#or express that how he saved him was 'beautiful'

[iconchae]

SAY YES, yjw | 18+

PAIRING: bf ! yang jungwon × gf ! female reader. . . GENRE: angst, smut, slight fluff (?). . . SYNOPSIS: jungwon would never fully understand the depth of your pain or the weight of your struggles, but he can’t stand seeing you suffer alone. desperate to be close to you, he crosses all boundaries, his comforting words quickly turn into passionate actions as the two of you learn ‘things’ together and experience them. . . WARNING(S): kisses, nsfw, contains cuss words, mdni, smut, angst, too much plot lol, blowjob, handjob, pussy eating, cum eating, protected sex, inexperienced, mentions of abuse, shower sex, unprotected sex, slapping, mentions of suicide, lmk if I missed anything. . . WORD COUNT: 12k+

rina’s note: i wanted to make this a long fic so here I am, I hope i didn't bore y’all out by going into the depths of it all. I kind of changed the main plot so it is more of a ‘trying sex for the first time’ typa thing. there's too much plot, skip if you want straight up smut— ig so

Jungwon’s heart pounded in his chest as he stared at you, standing dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, the wind whipping your hair wildly around your face. His voice trembled as he called out, his throat dry with fear. "Are you crazy?" His eyes were wide, filled with both disbelief and panic as you stood on the precipice, one step away from a deadly drop.

You didn’t turn to look at him, your gaze fixed on the vast, open sky in front of you. The horizon blurred into a dull mix of oranges and reds, a sunset that should’ve been beautiful, but for you, was nothing more than a backdrop to your despair. “Yeah, say whatever you want. I’ll be gone soon,” you replied quietly, your voice hollow, void of any emotion.

Jungwon’s body tensed as you lifted your foot, hovering over the edge, contemplating the final step that would send you plummeting into the abyss. His heart raced even faster, his pulse pounding in his ears. "Come back here!" he yelled, panic lacing his words, but his plea went unheard as you teetered closer to the edge, ready to give up on everything. Time seemed to slow as he watched your figure leaning into the nothingness, and in that split second, his body moved on instinct.

He surged forward, grabbing your arm with a desperate force and yanking you back against him just as your toes grazed the empty air. The impact of your body colliding with his chest knocked the breath out of both of you, and you were pressed firmly against him, his arms wrapping around your waist in a fierce grip.

"Fucking stupid!" he shouted, his voice breaking as his breath came in ragged gasps. You could feel his chest heaving against your back, his grip on you so tight it was almost painful, but you didn’t struggle. Instead, you stood frozen in his arms, reality finally sinking in—what you had almost done, what he had just saved you from.

He pulled you further away from the cliff’s edge, his hands trembling slightly as he guided you back toward the safety of the school terrace. The sun had dipped lower, casting long shadows across the ground, but the warmth of the day still lingered in the air. It felt at odds with the cold, hollow feeling in your chest.

Once you were both far from the cliff’s edge, Jungwon spun you around to face him, his eyes searching yours, a mixture of anger, fear, and relief swirling in his dark gaze. "Why the hell did you even try to end your life?!" he demanded, his voice louder than usual, raw and broken.

You blinked, the weight of the moment crashing down on you like a wave. His question hung in the air, sharp and accusatory, and you realized just how close you had come to the edge—physically, mentally. A lump formed in your throat as you fumbled for words, guilt and shame suddenly overwhelming you. “But… everything is a mess…”

Jungwon’s expression softened for a fraction of a second before hardening again, his brows furrowed in frustration. “And you think a mess can’t be picked up and cleaned?” His words were harsh, almost biting, but there was something else underneath—a desperation to make you see reason, to pull you back from the darkness that had consumed you.

You gave a bitter laugh, shaking your head as your eyes dropped to the ground. "You’re saying it like it’s so simple. You’re saying it from a third-person point of view. You don’t know what it feels like. How could you possibly—"

"Just shut up." His voice cut through your words like a knife, his hands still gripping your arms, though his hold had loosened, his fingers less tense now. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and he looked like he was fighting back his own emotions, trying to stay strong for both of you.

The silence that followed was thick, the only sound being the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. His jaw clenched as he stared at you, disbelief still etched into his features. How could his best friend—someone who had always seemed so strong, so put-together—be standing here, on the verge of throwing everything away? How could you even consider doing this?

You finally glanced up at him, your voice small. “You’re mad at me.”

"Damn right, I’m mad," Jungwon muttered, his fingers tightening just a little on your arms, but not enough to hurt. “I’m mad because you didn’t even talk to me. Because you tried to handle this on your own, and now—” He stopped, his throat constricting as his gaze softened. “I’m mad because I almost lost you."

Your breath hitched at the raw honesty in his words, and you suddenly felt a pang of regret. The depth of his feelings, the fear in his eyes—it hit you all at once. You had been selfish, you realized. Caught up in your own pain, you had forgotten that there were people who cared, people who would be devastated if you were gone.

“I’m sorry…” The words fell from your lips in a whisper, barely audible, but Jungwon heard them. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just slightly, though his eyes never left yours.

“Just promise me you won’t do this again,” he said quietly, the desperation in his voice still lingering. His hand slid from your arm, his touch gentle now as if afraid you might break.

You nodded, the weight of everything still heavy on your chest. “I promise.”

For the first time since he pulled you back from the cliff, Jungwon’s lips curved into a small, relieved smile. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go that easily.”

But did that change anything? Not really. Even as your best friend, Jungwon, kept calling, you declined every single one of his attempts to reach out. His name would light up your phone screen, his calls persistent at first, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer. The guilt gnawed at you, yet somehow, avoiding him felt easier than facing the weight of everything that had happened.

Days bled into weeks. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since that day on the cliff. The school holidays provided a convenient escape, no awkward encounters in the hallways, no forced conversations during lunch. You didn’t have to see his concerned eyes or hear the questions you weren’t ready to answer.

But it also left you alone. And that isolation, once a refuge, slowly began to feel suffocating.

A sharp sting burned on your cheek, then another, each slap more painful than the last. You felt it deep in your bones—this was abuse. But how could you speak against your own father? The man who provided you a roof over your head, food to eat, clothes on your back. The man who was supposed to protect you but instead delivered blow after blow.

You lay curled up in your small room, the door locked behind you. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating you in this place that should’ve been a home but had turned into a prison. The muffled sounds of your mother’s cries filled the air from just outside your door, followed by the sickening thud of fists. You flinched, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself, as if it could block out the horrors on the other side of the door.

Then your phone buzzed, pulling you from the moment, an unknown number flashing across the screen. You hesitated but answered, desperate for a distraction, for anything to take you away from this nightmare, if only for a second.

“Don’t even think about declining this,” a familiar voice spoke through the line, low and firm. Jungwon.

Your breath hitched. How had he found out?

"Can I come over now?" His question was soft but edged with concern, and yet, your heart sank at the thought. You froze, your grip tightening around the phone as you glanced toward the door where the sounds of violence persisted. No, he couldn’t see this. You couldn’t let him witness the chaos behind these walls.

“No... I’m really fine, Jungwon.” The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

There was silence on the other end, then a harsh sigh. “Stupid girl, I can hear you sobbing.”

His voice was gentle despite the harsh words, the contrast making your chest ache. The tears you had tried so hard to hold back fell freely now, soaking your pillow. You bit your lip, trying to muffle the sobs. The last thing you needed was for him to hear more of your weakness.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just don’t bother me.”

And with that, you ended the call.

You buried your face deeper into the pillow, as if it could absorb the agony that threatened to spill over. You couldn’t drag him into this mess. Jungwon deserved better than the broken shards of your life. He didn’t need to see the shattered pieces of your family or the way you crumbled beneath the weight of it all. He couldn’t fix it. No one could.

Outside, the noise continued, your mother’s cries piercing through the air, but you pressed your hands over your ears, trying to block it out. You curled into yourself, wishing—praying—that somehow, you could disappear.

The days stretched into weeks, and soon enough, six months had passed. Six long months of silence, of unanswered calls and unread messages. You thought you could avoid the inevitable, thought you could lock yourself away from the world and from him. But luck has never been on your side.

It was just an ordinary evening. You were alone, waiting for a pizza delivery. The knock on the door came just as you expected, and without thinking, you rushed to answer, already imagining the cheesy comfort waiting inside the box.

"Pizza?" you murmured absentmindedly as you reached out, grabbing the box from the man standing there in a red cap. You didn’t even spare him a glance. After all, the bill had already been paid online. You were about to close the door when a foot wedged itself in, stopping it from shutting all the way.

Before you could even react, the man pushed the door open. Panic surged through your veins, your heartbeat quickening as you were about to scream—but then he ripped off the mask and cap.

“Jungwon?” His name left your lips in a confused whisper.

He stood in your apartment now, locking the door behind him, his face a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “What the hell?” you muttered, still trying to make sense of what was happening.

“I should be the one saying that!” he snapped, his voice louder than you'd ever heard it. He took a step closer, and you instinctively backed away. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you block me? It’s been six fucking months!” His words echoed in the small space, anger laced with hurt.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Guilt clawed at your insides as you stared at the floor, your voice small, barely audible. “I—”

“You what?” he interrupted, his voice softening only slightly. “You should’ve come to me instead of shutting me out. I care about you. Do you get that?” His words were raw, the emotion clear as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. His breath was warm against your neck as he buried his face in your shoulder, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away again.

That’s when it happened—the sob. It came out of nowhere, and before you could stop it, tears were streaming down your cheeks, your body trembling in his arms.

Jungwon froze. He hadn’t meant to make you cry. “Wait, did I... did I yell too much?” His voice cracked slightly, unsure and a little panicked. But then, as he pulled away to look at you, his eyes caught something else—a dark bruise peeking out from under the sleeve of your shirt. His expression shifted, concern and anger mixing together.

“Was it... your dad?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, so you just nodded, tears still flowing as you pressed your face into his chest again, the sobs shaking your whole body. Jungwon stiffened, helpless in the face of your pain. It wasn’t the first time. He’d seen the marks before, felt the weight of your silence over the months.

He didn’t know what to do, not really. He wasn’t good at handling these things—feelings, emotions. So instead, he did what he always did when words failed him. He reached for the pizza box.

“Hey... let’s eat,” he mumbled, trying to sound lighthearted, though his voice was still thick with worry. “The pizza’s gonna get cold.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes as you glanced at the box. He was right—who could say no to food, especially pizza? Jungwon sat you down on the couch, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as if afraid you might break. He wiped the last of your tears with the sleeve of his jacket, his touch careful, almost tender.

The box opened with a familiar squeak, and the smell of melted cheese and garlic filled the room, momentarily lifting the heavy atmosphere. He picked up a slice, the cheese stretching from the crust, and held it out to you.

“Come on,” he coaxed gently, holding the slice up to your lips. You hesitated, still sniffling, but eventually gave in, taking a small bite. He watched you closely, his eyes soft as he smiled, relieved when you didn’t pull away or retreat into your shell again.

You chewed quietly, the warmth of the pizza slowly easing the ache in your chest. Jungwon fed you another bite, then another, as if the simple act of sharing food could patch up the cracks in your world.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said suddenly, his voice steady but quiet. “Not until you stop shutting me out. You’re stuck with me.”

For the first time in months, a small, fragile smile tugged at the corners of your lips. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

As you wiped the tears from your cheeks and took another bite of the pizza, you finally worked up the courage to ask the question that had been nagging at you for months.

"Why do you care so much anyway?" Your voice was small, but it carried the weight of your confusion, your walls still up even though you sat here with him, sharing a meal like nothing had changed.

Jungwon didn’t hesitate. “Because I love you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He didn’t make a big show of it—he just said it while stuffing his mouth with another bite of pizza, crumbs falling onto his lap, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

You froze mid-bite. The pizza in your hand suddenly felt heavier, like it was too much to hold. Love. That word had always felt dangerous, especially coming from someone who mattered. Your heart raced, but instead of joy or excitement, a chill of fear ran down your spine. Your eyes darted toward the door. What if your parents came home? What if they saw you like this, with a boy, alone in your apartment?

“You should leave,” you blurted, the words stumbling out of your mouth.

Jungwon frowned, his brows knitting together. “Why?”

“Because my dad—” you started, but then remembered the one small mercy of the day. “He’ll be back later.”

“You said he’s gone for the day,” Jungwon reminded you, still chewing on a slice of pizza. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave before he comes.”

Relief washed over you momentarily, and the tension in your shoulders relaxed. He was right. You had a little more time. So the two of you continued to eat, now with a second pizza box sitting on the coffee table—the actual delivery guy had come not long after Jungwon’s dramatic entrance, dropping off a few dumplings along with your order.

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, the sound of chewing filling the room as you stuffed your faces, the dumplings soft and savory, the pizza cheesy and still warm.

But Jungwon, ever the one to ruin the quiet moments, spoke up again. His voice was softer this time, cautious, like he was stepping into dangerous territory. “Why have you been avoiding me, though?”

You looked at him, blinking in confusion as you wiped crumbs off your lips. “Avoiding what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, slower this time, letting the words hang in the air between you. “Say it back.”

Your heart clenched. He was waiting for an answer, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. “I— I’m afraid.”

Jungwon’s face softened, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. “Afraid of what?”

You bit your lip, staring down at the half-eaten pizza in your hand. The words were hard to say, but you forced them out. “Afraid of loving someone. What if they—”

“You think I’ll turn out like your father?” he cut you off, his voice laced with disbelief and hurt.

You froze. The air between you shifted, growing heavier with each passing second. His eyes bore into you, the hurt clear in his expression. You wanted to deny it, to take back the unspoken accusation, but you couldn’t. Instead, you just sat there, silent, your guilt wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket.

“I—” you started, but the words died in your throat.

“So you do.” His voice was low, filled with disappointment. His shoulders slumped, and he looked away, hurt written all over his face. The boy who had burst into your home with so much fire and determination was now quiet, deflated.

“I’m sorry, Jungwon,” you whispered, the apology sounding hollow, even to you.

“It’s fine,” he muttered, but the way he said it told you it wasn’t fine at all. His tone was distant, half-hearted, as if the words barely mattered now. He picked up another slice of pizza, though the enthusiasm from earlier was gone. He chewed slowly, not really tasting it anymore, his eyes focused on the floor.

You sat there, the silence between you heavy and oppressive, both of you nibbling on your food but no longer enjoying it. The pizza that once tasted so good now felt like ash in your mouth, and the room, once filled with warmth and comfort, now felt cold.

Jungwon wiped his hands on a napkin, the sound of the crumpling paper breaking the silence. He sighed, leaning back against the couch, his head tilted toward the ceiling as if he was trying to gather his thoughts. You wanted to say something, to fix the mess you had made, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was sit there, your hands trembling slightly as you held the half-eaten slice, unsure of what to do next.

The tension hung in the air like a cloud, neither of you knowing how to break it. The food sat on the table, forgotten, as you both struggled with your own emotions, neither ready to face the truth that had been laid bare between you.

And yet, despite the silence, despite the hurt, he didn’t leave. Jungwon stayed. Even when you didn’t deserve it. Even when you thought you were unlovable. He stayed.

Jungwon lingered by the door, his hesitation palpable. The quiet of the room was heavy with the weight of unspoken words and lingering doubts. He had finally agreed to leave, his resolve hardening as he prepared to step out of the apartment. But his hand rested on the doorknob, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of frustration and hope.

"You won’t block me again, right?" he asked, his voice strained, the edges of his words betraying his fear of being shut out once more.

You felt a lump in your throat, sadness gripping you tightly. "I will try," you muttered, the admission hanging heavily in the air between you. His disappointment was clear, a visible ache in his eyes as he took in your response.

Jungwon’s expression softened slightly, though his skepticism remained. "I understand," he said, but the words lacked conviction. He was still waiting for something more, something that would reassure him of your sincerity.

Before he could leave, you found yourself reaching out, clutching his hand in a desperate bid to keep him there. "Jungwon, I’m sorry. I don’t believe you to be the same as my dad," you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

His eyes met yours, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "I understand," he repeated, but his tone was guarded, as if he was trying to protect himself from further hurt. Yet, when you continued, your voice softer but firm, his expression shifted.

"I love you too, Jungwon," you pleaded, the words escaping in a rush of vulnerability. The confession was not just an apology but a revelation, a desperate plea for him to stay.

He looked at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You’re saying it for the sake of it," he accused, his voice tinged with skepticism.

The accusation stung, and your eyes welled up with tears. You tried to bridge the gap between your heart and his with honesty. "I’m being honest," you insisted, your voice breaking. "I do love you, Jungwon." But even as you said it, you felt a pang of uncertainty, a hesitation that made you question whether your feelings were as genuine as you wanted them to be.

Jungwon's gaze was intense, his eyes searching yours for the truth. "Say it while looking into my eyes," he demanded, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly, yet gently. The door was still closed, the world outside forgotten in the face of this emotional confrontation.

You hesitated, the weight of his demand pressing down on you. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw the earnestness and care that had been so evident in him all along. The vulnerability you had felt in those long months of silence, the yearning to connect with him, surged to the surface.

“I love you,” you said, the words coming from a place deep within your heart. The confession was more than just an acknowledgment of your feelings; it was a declaration of the truth you had been avoiding. The pain of the past six months, the longing to speak to him, the realization that he had been the only one who truly cared—it all culminated in those three words.

Jungwon’s eyes softened as he took in your declaration. He let go of your shoulders, his expression a mix of relief and continued uncertainty. He stepped closer, his presence a comforting warmth against the cold weight of your fears.

"How could I not love you?" you whispered, the question more to yourself than to him, but it was clear. The truth of your feelings, once hidden and doubted, now stood revealed. You had missed him, craved his presence, and needed him more than you had ever admitted.

Jungwon pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms enveloping you in a protective cocoon. The tears on your cheeks were wiped away by his thumb, his touch tender despite the earlier conflict. "We’ll figure this out," he murmured, his voice soothing as he held you close. "We’ll take it one step at a time."

The world outside felt distant, the only reality that mattered was the one in his arms, where the past six months of silence and fear began to unravel. The pizza boxes and dumplings lay forgotten on the table, their warmth a reminder of the connection you had almost lost but had now found again.

As you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, the emotional turmoil slowly settled into a fragile sense of hope. Jungwon's presence was a beacon of reassurance, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, love had the power to heal and bridge the gaps of misunderstanding.

As the months have passed, the initial awkwardness of your relationship has given way to a comfortable familiarity. You and your best friend-turned-lover have grown accustomed to each other's presence, often finding yourselves curled up on the couch together, lost in conversation or simply enjoying each other's company.

His voice is low and patient, guiding you through the motions as his hand covers yours. Your fingers tentatively wrap around his cock, mirroring his movements. You can feel his heartbeat pulsing against your palm, his warm breath against your neck as he leans down to kiss you softly. "Like that,"

His voice is a husky whisper against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His hand tightens over yours, guiding it slower, then faster, creating a rhythm that hitches your breath. You can feel him hardening further against your touch, his hips bucking gently into your grip.

"Feel that?" he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he guides your hand up and down his length. "That's you touching me." His breath hitches when you wrap your other hand around to cup him, your fingers brushing against sensitive skin. "Just like that,"

"You're... you're so warm," you whisper, your voice hitching as your thumbs brush against the velvety tip. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his intense gaze. "And so big..." He groans, his hips jerking forward, his hands squeezing yours tighter around him.

"I-I want to touch you too," he stammers, his cheeks flushing a soft shade of red. His hands hesitate, hovering over your thighs before slowly inching upward, his touch light and uncertain. "Is this... is this okay?"

"Mhm..." you breathe out, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his tentative fingers trace the hem of your skirt. His touch is like a spark against your skin, making you acutely aware of every inch of your body. "You can... you can go under..."

His fingers tremble slightly as he lifts the hem of your skirt, his gaze fixated on the soft fabric of your panties. He looks up at you, seeking permission, his heart pounding in his chest. You nod, and he lets out a shaky breath before slowly sliding his hand underneath your underwear.

"Oh..." you gasp, your back arching into him as he finds your center. His touch is exploratory, his fingers tracing your folds as if committing every detail to memory. "You're... you're wet," he breathes out, his voice laced with wonder and a hint of nervousness.

