

As you kiss Eunbi, you realize that there’s no sure path to the future. But all you know is that you’ll stay with her along the way, and that you’re excited for all the good things to come.

[ann1-wr1tes]

Nanami Kento NSFW Alphabet

Dynamics: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Spicy Alphabet

Warnings: Adult themes, obviously smut, mentions of giving head, light bondage

A/N: So this is a little apology for not writing anything for ya'll. I've been busy but hope you guys enjoy this!

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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

-Kento is incredibly attentive and sweet after having sex. Honestly he always wants to check in with you after, to make sure you're okay and to make sure he knows if there was anything you didn't like. Then of course he's quick to get you some water and perhaps one of your favored snacks. Then he likes to run a bath for you and help clean you up. While he cleans you, he's always sure to press kisses everywhere he can. If there are any bruises anywhere, he'll always be extra attentive with those.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-His favorite body part of his partner would be your tits. Doesn't matter what size, color, or shape. He is a man who can appreciate some boobs...respectfully of course. Though if you asked him he'd be too much of a gentleman to ever fully admit that.

-On himself her particularly likes his hands. After all, he can do so much with them. He can use them to smooth down your body, gently run through your hair, or of course he would finger fuck you until your crying.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-He honestly doesn't care to make too big of a mess so he definitely prefers to cum inside you. Of course, he'll wear a condom if you ask and i'll be honest, he's got a huge breeding kink.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-He 100% uses pictures of you from his wallet to jack off. It may seem innocent when he pulls out his wallet and looks upon all the pretty pictures he has of you but sometimes behind closed doors, he misses you so much that he can't help it. You're just too cute~

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-I can imagine Kento has a little bit of experience but not a lot. He's a busy, busy man keeping up with his job and then going back to Jujutsu Tech so he probably doesn't get laid that often. Granted, he has watched some porn but its not a whole lot.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-Any position where he can see your face. Though I do think his two favorites would be Missionary and Cowgirl. Missionary is nice and easy, not too complicated and he can still fuck you good while getting to look at all the pretty expressions and reactions you have.

-For Cowgirl he'd really like that when he's tried from a long day of work. He gets to hand over the reins to you a little while you slowly roll your hips over his. He loves planting his hands on your hips and helping you as your eyes roll into the back of your head and you succumb to your own pleasure.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-Kento definitely is not the joking type when it comes to having sex. He may crack one mildly funny comment here or there but his main focus is on making you feel good.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-Despite his lack of free time, he is always sure to clean himself up. Self care is important he likes to feel well groomed and clean for himself and you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-In the moment Kento can be very sensual and romantic. His eyes are on you, watching your reactions, feeling you and your body. It can be very intimate and I think Kento is one of those guys who doesn't just fuck, he prefers to make love.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-Probably not too often, but often enough. Sometimes he can't come home until late at night and he feels the need to rub one out, or sometimes when you aren't around he takes matters into his own hands. But for the most part, he has you and his patience is incredibly strong so he'll wait for you if he has to.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-Breeding kink. He 1000% has a breeding kink. He would never flat out tell you that he wants kids but if you ever went to him and told him that you desired to have a family, the man would jump on it so fast. There's just something about cumming inside you that gets him hard. I think he'd also like nipple play (giving and receiving). Oh and how could I forget..he'd also have a thing for bondage. With his tie or belt to be specific.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

-He definitely is not a huge fan of doing it in public or spaces where you could get caught. He definitely is more of the private type and just prefers the comfort of his or your house.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-Oddly enough, you could be doing something as simple as washing dishes or folding laundry and he'd be turned on. There's something about doing simple, domestic things that gets him going.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-He would never be too hard into choking. He's just not a huge fan and he doesn't like the idea of hurting you. He also isn't too keen on sharing you either. So no threesomes.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-This man loves to give head. He absolutely adores it. There's just something about getting to bury his face into your wet heat for hours on end while rutting into the bed that does something to him. He finds it to be a form of stress relief and is one of his favorite ways to wind down after a long day.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-I feel like it depends on his mood. Normally he's into slow and sensual. I'm talking about deep, passionate kisses, slow rolls of his hips, making sure you feel everything he's giving you. But if you ever decide to act like a brat or he just feels pent up and frustrated then he may go a bit rougher than usual. Of course if he's ever too rough with he'll always apologize and he probably feels too guilty to go too rough with it.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

-Kento isn't a huge fan of quickies. I mean why rush it when he can have you all to himself? But if he really needed it, he wouldn't be completely opposed to having a quickie. But only for dire situations.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-He's not too risky. He likes to play it safe and make sure you are comfortable. But if you ever wanted to try something new then he'd listen and consider it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-It depends on how tired he is and how pent he is. I'd say he could last a good 3 rounds, taking about five minutes each. But at the end of the day I think it matters most about how long you can last? He'll stick it out for however long it takes you to cum, which trust me....it won't take too long.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

-Not completely against toys but he doesn't own any himself. If you were to buy some he'd totally be fine with using them on you and it comes to himself you may need to convince him a little but he could never really say no to you...

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-If you are being a brat then he will 100% tease and hold back your orgasm. But in general, no. He's not too big of a tease.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-Kento starts off quiet, maybe with a few hushed words here and there, a few assurances and compliments before he starts to breathe deeper. his breaths turn into small groans and pants and by the end of it I think you could get a few good moans out of him right before he cums.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-As much as he hates it and is shameful of it, he steals your dirty panties. He just got so, so desperate one time and you weren't around. He needed something of you and he happened to find your dirty clothes bin. After that he became almost addicted. The scent of you lingering in his nose, the feel of your panties around his cock feels too good.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-When soft i'd say he's about 6 inches and when hard he goes up to 7 inches. Its long-ish and girthy and can be a lot to take on sometimes. When he gets hard has a rosy red tip and one or two noticeable veins that run up and down his shaft.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-His sex drive is on the average side but can be a bit high when he gets pent up. Sometimes he's so busy that he doesn't notice but as soon as he's with you all of the sudden his dick is hard and he has no idea what happened.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-He always waits for you to fall asleep first. No matter how tired he is he'll always make sure you are comfortable and safe in his arms. Sometimes he'll even read to you if you ask. His deep, soft voice lulls you to sleep as reads over endless words on pages from his favorite book.

[chalkscene]

tears of themis ⇢ WOULD YOU KISS ME FOR $10 OR THE PRETTIEST GIRL IN THE WORLD FOR $700?

ft. luke pearce, artem wing, marius von hagen & vyn richter

“i have a question,” you tell LUKE. he’s sat on the couch, playing some new video game which he immediately pauses to acknowledge you. “okay, shoot.” “would you kiss the prettiest girl in the world for 700 dollars or me for only 10 dollars?” before luke can school his features, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as memories from your childhood flash in his mind. ever since you were kids, you’ve always had the most random trivia and inquiries ready to share with him—his heart swells at the thought of you not having changed at all. going back to your question, luke normally would’ve been deep in thought searching for an answer but he’s always had it in him. so with loving eyes, he meets your expectant ones. “you know i’d kiss you for free.”