As he explores you, his own breath hitches in rhythm with your touches. His hips jerk forward, pushing into your fist as your hands continue to stroke him. "You... you feel so good," he pants, his voice strained, his fingers mirroring your rhythm against your core. "Like..."

"...like silk," he whispers, his fingers gliding through your wetness as he discovers your sensitive spots. "So smooth and warm." He looks up at you, his eyes glassy with desire, his face flushed. "Can I... can I put my finger inside you?"

"Yes," you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation. "Please..." You guide his finger to your entrance, holding his gaze as he pushes it inside you. He lets out a soft gasp, his finger sinking deeper into your heat as he starts to curl it. "Oh god..."

He curls his finger inside you, feeling the tight, untouched walls of your vagina hug his finger tightly. He looks at you in awe, his eyes wide with wonder as he realizes he's the first person to ever be inside you. "You're so... so tight," he whispers, his voice shaking.

"And you're... so big," you pant, your hands squeezing him tighter as he withdraws slightly, only to push back in deeper. "I've never... never felt this way..." Your words trail off into a moan as he finds that spot inside you that makes your insides clench.

His face contorts in concentration, his brows furrowing as he tries to hold back. "You... you're gripping me so tightly," he hisses, his voice barely a whisper. "If you keep that up, I'm... I'm gonna... "

"...I'm gonna cum," he chokes out, his finger moving frantically inside you as he fights against the urge. But it's no use, the sensation of your tight, virgin hole is too much for him to handle.

His movements become erratic, his finger pistonning in and out of you as his breath hitches against your neck. His hips thrust into your grasp, his hot seed pulsing onto your fingers as he moans softly, burying his face against your shoulder. "I'm so... so sorry..."

Tears well up in your eyes as a mix of overwhelming sensations flood through you. Your insides feel deliciously sore from his finger, your body tensing as a few tears slip down your cheeks. "Ow..." you whimper, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

He stiffens behind you, his body tensing as he realizes the reason behind your tears. His finger stills inside you, his body shuddering as he looks at the tears on your cheeks. "Oh god, I'm so sorry..." He gently withdraws from you, cradling you against his chest.

"Don't... don't leave..." you hiccup, turning in his arms to face him. He pulls you into his lap, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving soft, apologetic kisses on your skin.

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. "I'm so sorry if I hurt you. That wasn't supposed to happen. Not like that. Not our first time..." His voice trails off, his face flushing with embarrassment.

You sniffle, nuzzling against his chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. "It's okay... it's just... it's new. It's... intense," you explain softly, your voice steadying. "But... it's not your fault. We're learning together..."

He sighs in relief, hugging you tightly against him. "Right. Learning together," he repeats, his voice filled with gratitude. "And I promise, next time will be better. I'll be more careful, more gentle..." He trails off, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

The silence between you two was suffocating. After what had happened, you both found yourselves drifting, not in your feelings for each other but in the inability to navigate the awkwardness that came after. There was no guidebook for this—everyone talked about sex, whispered secrets and stories of excitement, but no one ever mentioned the part that followed. The silence. The shy avoidance. The lingering discomfort.

You avoided talking to Jungwon for days, each time you crossed paths, your eyes darting elsewhere, your heart thudding in your chest. It wasn’t because you didn’t care for him; it was because the weight of what had happened—the intimacy, the vulnerability—felt too heavy to put into words. You weren’t sure how to approach him, how to continue like everything was the same. And maybe it wasn’t the same. Something had changed between you two, but no one had taught you how to deal with that change.

Jungwon’s home had become your escape, a sanctuary from the chaos that awaited you back in your own. His parents had always welcomed you with open arms, offering warmth and safety in a way your own home never did. It was easier to stay at his place, easier to smile and laugh with his family, easier to forget the gnawing ache of shame and fear that clung to you whenever you returned to your father’s house.

But you couldn’t stay away forever.

When you did finally go home, it was always late, always when you were too tired to think about anything but sleep. You would slip quietly into your room, locking the door behind you, hoping that tonight would be one of the quieter nights. But then, the inevitable happened. The sound of something shattering echoed through the walls, sharp and jagged, followed by the familiar sound of your father’s raised voice—angry, slurred, chaotic. Your body tensed immediately, heart pounding in your chest as you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing for the noise to stop.

Another crash. The sound of something breaking against the wall, and you knew—another plate, another bottle, another item sacrificed to your father’s rage. You curled up on your bed, knees pulled to your chest as the noise continued. You had learned to brace yourself, to keep the panic at bay, but it never got easier.

And then, a sound from your window startled you out of your thoughts. A soft knock, hesitant but insistent. You turned, your breath catching as you saw Jungwon’s familiar face peering through the glass. His eyes were wide with concern, his breath fogging up the window as he knocked again, mouthing your name.

Without thinking, you rushed to open it, quietly unlatching the window and sliding it up just enough for him to slip through. “What are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice a mixture of surprise and panic as you helped him inside. His hands were cold, and his body brushed against yours as he climbed into the room.

Jungwon gave you a sheepish smile, his eyes flickering to the door where the sounds of your father’s outburst still echoed faintly. “I wanted to talk to you… we haven’t, you know, talked in a while. And then I heard your dad...”

His words trailed off, the concern in his eyes clear. You could feel the lump in your throat forming, a mixture of embarrassment and helplessness that made you want to shrink away. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” you muttered, dropping your gaze to the floor. “I didn’t want you to—”

Before you could finish, Jungwon pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm, comforting embrace. His chin rested on top of your head, his hands gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion. The tension in your body melted slightly as he held you, his presence grounding you, making the chaos outside feel a little less suffocating.

“Why were you avoiding me?” he whispered into your hair, his voice soft and full of concern. “Was it something I did? Was I too rough or...?”

You swallowed, your throat tight with the weight of your own feelings. You shook your head, not able to meet his eyes. “No, it wasn’t that,” you mumbled, your fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just... it was awkward, you know? After everything.”

Jungwon pulled back slightly, his eyes searching your face for answers, but there was no accusation there, only understanding. He sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t have to be awkward,” he said gently, his hand moving to rest on your shoulder. “We can talk about it. We’re figuring this out together, right?”

His words were meant to comfort, but the reality of it all still felt heavy. The awkwardness of crossing that line of intimacy, the weight of your father’s violence lingering in the background—it all felt too much to bear. But as Jungwon sat down on the edge of your bed, his familiar presence a reminder of everything good, you knew that avoiding him wouldn’t solve anything. He was here, and he cared. Maybe that was enough for now.

He reached over and flicked the switch, plunging the room into darkness. The only sound was the muffled argument coming from downstairs, their parents' voices rising and falling in a heated debate. He moved to the curtains, pulling them closed to block out the faint moonlight peeking through the gaps.

The dim light cast long, dancing shadows on the walls as he turned back to face you. His hands trembled slightly as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, crinkled square - a condom. He hesitated, his cheeks flushing red, before finally blurting out, "Can we...?"

"Can we...?" he repeated softly, his voice barely audible over the distant quarrel. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his eyes darting to meet yours then quickly flicking away, like a nervous bird. "Can we... have actual... you know...?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you processed his words. Actual sex. With him. Here. Now. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and terror swirling in your stomach. You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice. "I... I don't know,"

He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if sharing a secret. "I can forget about it if you want. Pretend I never said anything." His hands fidgeted with the condom, crumpling the foil between his fingers. He was nervous too.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his as you took the crumpled foil from him. His breath hitched at the contact, and he looked up at you with wide, hopeful eyes. You unfolded the condom, the quiet rustle of the package breaking the tense silence.

"No... I want this too," you admitted softly, your voice barely a whisper. You looked down, unable to meet his gaze, as you slowly began to unbutton your shirt. He watched, enraptured, his eyes following your fingers as they revealed more of your skin. "Really?"

You nodded, still focused on your task. You shrugged out of your shirt, letting it drop to the floor. As you began to get out of your shorts, he hesitantly reached out, his hands mirroring yours as he too started to undress.

Your hands froze mid-action, the unbuckled waistband of your jeans gaping open. The heated argument downstairs escalated, the sound of shattered glass punctuating your father's angry words. You bit your lip, uncertainty written all over your face. "What if... what if dad knows you're in?"

He paused, his own shirt halfway unbuttoned. His eyes flicked to the closed door, then back to you, concern etched on his face. He finished unbuttoning his shirt, the material rustling softly as he shrugged it off. "We'll be quiet," he promised, his voice low and steady.

He stepped closer, his bare chest inches from yours. The heat from his body radiated onto yours, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in. "We can... take it slow," he murmured, his hands tentatively resting on your hips. "And if you want me to stop... just say it..."

You nodded, leaning back on the bed as he gently laid you down. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he crawled onto the bed beside you. He propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand tracing patterns on your bare stomach, his touch feather-light. "We'll be quiet,"

He leaned down, his mouth finding your center through your shorts. He kissed and sucked through the fabric, his hands gently pushing your legs apart as he went down on you. The sound of his mouth on your pussy was muffled by the fabric, but the vibrations sent shivers through your body.

He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours as he kissed through your shorts. "I've never... done this before," he admitted, his voice muffled. "But I want to make you feel good." You bit your lip, your heart racing as you were reminded that he was a virgin too.

"Show me what you like," he whispered, his hands gripping your thighs as he continued to kiss and suck through the fabric. You tentatively guided his head, showing him the pressure and rhythm that drove you wild. He followed your guidance eagerly, his own inexperience fueling his enthusiasm. "Like that?"

"Yes... just like that," you panted, your head falling back against the pillow. He doubled his efforts, his touch becoming more confident with each passing moment. The room filled with the sounds of your labored breaths and the soft, muffled noises of his mouth on you. "Please..."

His fingers deftly unbuttoned your shorts and slipped them down your legs, leaving you in just your soaked-through panties. He kissed the fabric, his warm breath sending shivers through your body. Then, with a gentle tug, he pulled your panties aside and buried his face between your folds.

His tongue was tentative at first, exploring your wet warmth with shy curiosity. It curled and licked, learning your folds, your ridges, your hole. You could feel his inexperience in every uncertain flick, but it only made the moment more precious. He was learning your body, mapping out your secrets with his tongue.

"Oh, God..." you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair as he found your most sensitive spot. He latched onto it, sucking gently as he swirled his tongue around it. Your legs trembled, your hips rising off the bed as you sought more of his mouth.

"Shh..." he hissed softly, lifting his head for a moment. His face was glistening, his chin shiny with your essence. "Your dad might hear..." He ducked his head back down, his hands gripping your hips to keep you from bucking too wildly.

He continued his ministrations, his tongue a blur as he ate at you like a starving man. Your quiet whimpers were muffled by his mouth, your legs shaking violently as the pressure built inside you. He didn't stop, didn't relent, even when you thought you couldn't take it anymore.

"I... I don't know if I can be quiet..." you panted, your voice barely audible. Your body tensed, your legs squeezing around his head as the first waves of release hit you. He looked up at you, his eyes wide and worried. "Try, okay? For me?"

"Okay... okay, I'll try..." you gasped, biting down hard on your fist to stifle your cries. His tongue slid inside you, pushing deep as the first wave crested. Your body clamped down on him, your insides pulsing around his intrusion.

He swallowed your sounds, his throat working as he fought to keep you quiet. Your pussy squeezed him tightly, rippling around his tongue as he lapped at your clit, trying to draw out your orgasm. Finally, you managed to choke back a cry, your hips jerking against his face as you came hard.

He lifted his head, his face a picture of smug satisfaction. His mouth and chin were shiny with your release, his hair disheveled from your desperate fingers. "Good job," he praised softly, kissing your inner thigh. He sat up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Can I... can we try...?" he asked, his voice trailing off as he looked down at his hardened length. He was tentatively stroking himself, his hand moving up and down his length with uncertainty. You nodded, your eyes wide as you looked at his manhood for the first time.

He positioned himself between your thighs, his hands shaking as he guided himself to your entrance. He pressed the head against your hole, his face contorting with concentration. "This might... it might hurt a little," he warned, his voice barely a whisper.

"Condom!" you hissed, your eyes flying wide open. He let out a nervous laugh, "Yeah, condom..." He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a crinkly square. He tore it open with shaking hands and rolled it onto himself with a grimace.

He lined himself up again, his breathing growing heavier. He leaned down to kiss you, his mouth covering yours as he slowly pushed forward. You felt a brief, sharp pain as he broke through, your nails digging into his back. He froze, his face buried in your neck. "You okay?"

"Y-yes... keep going..." you whimpered, your voice barely a whisper. He nodded, his brow furrowing with concentration as he slowly eased the rest of the way in. You could feel every inch of him, your body stretching to accommodate his thickness.

He pushed forward, and you felt the sudden, sharp pain as your hymen gave way. You let out a soft cry, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound. He froze, his body stiff as he realized what had happened. "Oh God, I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

He held perfectly still, his heart pounding against your chest. After a moment, he carefully pulled back until just the head of his dick was inside you, then pushed back in gently. He repeated this process a few times, each push and pull sending small jolts of pain through your tender flesh.

You hissed softly through clenched teeth, your nails digging into his back as you tried to bear the discomfort. He kept his movements slow and gentle, his face contorted with effort as he tried to hold back. "You're so tight... it's so good..." he breathed, his voice hoarse with restraint.

After a few more slow thrusts, the pain began to ease, replaced by a strange, pleasurable pressure. You relaxed a little, your legs unwinding from around his waist. He took this as a sign to continue, his hips picking up a gentle rhythm as he slid in and out of your virgin hole.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours as his pace quickened. He was being as gentle as he could, but his body had a mind of its own. The sound of his flesh slapping against yours filled the room, mingling with your soft whimpers and his ragged breathing.

As he thrust into you, he felt a sudden wetness. He looked down between your bodies, his eyes widening as he saw the blood staining the condom. He let out a low groan, his hips stuttering as he realized that he was taking your virginity.

He leaned down to kiss you again, his mouth covering yours as he tried to distract you from the discomfort. He thrust deep, filling you completely as he groaned against your lips. He was trying so hard to be gentle, but your body was too much.

You bit your lip hard to muffle your cries, burying your face in his neck as he continued to move inside you. The headboard banged against the wall with each thrust, the sound echoing loudly through the house. You prayed that your dad's hearing aid was off, so he wouldn't hear.

Jungwon covered your mouth with his hand, muffling your noises as he increased his pace. He was so close, his body tensing with each snap of his hips. "I'm so sorry... I'm so close... I can't stop..." he panted, his eyes locked with yours.

You nodded, your eyes wide with trust. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he continued to thrust into you. The pressure was building inside you too, a heat spreading through your belly as he hit a spot deep inside.

With a choked cry, Jungwon buried his face in your neck, his hips stuttering as he came inside you. The condom strained against his shaft, the blood from your virginity leaking out around it. He held you tightly, his breath ragged against your skin as he tried to calm his racing heart.

He slowly lifted his head, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. You nodded weakly, your body languid from the intense experience. He carefully pulled out, making a face as he saw the blood-stained condom. "I'm so sorry..."

He quickly cleaned you up, his touch gentle as he wiped away the evidence of your lost innocence. He disposed of the condom in the trash, flushing bright red as he realized that he had just taken your virginity in your house. "We should be more careful next time..."

He helped you off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist as you leaned against him for support. "Come on, let's clean up," he murmured, his voice soft with embarrassment. You nodded weakly, your legs still shaky as he led you to the bathroom. "You can barely walk..."

He turned on the shower, helping you step inside before joining you himself. The warm water felt soothing against your skin, but you couldn't shake off the lingering awkwardness. Jungwon stood behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he held you against his chest. "We're such idiots,"

"We are," you agreed softly, letting out a nervous laugh. He rested his chin on your shoulder, his hands roaming up to cup your breasts. Your head fell back against his shoulder, your eyes closed as you let out a soft moan. "Jungwon... we can't... not again..."

"Shh, just relax," he whispered, his fingers gently squeezing your nipples. The water continued to pour down, washing away the evidence of your lovemaking. Jungwon's other hand reached between your legs, his fingers gently rubbing your sensitive folds. "You're so sore..."

"Mmm... It's okay, we won't do it again... just let me take care of you," he murmured, his fingers gently cleaning you up. He turned off the shower and helped you out, wrapping you in a fluffy towel. He gently dried you off, his touch tender and caring.

Jungwon carried you out of the bathroom and back to the bed, carefully laying you down before climbing in beside you. He pulled the covers over both of you, cuddling you close and wrapping his arms around your waist. "Just rest for now," he whispered, his lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead.

You nuzzled against his chest, feeling content and sleepy. But then reality hit you, and you tensed up. "Jungwon... what if my dad comes in?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. He stiffened, realizing the gravity of the situation.

"You're right... I should go," he murmured, reluctance clear in his voice. He carefully untangled himself from you and got out of bed, quickly dressing. You sat up, pulling the covers around you as you watched him. "I'll call you later, okay?"

You bit your lip, nodding. "Okay... be careful," you whispered. He crossed the room and pressed a quick kiss to your lips before heading to the window. "I'll climb out the window. I don't want your dad to see me leaving," he explained in a low voice.

He pushed the window open and climbed out, waving at you before dropping down onto the lawn below. You watched as he straightened up and jogged away, disappearing into the darkness. You closed the window and locked it before climbing back into bed, your mind racing with thoughts of what had just happened.

The busy street buzzed with life, but all Jungwon could think about was shaking Mira off. She clung to his arm persistently, her grip tightening as she tilted her head with a coy smile, her words dripping with desperation.

"Jungwon, c'mon," she whined, batting her lashes in a way that might have worked on someone else. "It's just one date."

His face remained impassive, brushing her off with a subtle tug of his arm. "Mira, I'm taken." His voice was calm but firm, the words carrying a weight of finality that he hoped she would understand.

Mira, however, wasn’t one to give up so easily. She edged closer, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "You said she's in Canada, she won’t know."

Before Jungwon could even reply, a familiar voice rang out, light and full of warmth.

"Wonnie!"

His heart leapt at the sound of your voice, and he turned just in time to see you rushing toward him. Before he could process anything else, you threw yourself into his arms, and he caught you instantly, pulling you close as if it had been mere hours since he last saw you, not years. He held you like he had been waiting for this exact moment all his life.

"You're back?" His voice cracked slightly, a mixture of disbelief and excitement bubbling to the surface. He squeezed you tighter, as if to confirm you were really there, in his arms, tangible and warm. "Why didn’t you tell me? I would've picked you up from the airport."

You clung to him, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him that you had missed more than you could admit during those long years apart. It had been almost three years since graduation, and four since the start of your relationship. Three excruciating years of video calls, texts, and waiting, all because your mother had finally divorced your father and moved to Canada, taking you with her. Jungwon had promised you he'd wait, and wait he did—patiently, devotedly, even though the distance often felt unbearable.

Tears began to spill uncontrollably down your cheeks, soaking into his shirt as you sobbed into his chest. The emotions were overwhelming, the relief of being back in his arms after so long mixing with the sadness of having missed him so much.

"Why are you crying?" Jungwon asked softly, his voice filled with concern. His hands moved up to cradle the back of your head gently as he rocked you back and forth, trying to soothe you. The steady rhythm of his movements grounded you, pulling you out of the swirl of emotions that threatened to drown you.

"I'm happy, so happy," you mumbled into his chest, your voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. You took a shaky breath, trying to regain your composure, and wiped your tear-streaked face with the back of your hand before looking up at him.

And then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Mira still standing there, watching the intimate moment unfold between you and Jungwon with barely concealed irritation.

"Who's she though?" You asked, gesturing toward the girl who now stood awkwardly a few feet away, her smile strained and forced.

Jungwon rolled his eyes dramatically, the exasperation clear on his face as he shifted his hold on you. "She's just a casual friend," he muttered under his breath, his tone leaving no room for interpretation.

Mira took that as her cue to awkwardly introduce herself, though it was clear she was far from pleased with the situation. "Hello. You must be his girlfriend," she mumbled, her eyes flicking between the two of you as she watched the embrace dissolve.

"Yeah," you replied simply, your tone firm but polite, unwilling to give her any satisfaction from this moment. Your grip on Jungwon tightened subtly, a quiet assertion that he was yours, and you weren’t going anywhere.

As you broke away from the hug, Jungwon leaned down to whisper into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "She's annoying," he muttered with a slight chuckle. "She was trying to get me to date her without you knowing."

You turned your head slightly, hiding a grin as you whispered back teasingly, "You should’ve gone then."

Jungwon pulled back just enough to give you an incredulous look, his brows furrowing in playful annoyance. "How could I?" he whispered back, his voice full of mock indignation. "I love you."

Mira, sensing that she had no place in this moment, let out a soft huff and turned on her heel, walking away quickly with a flick of her hair, clearly defeated. Jungwon barely glanced her way, his attention solely focused on you, his arms still wrapped around you like a protective shield.

The two of you stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, oblivious to the world around you. After years of being apart, of missed touches and long-distance calls, nothing else mattered. The noise of the city faded away, and all that was left was the sound of your heartbeats, syncing up once again after so much time spent apart.

The warm water cascaded down on you both, the steam filling the bathroom and fogging up the mirror. Jungwon's arms were wrapped around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. His fingers gently traced patterns on your belly, sending shivers down your spine despite the heat of the water.

"It feels different, doesn't it?" Jungwon murmured, his voice low as he nuzzled his face into your wet hair, inhaling your scent. His lips found the curve of your shoulder, pressing a soft, sucking kiss there before trailing up your neck. "Being together again..."

"...not just talking on the phone or facetiming," you interjected, your voice barely a whisper, enjoying the gentle touches. His hands slowly washed your body, cleaning you with care. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, giving him better access to your neck. "I missed this."

"Mmm, me too," Jungwon hummed against your skin, his hands gliding down to your thighs, gently massaging them. The suds of the body wash made his touch slick. "I missed being able to touch you like this..."

"...to feel your heart race when I kiss your neck," he continued, his hands slowly sliding back up, skimming over your hips, your ribs, before finally resting underneath your breasts. "To hear your breath hitch when I..." He paused, his touch becoming more gentle. "Hold you like this."

His large hands cupped your breasts tenderly, his thumbs caressing the hardened peaks. He rocked his hips forward slightly, pressing his hardened length against the small of your back. "Even this... feels different. Better."

"It's... intense," you breathed out, your voice hitching as his touch became more insistent. His touch was gentle yet firm, reverent yet demanding. Your hands gripped his wrists, not to push him away, but to anchor yourself, to ground yourself in the overwhelming sensations. "Like..."

"...like we're trying to remember every detail, every feeling," you continued, your voice trembling. "Like we're starving for each other and can't get enough." Your breath caught as he squeezed your breasts gently, his thumbs rolling over your nipples. "Jungwon..."

His name fell from your lips on a soft moan as he grinded against you slowly, his mouth finding yours. His tongue delved in, deepening the kiss as his hands continued their slow exploration. The water poured down on you both, washing away the suds, but not the heat building between you.

His touch grew bolder as he turned you to face him, his hands sliding down your slick body to wrap around your thighs and lift you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back as he pressed you against the cool tiles. "Look at me," he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

Your breath hitched as you met his gaze, his eyes dark with need. His hardness prodded at your entrance, pausing there. "Remember how it was, before?" He flexed his hips forward slightly, filling you just a little. "Remember how we fit together?"

"Yes..." you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders. He slowly pushed into you more, inch by inch, his face contorted with pleasure. "Just like that... we fit..." You threw your head back, gasping as he sheathed himself fully inside you. "Jungwon..."

His length was thick and long, stretching you to accommodate him. He pulled out slowly, his hips rolling forward again as he thrust back in, his pace measured and deliberate. His hands gripped your ass tightly, spreading your ass cheeks slightly to grant himself deeper access. "Your eyes... they get so big,"

He leaned forward, his mouth latching onto one of your hardened peaks, sucking hard as he continued his slow thrusts. He was taking his time, drawing out the pleasure for both of you. His length glided in and out of you easily, the water and the body wash acting as natural lubricant.

"Jungwon... it's... so good..." you moaned, your voice barely a whisper. Your hands clutched his shoulders tightly, your nails digging into his flesh. Your breaths came in short pants, mingling with his harsh breaths. "You're so deep... I can feel you..."

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more insistent. The sound of water splashing filled the bathroom, accompanied by your soft moans and his ragged breathing. His mouth found yours again, swallowing your cries. His thickness caressed every inch of you, his pelvis grinding against yours with each thrust.

"You're... so warm... so tight..." he groaned against your mouth. His hands tightened on your bottom, his fingers spreading you wider as he increased his pace. The sound of their bodies slapping against each other echoed in the bathroom, accompanied by their heavy breathing. "I can't... hold back..."

"Don't... don't hold back..." you whimpered, your body tensing as he nailed a particularly sensitive spot. "Harder... Jungwon... please..." Your head lolled to the side, your breath coming in short pants.

His thrusts became brutal, his hips slamming against yours with abandon. The water in the tub splashed wildly, nearly overflowing as he fucked you with reckless abandon. His mouth latched onto your neck, biting and sucking hard as he chased his climax. "Fuck... fuck... FUCK!"

"Jungwon... yes... yes!" You cried out, your body tensing as your release neared. His thickness rubbed against you perfectly, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body clenched around him, your inner muscles milking him as you shattered around him.

"Ahhh!!" He threw his head back, his body stiffening as he found his release. He slammed into you one last time, his body shuddering as he spilled into you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, pulling you flush against him as he rode out his release. "Ahh..."

Finally, he collapsed against you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You remained suspended in the water, his softening length still buried inside you. After a moment, he gently pulled out, his thick seed dripping from your stretched open hole.

You leaned back against the tub, your legs splayed wide open as you gazed at your dripping hole. A satisfied smile spread across your face as you felt the warmth of his seed coating your insides. You reached down, gently probing your stretched hole with your finger, feeling his thick load inside you.

Jungwon watched you with hooded eyes, his face flushed and his breathing still heavy. "You look so... satisfied," he commented, his voice lazy and content. He reached out, his hand mirroring yours as he gently touched your slick hole.

You looked at him, your eyes glinting mischievously. "Mmm... I am... but there's still some left..." you purred, pushing two fingers deep inside yourself and scooping out some of his seed. He watched as you brought your fingers to your mouth, sucking them clean.

His eyes widened, his pupils dilating as he watched you clean your fingers. "That's... so dirty..." he murmured, his voice laced with approval. He reached out, his own fingers mimicking yours as he gently pushed them into your stretched hole, scooping out more of his warm seed.

You moaned softly, your eyes rolling back as he fingered your hole, his fingers coated in his own seed. Jungwon brought his fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking them clean just like you had done. You watched him, your heart racing at the sight of him devouring his own essence.

"You're insatiable..." he groaned, his eyes glinting hungrily as he looked at you. His fingers delved back into your hole, pushing deep as he sought more of his release. "Let's get clean, hmm?" he suggested, his voice low and gruff.

You nodded eagerly, your body tingling with anticipation. He slowly cleaned you up, his touch gentle and caring as he washed his own essence off your body. Then, he lathered up a washcloth and began to clean himself, his face flushed and his breathing heavy. "Turn around..."

You turned around, your back pressing against his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. The washcloth gently cleaned your back, your sides, your stomach... and then lower. You moaned softly as he cleaned between your legs, his touch gentle yet insistent.

"Spread your legs wider..." he whispered against your ear. You complied, your thighs parting to give him better access. The warm, soapy cloth cleaned your folds, your crease, your tight little hole.

He spent extra time cleaning your hole, his fingers gently spreading you open as he washed inside you. You felt so clean, so refreshed, as he finished up and set the washcloth aside. His arms remained wrapped around you, holding you close as he nuzzled his face against your neck.

"Let's dry off..." he murmured, helping you stand. He stepped out of the tub first, then helped you out. The bathroom was filled with steam, the mirrors fogged up. He grabbed a towel and began to dry you off, his hands roaming over your body reverently.

You stood there, letting him dry you off, feeling his warm breath on your skin as he worked. When he finished with you, he dried himself off as well, his eyes never leaving yours. Once he was dry, he picked you up in his arms and carried you out of the bathroom.

You didn't know when you fell asleep but the first thing in the morning you noticed was the warmth of Jungwon’s body pressing close against yours, his arm draped lazily around your waist. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the tangled sheets that barely covered the both of you.

Your mind was slow to piece together the events of the night before, the hazy memory of falling asleep together in each other’s arms, feeling completely safe and enveloped in warmth. The soft rise and fall of Jungwon���s chest against your back was a comforting rhythm, and you let yourself linger in the moment.

Then, a sharp knock on the door broke the serenity. You stirred, blinking sleepily as you felt Jungwon’s arm tighten around your waist, his head buried deeper into the crook of your neck.

"Jungwon, there's a knock," you mumbled, your voice heavy with sleep as you tried to shift his arm off you, your fingers brushing over his in a half-hearted attempt to wake him.

"They can wait..." he grumbled, barely audible, pulling you closer as his lips ghosted against your shoulder, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment, you almost believed him—whoever it was could definitely wait. Until the sound of a familiar voice echoed from behind the door.

“Jungwon-ah, are you awake?”

You bolted upright, eyes wide, your heart immediately racing. His parents. You could barely register Jungwon’s groggy response as he rubbed his face with both hands, clearly still half-asleep, while you were already scrambling to find your clothes. You glanced over at him, eyes wide with panic as you whispered, "Are they here unannounced?"

Jungwon shot up from the bed, instantly awake at the realization. His eyes widened in disbelief, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. “Oh my god,” he muttered, quickly grabbing for his clothes. You hurriedly followed suit, pulling your shirt over your head as you glanced at the door nervously.

“I’m coming!” Jungwon called out, his voice slightly strained as he hopped around on one leg, trying to pull up his pants in a rush. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and you could see the flush creeping up his neck as the reality of the situation dawned on him.

You sat back on the edge of the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest, watching as Jungwon took a deep breath and stepped out of the bedroom. The door closed softly behind him, and you could hear the muffled sounds of his conversation with his parents in the other room.

“Oh… hi mom, dad,” Jungwon greeted, his voice tinged with an awkwardness that was impossible to hide. You could picture him standing at the door, scratching the back of his neck, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy. “You… you should’ve told me you were coming.”

His mom’s voice was lighthearted, as if nothing were amiss. “Do we really need to tell our son when we’re visiting?” she teased, stepping into the dorm uninvited. You could almost hear her footsteps as she walked around the room, probably inspecting every corner like mothers do.

His father’s voice came next, gruff but not unkind. “At least your dorm is clean,” he commented, as if his primary concern was whether or not the room was up to his standards. Jungwon let out a small, nervous laugh in response, clearly trying to keep the conversation light.

You could hear the subtle tension in his voice as he continued. “Uh… I’ll be right back, I just need to… shower,” he stammered, clearly struggling to act casual as he hastily excused himself. “Just… sit here for a bit, okay?”

The door to the bedroom opened again, and Jungwon slipped back inside, closing it quickly behind him as if that simple action could shield both of you from further embarrassment. His face was flushed, his ears a deep shade of pink as he leaned back against the door for a second, eyes shut.

“They’re really here,” he muttered, as if trying to process it himself.

You shook your head, laughing softly at the absurdity of the situation despite the tension swirling in the room. "Of course, they are. At least you got us out of that one... sort of."

Jungwon groaned quietly, moving towards the dresser to grab a towel, muttering under his breath about needing a miracle. You could only smile, watching him shuffle around with an awkward energy, knowing this was one morning neither of you would forget anytime soon.

After quickly showering and changing into something more comfortable—Jungwon in a loose sweatshirt that conveniently hid most of his neck, and you in one of his oversized tees—you both exchanged nervous glances before stepping out of the bedroom. The awkward tension still hung in the air as Jungwon reached for the door handle, the two of you silently hoping that his parents hadn't picked up on anything too obvious.

As the door swung open, the comforting smell of breakfast greeted you both. His mom was busy setting plates on the small dining table, her movements efficient yet graceful, while his dad sat at the table, scrolling through his phone. You noticed the slight pause in his mother’s actions when she caught sight of you, her brows raising in surprise before she quickly composed herself.

“Oh,” she said, the surprise melting into a knowing smile. “Is she your girlfriend? The one from Canada?”

Jungwon’s ears instantly turned red, his fingers tightening on the door handle as he gave a shy nod. “Y-Yeah,” he mumbled, glancing nervously at his father, who looked completely oblivious to the conversation until now.

His dad blinked, clearly confused by the sudden revelation. “Canada?” he repeated, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked between you and Jungwon, trying to piece things together.

Feeling the awkwardness settle around the table like an unwanted guest, Jungwon led you both to the dining area, where you carefully took your seat next to him. You made sure to sit up straight, shoulders relaxed but composed, not wanting to make any wrong impressions. After all, meeting your partner’s parents for the first time, especially under such unexpected circumstances, was nerve-wracking enough.

As you slid into the chair, you nudged Jungwon lightly with your elbow, your voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You told them about me?”

Jungwon let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck—his fingers brushing dangerously close to the hickey he’d tried so hard to hide. “Well… kind of?” he replied, his voice rising slightly at the end, as if even he wasn’t sure of his own answer.

You barely had time to react when his mother appeared by the table, a warm smile on her face as she set down plates of egg toast in front of everyone. The golden, buttery aroma filled the room, momentarily easing the tension, but only for a moment. Just as you reached for your fork, his father’s voice cut through the silence.

“What’s that?” His dad’s eyes were narrowed in on Jungwon’s neck, specifically the faint purple mark peeking out from under his sweatshirt. The color drained from Jungwon’s face as he instinctively slapped a hand over the spot, clearly panicking.

“Oh, this?” Jungwon stammered, his voice suddenly an octave higher than usual. He swallowed hard before blurting out the first excuse that came to mind. “It’s, uh… a mosquito bite.”

You could practically feel the heat radiating from his embarrassment, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. His father, however, was far from convinced. He raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical as he leaned back in his chair. “A mosquito bite that big?”

Jungwon’s fingers tightened around his fork, his face burning with mortification. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but the words just wouldn’t come. Desperate to save him from any further embarrassment, you quickly jumped in, plastering on the brightest smile you could muster.

“Oh, aunty!” you said, your voice filled with enthusiasm as you turned to his mom, completely shifting the conversation. “Your hair looks gorgeous! Where did you get it done? It really suits you!”

Jungwon let out a silent breath of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing as the attention shifted away from him. His mom, clearly flattered by the compliment, absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her expression softening as she smiled at you.

“Oh, thank you!” she said, her tone warming with motherly pride. “I got it done at this little salon near our house. I wasn’t sure if the color would suit me, but I’m glad you like it.”

You nodded eagerly, leaning into the conversation as if you hadn’t just saved your boyfriend from one of the most awkward moments of his life. “It really brings out your eyes,” you added, feeling Jungwon’s hand under the table give your knee a grateful squeeze.

As his mom continued to talk about her favorite salon, the conversation flowed smoothly—albeit with a few nervous glances exchanged between you and Jungwon. But for now, at least, the hickeys and last night’s chaos were safely tucked away, hidden under layers of polite conversation and egg toast.

You quietly took a bite of your egg toast, nodding along as Jungwon's parents chatted animatedly at the table. Suddenly, a familiar warmth settled on your thigh, and you felt a gentle squeeze that sent a shiver down your spine. You darted a glance at Jungwon, who was casually munching on his breakfast, acting innocent despite his hand now resting firmly on your leg.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, leaning slightly toward him, your voice low but urgent.

“Just touching my girlfriend. I’m allowed to, right?” he murmured back, a playful grin tugging at his lips as he took another calm bite, his hand lingering where it shouldn’t.

“You can, but not here,” you hissed, your eyes flicking quickly toward his parents to make sure they were still oblivious.

Jungwon’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Finish up quick then, I need you... but I can wait until Mom and Dad leave,” he murmured, his hand softly tracing patterns on your thigh.

“Wonnie,” you whisper-teased, trying to stifle a laugh, “you should wait.” You lightly slapped his hand away, giving him a pointed look.

He pouted, clearly enjoying the game, but kept quiet as you both continued breakfast, hoping his parents hadn't noticed the quiet exchange.

• september seventeen, 14:37

masterlist.

p.sh | upcoming.

© iconchae | tumblr

[sehaedazokla]

stark men and a tyrell reader

fem! reader terms and descriptions 

a/n: this was supposed to be a brief, onetime thing but there’s just something about cregan and a tyrell reader that’s sitting with me…

robb is absolutely heart-eyed from the moment you step out of your carriage. you have the most beautiful light green and gold dress, pink roses embroidered onto the bodice above your gentle curves. you smell of roses and vanilla and honey and have the sweetest eyes and manners so robb is perhaps justifiably a little love struck at first.

but robb is observant and he sees things. you have made the entire castle love you which means the maids have the freshest linens brought to your room first and the chef bakes you all sorts of sweets. the other young lords of the north shower you with gifts and line up to dance with you at balls as you gaze down demurely and flutter your fan. you have acquired quite a large number of expensive gifts in such little time at winterfell.

and when robb is looking over battle plans and drafting mock strategy you elegantly peak over his shoulder and make a quiet suggestion that is absolutely ruthless and when robb plays out the scenario you have crushed the hypothetical opponent. he’s whipping around to ask you how you thought of that, but you have already wandered out the doors, light colored fabric swishing behind you. 

and the more he watches, the more he sees of you. a little eye roll when one of the other lords drops his hand too low during a dance, the way your long fingernails tap sharply yet quietly on the table when you hear someone say something stupid. a shake of your head and raise of your eyebrows when you turn away after having to be too sweet and too liked to get whatever it is you were after at that moment. and what he loves most of all is that look of absolutely judgmental irritation when you thought you’d been alone in the library and overheard some boys saying dirty things about one of the maids. 

and from that point on, robb is stubbornly determined - with that hardheaded resolve that men of the north all seem to have - to get to know the real you. but you have the sweet-as-a-flower act down to perfection and are not quick to break. you catch onto his little game, but against your better judgment you decide to play along. it’s endearing, almost. 

but one night at a feast you’ve been hounded all night by the incessant pining of a lord from a smaller house, who won’t let you get even a moment to breathe. and after an hour of sheer torture via the man’s slimy attempts to lure you into the hall, robb sweeps in to save you. his hand in yours as he guides you gently to the side of the room for a break. robb doesn’t say much, but with a gentleman’s smile pointedly makes a polite comment on the other man’s poor manners. and you are so annoyed and irritated you roll your eyes and utter the most scathing insult that you’ve been bottling up for the last hour.

the way his blue eyes light up would take your breath away, your lips parting slightly as he smiles at you like he’s been given a mountain of gold

“aye, there you are.”

he would say, an almost childishly proud grin on his face. 

—

cregan spots you above him on a balcony when he comes to king’s landing. it’s quiet, during the time when his army was keeping the court there. your elegantly arranged hair and delicately embroidered gown catch the stray sunlight from a window, bathing you in flecks of gold. 

the lord from the north stands below you as you gaze down with an unreadable expression - you had wanted to catch a glimpse of him to see what sort of man currently held power at the capital. what had intended to be a small scouting mission becomes a long gaze as you find yourself drawn in and cregan seems equally as enthralled. you tilt you chin down delicately, giving him a small curtsy before you slip off into the shadows of the balcony.

and it is an interesting game at play from then forth. cregan has many tasks to attend to at king’s landing, yet his eyes are constantly drawn to whatever area of the court you stand in when you are present with the other lords and ladies. you are quick to take advantage of this - introducing yourself, eyes gently on the ground as you curtsy in front of him. 

it’s a slow and sensual meeting - cregan takes his time with something for the first time since he left winterfell. his eyes fall to your lips, your collarbone, the curve of your chest that’s shamelessly lifted by your corset. and despite your intention to win him over for political reasons, you can’t help but pause a moment at the way your name is said, low and deep in his northern accent. and then he holds your gaze, even and steady, like he never wants to look anywhere else. the want is mutual and strong and both of you know it. 

cregan’s taking you in, eyes firmly trained on yours as he takes your hand in his own. but instead of kissing it as you expected, he simply lifts it slightly, thumb brushing over the pressure point on your wrist. 

“-no, i haven’t had the pleasure my lady.”

he murmurs, before you can finish your sentence. 

however, the thing with cregan is that you get what you see. he has that strong, unyielding sense of stark justice and it is everything to him, which he shows at court everyday. and you have been taught and raised to be more deceptive than that. to play your enemies with a bat of your eyelashes and a sweet smile upon your lips. your family expects you to win him over for their safety and security, and you love them more than anything.

but love lust is the death of duty, is it not? both of you have ‘good’ albeit different intentions - cregan is devoted to justice and you to your family. you two have a few things to teach each other about differing perspectives and upbringings.