ARTEM looks up from his paperwork, paying you his undivided attention now. “come again?” you’re halfway through repeating the question when he cuts you off with a chuckle, “i heard you the first time.” you know he’s just too nice to dismiss you but if you spend another minute thinking about your case, you’re going to lose your mind. “so, what’s your answer?” “i’d kiss you,” he replies without skipping a beat and his lips curl into a smile. you mirror his expression before glancing at the door then back at your boyfriend. “can you kiss me now?” you pout, “i need motivation.” artem shakes his head at your antics but he adores them. he gets up from his seat en route to your side of the office, leaning in to grant your request when celestine barges into the room, “artem- oh.” artem immediately straightens up and clears his throat as he takes a step back from your desk, “yes?” whatever celestine’s come to see him for is soon forgotten, clearly enjoying the sight she walked into. the whole firm knows about your relationship with artem so you remain unfazed—unlike stellis’ notable lawyer whose cheeks are blushing furiously, unable to meet your colleague in the eye.

“missed your pretty face,” MARIUS says in greeting the moment you open the door. half an hour ago, he called to let you know he was on his way to your apartment. now here he is, leaning in for a kiss which is immediately followed by a sigh of pleasure at the feeling of your mouth on his. “you say that as if i’m not your lockscreen,” you tease when you pull away. “i can’t kiss my phone though.” he winks then dips his head lower for another peck but you stop him with a finger over his lips. marius’ eye brows shoot up in surprise, coaxing a giggle out of you. with a cheeky smile, you ask, “would you kiss me for 10 dollars or the prettiest girl in the world for 700 dollars?” “what kinda question is that?” he scoffs and rolls his eyes at its absurdity before his familiar cockiness once again takes over his features. “miss, i’d pay to kiss you.”

“is something on your mind?” VYN’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts—well, thought. you’ve had this random question plaguing your brain for a while now. “what is it?” vyn asks again. “well…” you begin, trying to form the words before you utter them, “i was curious…” “go on.” “would you kiss me for 10 dollars or the prettiest girl in the world for 700 dollars?” vyn doesn’t respond right away, blinking at you as he is momentarily dumbfounded. but it’s not long before you sense the gears in his mind turning. you’re not sure if it’s due to the nature of his job as a psychiatrist but vyn is never not thinking—you truly believe he’s actually taking the question seriously. soon enough, he gives you his answer. “my rose,” he says as he tenderly takes your hand in his, “your kisses are priceless.”

[hellcatinnc]

Guys Of Love & Deepspace Perfect Partner - SFW Edition

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Warning This includes: SFW(Read Tags Before Continuing)

Tags: sfw, fluff, romantic, cuddles, snuggling, romance, poetry, kisses, french kissing, breakfast in bed, pet names, cuddles from nightmares, taking care of you when your sick, care, cooking together, food, movie watching

Feature: x Fem! Reader

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Zayne

He challenges your mind and can talk to you about some of the most interesting things at times, however he can also bore you sometimes if he gets too lost in his medical advisories

if you ask nicely he will let you lay in his arms as he reads to you may not always be what you want to hear but its his way of comforting you

if you fall asleep on the couch he will carry you to bed and tuck you in, he doesn't want you getting chilly and catching cold

he will make you soup and make sure to have medicines on hand for you when your sick

he is the guy that when he kisses you he will always caress your cheek first before engulfing your lips into his

kissing is how he expresses his feelings sometimes when words escape him or he has a hard time expressing them. If he french kisses you while already kissing you then he is showing you the passion you bring out in him

he loves to take you to nice restaurants ones you been wanting to try and the money isn't a issue and he always pays even when you try he will take care of it before you even get a chance to try. He knows you don't have the money his job has and he wants to spend it on whatever your heart wants.

he loves taking you on vacations when his work allows its and tries to make as much time as he can to be on those vacations longer than just a day.

Even though he doesn't always show it due to lack there of knowing how to express how he feels sometimes, he is a doctor because he does care about people but he cares about you more than any of them and you should never forget that.

Most times he will use your name and not pet names but if your good and you beg him to show the endearments you might get him to call you honey or dear but in the bedroom you might just get called kitten if you ask nicely

he gives you the silent treatment when he is mad, but he can't stay mad with you long especially if you bug him and try to cuddle and kiss him he will forgive you in no time

he lectures you because he cares when it comes to your health and how you eat, granted you have to tune him out most times when you want that sweet piece of cake or that bowl of ice cream but he means well.

he is the guy that will put his coat around you when your cold

he carries candy with him all the time and in certain moments that may stress you out he will simply pull one out to make you smile again even if only for a little while

he has a sweet tooth but he tries to keep that from anyone knowing because well he is a heart doctor and telling people whats not healthy and to stay away from would just make him look like a hypocrite

he is very subtle when he does little things to impress you or let you know he cares, if you don't know him well enough you will miss these hints

he will carry an umbrella on rainy days and even when you forget yours, he may not say anything to you but when it starts pouring down he will just open his umbrella and put it over both of your heads

when he doesn't think your looking he will smile if nothing but for a moment because even though he spends so much time babbling about what you should do to change trust me he wants you just the way you are flaws and all even though he can't say it....yet!

he will call you after a late night at the hospital especially after a stressful day and although its a short call and you don't know why he is calling but its because after all the stress in his day your the only one that makes his heart a little lighter

he loves making little snow creatures for you to hold on to when he can't always be with you

he loves cats they fascinate him he loves to watch them as they bask in the sunlight or lay under a table. the first animal you two will probably get will be a cat

he likes sending you text messages some that are meaningless but they make him smile even if you can't always see him smile

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rafayel

He always spoons you every night before sleep

he is very romantic a bit of a hopeless romantic

loves to call you pet names like darling, baby, and honey

breakfast in bed when you worked so hard the day before

will run you bubble bath after a long day

never forgets birthdays, anniversaries, and especially not valentines' day this man lives for these holidays to shower you with gifts

he will stay by your side when your sick taking care of all your needs

he can be clingy but honestly in a good way its part of his charm

he does have abandonment issues but this means when he is loyal to you he will never ever leave you as long as you never leave him

he has lower self esteem than you think he does, he flirts and comes off that he has it all together but when he is vulnerable you can see the scared little boy under it all afraid to live without you and afraid he will mess it up and you leave

he will fall asleep with his head on your lap or lean against you so you can rub his hair

he may seem like a baby girl but down deep he really is just a genuine guy, yes a bit flirty but its all fluff to make you notice him because when you make those advances back you will leave him flustered.

he is very caring and will always be compassionate with your needs

he will always protect you and keep you safe. He is that guy that will pull you into his arms to shelter you from harm, or jump in front of a bullet if he feels its to save your life

he will fall asleep sitting on the couch, in a chair or against the wall because you had to work late and he refuses to go to bed without you.

he is the guy who likes matching shirts, or ones that say he is your is prince and your his princess

he will hold you hand any chance he gets but you can't just drop his hand whenever you want, when he slides his fingers between yours this isn't jsut regular pda he is telling you no matter where you are...you complete him!

he is the guy that will bring you an umbrella then pray you will put it aside and stand in the pouring rain with him. He will be that guy from romantic movie clique where he will pull you close while you are soaked to kiss your lips so tenderly you almost lose your breath.

he is very loyal and if he makes a promise its set in stone if he has to move heaven on earth or dive the lowest depths of the ocean he will make it happen

loves to recite poetry to you to show you his affection

he loves to give you compliments daily like your beautiful, stunning, a model or anything that makes you smile because that was his goal all along. He will do anything for that smile, that smile that you show to only him, its like no other smile that lights up your face and only he notices the difference.