[anyca786]

"YOU'VE BOTH MATURED YOURSELVES THESE PAST FEW YEARS,"

Daemon targaryen x sister/aunt!Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen.

WARNINGS: Canon typical incest/targcest (brother and sister, uncle and niece, aunt and niece) fluff, kissing. (Idk how to write warnings)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Daenys had some spiralling conflicts with her mind and her heart. She felt a sense of connection with Rhaenyra that she had never experienced before, and it was scarying her. So she decided it was time to pay a visit to her favourite cousin.

7 moons later

Laena, her sweet niece had recently claimed Vhagar, the largest dragon alive.

They were currently flying throughout Driftmark and, 'Aunt, mother, look!" Laena, who sat on top of Vhagar in the saddle, pointed to the ship in the distance.

Daenys wore beautiful blue riding clothes gifted by her dearest cousin. Her luscious silver hair flowed freely with the wind.

Rhaenys eyes squinted at the number of ships, and her eyes widened. The distant sound of Caraxes whistle could be heard, which made Nyx's head turn at the sound, and she let out a pleasant roar.

'Velaryon flags..- " Daenys' shock was replaced with a happy expression while coaxing Nyx to calm down, "Shh, I know you missed Caraxes," she pats her dragon.

That meant Daemon was back from the Stepstones and have won against the crabfeeders.

"Father and Laenor are back!" Laena said delightedly and turned to her Aunt Daenys and flashed her a teasing grin, "You must be pleased that your betrothed is back."

"He is not my betrothed, silly girl. Now, if you excuse me -" Daenys scowled, "Sovegon."

Rhaenys sighed, watching her little cousin fly off in the direction of Kingslanding and then gave her daughter a look.

Rhaenys knew that eventually, the two would get married soon. They both shared the blood of dragon. The other Lords that offered their hand weren't worthy of the precious Princess Daenys.

🥀

To say Daenys was genuinely surprised that a party was being thrown for Daemon in the royal gardens was an understatement. She had heard the rumours of him being the King of the Stepstones, which brought a small satisfied smile on her face.

Everyone present seemed to be enjoying the warm weather. Daenys ignored the preying eyes of lords and knights on her and solely focused on her family wearing a genuine smile.

A servant passed by with a tray of wine, which she gladly took and thanked the servant.

Alicent stood by the King like a dutiful wife she was wearing a tight smile. Though she remained still to the best of her ability while rubbing her arms clearly discomforted by the Rouge's presence. It was clear that Daemon loathed the Queen just like Daenys herself.

"Princess Daenys, Your Grace" Daenys's name was announced, and immediately, the crowd stepped aside for the Princess.

Some were in awe while others held feelings of lust for the silver-haired princess, which made Daemon for some reason feel a rush of irritation.

Rhaenyra didn't waste any time walking over to her beautiful aunt. " Daenys."

"Rhaenyra.' she happily accepted her embrace, and Rhaenyra blushed when she pressed a kiss on her cheek.

"Come enjoy some lemon cakes with me. I saved you some chocolate." Rhaenyra said shyly.

That seemed to catch Daenys' attention and immediately accepted Rhaenyra's hand as she guided her to the dessert table, unaware of the Hightower Queen watching them with an enviouse glare.

"I can't believe he's back." Daenys mused, tasting her wine while Rhaenyra tasted the candied lemon slice in her mouth. Rhaenyra just looked at her and licked her fingers before swiping away the leftover wine on the corner of her lips.

"Nyra!" She whined.

"It's fun teasing you, my dearest Aunt." Rhaenyra had just gotten back from her six moons of tour and rejected the majority of her suitors.

The way she felt about Daenys wasn't simple. When her mother had died, Daenys had been there for her more than anyone. Rhaenyra adorned this woman.

She spent every morning, noon, and night thinking of Daenys Targaryen, their passionate kisses, her gentle touch, her aunt's genuine concern about her. She was a goddess in Rhaenyra's eyes, whether it was her pretty smiles, her pouty lips, or her fiercely protective nature.

Daenys smiled at her, "I take it the tour did not go well."

"They were old enough to be Vhagar's age." That made Daenys' nose scrunched displeasingly, making Rhaenyra giggle.

"Perhaps I have not found the one with the blood as hot as a dragon like mine, yet" Rhaenyra said, looking at Daenys's eyes.

"Let us go greet your father and Uncle," Daenys said, clearing her throat, trying not to address what Rhaenyra meant.

"Wellif it isn't my Prince Charming. Congratulations on your victory, brother," Daenys said, earning a laugh from Viserys.

"You shouldn't have thrown the party. Now his ego is bigger than Nyx, " Daenys said to Viserys, pouting.

'Thank you, Princess," Daemon spoke with a small smirk that held a double meaning behind his words. Daenys blushed at his words. Daemon looked irresistibly charming in his new haircut.

'And I have heard that Rhaenys is considering marrying you to Corlys' youngest cousin brother, Victor Velaryon. He will make a fine Prince consort. He's a good man." Viserys said remembering him years ago.

This brought a fake laugh from Rhaenyra and a hum from Daemon as he narrowed his eyes in amusement.

"Pin-cess!" Daenys turned her head to see small toddler wearing a gummy smile bouncing towards her with her arms out. Her septa hurried behind anxiously, "Apologies, Princess," the septa bowed her head.

" Hello, little princess," Daenys cheered, smiling brightly at the little girl with brown hair. Apparently, she was a daughter of some High Lord. The little girl was captivated by Daenys's beauty.

Daemon watched in awe as Daenys picked the girl in her arms. He had seen her interact with Rhaenys' children, yet he found himself imagining the baby in her arms, was his with long silver hair and big beautiful purple eyes.

His eyes hungrily wandered at her form. She looked absolutely beautiful over the years they've been apart.

Her hair was flowing freely, and it was clear from flying on Nyx. Her cheeks got fuller as well as her breast, which made Daemon hard just by the thought of it.

However, Daemon wasn't the only one staring her, Sir Criston Cole blissfully observed Daenys.

Daenys offered Sir Criston a smile.

"Perhaps the Prince Daemon and Princess Daenys would care for a tour of the gallery," Alicent offered, trying to mingle.

Rhaenyra's lips twitched at the thought of Daemon exploring the gallery.

"They haven't seen the new tapestries gifted to you by Norvos and Qohor." Alicent pressed.

"Would you like to see the tapestries?" Viserys asked Daemon before laughing out loud.

Daenys saw the hurt look on Alicent's face and turned her head to look at her brother, ready to snap,

"He has no interest in such things," Viserys said humorously.

"I'd like to see them. Would anyone like to accompany me?" Rhaenyra asked, trying to escape this dreadful talk.

"I would," Daenys replied merrily

"Oh, then you should not deprive yourself," Viserys told her.

But before Daenys could move, Daemon grabbed her wrist, "Later," he announced and dragged her with him. Daemon lightly chuckled, finding this situation amusing, making Daenys roll her eyes.

"Daemon!" she exclaimed, turning to face him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

"Come," he said, his voice low and urgent. Without waiting for a response, he pulled her away towards a secluded corner of the garden.

As they reached the privacy of the overgrown bushes, Daemon turned to face Daenys. His gaze was intense, his expression a mix of longing and desire. Without any warning, he cupped her face in his large hands and leaned in for a passionate kiss. Daenys, initially taken aback, couldn't resist the pull of his desire. She returned his kiss with equal fervour, her heart pounding in her chest.

"And I missed you too," she replied, leaning in for a brief, chaste kiss with a smile.

Daemon's kiss deepened, his hands cupping her face. He lifted her effortlessly, allowing her legs to wrap around his torso. Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, their passion igniting like a wildfire.

"Don't pull that stunt ever again," Daenys complained, her voice muffled by Daemon's kisses, "I was in the middle of a conversation".

Daemon chuckled, his breath warm against her ear. "I won't," he promised, pulling away to press a tender kiss to her temple. Setting Daenys down, Daemon smoothed her hair and cupped her face in his hands.

"How's your wife? Mysaria? Was it" She asked, her tone playful.

Daemon rolled his eyes. "Just accept it, you're jealous," he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

Daenys scowled, but he found her reaction amusing. He moved closer, their faces mere inches apart. Daenys refused to waver, her gaze unwavering despite the proximity of their lips.

Daemon grasped her neck with his large hand and grinned.

"There you two are," Rhaenyra's voice interrupted them, her tone light and teasing.

Daemon resisted the urge to scrowl at his niece when Daenys pulled away quickly.

Rhaenyra wore a content smile, yet her eyes trained on Daemon almost smugly, "You seem content on Dragonstone. Why did you come back? There is surely more to your return than simply taunting my father." She asked in High Valyrian.

"So what do you want?" She said.

"Only the comforts of home and to see my favourite niece and baby sister," Daenys felt like there was a whole other meaning behind it but chose not to say anything.

The three moved to the shade. Daemon chose to sit while Daenys and Rhaenyra stood.

"I had not thought you would particularly be comfortable with this home," Rhaenyra spoke.

Daemon poured glasses of wine for the two girls and then offered Daenys to seat on his lap.

Daenys gladly took a seat on his lap while Rhaenyra shifted in her spot, visibly not pleased.

"The adventurous must've changed you," and the two Targaryens stared at her with a soft gaze.

"You've both matured yourself these past few years,"

Daemon stared at Daenys in admiration. She had certainly become a fine woman, and it was certain that he wasn't the only one who thought that. His niece seemed quite taken with her as well.

"My father seems content to sell me off to whichever lord has the biggest castle,' Rhaenyra spoke in annoyance. Daenys grabbed her hand in support and said,

"Your father is getting on my nerves, lately"

"There are worse things to be sold for," Daemon replied, speaking of experience. He had been young when he was betrothed to Rhea Royce.

"Marriage is only a political arrangement. Once you are wed, you can do as you like," Daemon directed his words at the Princess.

"For men, marriage might be a political arrangement. For women, it is a death sentence." Rhaenyra said in High Valyrian.

"Would that it was. I would've been rid of my Bronze Bitch ages ago." He replied in High Valyrian.

Rhaenyra sipped on her wine while refilling Daenys' goblet.

"Your wife has been fortunate. You haven't put a child in her." Rhaenyra said.

"I doubt a child could grow in such a hostile environment." Daemon replied, his laughter fading away as Rhaenyra scoffed.

"My mother was made to produce heirs .. and it got her killed," Rhaenyra spoke heavily in emotion. Daenys remembered the time when Aemma gave birth to Rhaenyra and how much she suffered then. The horrifying birthing scene made young Daenys run away from home in order to avoid marriage and the same fate.

"I won't subject myself or Rhaenyra to the same fate," Daenys stated strongly.

"What happened to your mother was a tragedy. But this is a tragic world." Daemon's words were laced with comfort towards Rhaenyra.

"I have no desire to live in fear. Only solitude." Rhaenyra replied strongly. Daemon smiled at the two women with such newfound fondness.

🥀

As Daenys was getting ready for bed, she noticed a bag sitting on the chair. She moved it and lifted the bag onto the table and poured out its contents onto the table to see commoners' clothing.

"Daenys?" A whisper spoked, a voice she recognised.

"Rhaenyra?" Daenys replied. She turned around to see her niece come out of the wall. A secret door she had no idea existed, "Rhaenyra, how did you even discover the secret passages?" she asked in awe.

She momentarily forgot about the bag and went up to Rhaenyra in excitement, "Can you imagine what we can do with this? We can sneak into kitchens or -

Rhaenyra had placed a hand over Daenys' mouth to keep her quiet, "Now aunt-you do not want us to get caught do you? Now, have you received a bag from Daemon?"

'Yes... Where are we going?" Daenys's eyes widened in curiosity, but for some reason felt a bit giddy as to what they were going to do tonight, Daenys lived for adventure.

"We are going out tonight and exploring the streets with Uncle Daemon as our guide."

Daenys wasted no time getting changed into the dress and cloak. She had pinned her hair up and had it tucked behind a long scarf. There was no way she'll have herself recognized.

"You look very handsome." Daenys complimented Rhaenyra, who was dressed as a little boy.

"Why, thank you, Princess," Rhaenyra replied cheekily.

Daenys reached for Rhaenyra's hand, "Well, what are we waiting for?" The Realm's Delight chuckled at her aunt's impatience. Together, they go through the secret door and into the hidden corridor.

When they reached outside, Daemon was already standing there dressed in a cloak with a hood over his head. "Took you both long enough." He smirked.

A/N: Double update <3

[solspina]

Hello! I saw that your request box is open if this doesn’t suit your taste you can ignore this.

Could you write a hurt to comfort fic that involves a workaholic Guilliman and his politically married wife?

They knew they had being married to a primark would be rough but they didn’t think it would be so emotionally draining/lonely. Guilliman finally decides to do something and acknowledges his wife when one day she’s considering divorce and there are TOO many suitors waiting to have her hand.

Could you add how Robute pines for her but doesn’t know how to show how he loves her because he’s trying to manage a dying imperium and he doesn’t think he’s worth loving?

Never Again Will I be Gone

roboute guilliman ⋆˙⟡

i deeply apologize if this is rushed, i couldn’t figure out how to end it and it may be a little all over the place, but i hope it is enjoyed nonetheless!

why spill blood if things can be handled peacefully? guilliman is far too afraid of becoming attached or falling in love with his wife, and eventually she places the most dreaded option on the table for him. when tragedy befalls her, guilliman can hold his act of withdrawal no longer

warnings: blood, distant ass guilliman

how she had gone from being an incredibly privileged noblewoman to the wife of the last remaining primarch, she did not know.

there was a point in time she had believed she was a beacon of hope for her people. once her father’s reign was over, she would finally be able to restore peace to her planet, heal the sick and the dying, uplift the thousands that resided there from poverty. It was only when she stood on the altar and was encapsulated within the piercing blue gaze of roboute guilliman that she realized her people could not be saved.

the planet she resided on, the one she was supposed to rule, had an astonishing militia. the imperium did not wish extinction upon an innocent colony, nor did they want to challenge a planet that would undeniably put up a fight. teaching her father the ways of the emperor was far easier than trying to convince him that a woman could lead or be of any importance.

that ideal had been drilled in her head her entire life. she was to be married off from the day she was born. not a single suitor met her father’s standards, for none of them held enough power, until guilliman.

but it was fulgrim who convinced guilliman to take a wife in the first place. her planet was dangerous. if a peaceful negotiation was on the table, why sacrifice any lives?

fulgrim relaxed in his chair, pulling his wine glass away from his lips with a sly but genuine smile on his face. “you don’t have to love her guilliman. ive wed dozens of women. we do this out of necessity for peace, not out of love.” he said, his tone aloof and dismissive. guilliman hated to admit that his brother was right, thousands of his sons and innocent humans did not need to lose their lives when peace was on the table. “besides,” fulgrim added, his eyes gleaming with mischief and something akin to lust. “she is quite beautiful. i’d watch your back, i’ve heard others deeply desire an opportunity with her” guilliman’s expression remained stale and unmoving from the papers on his desk, though an unfamiliar feeling flickered through his eyes at the thought of someone else coveting his soon to be wife. was this possession?

“sure thing, brother.” guilliman replied, cold, unfeeling, and professional as usual.

he did not get to meet her until their wedding day, and quite beautiful she was. gorgeous fragile, and timid. her cowardice in his presence was something he was not anticipating of a noble, let alone the daughter of an incredibly cruel king. yet her eyes, glassy with tears, looked upon her people with great sympathy and sadness. they looked back at her the same way. she was not cruel, she was kind. these people were being ripped away of the only kindness they had been shown from their rulers.

when her father approached the two of them, she seemed to shrink into guilliman, clinging to his arm as if her father would rip her away the moment he got close enough. the king’s gaze shifted back and forth between guilliman and the girl, before her wrist was grabbed with such force guilliman swore he heard a crack. “i’d like to say goodbye to my dearest daughter” the man said, cooing as she whimpered at the pressure on her wrist, her hand turning blue.

guilliman’s eyes narrowed as he wrapped an arm around her. “release her, and say your goodbyes here, then.” he stood sternly, eyeing the girl’s hand. her father let go, not expecting such a protective tone from the primarch. “i will not depart from my wife.”

he protected her from her father, sure. but his words were a lie. for he did not have to love her.

throughout 6 months of marriage, he had only allowed himself to see her a dozen or so times, each meeting brief and rushed. his sons took great care of her in his absence, always sure to carefully to reply to every “where’s lord guilliman?” with a flat and prompt “he’s busy”.

the only time she remembered physical contact with him was the kiss they shared their wedding day, and the occasional brushing of hands when she handed him his paperwork. being allowed to sit in his office and watch him do his work was a rare and very awkward occurrence. she had her own room. her own space. she should spend time there instead. neither her or her belongings were allowed in guilliman’s personal quarters, anything to stop her sweet and intoxicating scent from getting on his sheets. anything to stop him from falling in love. he does this out of necessity, he has no time for love. he did not have to love her.

he’d admire her from a distance instead, or he’d submerge himself in papers and documents to avoid catching a glimpse of her. she’d sit in her room, contemplating the blank tear stained divorce papers that sat upon her dresser as she traced her fingers over the contours in her wedding ring. all the paper needed was guilliman’s signature.

her quarters were still close to his despite being separated. he heard her cries at night, incredibly often. comfort, she needs comfort. she needs warmth. he’s been in that room before, it’s so… so cold. he knew, and yet never once did he act on it. instead, he sat alone in his room doing paperwork by the warmth of his fireplace, the cracking flames helping drown out her sobs. he did his best to ignore them. he did not have to love her.

sometimes he couldn’t help but stop and listen, pressing his ear against the cold wall, knowing just how freezing and lonely it must be past the walls of his massive and elaborate quarters. his bed was more than big enough for the both of them, and he mulled over the thought many times. it didn’t matter, a little cold wouldn’t kill her, he did not have to love her.

one particular night, though, guilliman did not hear her crying as usual. her sobs and the sounds of the fire were replaced by heavy footsteps approaching his door. the heavy metal boots of cato sicarius were unmistakable as he made his way toward the primarch, a stern but panicked look across his features. Something about the look on cato’s face caused guilliman’s heart to quicken.

“my lord” cato’s voice was close to trembling, sweat pooling on his forehead “it’s lady guilliman… she’s hurt” cato’s voice echoed despite his panting. guilliman rose to his feet with an urgency he had never before felt toward his wife, his heart filled with a mix of panic, confusion, and anger.

“how badly?” he asked with a hint of controlled fury behind the question, every millisecond that passed causing him to dread every possible answer more and more until his heart felt as if it would beat out of his chest.

“she is in critical condition, my lord” the worst possible outcome rang through cato’s lips, but fell on deaf ears as the primarch plowed past him, walking directly to the medical unit and ignoring anything attempting to grab his attention along the way.

guilliman cursed to himself. to hear her cry was one thing, to long for her was one thing, but to be absent and allow her to become fatally injured?

when he arrived in the medical bay, multiple medicae surrounded the bloody and trembling body of lady guilliman. tears poured from her eyes despite her state of near-unconsciousness, the clear wound left by none other than the claws of the night haunter was swollen and crimson, it’s bright redness mixed with black screamed at guilliman. he should’ve been there. there was not an excuse in the universe that would satisfy the fact he was blind enough to let konrad curze get his filthy hands on his wife.

“where’s… guilliman…” she choked out, past her exhaustion and teary eyes.

one of the nurses seemed to tense up at her sad and confused expression. despite his constant absence, despite the papers for divorce he had found on his desk, she still cried out for him. “i apologize my lady, he’s busy” the nurse responded, watching her face twist into a look of defeat. he’d already signed the papers, had them prepared for her, and placed them on her nightstand in her quarters.

his heart could hold its true feelings no longer as he felt it begin to crumble. “i’m here.” his voice announced his presence as he approached her bedside, the nurse who cared for her widened her eyes in shock, swiftly stepping to the side to allow guilliman to see his wife. she reached up weakly with a single one of her tiny hands. her eyes were half lidded, confused and full of sorrow.

he stepped forward, reaching out his own hand to grab onto hers. “you’re really here…” she whispered, a small smile upon her features. “you found my papers, guilliman?”

his smile, once mirroring hers, faded into the slightest frown. “yes.” he responded. his voice cold and yet sorrowful. “they are signed but,” he paused, wanting a moment to consider the weight of the words on his tongue. “I cannot let you return home until you have recovered.”

she frowned. “i don’t want to go back home, roboute.” he tensed at her use of his first name, the only piece of his identity that was truly his own. “but there i had my people, and here i have nothing at all…” her voice broke as she cried, the pain of her wound overwhelming her as the machines stitching her wound together brought healing alongside pain. Exhausted and in something akin to agony, tears began to stream down her face.

“then i will give you everything” he replied with a solemn vow, turning to face the nurse as she nodded toward the primarch, the machine finishing its work and signaling to him that she was free to go as long as she did not walk or strain her body for a few days. he, for the first time, lifted his wife into his arms with more gentleness than that of which a primarch was capable.

he carried her into his room, past her own freezing cold quarters. he’d have her personal belongings moved within the next few days. Gently, he lay her on the soft rug next to his fireplace, not wanting to stain his bedsheets with her blood or hurt her as his period of scheduled rest passed. he removed his own armor, placing it to the side with ease before moving over to his bed. He did not lie down, instead grabbing a soft blanket and draping it over her body, ensuring she stayed warm. He sat next to her, placing her head on his thigh as she nestled into him for both comfort and warmth.

perhaps his scheduled rest meant nothing at all. damn the schedule. he had more important things to attend to now, and those marines of his were more than competent enough to handle it. his focus now was on nothing more than his wife, the girl who lay with her head in his lap as he stroked her head, memorizing every hair on her scalp like he should’ve long ago.

she shifted in her sleep, her body instinctively cuddling closer to her husband, thankful for the warmth she had always longed for. she did not cry on this night. he placed his hand over her shoulder and leaned back against the wall, his heart finally willing to admit the truth. he did not have to love her, but he did. by the emperor, he did.

[luvsupa]

tags: gojo x fem!reader, ex relationship, fluff, angst, takes place after battle w sukuna (he wins), sad ending, mentions of blood, gojo’s lowkey depressed w.c: 1k

a/n: sorry this just came out of nowhere </3

“satoru?” you call out, squinting through the bustling sidewalks of downtown tokyo, trying to confirm if it’s really him. he turns at the sound of your voice, removing one of his earbuds, his heart flipping as he sees you—this isn’t a dream. you’re really here.

it’s been a little over a year since you two broke up. despite the deep love you shared, the relationship was suffocating. you couldn’t stand watching him come home exhausted and scarred, sometimes with blood on his clothes from the dangerous missions. it hurt too much to see him treated like a weapon instead of the person he is. you begged him to leave jujutsu tech, pleading with him day and night to escape the pain that you couldn’t bear to witness.

but the final straw was that night—when he came home, slashes across his body, his clothes torn and bloodied. watching him limp from your shared apartment to the bathroom made your heart shatter. “i’m okay,” he reassured you, but you knew he was on the verge of passing out, desperately hiding his pain from you. he couldn’t let you, his sweet sweet baby, see him in this state.

“‘toru, it’s either you leave that company or i’m leaving,” you cried, your heart clenching at the thought. his identity was tied to saving non-cursed users, but without that, who was he? he stared at you in silence, and you already knew his answer. you packed your things, his tear-filled eyes followed you from the bathroom, silently apologizing for the pain he couldn’t escape.

seeing him now, you can’t help but smile, even as the memories flood back. he looks healthier, but the scars on his face are constant reminders of his battles. “i—how are you?” he stutters, still in shock.

“g-good. how’ve you been?” you reply, your heart sinking at how tired he looks.

“pretty good too,” he says, scratching the back of his head, revealing the scars on his hands. “wanna grab some coffee? there’s a shop down the street.” your eyes widen, and you nod, a mix of excitement and dread swirling inside you.

as you walk side by side, the energy between you feels familiar yet fragile. you chat about the beauty of the night, pointing out flashy sports cars.

inside the café, you sit across from each other, getting a good view of the outside. he returns with two coffees, and you thank him for paying, though you’d always insist on paying- he declined, he never let you pay for anything when you were together.

“have you left yet?” you ask, your voice trembling as you prepare for the inevitable conversation.

“heh, does it look like I’ve left?” he jokes, gesturing to his tired eyes. you wrap your hands around your cup, feeling the warmth seep into your cold fingers. silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken words.

“i miss yo—”

“i have a girlfriend.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut. a girlfriend? your heart drops as your expression falters. why does it hurt so much?

“y-yeah, i’m seeing someone too,” you blurt out, hating yourself for the lie. the laughter that follows feels hollow, and he can see right through you.

“baby, you’re such a bad liar—” he catches himself, the pet name easily slipping past his lips. both of you stare at each other widened eyes as he mistakenly slipped up by calling you baby. he really didn’t mean to! suddenly, the air is thick with tension. you both giggle awkwardly, but inside, it tears at you—how much you miss hearing him call you that.

“if i were your girlfriend, i’d kill you for catching up with your ex and calling her baby,” you joke, but his expression remains serious. not a smile nor a chuckle, making your heart race. have you upset him?

“i mean, you were my girl,” he says, and your mind spins. my girl. you can’t help but pout, taking a sip of your coffee, your gaze drifting outside to the busy streets.

just then, his phone buzzes loudly, drawing your attention. you catch a glimpse of “A♡” on the screen. gojo’s expression shifts as he reads the message, a sadness settling over him. he has to cut your time short. you silently whine as the two of you rise from your chairs, cleaning up any mess as you both head out to leave in opposite directions.

but he stops you. his warm hands enveloping yours. “w-when can i see you again?” he stutters, his voice laced with desperation. your heart races, wanting to cry, to leap into his arms and confess your love, but that’s not an option.

“i’ll see you around, ‘toru,” you say, forcing a warm smile. rising on your tiptoes, you place a soft kiss on his cheek as he blushed hard. he tenses, the longing evident in his eyes as he fights the urge to pull you close, hugging you and kissing you as if you were his again.

“and treat your girlfriend nice,” you add, turning to walk away. each step feels heavier as a lump forms in your throat, fighting back the tears threatening to spill.

“will do,” he calls after you, trying to sound upbeat. but as he walks away, his eyes glisten, filled with unfallen tears. oh, how he misses you.

[unicornpopcorn14]

Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt during the Lovecraft fight has always been so interesting to me...

Because it's the kind of worry you'd never expect from a character as gruff as Chuuya, who had displayed nothing but hostility towards Dazai so far. Usually, characters that are labelled as "angry" or "anger issues" (which Chuuya is much more complex than that but you get my point) act more as a tsundere type of way when the one they "don't care about" gets hurt. And show their care in very, very subtle ways (ex. their eyes widen, their mouth parts and closes again, etc) before putting up their front once more.

Chuuya, however, is open, and vocal about it. His worry is clear not only to us, but to Dazai himself, the one he shouldn't be displaying the concern to (as per the cliche). Shouldn't it be some sort of secret that Chuuya does care? Isn't that what skk's dynamic has been shaping up to be until now?

I'm telling you- the way my mind blanked when Chuuya just casually.... showed concern not once, but twice, was a sight to see.

Besides, the context makes it much more confusing, because Dazai isn't some rookie, and Chuuya knows that more than anybody. He was the youngest executive in Port Mafia's history, of course he can handle a hit or two. Of course he'd seen him handle a hit or two, sometimes without batting an eye.

Heck, Chuuya himself was hurling Dazai like a ragdoll in their reunion, which was their last meeting. And you could argue that he was going easy on him, but Dazai has mostly withstood the same damage (as far as I could see), and Chuuya was as bitter as ever.

So that kind of contradicts both what we knew of Chuuya so far, and how their dynamic was shaped to be. I mean, that just makes Chuuya a hypocrite, yeah? What makes him care now, all of a sudden? What makes him care at all?

Well, to me, this backasswards reaction implies one (or more) of the following:

- Dazai rarely got physically hurt during their partnership and thus this is an unexpected thing for him to see (during a mission).

- The four years of separation made Chuuya unsure of how much Dazai can withstand physically now. Also the fact that he isn't in the mafia anymore, aka fighting enemy organizations on the weekly, would naturally make Dazai lose his touch in a way, what prompts Chuuya's reaction.

- Dazai getting taken off guard took him off guard which led to panic. Especially since the situation was (momentarily) out of their depth. Seriously wtf even was Lovecraft?

- During the dungeon scene Dazai was an enemy, while in the Lovecraft fight he was as an ally. The difference might be significant to Chuuya.

- This has always been Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt regardless of the situation.

- "Only I can hurt him like that" ahh logic

- Asagiri was still experimenting with their dynamic and thus there are some inconsistencies.

This scenario didn't play out again (after their reunion) for me to exactly determine which one is more plausible, but it is 100% canon for Chuuya to shamelessly show his concern and run to Dazai to check on him before properly dealing with their opponent, which I find to be such an appealing layer to their dynamic, and a good spin on the type of character he gets stereotyped as.

Bonus: Dazai also becomes a softy when Chuuya's hurt, especially post corruption. Dead Apple alone displays that multiple times.

All in all, Skk are doing a terrible job at maintaining their 'hostile' and 'antagonistic' relationship post their reunion. Freaks.

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[eraenaa]

Unexpected Affections

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader Tag List

Synopsis: With just a smile, you had managed to bewitch and enthrall the stoic and cold prince. 

Warnings: Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, ¿Softer Aemond?, ¿Simp Aemond?, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Overstimulation, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 7,287

A/N: Really milking softer Aemond bc I'm pretty sure I'm going to take a break from him once s2 is released.

He’s broken beyond repair. Too far gone to be saved. Aemond knew fully well that is how the others see him. The boy who had his eye taken was never the same. Darkness was his only solace, the walls too far up that no one dared to scale it and reach the true him— simply taking the dark and villainous scrap of his true self that he was willing to give. All seemed to give up on him— simply let him drown in his darkness, except you. 

Like all things good, you came unexpectedly. You were a mere visitor from Highgarden, a noble lady who came with your lord father as he tended to business in the capitol. Aemond could never understand how you looked at everything and everyone with rose-colored glasses, but he supposed he should be grateful because if that trusting naivety in you were lost, your light would never come close to his looming darkness. 

“Who is that?” Aemond asked his family’s most trusted knight, Ser Criston Cole. Your figure caught his attention; it was as if you were floating along the gardens of his home. A small smile on your face and flowers adorned in your hair. He stood near the balcony, discussing important business with the knight, when his train of thought was lost and captured by your mere presence. “Lady Tyrell, her father has business here with the crown,” the knight said absentmindedly. Aemond nodded and took one last glance at you before walking away. 

The thought of you was quickly forgotten by the prince. He saw your presence as just another to add to the list of nobles at court who cowered upon his stature. However, you lingered in the back of his mind as he often saw glimpses of you walking through the halls of his home. Aemond stood in the gardens once more, this time waiting for his sister and her children when he caught your eyes. He waited for fear and apprehension to present themself in your orbs, the same reactions he would elicit from everyone. However, the prince was taken aback as you smiled at him. A small, respectable smile before you stole your eyes and continued to your promenading.

Aemond blinked his eye rapidly, trying to discern if he saw correctly or if it was a cruel trick made by his impaired vision. Aemond pursed his lips as he felt himself walk towards where you had passed. There was this odd pull about you— more than your beauty; if it was just that, a comely face was never one to put the prince in a trance. It was an ethereal element that beguiled Aemond quickly. He had not even spoken to you, yet you had already managed to put such an effect on him. 

He watched from a distance as you bent down and assessed a flower, your fingers caressing the velvety petal and bringing it to your nose to discern the fragrance of it. Aemond felt that pull once more, his feet carrying him closer to you. When you stood straight, your brows raised in surprise as you had noticed you were no longer alone. “My prince,” You greeted with a curtsy, his silvery locks the warning sign that you spoke to royalty. Aemond was rendered silent, his mind already spinning at the sound of your voice. What was this? He could not explain what had overcome him. You bit your lip as no greeting left the prince’s lips, him only staring at you with an unreadable expression on his angular face. “Are… are you well, my prince?” You asked, daring to step closer and take hold of his arm to examine if he was truly well. 

You watched as his lips parted and closed, no sound leaving it. “Perhaps you should find some shade; the heat may be too unbearable,” You say quietly and never take your hold off his arm, guiding him towards the shade of a willow tree in concern. Aemond was screaming at himself on the inside, hating that he was making a fool of himself, that he couldn’t even speak, simply letting you guide him towards the shade and making him sit on a bench. Your concern for his well-being consumes your face and his being. “Do you wish for refreshment, perhaps w—“ Aemond shook his head as he finally regained his senses. 

You chewed on your cheek as the prince stood. “I am fine; I apologize for the— the intrusion, Lady Tyrell,” He said stoically, and you shook your head and smiled at him. “No need for apologies, my prince; no intrusion was made. But are you certain that you are well… you look a bit pale, my prince.” You say and quickly regret it as your mind reminds you that maybe that was just his true complexion. You swallowed thickly as you saw him pursed his lips, fearing that you had offended the prince. Aemond did not know how to take this concern— this kindness that he was never the receiver of. “I am quite well; good day, my lady.” He walked away in haste as he feared that if he stayed longer in your presence, he would make a further fool of himself. You stood there in confusion; your lips parted as the prince almost ran from you. 

The thought of you haunted Aemond until the night, his arm still tingling from where you had placed your touch. He replayed the scene in his mind over and over again, trying to convince himself that your concern was fictitious— that it was a ploy to be in the good graces of the prince. But as he recalled the way your eyes bore into his, nothing but sincerity was evident in your orbs. How are you this kind? To a stranger, no less. Aemond was restless as he lay in his bed; his mind kept conjuring your interaction in the gardens, refusing him any other thought than you. 

When morning came, Aemond had made great lengths to avoid you, silently embraced as he had made a fool of himself in the gardens. As his training ended, Aemond tried to find reprieve from the loud keep in the library. Aemond believed he was successful in his avoidance of you, but as he stood by the threshold of the silent room, he saw, as you were seated in one of the chairs, a book in your hand as you silently read. His presence was still not noticed. He could easily slip away and be successful in his avoidance of you, yet, just like the other days, his body could not help but be pulled towards you. 

When you noticed a presence standing before where you sat, you flickered your gaze upward and locked eyes with the prince once more. “Prince Aemond,” You acknowledge and move to stand to greet him, but he silently raises his hand and hinders your actions. You copied his silence as he took the seat across from you. You traveled your gaze through the library, uncertain what to say or do. “I hope you are feeling better,” You say quietly. Aemond licked his lips as he was subjected to your dazzling presence once more; even though he had willed himself to avoid it, it seemed you were inevitable. 

“I am; I was simply tired,” He said, making certain to place coldness in his tone, hoping it would deter you and no longer present him with your kindness he stubbornly took as deception. Aemond felt his breath catch as you gave him another smile. A relieved smile for his well-being that was so genuine that he could not stubbornly convince himself that it was not. 

You stayed silent as you felt that that was what the prince preferred. You tried to return to your reading, but his velvety voice sounded through the room. “What business did you have here?” He asked. Aemond was testing you, presenting you with his cold and calloused self to see if it would have any effect on you just like it did the other. He watched calculatingly as your lips parted, and he found trouble to remove his gaze from your plush lips. “If I am being honest, I am not quite certain, my prince.” You said truthfully. You watched him raise his brow at you to explain further. “My father has business he needed to tend to here, but he had not disclosed to me the reason for it or why I needed to join.” Aemond nodded and watched as your eyes were never removed from his gaze, surprised that you could hold onto his intensified stare. 

“So you have no purpose here?” He asked harshly. He expected a frown or a look of offense on your face, but he watched as you smiled as if you were amused and shrugged, “I suppose not.” Aemond stayed silent and continued to asses you as you returned to your reading. 

“Do you like philosophy, Prince Aemond?” You asked after a stretch of silence, unable to bear the eerie and suffocating quiet. Aemond took a moment before he answered your query that no one had been interested in asking him before. “I do,” Another small smile appeared on your lips as you nodded. “Then have you perhaps read this? I have been mulling over the proposition of the archmaester for days now, but I cannot seem to comprehend it fully,” You say and turn the book you read towards him. Your fingers brushed as the prince took the book from your hands, and you could not hinder the chill that ran down your spine as you felt his cold, calloused fingers against yours. 

You listened earnestly as the prince began to speak and explain the proposition you had trouble comprehending, going to great lengths to explain his thoughts on it, assisting and receiving any questions you had. Aemond paused in his explanation, feeling as if his mouth had gone dry by his prolonged speaking. He turned to the window and saw as the once high sun began to set; he returned his gaze to you, your chin resting on your palm as you had listened to his every word, clinging onto every syllable he had uttered. Aemond gulped as he realized his mistake. He had revealed too much of him; too much of his thinking was poured out in his explanation of philosophy. “I must take my leave,” he suddenly said, disregarding that he was in the middle of explaining another philosophical theory that was different from the first you had inquired about. 

“Oh,” You said and straightened in your seat. Aemond wanted to frown as he detected disappointment in your tone and eyes. That cannot be, can it? Why would anyone be disappointed in his departure? “Good day, my prince,” You curtsied as you stood, not wanting to take more of his time. Aemond began to walk away, cursing himself for his actions, but he halted by the door as you spoke. “Thank you for your explanations… they were quite enlightening,” You said, and Aemond turned to you; the smile returned to your lips as you looked at him gratefully. Were you truly thankful? Thankful for him? Was that even a possibility? Aemond gave a curt nod and willed himself to walk away from you. 

You were in the gardens once again. You were terribly homesick, and the gardens of the Red Keep were the only resemblance of your home that you could cling to. You were walking distractedly, a buzzing bee following you around as the flowers in your hair attracted the insect. You tried to squat it away, afraid to get stung when you accidentally missed a step, losing your balance, and were met with the cobbled floor of the gardens. Your jaw slacked in pain, and you tried to stand, your cheeks burning in embarrassment that someone may have seen your ungraceful fall. There was a stone by your side, and you tried to hoist yourself upon it, hissing as you accidentally placed pressure on your swollen ankle, but you were determined to stand and walk back to the keep to ask for assistance.   

Unbeknownst to you, Prince Aemond had been observing you from above the gardens, and the moment he saw the sight of you falling, he made hastened steps to reach you. “My lady,” He called, trying to hide his panting, and approached you as if he had only stumbled upon your presence. You sat before a rock, and he noticed you hiding your injured limb from his view, “My prince,” Aemond watched in slight awe as you still tried to stand and curtsied before him, still holding onto formalities even though you were clearly hurt. 

“Are you well?” This time, it was now Aemond to ask the question. You placed a tight smile on your lips, pretending that your injury was not at all bothering you. “I am fine, and you, my prince?” You asked, trying to speak of pleasantries. You shifted your weight on your uninjured leg and, for once, hoped that the prince would leave. “Are… are you certain?” Aemond inquired, wondering why you would pretend. “Y-yes,” You stuttered, and Aemond narrowed his eye. 

You sighed and placed your head on the ground. “I… I tripped, and I think my ankle is injured— but I do not wish to bother you, my prince. I can wait for the swelling to subside.” Aemond frowned at your words. How were you so concerned about his well-being but not your own? Aemond shook his head and stepped closer to you, silently scooping you in his arms. “Wh— My prince!” You said in shock as you were stiffly settled into the hold of Prince Aemond. Your arms circled around his neck to stabilize yourself. “You don’t— I could have just waited for a squire or maid to assist me,” You said in a slight panic and could not even bear to look at the prince in embarrassment. “You are clearly in pain,” Was all he said as he carried you back inside the castle walls, the both of you earning strange glances from the members of the court. 

Aemond returned you to your assigned chambers, trying to ignore the erratic beating of his still heart and the tingles on his skin from where he felt your touch. He placed you gently onto a settee, inhaling a whiff of your scent, and he felt intoxicated. He placed a respectable distance between you as the both of you waited for the maester he ordered a squire to fetch. Your gaze was still planted on the floor, and Aemond noticed the flush on your cheeks and the harsh bit you had on your lip, embarrassment clearly evident in you. 