He loves when you tell him about your day if you spend with friends or what not but he does get jealous if they made you smile because really he wants to be the only one that makes you smile. Then he might get pouty and ask if he can join next time.

he will take you to play the claw machine just so he can win every one of the plushies for you

he will take you to the arcade and he will play every game that gives him tickets so he can turn it in and surprise you with something you wanted from the prizes

he can be greedy when it comes to you, he is a introvert anyways so if he could keep you to himself and never share you well he would be in heaven

he likes to be playful in your banter with him he just enjoys this time together this is how he knows your the woman he wants to spend his life growing old with...yes he has been thinking about popping the question way before he should but he is waiting for the time to be the most romantic and when he doesn't think he will scare you away. Know this though he would have already married you if you would have let him.

he will carry your bags with no complaint

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Xavier

He likes to have a romantic night under the stars just you and him and a blanket with your favorite champagne or wine

he will keep the house clean and in order for you if your sick and can't do it because he knows it will be helpful for you

he will cook you a meal and alternate nights of when you cook and do the dishes however he isn't the best cook so be prepared to watch or help one

picnics are cute and sweet and he loves laying in the sunlight with you taking it all in and making memories

he is a good listener since he doesn't talk unless he needs to. He will lay with you for hours as you tell him the good and the bad in your day without every interrupting you or changing the subject.

he tries to be an optimist to keep you level when you feel like the world is caving in on you

when you cry he will be the first there to wipe those tears off your face and make sure you feel validated

he does have a mischievous/cheeky side to him that comes out when you least expect it

he will spend all day playing the claw machine even if he doesn't always understand the mechanics just so he can get the plushie you wanted most

he will turn on the shower and get your towel and stuff together just so you can have a nice hot shower...he might join you though ;)

he will go grocery shopping with you and carry those bags of groceries even though he complains a bit he really means nothing by it more of a banter than anything

he likes when you tug his shirt to let him know you don't want him to leave even if you didn't say it

he likes a good movie on the couch cuddled up next to you, after all the work he does everyday this is perfect way to relax with you in his arms.

he won't tell you but when you feed him things like strawberries by mouth you think he is focusing on the strawberries instead its the feel of your fingers touching his lips which make him want to kiss you, then when you put them in your mouth he can't take it any longer he will pull you in for a kiss by then.

he doesn't mind watching chic flicks with you and you talking about the lead actor being hot but he will sit there and tell you why all the reasons he is a better hunter and that this guy you find so hot to be the most horrible hunter he had ever seen...the green eyed devil bites him from time to time

when you fall asleep on him in a movie he will carry you to bed and tuck you in, he won't linger but thats because he respects you in that way

if you have a night mare he will run to your side comforting you. he will tuck your hair behind your ear, turn on the light by your bedside table and let you tell him about it, then he will tuck you back in bed and hold you the rest of the night to watch over you while you sleep

he likes to pick at you at times, like one night he woke you and you were calling his name, he reminded you that dreams are what you think about all day he will tell you with a joke that he knows now you were pining for him all day this is just some of his banter and fun ways he picks on you

when your hands are cold he will intertwine his fingers in your and rub them getting them nice and warm for you

if you find yourself in the hospital he will sit right there with you until your feeling better and can go home he will be very stern but thats cause he cares so if the doctor says lay down he will make sure you do if they say don't talk he will put his finger over your mouth to hush you. this is the serious side of him you never knew was there but he is worried cause you are in the hospital

he can be very over protective at times

when he has alone time with you he doesn't want to share it so he will mute your phone and his if it gets too annoying he will turn them off this is his time right now

he loves to snuggle into your lap and nuzzle into you this is the time you get to feel the closest to him, this is that bit of him thats vulnerable, that part that will admit that in his lifetime he has never met someone as special and as important to him as you are to him

he loves to sleep but has a hard time sleeping most places cause he always has his guard up but when he is in your arms he sleeps the best, soundly and feels safe with you even if he thinks he is the more skilled fighter

if you have something on your mouth he will lean into wipe it from your lips stealing a kiss while he is already there

he is very confident in himself even though he doesn't do well with others most times he is still comfortable in his own skin especially since your beside him touching that very skin as he loves when your caress his hands and arms when you are cuddled in a blanket on a cold day

[targaryen-dynasty]

TO STOKE A FLAME.

Aemond Targaryen x servant!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; p in v, oral (m receiving), power imbalance (prince and maid), mutual pining, female Reader

WORDS: 4K

NOTES: this is written for the writing challenge hosted by @targaryenvampireslayer I got the prompt "Just relax for me, I'll make it feel good" and the trope mutual pining. This was my first time writing mutual pining, and I hope it's at least slightly fitting lol.

When you’re first assigned to cleaning the chambers of the King’s second son, your heart leaps for it means you are able to escape the tortures of being a scullery maid for a position that is at least a bit higher ranked, and not as ungrateful and strainful. 

Prince Aemond is an early riser, already up long before first light, and whenever he sets off to train with the sword in the morning, it’s time for you to take care of his quarters. 

There’s another maid that has been offered the same opportunity, only that she is in charge of making the chambers Prince Aegon presentable, and from what you have gathered, you wouldn’t want to trade places with her. 

Aemond’s chambers are always immaculate when you step into them. Everything is in its place, and the air is always filled with the cool morning breeze from the windows he’s kept open. Quite different to the quarters of his older brother. 

But what they do have in common are their questionable reputations. 

While Aegon is promiscuous, known to pinch and fondle at any serving girl who strays within his reach, Aemond is somewhat feared, at least among the staff. Most servant girls keep well away from the prince, and a part of you is certain it is solely because of the black eyepatch he dons after losing his eye, and the grim expression he usually holds on his face. 

The other maid that tends to his chambers with you is overly cautious when dusting or putting fresh linens on his bed, something that even makes you swallow thickly. However, you can’t seem to bring yourself to share their sentiment. 

How could you?

Despite only meeting the prince very briefly, you feel like every day that you sweep through his chambers, you get to know him more and more. If there’s bedlam following in Aemond’s wake when he leaves in the morning, it merely consists of several books scattered all over his desk, his armchairs and sometimes even his bed. 

Most of them deal with dragon lore, history, and a variety of other subjects which you wouldn’t expect to be read by any other lord, making clear that the prince is very well educated, and always strives to learn more. 

And though he keeps his chambers mostly spotless, there’s very much of his personality in them – if you read between the lines. 

More oft than not, the armchairs close to the fireplace don’t stand in their usual positions, turned to the side to face each other with one of them being piled by books or scrolls. And you know from the servants that he’s often found sitting beside the fireplace either in deep thought or engrossed in a book with the flames of the fire dancing in the corner of his eye. 

You’re cleaning his quarters all by yourself today for Darla, the other maid assigned, has been called to take care of something else, which means you’re granted slightly more time for Aemond’s chambers. 

Kneeling in front of the fireplace, you’re knocking off as much ash and debris as possible back into it, before some of it is swept up and emptied into the pail standing next to you. 

You’ve been a bit too engrossed in your task when the doors behind you burst open, catching you by surprise and startling you. There’s only one person that could and would enter the prince’s quarters at this hour of the day – the prince himself. 

As you hurry to get back on your feet, already straightening and dusting off the skirt of your maid attire, you’re a bit too quick and hit your head on the ledge of the fireplace, your mob cap falling to the ground in the process. 