“I did not wish to bother you, my prince.” You say quietly, your tone heavy with guilt. Aemond could only hum a response, clueless as to why you were apologizing. The maester finally arrived, and Aemond stood by the side as he oversaw the maester, tending your injury. You tried to keep your pained reactions to a minimum as you felt conscious of the prince’s presence, but you could not help but hiss in pain, and your face contorted in discomfort as the Maester tried to move your injury. Aemond swallowed thickly as he himself was overcome with a phantom pain by the mere observation of yours. 

“Will it heal, maester?” He asked in concern, stepping forward. “Yes, my prince, it is only a swollen ankle; it shall heal by the morrow,” The old man spoke and stood, placing a cold, damp towel upon your injury, and you reached forward to secure its place. Aemond gave a nod, and his eye followed the maester who exited your chambers, leaving the door open. Aemond returned his gaze to you, your eyes finally meeting his, and he once again felt his breath caught in his throat as you smiled at him. 

“Thank you for your assistance and kindness, my prince,” You say gratefully, and Aemond felt his knees weak. No one had ever called him kind before. As always, you were met with his silence, but you dared say you were getting used to it. After a few moments of Aemond trying to comprehend your words, he gave a curt nod. “I shall leave you to rest; good day, my lady.” He said and willed himself to walk away from your presence he did not wish to leave. 

Another day had passed, and Aemond had not seen a glimpse of your presence he had been trying to avoid just the day before. He had the urge to knock upon your door and to see how you were faring with your recovery, but he placed great restraint on himself as his mind deemed it inappropriate. So he waited another day. He stood by the gardens, his eye assessing every passerby as he waited for you. He had been stood by the balcony like a statue for the better part of the morning, but your presence had not been noted. 

Aemond decided to walk around the castle, passing along every corridor in search of you and ready to act surprised as you two would eventually encounter once more. It was nearing sundown, and he had not seen a glimpse of you. Perhaps she is still resting. His mind told him, but Aemond was not entirely sold by that reasoning. 

The prince attended his family’s supper in his mother’s chambers. He sat quietly in his seat and saw the aggravated and tired faces of his mother and grandsire as they came to the table late. “We apologize for our tardiness; the small council has been overburdened by a matter.” The queen explained as she took her seat. “What matter?” Aemond asked, always curious about the dealing made. “The crown cannot afford to pay the dues it owes to House Tyrell… it is too great a sum, and the lord has threatened to withhold back crops for the upcoming winter if we do not pay their price.” The hand spoke, and Aemond pursed his lips, knowing that the debt to your house had been since the time of the conqueror. 

“Surely they could be reasoned with— they would not want to offend the rulers of Westeros,” Aemond said quietly and heard his mother sighed deeply. “Perhaps, but no meetings and negotiations can be made at the moment, for they had already left late last night.” Aemond’s hold on his fork tightened as he heard the words. You had gone without even a goodbye.

“I just do not know what we can offer to match their hefty sum,” the lord hand said and downed his wine. Aemond traveled his gaze around the table, his sibling not at all listening to the matter. “Offer me,” Aemond spoke, and he felt all eyes shift toward him. He turned to his mother, the queen’s lips agape in shock at his words. “The crown does not have money to pay our debt— then is it not a custom to offer marriage instead?” He asked rhetorically; the practice was made for centuries, but the price was usually paid with a princess, not a prince. 

“Aemond, mere debts are not paid with a prince.” The queen said. “But it is not just a mere debt, now is it, mother? The Tyrells had as well placed a threat to the kingdom’s security over this winter— and the mere debt you speak of has been established since the age of the conqueror,” Aemond turned to his grandsire, who he knew would understand his proposition. The Hand pondered over his grandson’s words. “But you are set to marry the Baratheon girl,” Alicent countered, and Aemond scoffed. 

“We owe nothing to the Baratheons, and do you not think that this matter looms greater?” He asked, “Lord Tyrell only has a daughter, does he not? In time, the seat shall pass onto me as well, alike with the arrangements with Lord Borros. And with this, the crown will no longer be indebted to their house,” Aemond said, determined to see you once more. “That is a most favorable solution,” The hand commented, quite content by his grandson’s proposition. The queen sighed and took a moment to think of the proposal. “Very well then,” she sighed, and Aemond hindered the smirk threatening to slip his lips. 

“I shall draft the proposal tonight and send a messenger to Highgarden first thing tomorrow,” Otto said in finality. “No need, I shall offer the proposal myself in person,” Aemond said, and he saw apprehension in his mother’s eyes, disbelief by his decision, but none hindered him. 

It was afternoon the following day when he had reached High Garden, Aemond riding atop his dragon through the morning, eager to reach his destination, you. “My prince,” Lord Tyrell greeted him by the gates of their castle. “What business is so urgent that the prince of the realm had to fly his dragon all over here to the reach?” They had not even reached inside the castle walls when Lord Tyrell could no longer hinder his curiosity. 

“It is the matter of the crown’s debt,” Aemond replied, his eye scanning the halls in search of you. He heard your father reply with an ‘oh,’ clearly anticipating the conclusion of the matter. “Is the crown ready to pay us the price owed?” Aemond hummed as he passed a portrait of you hung on the wall of your home, his eye entranced by the picture. “In a way,” The prince danced upon the matter momentarily. “In lieu of a payment, the crown is prepared to offer a marriage,” Aemond stated and watched concussion flush over your father’s face. 

“With respect, my prince, but that is an insulting offer. The crown has owed my house a great sum accumulated since the age of conquest!” Lord Tyrell seethed, and Aemond gritted his jaw. “I believe you are too hasty with your outburst, my lord. The crown is offering a union between me and your daughter— an opportunity for your only child to be a princess… your grandchildren having the Targaryen name.” Lord Tyrell shook his head, “My daughter is already bound to marry another— titles are one thing, my prince, but there is still a debt to be paid.” Aemond felt the fire in his veins awaken at your father’s words. You are to be bound to another; that cannot be. You cannot be anyone else’s when you had consumed his entire being— when you had presented him with such hope and kindness that he was certain he would find in no one else. You could never be not his. 

Aemond licked his lips, certain that the words he would utter would be a gamble. “Very well then… a counteroffer, my lord. The crown cannot fully pay your price, so we offer a royal marriage and a fourth of the sum owed to you,” Aemond said, assessing the father's reaction as he mulled over the proposition. “I shall need time to reach a decision,” Lord Tyrell finally spoke after a long pause. “Of course,” Aemond agreed. “For the meantime, you are welcome to the halls of High Garden, Your Highness.” 

Aemond waited as your father disappeared from his view before he went on his search for you. He walked through the unfamiliar corridors and found himself being led outside towards the gardens where he wagered you would be. When he saw you seated by a fountain, a smirk curled on his lips. However, it was quick to fade as he had noticed you were not alone. Aemond made furious steps towards you to announce his presence. 

You were conversing with another when you felt your skin tingling and the familiarity of a cold gaze upon you. You turned to your side, and your eyes widened as you saw the prince approaching. You blinked slowly, trying to discern if your mind was playing a cruel trick. But when the prince stood an arm’s length away from you, where you could see him clearly, you knew that it was not a trick. “My prince,” You say almost breathlessly, curtsying lowly before the son of the king. 

“How… what brings you here, your highness?” You asked, disregarding the earlier presence you were with. “Business for the crown,” He replied, eyeing the man who stood beside you. You turned your eyes toward where the prince placed his gaze intensely. “Oh, my prince, this is Prince Martin Martell,” You introduced, and you felt Martin stepped forward and bowed. “Martell? Are you not a long way from Drone?” Aemond gritted as he let out his hand to shake the prince’s hand. He wanted to smirk as he saw the man’s tanned face twist into a wince before quickly masking it. “Yes, my prince, I come as a suitor for my lady,” He explained, and Aemond pursed his lips at his words. 

You licked your lips as you suddenly felt the fresh air become tense, “Would anyone like some tea?” You suddenly interrupted the intense gazes of the two princes, walking in between them as you made your way toward a nearby table that had the afternoon’s refreshments. Aemond tapped his finger on the table, his eye shifting between you and your intended whilst you poured tea into everyone’s cup. “If I may ask, what business warrants your presence here, Prince Aemond?” Prince Martin inquired, and Aemond reluctantly shifted his attention from you, who was licking sugar from your fingers. 

“A proposal for House Tyrell,” he said bluntly, swallowing thickly as your lips parted at the mention of your house. “What proposal, if I may ask,” Your turn to inquire. Aemond licked his lips and debated if he should give you the true manner of his visit. “A proposal for you, my lady, to be a princess of Westeros.” You feel dazed by his words, your body freezing in shock, and you seem to forget how to breathe. 

Aemond looked at you expectantly, trying to search for any reaction in your eyes other than the pronounced shock. You were saved from his expectation of a reply when you heard your father calling for you. “I— excuse me, my princes,” You say in a haste and hurriedly went to your father’s call. 

“What is happening— the prince just informed me of his proposal— in front of Prince Martell!” You panicked, recalling the scene to your father with wide eyes. You watched as your father paused his lips, an aggravated sigh leaving his nose. “Bold of him to inform you of such proposals when I had not even given him my reply.” You shook your head and warily turned to the gardens, where you saw two princes seated by a distance. 

“Where did this proposal come from? I… I do not understand,” You whispered, recalling your days in the Red Keep; the moments with the prince that you tried to sell to yourself were meaningless to him. However, you supposed you sold yourself with a lie because those moments were enough for him to ask for your hand. Hope was dangerously blooming in your heart, emotions, and festering feelings you tried hard not to succumb to for the past days, now inevitable. 

“The proposal comes because the crown cannot pay the debt due to us… instead, they are offering a marriage between you and the prince and a fourth of the sum owed,” The hope that was dangerously blooming and had rooted itself in your heart quickly wilted, willing yourself not to show disappointment on your face. “Oh,” Was all you could utter. “What is your decision then?” You asked quietly as your father guided you further into the walls of your home. 

“Your courtship with Prince Martell has been settled for three years since your sixteenth name day, but no formal betrothals are in place, and we are in no obligation to the Martells,” Your father stated as you two walked along the corridors. “But Sunspear is a long way from here,” Your father added, “And though Kingslanding is closer, and if I were being honest, I would prefer you to be a princess of the whole of the seven kingdoms rather than just Dorne,” You twirled with your hair as you listening into your father’s musing. “But this marriage is just a way out of their hefty debt,” You nodded along and waited for your father to decide. 

“So? Which one of them?” You asked as you needed an answer, your nerves growing unbearable. Your father took in a deep breath, “I shall leave that decision to you… it is you who shall marry one of them; the money is not truly that much of a concern— it was simply a bargaining tool for the crown to remember how indebted they were to us,” Your father explained, and your lips parted as you were given a daunting task. 

“Can I speak with Prince Aemond for a moment? I… it is— I need to speak with him,” you say, and your father gives the nod, “I shall have him meet you in the drawing room,” You waited nervously for the prince, your mind running as to what to say to him. You stood when the prince entered the room, your lips parting, ready to speak something you were uncertain of, but Prince Aemond spoke first. 

“I know this is quite abrupt,” Aemond spoke and dared to step close to you, trying not to grow distracted by your mere ethereal presence. “It is my prince,” You agreed. “Could I just ask why?” Aemond frowned at your words; it was quite a straightforward proposal. “The crown owes your house,” He said matter of factly, “I know, but we ask for coins or land but not a marriage,” Aemond licked his lips, “And I am aware that the marriage is a substitute. However, you would understand that no one would be that inclined to accept a proposal just because the one giving the proposal is in debt.” 

“Is this a rejection?” Aemond took another step, closing most of the gap between you. He was aware that he was scowling severely, scarily even, but you did not seem to be frightened, a first for anyone he had encountered. “More of a question,” Aemond’s brows raised at your words. “Well, it’s clear that this proposal is just an obligation for you, and if I am being honest… I prefer someone who would not see a mere business dealing.” 

“All marriages are business dealings,” You pursed your lips at the prince’s words. “I supposed they are… but not every marriage is just a business dealing.” Aemond licked his lips, and the both of you were enveloped in silence. “I guess what I’m saying is… I would not feel inclined to choose someone who proposes because it is their obligation,” You say slowly, surprised that you managed to come across your answer. If it were any other situation where the crown was not indebted to your house, you would accept the proposal eagerly, but your heart idealistic heart yearned for someone who wanted you truly and did not see you as a mere opportunity. 

“My lady, I think you have gotten the wrong idea here,” You furrowed your brows as all were clear to you. The proposal was just an obligation… isn’t it? “No one forced me into this proposal; the queen could not find a solution. This marriage had not even crossed her mind— I…” Aemond passed as you waited on bated breath for his explanation. “I have offered the marriage not because of duty or a way for the crown to escape their debt but because… I— I want you. I want you to be my wife.” 

You looked at him with clear apprehension, and Aemond actually believed that you would flash him your sweet smile— perhaps a blush on your cheeks as he had said words so unlike him. “You want me?” You asked incredulously, and Aemond nodded, boldly taking your hands into his. “But why? We barely know each other?” You asked. Frowning as your eyes go downwards toward your hands clasped with the prince’s cold ones. “Why?” Aemond asked in disbelief you would ask such a question? You nodded. 

“Because I just do,” Aemond licked his lips as it would appear that that was the wrong answer, watching as you stole away your hand and your lips turned into an adorable pout he was very much tempted to kiss. “I— Because you are pretty, overly pretty,” Aemond spoke and hoped that would sway your mind, but that seemed even to offend you. “And because you are knowledgeable, I have never met anyone who had the same philosophical interests as me,” Aemond quickly added, and he wanted to smile as that lessened your frown. 

“And most of all, because you are kind. You are… you are not one to judge— you came to Kingslanding without any criticism or fear of me. You actually saw me as an actual person and not…” Aemond trailed as he felt a sense of relief as he said the words he thought none could ever compel him to do so. “Not like a weapon?” You almost laughed as you often heard others allude to him as such. Aemond nodded and took your hands into his once more. 

“You want me because I was kind and took an interest in you?” You asked, making certain that was his reasoning. Aemond nodded and dared to tuck a stray hair that obstructed his view of your face. “If that is all that it took, what if then another comes along and presents you with such kindness and interest… am I simply to be set to the side?” Aemond sighed and cupped your cheek as he felt his stomach twist at your words and at the look of doubt in your enchanting eyes. “What if—“ You were ready to voice out another doubting scenario, but your lips were kissed shut. 

You feel heat bloom into your cheeks, and you are stunned as you feel the prince’s thin and cool lips upon yours. Your eyes were wide at the sudden contact, but they fluttered to a close as you savored the feel and taste of him. “I do not know what more to say to quench the doubts in you… but you must know, I have never felt such a way— I have never wanted anyone or anything as much as I want you.” Aemond whispered against your lips as you breathed heavily, your body feeling afloat and alight. 

“The situation is not the most favorable one; believe me, I understand your qualms— but it is the only opportunity I had to make you mine,” You feel liquid fill your stomach, and words cannot find you. The only thing you could do was go to the tip of your toes and kiss the prince’s lips once more, a chaste kiss than the first, but it was a kiss that gave the prince his answer. 

Three moons passed before your nuptials were settled. You stood by the door of the great hall, waiting for it to open and lead you to your soon-to-be husband. “Are you certain?” Your father asked as he clasped his arms with yours. You breathed out a laugh and nodded your head eagerly. “I am,” You said with a smile and took a deep breath as you heard the trumpets from the other side of the door. 

Aemond sighed longingly as he saw the smile on your lips again. The smile that he had never been the receiver of before. The sweet and kind smile that led to all of this. 

You beamed at your groom as he took your hand into yours, unable to remove your gaze from his unique lilac eye throughout the whole of the ceremony. “I am his, and he is mine,” You recited after the Maester, feeling Aemond lightly squeeze your hand as you said the words, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. When it was Aemond’s turn, you bit your lip as you felt your smile grow wider, your heart beating loudly in your chest, and delight taking hold of your whole body. “I am hers, and she is mine,” Aemond stated, eye filled with sincerity and promise. 

You breathed in a deep breath as your husband stepped forward to seal your marriage with a kiss, your cheeks burning as you heard the cheers of your guests. “My flower,” Aemond whispered against your lips as you parted, his finger brushing away the stubborn lock of your hair once more. You could only smile upon him, your heart in your eyes— just one act of kindness, a simple smile had been the catalyst for you to find your love. 

You chewed on your cheek in anticipation as you were being led down the halls by your husband, the bedding ceremony promptly taking place after the feast. 

Aemond spared no second before claiming your soft, sweet lips once more. Gently pushing you upon a pillar in his chambers to keep you steady and flush against his body. “Aemond,” You called as you clung to his neck, his lips trailing downwards and his fingers undoing the laces of your gown. “You’re all mine, my flower… forever bound to me, my kind little wife.” Aemond hummed as he tasted your skin, his lips kissing your bare shoulders, the sleeves of your dress draping off. “I’m yours, my prince,” You sighed, but you felt slight dread in your stomach as he clicked his tongue in disapproval and slowly shook his head. “I am your husband… you must learn to call me by my name; no more titles and formalities,” Aemond lowly said, wanting to hear his name be uttered from your lips. 

You nodded, “I’m all yours, Aemond,” You said and whimpered as your husband’s eye darkened, and he forcefully slammed your lips. You feel your dress pool to the floor as he successfully removes it; he takes hold of one of your thighs and makes you cling to him, leading you to your shared bed. Aemond gently laid you down and parted your lips to admire the view of you sprawled before him. The thin sheet of your shift reveals all to him. 

You gasped in utter shock as you felt him tear away the thin cover you had, fully exposing you to him. A strained moan left your throat as Aemond dipped down and took one of your tits into the hot cavern of his mouth, his tongue teasing the bud. You clung to his silvery locks; just that action alone made your core tighten painfully. Aemond smirked as he moved to pay attention to the neglected mound, your hips grinding upon his as you sought friction. 

“Aemond, I…” You called, uncertain of what you wanted, but all you knew was that you needed more. “Yes, wife?” He hummed and placed open-mouth kisses upon your stomach. “I… I—“ You stuttered, not knowing what to ask. Aemond sighed and moved his head to kiss your lips, “Do you want more… do you want to be pleasure, my flower?” He asked, as he could not be so cruel to leave you in such a state for much longer. You eagerly nodded your head. 

It did not take long for you to be a moaning mess, your eyes rolled back in your head, and your back arched as Aemond placed his mouth upon your cunny. Licking and teasing your folds, “Aemond! Oh, gods!” You called in utter pleasure as you felt his thin lips enclose your sensitive bud, sucking and licking it. You battled with your mind-numbing pleasure as you propped yourself on your elbows to watch his actions. He looked up at you, grinning as his fingers teased your undefiled whole. You bit your lip and breathed heavily, boldly taking hold of the leather strap of his eye patch. You saw as his eye darkened, and you hesitated, but Aemond gave a nod. 

As you removed his eye patch, Aemond pressed his finger into you, your eyes rolling back as you saw his sapphire eye. Aemond returned his lips to your cunt, sucking on the bud as his fingers pumped in and out. He felt your walls clench around the digits and your moans growing louder. Through your closed eyes, you feel him smirk against your skin and curl the digits inside your cunt— a loud moan leaving your lips as you come undone. Your hips violently move against his face, and the pearl of your cunt hitting gains his angular nose. 

“Oh gods,” You say breathlessly as you feel Aemond’s weight atop of you. You undid the laces of his vest as he removed his trousers. You looked downwards and saw the whole of your husband, his warm, pulsating length resting upon your thigh. The head of his cock weeping a clear liquid. “W… will it fit?” You say in disbelief, never having thought that something so phallic could be so… large and appealing. “Of course, you were made for me, my flower.” Aemond lowly said and kissed your lips as he aligned himself with your cunt. 

You dug your nails onto his shoulders as he slowly tore his way through you. Him hushing your cries of pain and kissing away your tears. “It hurts— Aemond, I… it’s too much,” You cried, your legs wrapping around his waist. Aemond reached downwards and drew circles upon your cunt to aid your pain. You waited for the pain to bleed into pleasure. Aemond tightly shit his eye as he felt the tip of his cock brush against a rough spot in your cunt, him fully sheathed inside you. He made cautious thrusts, watching as you would acclimatize to his length, and when he saw your eyes roll back, that was his sign to fasten his pace. 