It’s a stinging pain that shoots right through your whole body, and a throbbing that settles at the crown of your head. You bring a hand up to soothe the pain at least a bit, before you’re reminded of the reason why you got up in the first place. 

Gritting your teeth, you take in a sharp breath and lower your hand, bobbing a small curtsy with a strained ‘Prince Aemond’ leaving your lips to the man that stands still in the room, clearly regarding you.

“My apologies, I–” you say, trying to make excuses and wanting to state that you’re just about to leave, but he cuts you off. 

“Are you well?” he asks, though there is a lilt of amusement in his voice. “I apologize for startling you, that was not my intent.”

What’s even more unusual than him apologizing to you, a servant, for barging into his own chambers is that he's inquiring about your well-being. You’ve never before been acknowledged by any of the Targaryen’s, not that you expected it, and feeling his gaze on you kind of makes you nervous. 

He raises his brow when there doesn’t come an answer from you, and you take it as your cue to speak. “I–Yes, Prince Aemond,” you stutter, bowing your head. Raising it again, your hand brushes the crown of it briefly, the spot still throbbing despite it happening a few moments ago. “I am well. It’s–It’s nothing, my prince.” 

Gathering your things, you’re caught off guard for a second time since he’s entered his chambers as he slowly approaches you. He has a sympathetic smile on his lips now, and you’re not sure if it’s the embarrassment or him coming close enough to tower above you, but your body feels like it’s been put on fire. 

“Are you certain you’re well?” he asks, eye flitting from your head to meet your eyes. “You’ve struck your head rather hard.”

He reaches to inspect the spot on your head, yet he hesitates and pulls back right before his fingers could brush your hair. You’re slightly disappointed, but your pounding heart is grateful. Just the mere proximity brings a blush to your cheeks and has you shifting your weight from one leg to the other, and you’re certain you wouldn’t have been able to handle him touching you. 

There’s a moment of silence between you, and your hands clutch the handle of the pail tight enough for your knuckles to blanch from the force. It’s unnerving, and you’re torn between wanting to stay and wanting to leave. You’re afraid he’s not the man you’ve made up in your mind, that there’s just a hint of truth in the rumors that make their way around staff and court. 

His voice cuts through the silence like a sharp blade, smooth and somewhat calming. “What’s your name?”

Taking in a deep breath, you tell him your name, but not without your eyes darting to the ground. His gaze is heavy, too heavy for you to meet it, and you feel as though there’s something else than curiosity woven within it.

“You’re quite flustered over nothing,” he hums, and the way your name slips past his lips with so much ease almost makes you melt right then and there; at least it’s enough to make you forget that he’s clearly noticed the effect he has on you. 

Aemond takes note of you being nervous around him, his attention causing your blood to rush through your veins. It seems as though it’s a rather strong reaction that you have to him, something not many women feel when he comes near them. It’s endearing.

Your eyes flicker upwards to meet his good one again, and you straighten your back for another curtsy. 

“M-my apologies, Prince Aemond.”

You can spot the exact moment the corners of his lips curl into a teasing smirk, your timid demeanor and your nervousness the trigger for it. And being as cocky as he is, he thinks he could have a bit of fun with you. 

“It seems you’re rather out of sorts for something so trivial,” he notes, his tone teasing and playful, matching the flicker of mischief in his eye. “Perhaps I should inspect you myself to see if you have in fact sustained any injuries.”

His words make you feel as if the world around you is slowing down, making everything feel almost unbearable. You’re finding it incredibly hard to look him in the eye without blushing or your breath becoming heavy, and therefore fix them on the ground again. Noticing his large feet in comparison to your much smaller ones, your thoughts briefly stray to what else of him might be large. 

But before you can answer him, or your thoughts can dive deeper, Aemond places a hand beneath your chin and gently tilts your face back up for you to meet his gaze. You’ve only seen one other in passing, and even then you’re certain he’s paid no mind to you at all, so his touch comes unexpected. But you don’t tense, and you certainly don’t pull away. However, you’re unsure if you should give in and lean into it. 

His finger brushes along your jawline, trailing down the curve of your neck, and coming close to your collarbone, a heat following in its wake. He stops for a second, as if he’s debating whether or not he should move his touch any further. 

Aemond’s surprised by your reaction, yet he also realizes that you’re much more interesting than any of the other maids for they were all alike – all not daring to look at him or stay in his presence for longer than a few minutes. But you’re different. 

He could already tell by the way you so neatly clean and store his books when he’s spent his night reading by the fire, or how you seem to pay extra attention when you’re putting fresh linens on his bed, fluffing his pillows without the hurry the previous chambermaid has had. 

And seeing his touch having such a significant impact on you, the little maid he’s spent so much time dreaming and fantasizing about, feeds a desire he didn’t have before – the desire to bed you, to claim you. 

“Get on your knees,” he orders, hooded eye looking down at you. 

Swallowing thickly, your mind struggles to comprehend what he asked of you. “I-what?” you stammer in disbelief. 

“You heard me. On your knees.” He’s a bit firmer now, and uses the slight grip he has on your shoulder to give you a little help sinking down. You follow his lead, the pail rattling onto the ground. 

Your hands are folded in your lap when you gaze up at him, eyes wide and curiously studying his next move. With your thumbs brushing over each other, you try to keep your fluttering nerves at bay, grazing your skin to distract yourself from the throbbing that blossoms between your legs. 

Aemond looms over you, reaching out to cup your cheek with one hand. There’s something in the position you’re in, and the combination of his gentle touch and stern orders that gets to your head, and lures you in to lean into his hand. It also makes you a bit bolder as you place a hand on his thigh in return.

It piques his interest, obvious in the way he raises a brow, and his eye flickers to where your hand rests on his body. But he doesn’t shy away from the touch. 

“Do you know what I require of you?” Aemond asks, sterner than before. 

You bow your head, batting your eyelashes at him in an innocent manner. “I do, my Prince.”

That’s all he has to hear before he swiftly unlaces the front of his breeches and tugs them down barely enough to free his cock and stones, the sight alone making your breath hitch in your throat. He’s well endowed, and far bigger than the cock of the one man you’ve slept with before.

You release a shaky breath, replaying all the knowledge you’ve gathered about pleasuring a man with your mouth, and catch a whiff of musk mixed with the salty smell of sweat – he’s definitely trained with the sword this morning. 

Squeezing his thigh, your eyes flicker between his and his hard cock as the slight nod of his head encourages you to curl your hand around it, your thumb and index finger barely touching. 

He throbs in your palm already, and the tip is covered in a red that makes it clear he’s desperate to be buried inside of something; probably not caring whether it’s your mouth or your cunt.

Even though you cower beneath his dominating presence, a jolt of boldness strikes you that makes you lean in and lick a flat stripe from the base of his cock up to the bulbous tip. A salty taste lingers on your tongue as you drag it over the slit, making you hum appreciatively, seemingly pleased to witness the effect your touch and presence have on the prince’s body. 

Aemond buries his hands in your hair, loosening the bun you’ve put it into this morning, and grabs a fistful of it. It’s a sharp tug of him that catches your attention, and your wide eyes flit up to meet his demanding gaze. 

Spurred on by the heavy breaths moving his chest, you swallow, and eventually part your lips to slowly ease him inside, and even though he holds you by your hair, he’s generous enough to not force himself inside, allowing you to move as you please. 