Aemond’s found your lips once more, muffling your moans and whimpers as his cock was relentlessly hitting the spongy spot in your cunt that made your core come undone over and over again. You were on the verge of your fourth climax, each of them coming quickly after the other, and your thighs started to shiver at the pleasure that had enveloped you fully. “Aemond… It’s too much. I— husband, I cannot,” You cried as you felt a different sensation, an odd pressure in your core unalike the other times you came. Aemond clenched his jaw as his cock twitched inside your cunt, “Just… come for me one more time, my flower,” He gritted as he wanted to coax another peak from you. 

Aemond laid his thumb flat against your nubbin and rubbed circles once more, your voice already hoarse from your loud moans. “Oh… Aemond!” You cried as the quivering of your thighs grew, and you felt the pressure in your core come undone; a differing climax from the first three overcame you. Aemond groaned loudly and tilted his head back as he spilled his seed deep in your cunt. You breathed heavily as you tried to comprehend what had happened, wetness pooling between your thighs, and an embarrassed blush spread through your cheeks and neck. 

Aemond smirked and shook his head, trying to soothe the mortification in your eyes. “I knew you were capable of it,” He hummed and kissed your lips. He knew it was perhaps too much to test your limits in your first night together, but he could not help himself; he needed to have you in such a way. “My perfect wife,” he hummed against your skin, and your reply came through your tired smile. 

[masterhallmark]

Rant incoming

I feel like the problem with a lot of Disney's live action remakes (and arguably Wish) is they're trying to appeal to a crowd that no longer exists, namely the people who used to claim that the Disney Princesses were sexist.

All the interviews tend to include, "Well she's not chasing a MAN anymore" which...almost no one sees the princesses like that, anymore. Virtually NO ONE still believes the princesses are man-chasing sexist caricatures of women.

Cinderella is now hailed as an abuse victim who stayed strong long enough to get help to get out of her situation. Anyone who says she should have saved herself is basically regarded as a victim blamer. And it's very clear in the film she wasn't looking to marry the prince, she just wanted a night off. She was the only one who wasn't in line to meet him. She didn't find out she met the prince until he went looking for her!

Snow White is now hailed for her negotiation skills, ability to calm down after extreme stress (she had a moment of panic and had to cry for a bit, but who wouldn't after finding out The Queen hired someone to kill you?), and ability to take charge of a house of adult men. And again, she was an abuse victim, this time trying to escape ASSASSINATION ATTEMPTS. While she dreamed of her prince, it was secondary to her main goal of SURVIVAL. There are also entire video essays about how Snow White gave hope to people during The Great Depression.

Everyone acknowledges that Ariel wanted to be human BEFORE meeting Eric. We all know she was a nerd hyperfixating on humans, and also standing up to her prejudiced father.

We understand Sleeping Beauty wasn't the main character, the Three Good Fairies were, AND PHILLIP WOULD NEVER HAVE BEATEN MALEFICENT WITHOUT THEM! He literally depended on them! WOMEN SAVED THE DAY! But even then, is it really such a sin for a girl to fantasize about romance and fall for someone with corny pickup lines?

We all understand Jasmine just wanted someone to treat her LIKE A PERSON. She rejected every Prince before Aladdin because they treated her like a prize. So why did they need her to want to be Sultan? How did that make her more feminist when she already wanted to be treated like an equal and have a say in her future? Is it only empowering if you want a career in politics?

We admire that Belle, despite living in a judgemental village, was kind to everyone (even though she found the village life dull), and her story teaches girls that the guy everyone else loves isn't always a good guy. What's sexist about teaching girls about red flags? And she didn't start being nice to The Beast until he started treating her with respect and kindness.

Do I really NEED to defend Mulan or Tiana? I think they speak for themselves.

Rapunzel was yet another abuse victim who just needed a little help to get out of her bad situation. In this case, she also needed to learn that she was an abuse victim, and that what Mother Gothel did WASN'T normal, much like many victims of gaslighting.

And don't get me started on the non-princess animals.

Perdita had a healthy relationship with Pongo to the point she was open to express her pregnancy fears to him, and was ready to TEAR APART Cruella's goons for daring to touch her puppies as well as adopting the other puppies. Like, she was so ferocious the goons mistook her for a hyena! She's basically that "I AM THAT GIRL'S MOTHER!" scene from SpyXFamily if Yor were a dog. She and her husband were a TEAM.....but they made a Cruella live action to turn her into a girlboss?! The literal animal abuser!? THAT'S the woman you wanted to put on a pedestal when Perdita was RIGHT THERE!?

Duchess kept her kittens calm after they had been catnapped and was classy as heck. Nice to everyone regardless of social class during a time period where that was uncommon.

Lady stood up to Tramp when she believed he had abandoned her and didn't really care about her. She found out he was a heartbreaker and was like, "Nuh uh. No. You are not doing that to me! You put me through enough."

Miss Bianca from The Rescuers was IN CHARGE the whole movie, and was willing to risk life and limb to save an innocent child. THAT TINY MOUSE TOOK ON ALLIGATORS! And she picked Bernard to accompany her because he was the only one who wasn't ogling her. And then in the sequel SHE DID IT ALL AGAIN! I wish I were as brave as her.

Like, the public haven't accused these ladies of being sexist caricatures since 2014 (Actresses and actors don't count, they're out of touch like the rest of Hollywood) yet Disney is operating under the assumption that the public still thinks that way, hence all the "sHe'S nOt AfTeR a MaN iN ThIs VeRsIOn" talk.

The live action remakes are trying to attract an audience that doesn't really exist much, anymore, and back when it did exist, was comprised mainly of people who didn't actually watch the films. The Disney princesses are no longer seen as sexist, and feminine qualities are no longer seen as weak or undesirable.

[nanaslutt]

Face sitting w/ Higuruma

contains: fem reader, face sitting, cumming untouched (Hiromi), dirty talk, asphyxiation, pussydrunk!Hiromi, big nose supremacy, implied multiple rounds

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

"Your nose is so pretty Hiromi." You whispered to the man above you. Higuruma was reading some book as you rested your head on his lap, studying his features. His nose was high with a beautiful arch, his lips soft and plump, his eyebrows thick but well kept, thanks to you, his face sharp and chiseled to match his strong, defined features, he was utterly gorgeous.

The man whose legs you were lying on tipped the book down, allowing him to have an unobstructed view of your face. He smiled softly at your serious expression before he spoke, "You think so?" He asked, still holding his book by his side. You kept your expression the same as your eyes traced down the slope of his nose.

You reached up and touched it, running your finger from the strong bridge to the tip, before you dragged your finger down to his lips, pulling his bottom one back in the process as you continued dragging it down his face, letting his lip fall back into place before you dropped your hand back down on your chest. "Yeah." You replied, your eyes finally meeting his. It was only then that you realized he had been watching you that whole time.

"What do you like about it?" He asked, egging you on. You swallowed hard as you looked at the feature once more before smiling and looking into his eyes again, "The shape is perfect, and it's so… big. It looks so pretty on your face." You said honestly, your face heating up at your own words. "Is that right?" He responded, his eyebrows raising at your unabashed honesty as he dropped his eyes to your lips briefly before looking back into your eyes.

"If it's so pretty…" Hiromi started, mindlessly folding a page of his book at the corner to save his spot before he shut it and placed it to his side, leaning his face towards yours. His large hand grabbed your chin as he got closer, his body bending over you to bring his lips agaisnt yours, "do you wanna sit on it?" He finished. You swallowed hard, feeling every muscle on your body go rigid as you heard your heart beat loudly in your ears.

"Hiromi…" You mumbled, looking away from his eyes as you tried to escape his watchful gaze. You were just trying to compliment him, how did it get like this? "What? I thought you said it was pretty. You should show me how much you really like it or I might not believe you." He said, his hot breath tickling the skin of your lips as he teased you.

You suddenly felt a warmth blossom in the bottom of your stomach as he hovered over you, teasing you by not closing the distance. Your hands reached up and curled into his house shirt as you fought to keep hold of your sanity, trying to not get swept away by his words. "Let me please you." He whispered against you before pressing a featherlight kiss against your slightly parted lips. You had started breathing heavier at some point, your body growing aroused by his words.

"Let me taste you." Another featherlight kiss. "Sit on my face, grind your clit agaisnt my nose." You moaned against his lips, leaning your head up as you made him kiss you harder, sick of his teasing. You could feel his smile against your lips, his own heavy breathing hitting your cheeks as he breathed through his nose during the kiss. "Your mouth is so dirty, Hiromi." You said bashfully as you broke the kiss, pulling back just slightly as you mumbled the barely audible words against his soft lips, red from the kiss.

"Let me show you how dirty it can really get." He teased, smirking against your lips as he forced your lips together again. Your hands abandoned their hold on his shirt as you wrapped them around his neck, scratching your nails over the nape of his neck as he kissed you, making him groan softly into your mouth, a sound that you swallowed up greedily.

——

"Hiromi this is… so embarrassing." You said as you sat on top of his chest, your bare cunt placed right between his pecs, your body moving up and down with his heavy breaths. "Why?" He asked as he ran his hands up and down the sides of your soft body, his eyes raking over your form as he waited for you to speak.

"I feel so exposed." You said, averting your eyes. Hiromi giggled, the vibrations in his chest tickling your inner thighs. "You don't usually feel embarrassed when I eat you out, why the sudden change?" He asked, tilting his head at you as he waited patiently for you to answer, despite how hard his cock was throbbing in his boxers at the thought of having you sit on his face while he tongue fucked your pussy.

His hands relaxed some of the nerves in your body as you tried to find the words. "I guess it's different 'cos I'm on top." Your eyes found his once more, only they weren't looking at your eyes, they were still dragging over your body, making you feel even more exposed. Hiromi didn't give any reaction of embarrassment when he looked back up to you and realized you were looking at him again, he just cupped your face in his hands and caressed your cheeks, watching how your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into his touch.

"Nonsense, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. It's just me. All I want is to make you feel good, don't worry." He consoled you, his hands leaving your face and falling on your thighs, his hands caressing dangerously close to your cunt. "Now get up here, I don't know how much longer I can wait." He confessed, giving you a smirk that poorly disguised his arousal.

It was honestly a last-minute idea that popped into his head when he had asked you to sit on his face, but the second he had uttered the words out loud, his body had reacted, and it was then that he realized just how badly he really wanted this. The lawyer didn't know why he hadn't thought of this before. He always got so aroused when he ate you out.

In fact, he loved it so much that he can't remember a time when he didn't eat your pussy out before he fucked you, this should've seemed so obvious. Having you smother his face with your pussy while you rested your full weight against him? He needed to stop thinking or he was going to cream his pants prematurely.

You leaned forward and placed your hands above his head, pushing yourself up so you were hovering above his face, a good six inches or so away from his mouth. Higuruma felt his cock twitch steadily in his pants, pre-cum flooding his boxers. If he was able to look down at his crotch he was sure there would be a huge damp spot on the front.

"What if I hurt you?" You ask hesitantly, keeping your hands above his body, not yet ready to drop down onto his face. Higaruma was a very patient man, and thank god for that because you clearly needed to be reassured right now and although he wanted nothing more than to eat you out like a man starved, he would make sure you were confident first.

"You won't, I promise." He said, smoothing his hands over your thighs. When the worry didn't dissipate from your face, he continued. "Here-" He started, tapping his fingers against your thigh twice in demonstration, "If I tap you twice, let up for a moment." He instructed, watching the uncertainty slowly wash away from your face as you nodded. The man under you smiled before he spoke again, "I won't though."

Your heartbeat sounded even louder in your head when Higuruma put pressure on your thighs as he pulled you down on top of him, silently begging you to sit on him already, so you did. You absentmindedly hovered at first, but quickly corrected your mistake when you felt the burn in your thighs, your muscles letting you know you weren't fully relaxed.

Higuruma opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue as you sat against him, your taste flooding his tongue. You were now tangling your hands in his hair for stability, your fingers brushing the strands away from his forehead so you could see his beautiful, unobstructed face. You watched how his eyes fluttered back in their sockets the second you had sat down, a deep groan resonating in his chest.

You gasped at the stimulation when he began moving his tongue back and forth, keeping it flat as he rubbed it against your folds experimentally. "Tell me what feels good." He added, mumbling against your folds. You nodded before your breath got sucked out of your lungs when his lips wrapped around your clit.

Your body arched forward as he flicked your little bud between his lips with his soft tongue. Your hands dug deeper in his hair, making him groan at the painful pleasure as he suckled your clit. Higuruma's eyes were fighting to stay open. He wanted to watch you so bad, but the pleasure he was feeling from this was immense, it was almost too much to handle, resulting in his body twitching and his eyes fluttering.

You turned your head to the side to look at his stiff cock, throbbing harshly against the fabric of his boxers, but your vision was swiftly corrected by his hands digging into the fat of your thighs, making you look at him. His glossy, unfocused eyes looked deeply into yours as he silently told you to keep your eyes on him, to watch him.

You nodded in response, your body jerking and twitching each time he did something with his tongue that felt particularly good. "O-oh fuck, r-right there-" You gasped, your nails raking his scalp when his tongue ran down to prod at your entrance. He groaned loudly into your cunt, the sound sending vibrations through you, making you jerk against him.

Higuruma stuck his tongue out more, penetrating your entrance with his tongue as he began licking your inner walls. It was a sensation unlike anything you've ever felt before. You knew it felt good there because he often teased you by only fucking you with the tip of his cock, familiar with how many nerve endings there are in that particular spot.

The push and pull of his tongue inside you was making you dizzy. Saliva and your cum ran down his chin and spilled from the corners of his mouth as he tongue fucked you vigorously, opening his mouth wider agaisnt you to ensure he was reaching it as deep as he could. "Fuck! H-hiromi fuck, that feels s-so good-" You gasped, trying to contain the jerking and thrusting of your hips as you so desperately wanted to move.

Higuruma moaned at your praise, his hips fucking up into the air, pressing his cock against the inside of his boxers as he tried to get some sort of relief. He started picking up on you holding back on him when he cracked his eyes open and saw your eyes shut, mouth ajar, and your face scrunched in pleasure, but also restraint. He was able to read you like a book.

Pulling out his tongue quickly, resulting in a loud whine from you, he turned his head into the crook of your thigh and spoke, his voice still coming out muffled, "Use me, f-fuck my face." The words were rushed and needy, sounding like he needed it more than you did.

You didn't have to be told twice, you let your body take control as you rode his face, humping your cunt against his soft tongue which aided greatly in your pleasure. "A-ahhhh!" Your moans increased in volume when you stopped holding back. Your clit finally bumped into what had started this whole endeavor, his nose.

It was hard and provided just the right amount of stimulation you were looking for. You decided to repeat the process a couple of times, humping your hips against his mouth while Higuruma laid his tongue flat for you to grind on while simultaneously rubbing your clit against his nose. The man underneath you quickly picked up on your pattern, realizing you were trying to hump his nose on purpose.

His hands slid behind you to your ass as he pushed you further up on your face and started shaking his head back and forth. You almost screamed in surprise when his tongue started thrusting rapidly inside you as he drank up your juices greedily, while his nose abused your little clit, even more so with his own motions combined with your humping.

Higuruma was released the neediest, most obscene moans and groans you've ever heard from him, your body josting slightly even more not just from his head movements, but from his body shaking as his hips thrust into the air steadily. The friction he was getting on his cock was little, but the rubbing of his cockhead agaisnt the fabric from the way his cock was poking straight out against the boxers felt delicious.

His tip was always so sensitive, so it made his thrusts jerky and uneven, but it felt good nonetheless. He was sure he was going to cum like this, he could already feel the ball of pleasure start to coil up in his belly. His tongue movements got sloppier as he tried to work you up to your orgasm with him. Your own thrusts were twitchy and less intense the more your body hardened up as it prepared for your release.

"H-hiromi fuck me, k-keep fucking me with your tongue-" You gasped, your head falling back as your mouth dropped open, your nails digging against his scalp. "Ohmygod just like that- j-just like that don't fucking stop-" you babbled, moaning and whimpering his name mindlessly as you writhed on top of his face, your sounds getting higher in pitch.

You felt Hiromi's breath tickle your inner thigh through his nose each time your cunt jerked back, giving him the space to breathe. Honestly though, in this moment, he couldn't care all that much about breathing. The slight asphyxiation from you rutting against his nose made his mind feel cloudy, simultaneously making his cock more sensitive.

He released a long groan into your cunt as he came before you, his body jerking and spasming as he continued to rut his hips into the air, his cum seeping through his boxers and wetting them even more. You were about to ask if he just came, even though it was obvious, but your words were stolen from your mouth and replaced with gasps and whines as your orgasm crashed over you.

Hiromi's cock kept jerking in his boxers as he spilled the rest of his seed, still thrusting his tongue inside you as he helped you ride out your own orgasm on his face. Your body almost fell forward if not for your shaky arms reaching out and catching you against the sheets over his head as you came, your thighs squeezing around his head, now effectively cutting off his airway.

It wasn't long before he was able to breathe again though. Once your orgasm was over, your thighs went lax and so did the rest of your body as you rolled off of him, falling on your back next to his body, you a little higher up on the sheets than him. Higuruma gasped and twitched agaisnt the sheets, both of his hands coming down to cup over his cock and press against it, giving himself some sort of pressure as he basked in the aftershocks.

You weren't faring much better, your legs crossed as you laid partway on your side, your breathing rapid and loud as you tried to recover from such an intense orgasm. The two of you laid there for a good while, just letting your bodies recover with one another. After a whine, once both of your breathing had returned to normal, Higuruma turned his head to look at you, his face red and eyes lidded still, his mouth, chin, cheeks, and nose covered in your cum.

"Wow." He said quietly, making you smile as you rolled over on your side, sliding down the bed a bit so your leg was thrown over his as you rested with him. Higuruma used all of the strength he had left in his body to pull you more against him, your head now resting on his chest as he placed his chin on your head and wrapped his arms around your body.

"Y-yeah… wow." You replied, snuggling against him. "I came in my boxers." He blurted, making you giggle at his unexpected words. "What?" You laughed, trying to look up at him. You already knew that, why was he bringing it up again? If anything, someone would usually be embarrassed at that sort of thing. "Just in case you had any doubts if I liked it. I came in my boxers, didn't even touch myself." He reiterated, making you bury your head deeper into his chest at his words.

"O-okay okay, I get it. I… liked it too." You said, wanting him to shut up about it already. Hiromi stared blankly at the ceiling as he ignored your words, the only thing on his mind being how much he liked that. "Can you go again?" He asked, making your body go rigid against him. "Huh?" You asked, making sure you really heard his words properly.

You felt something hard poke your ass from the position you were laying in. Looking down you realized he was hard and ready to go again. "Can you sit on my face again? Please? I wanna see if I can get you to squirt like that." His words made your bare cunt throb around nothing. You sighed loudly before wrapping your arms around him harder, contemplating his words. "G-give me a couple more minutes and I'll be ready." You replied, resulting in a quiet, "yessss" that made you burst out into a fit of giggles.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.

Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.

Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.

It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.

It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.

Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.

It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.

They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.

They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.

"What." Eddie says.

"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.

"Me?"

"You like dnd?"

He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.

"Doubt it," the boy says.

Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.

The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.

"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"

Dustin shrugs. "Steve."

"Steve?"

Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."

"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.

He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"

"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."

Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.

They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.

It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.

Steve.

"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.

Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"

"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.

"Um, the kids?"

And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.

"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."

Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.

"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."

Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."

"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."

Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."

"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"

Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."

Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."

"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."

"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.

"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."

"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."

"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."

"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.

"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"

Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.

He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.

And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.

[tender-rosiey]

MY DEAR AND BEAUTIFUL ROSE<3. I saw that your requests are open and I wanted to ask about my husband (Sukuka cough cough) a scenario where the husband Sukuna saves the reader from the enemy, or someone tries to kidnap and hurt his wife! you write Sukuna's feelings so beautifully <3

fools' sentence — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: bro you're too kind ilysm; I really hope you like this too <3

if only you listened to that rude servant about not going out of the castle.

it’s a bitter thought really, but you just couldn’t let your pride be scarred by somebody who doesn’t even speak to you in a minimal amount of respect.

so, in a way, you’re okay with dying a proud queen who doesn’t let anybody disrespect her.

“oh, we are going to have so much fun with you, and that monstrous husband of yours will just see your mutilated body after we’re done with you,” the guy grins devilishly. you back up slightly.

okay, so maybe, you don’t want to die just yet.