“Fuck,” he growls as he gets accustomed to the warmth and tightness of your mouth, head tipping back to release a bawdy groan. 

You hollow your cheeks around him, and, after a few moments that allow you to adjust to him, start to bob your head back and forth his thick length, flattening your tongue against him for added stimulation. 

Growing bolder and bolder with each passing moment, you squeeze your thighs together every time the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat, robbing you of the ability to breathe until you pull off of him again. 

With his hand in your hair, Aemond senses you getting more comfortable, and starts to guide your head along his member, encouraging you to set up a quicker pace to which you eagerly comply. 

“That’s it,” he groans, not able to tear his eye from the sight of your lips wrapped around him as his cock repeatedly disappears inside of your mouth.

Droplets of your saliva dribble from the corners of your lips down your chin with how fast you sink down on him, and the lewd sounds of his soaked cock sliding back and forth past your lips fill the prince’s chambers, hardly drowned out by his grunts and groans. 

At this point, you’re drenched in your arousal, the linen of your small clothes clinging to your swollen mound in a way that’s almost uncomfortable. 

While you bring one hand up to clasp around the rest of his cock that doesn’t fit into your mouth, the other grips his thigh a bit harder than before, holding onto him for dear life as he uses your face however he pleases. 

You feel the muscles of his thigh tense and contract under your palm and his cock throb inside of you, indicating that he’s close to reaching his peak. It’s the first time you pleasure a man with your mouth, and you’re not quite sure what to expect. But before you can brace yourself for whatever might come, Aemond pulls you off of him by your hair, prompting you to topple back to sit on your haunches. 

You lock your teary eyes with his good one, lips smacking as his musky and salty taste spreads on them and your tongue. “My Prince, I–”

“Remove your clothes,” he interrupts you, his voice less friendly and more a command. 

There are so many thoughts rattling your mind right now, and you don’t know where to start and what to process. 

“I wasn’t asking,” he growls, his impatience showing as you don’t comply quickly enough. 

With a bow of your head, you rise to your feet and peel the beige-ish apron off of your body, the red dress and smallclothes following suit. You waste no thought on your modesty, on the fact that you’re standing bare in front of a prince of the mighty House Targaryen. The longing for him that has built with all the days you’ve cleaned his pristine chambers, and the undeniable aching between your legs don’t allow you to. 

You’re undressed when he stalks around you, regarding you like he’s the hunter and you’re his prey. You see that your obedience arouses him, his hard cock throbbing and bouncing with each step he takes around you. It’s thrilling in the best way possible, and the feeling of being desired by him feeds your confidence.

“Are you just watching, or will the prince undress as well?” 

His eye narrows and flickers up to yours at your question, and there’s the hint of a smile adorning his features. “Would you like that?” 

Biting your bottom lip, a blush creeps on your cheeks. “Very much.”

As you size him up, you notice a flush blossoming from his cheeks down his neck, the same warmth you feel obviously spreading through his body, too. 

“Then I suppose that I’ll oblige.”

You watch with half-lidded eyes as he removes his clothing, slipping out of layer after layer, starting with the black leather robe, and ending with his smallclothes.  

You all but drag your eyes over his lithe frame, taking in every muscle that ripples beneath his pale skin, and every silver, coarse hair that trails from below his navel to his cock and the sac of his stones. 

It seems like he basks in your attention, in the way you stare at him in awe as you lick your lips, and he’s certainly not afraid of showing himself in his full glory. 

“Get on the bed,” he says, smugly. “On your hands and knees.”

This time you know better than to take a few seconds to comply, bowing your head before climbing his bed right away, getting in the desired position. You suddenly feel vulnerable and exposed, completely at his mercy in a way you’ve never experienced before. However, your curiosity and desire overshadow any reservations you could have. 

“Pray tell, have you lain with a man before?” You feel the mattress dip beneath his weight as he slowly settles behind you. His hands find your hips, and you shiver with anticipation. 

Looking at him from over your shoulder, you nod. “Just once, my prince.”

A soft hm rubles in his chest at your words, and he raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your words. You certainly seem to take him very seriously, which isn’t unusual given his station, but it’s your honesty that’s a whole different matter to him. “You enjoyed it, I presume?”

Still meeting his gaze, you swallow thickly. You’re hesitant to answer, not sure why it’s of importance, but he doesn’t seem willing to let you off the hook just yet. “Yes, I did.”

Aemond gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze at that, and shuffles close enough for you to feel his cock press against your arse. “Would you be willing to again?”

You press your lips into a thin line to stop them from pulling into a grin, but fail miserably. The prince behind you takes that as his cue to continue, and you’re most grateful when you feel him drag the tip of his cock through your soaked folds. 

“Just relax for me,” he purrs, his eye fixed on the motions of his hand, watching as his cock disappears inside of you. “I’ll make it feel good.”

The moment you stretch around him, you take in a sharp breath, his cock breaching your cunt at a teasingly slow pace that makes sure you feel every vein and ridge of him drag along your walls.

With his hands coming back to rest on your hips, he pulls you onto his cock until his hips press against your arse, taking his time to adjust to your tightness. The ‘shit’ he mumbles doesn’t go unnoticed by you, a renewed wave of your arousal drenching his cock and the sac of his stones. 

If his impatience hasn’t been running thin before, it certainly does now, because the first gentle, sensual thrusts are quickly replaced by merciless pounding. You don’t mind it for you’ve been thoroughly soaked, and enjoy the feeling of his cock repeatedly brushing the spot inside of you that makes your vision go blurry. 

Aemond brings a hand between your shoulders, applying a good bit of pressure to press your chest down and your face into the pillows. Your head turns to the side, but you’re not able to look at him.

His breathing is heavy, strained pants leaving him, and his hand trails back to grope your arse. 

“Fuck, what an obedient girl they’ve ordered to take care of my chambers–of me,” Aemond rambles behind you, bowing forwards to put a bit more of his weight on your small frame. “Taking me so well. Giving me exactly what I want.” 

The praise goes straight to your head, and you want to answer, but the words die on your tongue, replaced by quiet whimpers and whines that grow wanton as he splits you open with a hard, percussive thrust. Then another follows, and another, keening at the sweet sounds you make only for him. 

Not able to focus on anything else than the pressure building inside of your belly, you push your hips back against him, and he counters by pulling you back with each of his thrusts, meeting him halfways which results in the lewd sounds of skin slapping on skin to echo off the walls. 

He’s making you feel so good, so wanted, that you’re certain you would keep going even if someone is to barge into his chambers, interrupting you.

As his hand snakes beneath your body to make contact with your pearl, you’re overcome with the true knowledge of how experienced Aemond actually is. He strums your body like the most talented lutenist, bringing you closer towards your sweet release. 

“Gods, I–” you whine into the pillows. 

The taut string inside of you snaps, and the pleasure within you soares through your veins. White, hot pleasure clouds your vision, his arm around you the only thing keeping you up right now. 

“That’s it,” Aemond grunts, and the snaps of his hips increase to the point your whines become hiccuped, catching in your throat with little to no time to fill your lungs with air. 

And then, his hips stutter, his throbbing cock spending itself deep inside of your quivering walls. He twitches and trembles so much that he’s forced to still his hips, and you take it as your cue to roll yours against him, helping him through his peak. 

The throbbing only stills once you’ve milked him for every drop of his seed and the last bit of the euphoric high subsides, making him come back to his senses. 

But there’s not much basking in the proximity for you, not when Aemond pulls out almost immediately after, climbing off the bed to get dressed again. The red dress is crudely thrown into your direction, silently making clear that it’s time for you to leave. 

It seems as though he’s embarrassed, because he has a hard time meeting your eyes, and doesn’t look at you when you get back in your clothes. But perhaps you’re just not catching the subtle glances he throws into your direction as your maid attire comes back to hug your curves. 

Tying the apron and fixing your hair, you reach for the pail. It’s then, with you bowing forwards, that you finally feel his seed trickling out of your cunt, and the sensation alone makes you shiver in an uncomfortable way. You certainly have to look for a quiet spot in the keep where you can clean yourself, since you’re not done working. 

You head for the door, but before you open it, his smooth voice catches your attention again. 

“You may leave now, but I expect you to come back and finish your task at the Hour of the Ghosts, for you have not cleaned the fireplace thoroughly enough.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

[thedgeoftheuniverse]

ROTTEN. | astarion

pairing: astarion x gn!reader

warnings: healthy dose of angst and self-loathing, mild sexual descriptions and references, wrote this in less than 2 hrs so give me a break, mainly astarion's pov idk it just happened that way

word count: 2.6k

For a moment, his voice tries to betray the weight of this confession, but he knows there is no softening the blow of this—of both a confession of love, and an admission of guilt, and he is unsure if one is enough to outweigh the other. He knows this is the end; he knows you will finally see him for the wretched thing he is, and he will once again find himself alone and lonely.

He's using you.

He knows he’s using you; since the moment he laid his eyes upon the weathered lines of your face, you were his newest target—the first one of his own choosing. He initially planned to kill you; you couldn't turn on him or drive a stake through his ribs if you were already dead, and he already had enough to worry about without adding additional fuel to the already burning fear he had for his life. Not to mention, he was hungry and getting worse by the minute. He planned to call for help—play the damsel like he did countless times before, catch your attention for only a moment, just long enough to get close enough, and slit your pretty little throat.

Every step played out perfectly. You approached him just like he knew you would—his pretty face has always granted him the illusion of being a safe person; you answered his calls for help, just like he knew you would. All you had to do was get close enough, and he would take care of the rest.

Though he was completely thrown off kilter when you offered to help him, rather than leaving him to the ‘things’ in the bush. In a split second, his plan changed. If you were willing to help a stranger in the mess that the pair of you found yourselves swept up in, what would you do for someone you thought was a friend? A lover? Perhaps the wizard of—at the time—unknown power, quite frankly threatening incineration, were his knife to continue its trajectory, did encourage a modicum of restraint and de-escalation on his part, though he will never give him such credit.

However, the most unexpected change in plans was the direct, albeit slightly painful, mental link shared between him and you. You were infected—same as him—by a Mind Flayer parasite, ready to take over your body and destroy your mind in an alarmingly short timeframe.

You were an ally—a useful one and tentatively worth sparing—so long as you could continue to benefit him.

So, he started with a simple introduction: “My name's Astarion.” Spoken with a dramatic flair and a sickeningly sweet undertone that could only be found after two hundred years of charming pretty faces and innocent minds. In the moments between his introduction and the offering of your name, while the words still clung to the empty air between, Astarion formulated a new plan. It was brilliantly simple and borderline foolproof. All he had to do was convince you to fall for it, and his safety was nearly guaranteed.

(He now knows that hindsight always paints a clearer portrait than the present, and he is a fool in more ways than any would dare to calculate.)

He started small, coated his words in honey, and never oversold the part—playing into the role of the mysterious charmer that he had perfected all those years ago. He was honest, reliable, and always came to your aid during battle; he made you believe he was someone that could be trusted, no matter what your instincts may have convinced you otherwise. He was charismatic. A stolen glance here, an accidental touch there, a subtle look in his eyes that betrayed far more debaucherous intentions than what a gentleman such as himself would ever dare voice in the presence of someone as pure as you.

Perhaps, though, he erred too close to the side of caution and played his part too carefully. Vampirism is no easy condition to conceal, and the lesser creatures he managed to feast on during the night were horribly unsuitable to sustain him in the midst of such a perilous—and quite frankly, exhausting—journey. He was in a rapidly deteriorating state and worsening by the minute; he needed an intelligent, thinking creature to sink his teeth into if he wished to be of any use. He could not imagine a universe in which he would be allowed to remain in the company if he could not pull his own weight in battle or the camp.

He obscenely and undeniably fucked up when he chose to attempt to sink his fangs into the supple skin of the pretty little neck he nearly mared just a few weeks prior. He could not identify exactly why he believed he could get away with such an act undetected; his extreme hunger could be to blame, though he could not deny that the sweetness of your blood caused an insatiable stirring in his gut—he could smell it from six feet away. It permeated the air around him, nearly making him dizzy with the want—no, the need—to taste you. If hunger had driven him mad once again, then you were to blame, and therefore you were responsible for paying.

All thoughts of your reparations, however, were thrown from his mind the moment your eyes opened and he remembered that you possessed the ability to end his unnaturally long “life.”

“Shit.” His mind was completely blank. “It- It’s not what it looks like. I swear.” He could only hope that his performance would award him a standing ovation and the momentary benefit of the doubt: “I wasn't going to hurt you. I just needed... well, blood.”

It was not the confession he hoped to perform for you. He was meant to come to you, fully conscious, and present the idea as his own—he would choose to come to and confide in you. (I feel as though you and I have a… strong bond. I believe I can trust you. I cannot bear to keep this from you a moment longer.) with pretty words and round eyes. Instead, he was on his back foot and practically begging you not to ram a stake through his ribs.

And that is where his brilliantly simple plan began to pay off…

For a time.

You offered your body to him in more ways than one, and he intended to take full advantage of them all.

The sex was easy; it came to him perhaps more naturally than his flirtatious demeanor. He gave you the performance of a lifetime—he fed you borderline godly pleasures on a silver spoon while you dug your nails into grassy forest beds and moaned his name into the treetops. He knew exactly what to do to your body; he hit every single pleasure point with beautiful precision, used his mouth in all of the right places, sprinkled in the perfect praises, and made you beg just enough to make you believe you had to work for the pleasure of being underneath him and you deserved to be rewarded for it. He made sure every little word from his mouth was almost as perfect as what his mouth could do to you.

(Gods, you're beautiful.)

(Tell me how you want it. Use your words.)

(It’s as if the Gods made you to ruin me.)

He did not mean a single moment of it…

He knows he didn't. He knows, without an unparalleled doubt, that he did not mean a single sugar-coated word when he spoke in those intimate moments. He knows how vile he felt before, during, and after; he knows the suffocating self-loathing that consumed him for days after your first late-night tryst and every single night after that. He knows that, deep down, he wants you to see him as more than a sexual being, though he is not sure what else he could possibly be if not this. He knows that his manipulation was calculated and intentional; you were meant to be nothing more than a means to an end. You would help him remove this cursed tadpole embedded in his brain; you would help him kill his former master; and you would help him grasp a power that has never before been held by another vampire. You would hand him the entire world because he convinced you that he deserved it, and then he would dispose of you, as he did with the rest of his victims.

It was a brilliantly simple plan, and yet it all managed to fall apart. He is sure he played out every step perfectly, and somehow, you managed to change his plans once more.

It was never more apparent to him than right now.

Right now, as he watches you saunter around the camp, offering various greetings and the most beautiful smile he believes he has ever seen in his two hundred years of life, he realizes that you are the most incredible being he has ever gazed upon. And never has it been more apparent to him that he is a rotten thing—nothing more than a bloodthirsty monster that pretends he can believably wear the mask of a man. He thinks this is the closest thing to love he has ever felt, and even now, he will never be able to show it to you in a way that means something.

How could he have been so stupid?

How could he not have anticipated this outcome?

How could he have been so ignorant of the pining in his heart and wound up in such a situation?

His inner turmoil must have been more obvious than he would have preferred, because when you approached him, your face screamed with worry. “Astarion?” You questioned, “You look... stressed.” He was unable to find the words to respond. Something about the light shining on the hard lines of your face, leaving a shadow that danced across your cheekbones, captivated him, and he lacked the strength to look away—he doesn't think he wants to. Perhaps he could spend one hundred years gazing on the wonderful imperfections and blemishes on your skin until he has memorized every detail through the end of time, so that when you are no longer breathing, he may breathe your life once again himself, so that when another one hundred years have passed and you are nothing more than ash in the ground, he will be able to recall every minute detail of your face.

“Are you okay?”

He is on another plane of existence until the sweetness of your voice walks him back into the present.

“I… I think we need to talk.” His voice betrays him, just as his face did moments before.

You respond as you always have—with care and concern and a compassion running so deeply through your veins, it would be impossible to fabricate: “Are you alright?”

And he realizes the answer is no. He realizes that no matter the intensity of his devotion (or perhaps, is this what love is supposed to feel like?), he can never undo the damage he has caused. He can never change the sweet little lies he whispered into your ear late at night as you exposed your body to him; he can never change the intentional manipulation behind his words as he told you of your beauty; and he can never remedy the fact that he took advantage of you. You—who is made of honeysuckle and mandarins, who he has grown to so deeply care for, who he will ruin in a heartbeat if he were to ever truly love you. And perhaps he will never be able to love you. Perhaps if you are not a target, then you will never truly be anything to him; he is far too damaged to ever love you in a way that is pure and without the promise of personal gain. Perhaps he has always been and always will be a monster and deserves such treatment. He will never be able to share your bed without feeling disgust and hatred for himself. He will never be your lover, no matter how desperately he now knows he wishes to be.

“No—Yes, I just… feel awful.” Your face tells him he owes more of an explanation. He knows you are owed it. “Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan—seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so that you would never turn on me. It was easy... instinctive.” For a moment, his voice tries to betray the weight of this confession, but he knows there is no softening the blow of this—of both a confession of love (is this what love is supposed to feel like? I think I would rather choose the stake.) and an admission of guilt, and he is unsure if one is enough to outweigh the other. He knows this is the end; he knows you will finally see him for the wretched thing he is, and he will once again find himself alone and lonely.

(He now realizes these are two very different states of being.)

“All you had to do was fall for it.” Your face is twisted into something resembling grief. “And all I had to do was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Your eyebrows are furrowed together, and your face has morphed into something entirely unreadable, but you almost seem relieved.

“I…” Another sigh: “You deserve something real.” He cannot bring himself to look into your eyes.

A heavy sigh escapes your mouth as your eyebrows relax. “I only want you.”

“Why?”

“I don't believe you to be the monster you think you are.” If he had a heartbeat, he is confident that would have stopped it. He cannot fathom a universe where he is more than what his master made him to be.

“You don't know me.”

“Then show me who you are, Astarion.” He isn't sure when you managed to get so close to him. “Let me be here for you.”

“You don't know what you're asking for.” He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He will never be able to give you what you’re asking for, yet you still seem to want him all the same. He knows that he is no good, that he will never be more than the image Cazador sculpted him in; he is capable of tenderness no more than the Gods are capable of answering his cries for help. And yet, here you stand—headstrong as ever, practically begging him to give this a chance, and he desperately wants it. “It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me.” Your hand reaches into the space between you to gently cup his face.

“I can't give you what you want. Being close to someone—any kind of intimacy—was something I… performed to lure people back for him. I know this is different; we’re different, but it still feels… tainted.”

“I already told you what I want.” His eyes met yours for the first time since you approached his tent. “You. Whatever it is you have to offer, I want it. It's not a dirty job; it's just you.”

For a brief moment, Astarion is able to lose himself in such a fantasy; your eyes shine as though galaxies were constructed in your irises, and he can spot no inkling of deception. Your hand is soft against his cheek as he leans into the warmth of your touch, and it does not go unnoticed that you choose to keep your hand placement modest—as though you were a gentleman dancing with a lady in a fancy ballroom while all the guests silently stared.

“I don't know what to do from here.” He places his hand over yours and leans into your touch even harder—he almost resembles a wounded dog, searching for any ounce of tenderness he can find in this midst of such an ugly world—”But I know that this... this is nice."

As you wrap your arms around his waist and nestle your head into the crook of his shoulder, Astarion believes that this is something he may be able to get used to. 

Thank u for reading !!! Prob making a part 2 that is more .... idk angsty and more "I'll take care of you" if yall want it

[petday]

I make fandom art I make porn I make stuff that makes me miserable and I make stuff that makes me happy and I follow all the advice online but still nobody likes my art. I know it's good art and im not insecure about my talent level but no matter what I post or where I post it, nobody wants to like or interact with my art at all. I know people see it I know people are scrolling past without acknowledging what I make and it fucking sucks. I don't have friends to share stuff I make with and nobody online cares clearly. What do you do when nobody likes you or what you offer.

Good question. This response involves some of my history. I try to talk about my experiences at a comfortable distance. But please skip to the 'Solutions' part if you're bored.

My thoughts below:

It's painful. I have a lot of memories of high intensity pain due to no one engaging with me, at school and online. 'If I live in the same world as others, but it still feels like I am in a world with just myself, what is the point of trying to make things? Sure, I will feel better about myself as I grow, but I've still got no one to grow with, so I am just talking to myself. Amusing myself is fine, but I want to reach a level of fun above amusement, a level that others seem to reach so naturally.' 

In fact, maybe you are less 'outward' with your emotions, but as a child and teenager and young adult, there was a lot of screaming and crying and thrashing about 'not being granted the ability to make things others will seriously engage with me about.' 

(The pain remained after making a few friends during teenage years. The pain's attitude shifted slightly to accommodate this new life change of gaining friends. Much later, even after I became an artist with a large visible number of 'followers/people interested in something you make', the pain shifted its shape around this life change again. "People make bad assumptions of me because I have a big visible number in my profile and most websites do not give me the ability to hide that number." Summary: If your pain/frustration still remains after you gain a friend or find people who engage you, don't beat yourself up. Emotions don't work in such a way that the outcomes you desire are only guaranteed to make you happy and no other emotions will rise.)

Although I loved to look at art on websites since I was a child, one may assume I enjoyed the community aspect. I did, but only as a spectator for the vast majority of the time, since age restrictions and the harsh attitudes that exist to 'prevent the weak from touching the strong' was present in many of the sites I visited. Similar to how children get frustrated when another child cannot keep up with their play, but the child that is 'left out' can still enjoy watching other kids play from afar. It makes perfect sense to me these feelings will always exist in the world no matter what 'social media' websites people invent.

Anyway, two solution attempts in succession I tried over long-term:

1. My first attempt at a solution was immersing myself in a fantasy world I created in my mind and I held my imagination in high esteem. "I know my imagination takes influence from the things I read and admire, so it's not such a lonely world anyway." Creating episode lists of imaginary cartoon episodes and such, so dedicated to something I hardly told anyone about. It felt good. But my friends had original characters too, and they could describe their personalities and dynamics to others naturally and quickly, likely due to their earlier experiences with 'communicating ideas to others.' I was quiet and envious. Although it was fun to play with the imaginary characters in my head, I decided to take another step. Of course I could not simply go back in time to gain the similar social experiences my friends had. But I could use that desire to 'go back in time' to 'go forward in time' and gain the experience.

2. Engage in others first. Because I spent a long time in my imagination, I felt more secure about myself, so I wanted to extend the feeling of 'caring about my own work' to 'caring about others' work on an equal level.' The internet allows you to assess people before engaging to see if your compatibility might be okay. If someone had posts that resonated with me, I tried to say 'hello, I like what you posted/I like your drawing because [...]' Even if the contact ended there, it was a good practice. Gently communicate with people over time. Especially since I am sure there are people who rarely receive questions about their artworks who would love someone to engage with them as well. Of course do not do this in a 'pity' sense – you have to genuinely find something that 'touches your heart' and if the artist seems to not get much curiosity in regards to their art, you can go ahead and try to express your curiosity to them. Keep posting whatever you like, but if you engage with others, you may find someone engaging with you without even expecting it, and that is fun.

(I think society should practice finding genuine value in things they like even if they see nobody has touched it. Not pity, but removing the "does anyone else like this? If I see no one else liking this, it must be a bad thing to like, so I won't engage" attitude. Some of my favourite artwork has maybe 5 visible 'bookmarks/favorites' on an art-focused website.)

[amongemeraldclouds]

spoiler alert

Life can be complicated when you possess a rare kind of magic: the ability to see your future with someone upon meeting them. A chance encounter with Mattheo Riddle reveals more than you bargained for.

(Choose your own ending)

Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader

Warning: Mostly angst, some fluff, no use of y/n

✿ Masterlist | 1k words

You cradled the warm cup of tea in your hands as you made your way up the Astronomy Tower, careful not to spill any drop. It was a clear evening, the cool breeze floated lazily through the sky and the stars twinkled brightly. It was the perfect spot to unwind from the pressures of the day.

As you neared the arched balcony, a small orange glow caught your attention. Someone else was here, smoking. He turned upon hearing your footsteps approach.

“Hey stranger,” he called out. You took in his features, curly hair and bright eyes with a lopsided smirk, he was adorable.

“I’m Mattheo, care to smoke with me?” He asked, offering a fresh one from his pack of cigarettes.

You felt it then, magic coursing through your veins from the encounter. Time slowed down as it always did, vague images flashed in your mind and the all knowing voice of your future self spoke to you:

I tried to find all the words to tell you about this boy and how much you’ll love him. Oh the adventures you’ll have together and all the ways it will break your heart. One day you’re sixteen and you’re falling in love for the first time. Everything feels new and exciting. The warm buzzing in your veins when Mattheo bumps into your shoulder and runs his hand through your hair to brush off a leaf that fell. As if, as if. You’ll know it’s just an excuse but you won’t mind it at all. You’ll spend countless evenings in the Astronomy Tower, you with your tea and him with his cigarettes. You’ll talk for hours even though you’ll never remember every word you exchange. It’s enough to get to know him and hear his voice, a melody you’ll want to keep as the soundtrack to your life. You’ll find yourself spinning at the Yule Ball in a lovely dress feeling like the most beautiful girl in the world. You’ll laugh with him, his hand placed perfectly on your waist, bodies flush as you danced in sync, as if you were made just for each other. His other hand in yours, firm and warm as if he’ll never let go. Of course you had grown up with magic, it belonged in the air like oxygen and it sang in your bones. So you’ll wonder how it’s possible that the world is even more magical when you’re around him? Fast forward to when your wedding dress is tucked away at the back of your closet and his vows are on a crumpled paper in a drawer somewhere.

He’ll be good at forgetting dates and breaking promises. Too busy with his plans and ambitions, none of them will seem to include you anymore.

You’ll be good at forgiveness and do overs. After all, his jagged words and actions will be served in bite sized pieces so you’ll think you can stomach it all. You won’t realize it until your friend tells you that you smile less and stopped talking about your goals. You’ll figure out too late that you hacked away who you were to fit into his life, a wild hedge now perfectly manicured in his front lawn. You’ll tell him what you need, afraid you’re asking for too much. That you are too much. He’ll reassure you he can do better and for a while he does. Spoiler alert: it never lasts long. But here now, you are sixteen and evergreen. The stars are bright and so are your eyes. Your heart burns with dreams unrealized and passions you have yet to discover. Don’t take it for granted. My love, life is short but if you stay where you’re unhappy, life becomes insufferably too long.

You blink as the quiet returned and time resumed its course. The cool wind caressing your face brought you back to the present. You took a deep breath, warding off the looming nausea in your head. You’ve never seen that far off in the future before, someone potentially so significant in your life.

A crossroad: Do you choose to stay or leave? Scroll down for your answer.

Stay

“Well hi Mattheo, it’s nice to meet you,” you say as you walked towards him and introduced yourself. You take him up on his offer and held the cigarette in between your lips. Mattheo lit it for you so you inhaled the smoke, the first of many, and watched the wind carry away your exhalations. The air hummed with possibilities, romance, and heartbreak. That’s the thing about your visions, there was no way to know for sure if it would play out exactly as you’ve seen it. Where does one draw the line between destiny and our influence on the outcome? If you considered yourself seriously, you could say you’re an adventurer aspiring to chart her own course. But if you were more honest, perhaps you were simply in denial. Either way, you made your choice. You turned to Mattheo and watched him expertly take a drag from his cigarette. You studied the flex of his jaw and the curve of his lips. How can one stranger grow into something more and take up so much space in your life? Soon, you’ll be in love and dancing at a ball. You’re about to have some of the best years of your life and some of your worst. But maybe it’s worth it.

Leave

“No thanks,” you replied to the boy with curly hair and eager eyes and waved goodbye. You walked away without glancing back. Mattheo simply shrugged and returned to his cigarette, lost in his own thoughts once again.  You retreat down the stairs, each step distanced you from a future of bliss and grief. No boy had to be worth your dreams, you thought. It was better this way. As you swivel back to the corridor, your mind swam in the power of choice as future regrets faded from your periphery. You yelped when you stumbled onto someone’s hard chest and warm tea spilled down his shirt. “Shit, I’m sorry,” you exclaimed, far too exhausted with the evening’s surprises. “It’s okay, nothing a little magic can’t fix,” said the boy with perfectly wild hair and a kind smile, already casting a spell to return his shirt to its once pristine condition. You didn’t know him personally, but you recognized him as Lorenzo Berkshire. 

“Now about your spilled tea, can I help you get another one?” he asked. You smiled back at him as magic thrummed in your veins and time started to slowed down.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ Based on the question, “if you knew how things would turn out, would you still make the same choices?”

✿ Another moment I was in my feels and spilled ink instead of the alternative. May have spilled the alternative anyway.

✿ If you chose to leave, of course I had to sneak in my sweet and lovely Enzo in there ♡