“that impudent woman! she disobeyed me, and now, we are stuck looking for her, so we can find her before sukuna returns!” the servant complains loudly while walking the halls of the castle.

“and who is that impudent woman you speak of? surely, it isn’t my wife you’re addressing in such a manner,” a voice—a very distinct and well-known one—says from behind the servant.

only then does she realize the shadow that suddenly was casted from above her.

she quickly falls to her knees and starts stuttering out her apologies and excuses, “o-of course not, my lord! how could I ever speak ill of the lady of the castle! her presence is to be respected, naturally!”

after she is done, she lets silence fill the room. assuming that sukuna has believed her, she lets out a sigh of relief, and her body relaxes ever so slightly.

however, an ear-piercing scream is ripped out of her throat when sukuna steps on her foot, so roughly that it breaks.

sukuna groans, annoyed at the incessant scream and wailing of the lady, and he throws a question, “where is your queen?”

the woman keeps on sobbing but tries to speak out nonetheless, “s—she, she,” she hiccups, but sukuna has no time to listen to her bellow.

“faster! where is she?”

she buries her face in the ground to quieten her sobs, but she doesn’t get the chance to respond to him when uraume appears out of thin air.

they kneel to the ground and speak humbly, “my lord, lady y/n has been taken as a hostage by a group of sorcerers.”

sukuna eyes’ widen, and he frowns.

he quickly turns to leave but not before making a command, “uraume, every servant who was careless and caused her disappearance is to be beheaded immediately.”

you thank god for men being prideful creatures who love speaking about themselves. you only asked them once about their accomplishments and raids, and they never stopped talking.

with a couple of positive encouragements from you, they talked and talked till the sun went down.

the doors of the room you’re trapped in slams open, and a fearful boy screams out, “sukuna—sukuna is here!”

“what?!” they all snap, and you grin. finally, you were going to be freed from this cage.

unfortunately, one of the men notices your beaming expression. his face contorts, livid, and he quickly fists your hair in his hand. you let out a scream, but he slams you against the wall.

he shouts, “shut up! you’re the one that lured him here! you stalled till he could find you! you wretched woman!”

“are you stupid?! you take his wife, and you expect him to stand idly by?!” you reply, voice hoarse, and unable to accept taking what he said lying down.

you can’t, however, control the dizziness that hits you, and you can feel blood trickling down your nose.

the only thing that comforts you is the sound of slashes and the calling of your name by your darling husband.

you smirk at the man above you and whisper, “ever saw sukuna in action?”

the man grits his teeth and before he throws a punch at your face, the door flies and gets crushed into pieces. the man quickly throws you away, so he can focus all his energy on sukuna.

but, sukuna instead moves to be right by your side and shields you from the ground.

he wraps an arm around you and pulls you a bit closer.

his eyes carefully scan you; he clenches his jaw at the sight of the blood. he carefully wipes it and moves your face towards him with one of his hands. he speaks up, “you alive?”

“don’t you ignore me, sukuna—” the man sneers, but he is quickly silenced. he sees his tongue flying to the ground. the sight scares him to the core, he starts screaming—or his attempt at one.

his knees feel weak, and he falls to the ground. his blood pools slowly on the ground.

sukuna shifts your focus back to him again, and you respond slowly, “alive and kicking,” raising a thumbs up. he nods and gently lays you down on the ground.

you wince a little and complain lightly, “this place is dusty.”

he hums, “wait a second.”

your husband rises to his feet and turns to the man. sukuna approaches the man, taking his time with each step. anger swirls violently inside of him, and his eyes looked down sharply at the man.

the sorcerer quivers and covers his mouth; he quickly backs up to the wall. he sukuna scoffs, “you’re still annoying even after taking your tongue out?”

the man’s pride almost causes him to retort back with a yell of his own.

but then sukuna snatches him up by the hair and stares him right in the eyes, “for every strand of hair you’ve touched on her head, I will make you bellow in pain till your vocal chords are ripped into shreds.”

you groan and stir lightly. you slowly open your eyes and examine your surroundings. you’re back in the castle; you smile and relax back into your pillow.

“so you’ve finally awaken?”

you turn to your husband with a grin, “hey handsome.”

“why did you leave the castle?”

straight to the point. you prop yourself up on the pillow and sit up. you look at him then look away, “it’s kind of embarrassing actually.”

“not your first,” he responds, and you pointedly ignore him.

“I wanted to greet you before you arrived at the gate,” you murmur then quip, “but I didn’t even go beyond the fence! I was still in the area!”

he listens quietly and sits beside you. he pulls you against his chest, “you do not need to do anything like that.”

you look up at him with a small smile and he finds himself letting out a small breath—of fondness?—he closes his eyes and speaks in absolute manner, “you should know that I will always come for you.”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will write your name on the list I give to sylus

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[logansdoll]

all the time in the world

part two of "37"

CW: heavily suggestive, profanity, fluffy fluff, takes place during the events of Days Future Past, Logan's down bad for you, you're down bad for him, it's a whole thing, etc.

Logan groaned as he felt something stir beside him, the sun spilling in through the windows and bathing the room in golden light.

'The hell...'

His power had already come into affect, the metal bars Magneto impaled him with, along with the water in his drowning lungs, completely gone.

Sitting up, he rested a hand on his side of his head.

And that's when it all came back to him.

Hank.

Charles.

Mystique.

With a roar, Logan shot out of bed, claws drawn and chest heaving as he snapped his head around, looking for the direction of the fight.

But instead, he found a bedroom, which had plants growing from every nook and cranny, the flowers blooming awake along with another in the room.

"Baby?" your soft voice broke through his frenzy, calming him almost instantly.

Quickly, Logan turned around, shoulders sinking as he caught sight of you sliding out of bed, still wearing the same silky robe.

Of course, it looked a little more worn, but it still did its job, and made you look just as beautiful as the day he left.

"(n/n)?"

You looked exactly the same, save for the few gray streaks in your hair, and now had the air of a woman seasoned in life's trials and tribulations, yet still glowing with youth.

It reminded him of how astronomically lucky he was that you even gave him the time of day—past, present, or otherwise.

As you drew closer, slowly, his claws retracted, and he watched you approach with eyes that made it seem like he was seeing you for the first time.

"You alright?" you asked, hands cupping his cheeks and smoothing over his cheekbones, before sliding down to rest over his chest. "You haven't had one this bad in a long time..."

Eyes flicking up to his face, your worries increased tenfold to see no change in his expression.

The man was just staring at you.

"Honey, is everything okay—"

He didn't even let you finish the sentence before he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

And, despite the initial shock, you eased into him, arms finding home around his neck as you pulled him closer, resting your head against his pounding heartbeat.

"While I'm loving all this early morning attention... you're starting to scare me," you chuckled, dryly, lifting your head to look up at him. "Wanna tell me what's goin' on?"

He took in a deep, slow breath, trying to find the words.

"Remember that day in 1973..." he started in a low voice, one hand squeezing your hip, "When I told you to wait until I find my way back..."

You swallowed thickly, biting back a question as you nodded in confirmation.

He took a moment, scanning your face for any sort of reluctance, happy to find none.

"Well... I found it..."

His eyes landed on yours, and the way you looked up at him made his chest roar.

You weren't making this easy for him.

He was already holding himself back on a thread of sanity, and now he had to deal with the fact that you looked like a goddamn supermodel, and smelled like cocoa butter and vanilla.

Your curves were curvier, your hips were dippier, and you now had an extra ounce of unspoken confidence that could bring any man to his knees.

Him included.

Your hands found his face, holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

Because he was to you, and now he all parts of him were back in your arms.

You chuckled, eyes misty as you smiled up at him, resting your forehead against his.

"Looks like my husband's whole again."

Record scratch.

"Husband?" he asked, eyes widening as he crackled a small smile.

You nodded, proudly holding up your hand to show off the gold wedding band sitting pretty on your ring finger.

"Mhmm," you hummed, amused by his shocked expression. "You put a ring on it fifteen years ago today... so don't think I'm gonna let you run out on me again."

He chuckled, fingers tucking under your chin and softly caressing your jaw.

"Wouldn't dream of it, doll."

Without a moment's hesitation, he pressed his lips against yours, hard, unloading well over fifty year's worth of pining.

You sank into it almost immediately, matching his fervor as you rested your hands on his chest, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him even closer.

The two of you moved together in perfect sync, fitting each other like puzzle pieces, as you kept up with his rhythm.

He grasped you by the small of your back, pressing you further into him and giving your hips a little squeeze, earning a quiet squeak.

Close wasn't close enough.

He wanted you even closer than that.

He wanted you so much, every part of him in contact with you want on fire.

But, alas, you two were human (not really), and air would be needed eventually.

The two of you separated with a gasp, cheeks flushed and foreheads resting against each other.

"I don't think you know how long I've been waitin' to do that," he smirked, catching his breath.

You smiled, sliding your hands up from his chest to his shoulders.

"Come show me," you purred, staring at him with those sparkling, (e/c) eyes of yours.

'Goddamn...'

He leaned in closer, about to say something else when, of course, he was interrupted.

"Hey, you two better be up and ready," Scott's voice cut through the air, the two of you quietly groaning at the intervention. "You both have got classes in five minutes."

You and Logan separated, albeit reluctantly, straightening yourselves out a bit.

"I'm a teacher now?" he asked, raising a brow.

"Self defense," you answered, teasingly, "Some things never change."

Suddenly, he took your hand in his, holding it firmly as a serious look came over his face.

"I'm gonna talk to the professor. See if he can get my memories back," he stated, reassuringly. "I don't want you to feel like we have to start from scratch... or our years have gone to waste."

That took you by surprise.

"Is that what you think?" you asked, concerned, as you turned to him. "Baby, I could care less whether you remember or not. It would be nice, but it would never make me believe that the years we've spent together have gone to waste."

You smiled, your hand sliding up to cup his cheek.

"Through thick and thin, it's you and me, Logan... If you're lost, I'll find you. If you forget, I'll remind you... we have all the time in the world."

Goddamnit.

You were getting him choked up.

Misty eyed, he pulled you closer, looking down at you like you were the only damn thing in the entire universe.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he smiled, thankfully.

You shrugged, teasingly, placing a quick peck on his cheek before heading toward your shared bathroom.

"Beats me."

[cryptidcasanova]

Lover Boy

Mob!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: It's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky.

Warnings: Angst, light Smut, Language, Possessive Bucky.

3.5k

The poll results are in, and I couldn't help but think this might be a good way to remedy both sides.

You were mortified.

One hand fisted against quivering lips, and the other gripped at your clutch. As if anything else could go wrong tonight. Shaky steps guided you down the carpeted stairs.

There was another gala, another meeting of the power players in town. And it was another night wasted at the hands of James Barnes.

You hated how much you cared for him. You still cared for him even after all the stunts he pulled to pull you away from the Maximoff heir. Always had.

Ever since you were kids, you remembered having that love-sick look in your eyes. You grew up with inner-circle families and were friends with Rebecca, Sarah, and their brothers. And Bucky? Well, shit, he was always there with his dark hair and curious eyes. It was hard not to fall for him.

Even as you grew up, numbing yourself to the reality of the business and the choices that came with it, you couldn't ignore him forever. You knew that Bucky was raised to be powerful, honorable, and frightening. You knew the stories – of all the beautiful women who couldn't tie him down longer than a night or two. You knew how he flaunted some new girl at every event. It was hard not to overhear them whispering among the men.

'What about her?' and the laugh on his hips saying, 'She's just a family friend. Don't worry about her; I'd never be with her like that.'

You knew he would break your heart, and still. You loved him.

Again, mortified.

He was your first kiss on some lonely night when you couldn't help but ask him. But that had been ages ago. He was grown now, the head of the family and the king of his empire.

But there was something different about tonight, something predestined that started long before you stepped outside your door. It started out as Sam's idea weeks before, in the same bar where you ended up every weekend.

He wanted to try and get you to mingle among the local 'rabble-rousers' as if he pretended not to be one of them. Your laugh at his suggestion pulled Steve and Bucky's attention from across the bar.

"You want me to do what, exactly?" You teased. "Throw myself in the way of wealthy investors and scout out the competition? That's much more up Nat's alley; there's a reason why they call her the Black Widow, you know –"

"No, nothing like that," he shook his head, that charming grin on his lips. Once Sam got an idea, it took a lot of work to dissuade him. "Look, there's more to this life than watching shipments and making small talk with the hens in town." He paused, knowing all the time you spent logging backorders and saving face with the mercs' wives. "I want you to be happy. We all do."

You leaned against the bar, pressing your palms against the hardwood.

"So you think it's time for me to settle down?" You challenged with a smirk. "Get married to some silver-spoon jerk upstate?" Sam's smile turned close-lipped as he noticed the other's approach.

"We could help you find a good one." At least he sounded hopeful.

"In this town?" Steve overheard, tapping his beer on the hardtop. "You're gonna need all the help you can get."

Your sneaking suspicion grew as they hounded like vultures. You looked from Sam to Steve with weary eyes. The only one with less enthusiasm was Bucky. Bucky, who usually was primmed with pressed shirts, was tired. His hair fell into his face, his shirt wrinkled, and his tie long discarded at one of the tables.

"You want to help me find a man?"

Bucky looked to his friends with a hooded expression, letting his hand reach out before him. With the click of his tongue, he softly smirked.

"We'll help you find a man. Have we got a deal, doll?"

It was a business handshake, one full of promise. And as soon as you grasped Bucky's hand, one you'd come to regret.

You didn't expect their advice to work so well…or so quickly.  

At the gala, Bucky strolled over with that sly walk and pressed navy suit, conveniently carrying your favorite drink in hand after Pietro ordered you both dirty martinis. You never cared for the drink, but you weren't about to tell him that. But trouble started when Bucky slid between you with that close-lipped smirk.

"They must have made a mistake at the bar," He explained with a shrug. "I remember you liked these. Here, doll." Bucky said, swapping out the drink in your hand before sliding away. No one could fault you for your eyes lingering on him as he walked back to Sam and Steve.

Later in the night, when you were dancing along and finally falling into a rhythm with Pietro, Bucky interrupted again. It was the turn of the tides, the slow pace of the music building, until it felt like one of the underground clubs.

All the weeks spent flirting and learning more about the Maximoff family were crumbling before you. You were a fool to think it would last.

The music built to the familiar strum of old songs you used to listen to, and before you knew it, Sam, Natasha, and half the crew surrounded you on the dancefloor, pulling you away from your date. And it was all orchestrated by Bucky, leading them like a pack of wolves. You knew that look, the suave pull of his hand through slicked-back hair. And then, before you knew it, you were dragged away from the dancefloor.

"Hey," Pietro called over the music, pulling you to the side. "I like you. I do, but this isn't working."

"Wait –" You tried, reaching for his arm. But he was quick to deflect, and embarrassment warmed your cheeks.

"Whatever you're looking for," his eyes moved from Bucky and dropped when you noticed. He looked down with a sad smile. "Whoever you're looking for, I hope you find it."

It felt like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Please don't go."

But it was too late. Your plea was lost as he pushed himself away. Everyone saw it. All your friends' efforts and your attempts to find the one were wasted. Your feet carried you away too fast to notice the somber look Steve gave Bucky.

"You're running out of time, punk."

The city lights passed in a blur as a taxi drove you farther from the gala. The searing ache in your chest left you confused.

For years, you dreamed of Bucky Barnes, hope a dangerous feeling companion of yours. But you knew how he felt. You were nothing more than a friend; he had made that abundantly clear. But you couldn't cut the tether, even while someone else caught your interest. Pietro Maximoff was handsome and kind and loved his sister more than the world. But with Bucky's interruptions, it was no wonder why he didn't want to get involved.

But it still hurt.

A sob was swallowed back, but you couldn't stop the tears from rising. You were pitiful. It was the last time you'd ever ask the guys for help.

But the thought was gone with the sudden screeching of brakes. It made you hold on to the headrest in front of you. Trying to peer around at the commotion, you didn't expect to be cut off by two black SUVs. A moment later, a ringed hand banged on the taxi's hood.

"Get out of the car."

You knew that voice. And as you looked through the windshield, you could see Bucky Barnes peering back.

He was as poised as he was at the party, and the sharp look had you bracing the seat. The bitter spark of rejection caught the light, burning into brutal frustration. You didn't want to talk to him. You didn't want to see him. Not now.

"No."

He tilted his head to the side at the challenge.

"Get out of the fucking car." Bucky gritted. "I need to talk to you."

His voice was teetering dangerously into territory you had only heard about. It was his back rooms, no nonsense voice that snapped you back into the moment. Like hell it would work on you. So it was to be a standoff, one that that you weren't ready to back down from.

Once Bucky realized your position, he took a new approach. You could hear his intentional steps against the pavement as he reached the driver. He didn't say anything but dug into his pants pocket, his fingers flicking through his wallet smoothly.

"Unlock the car," Bucky ordered, pressing cash bills against the window.

The immediate click of the locks didn't help your bellyache, nor did the split second of peace you had before Bucky forced the door open and pulled you out of the cab.

"Are you crazy?" You barked, forcing him to release you as the cab sped off in the other direction.

But you were left in the middle of the road in Barnes territory, the sweep of their dark SUVs cutting off any chance to get out of this conversation.

"What's gotten into you?"

"I didn't want you to leave the party." He explained, his words softer now. "Not like that."

You couldn't believe him. You followed their advice to try and bag a good guy, but to what end?

"What?" You dared to challenge. "I don't know what you want from me. I'm not in the mood, James."

The curl of his name lingered, making your intentions clear. You never called him by his first name. And Bucky didn't like it one bit.

"Let me take you home."

As if you had a choice.

You choked on a frustrated snarl, wanting to hide and cry away your worries and wanting to claw at him like a villain. You hated it. You hated the pressure of his eyes, blue and dark against the night, to get in the car.

So you lifted your head high, took a steeling breath, and walked ahead of him. You were separated from the rest of the world in the backseat of his company car. The divider was a saving grace. You didn't want one of the drivers to see you like this.

But Bucky followed behind so quickly, getting in and closing the door before you could protest for space. You chose to stare out the window instead of looking back at him. The car lurched forward, and you took a moment to find balance.

"You're unhappy."

"No shit."

"Please," He started, turning his shoulders in toward you. Even out of the corner of your eye, you knew he wouldn't let this go. "Please talk to me. Don't close me out. I hated seeing you leave like that. Whatever Maximoff did, I'll fix it."

"You can't fix it!" You finally said, turning to him and gripping his shoulder in frustration. "You say you want me to be happy, to find someone, and then manage to scare off anyone that has the potential to do it." As your voice raised, heat radiated from your cheeks down your neck. His eyes were wide, listening to your grief. "He left because of you. It's not like you have feelings for me. What's the matter with you?"

You couldn't stand to look at him, not when he was so close. His cologne burned your nose, and you desperately needed him to get out of your system.

"Doll," Bucky breathed. He inched his way closer, not letting the anger of your words settle over him. "What if I did have feelings for you?" You would almost call his stare desperate. And then you confirmed it as his shoulders dropped, turning toward you. "It's all that I've wanted to tell you. And I can't see you with him." He admitted.

He moved with purpose all night, not intending to ruin your time with Pietro but to show you that he was the one who needed you. He should have been the one to hold you between dances and order you fine drinks. He should have picked you up so that you would never dare to get in a yellow cab.

But you weren't some wilting flower. You knew the risks of your following words.

"We're friends, Buck."

You held yourself together. You were strong and brave and gripping your heartstrings.

"Yes," He agreed. "But we…"

And for once, he was at a loss of words. The years wasted pining after him would finally be out in the open. You could finally be free of his torment. His eye contact was overwhelming; if he looked away, you would disappear.

"Look, We've been friends for a long time." And with an ounce more of bravery, you sighed. "But I'd like to be more than friends." You admitted. "I want to be so much more than that."

You were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But Bucky leaned closer in earnest, over the seat and bringing his face close. There was no teasing, no torment in his expression.

And with the tip of his chin, you were lost, pulled tight into a kiss and letting it blossom as cold metal snaked around your waist. You dreamed of his touch, and it burned down your throat like honey whiskey.

When you opened your eyes, Bucky had moved. He was no longer in the seat, now chest to chest with you. He was kneeling in the cramped space, the divider shielding you from the driver and the outside world.

"Do you know why Sam offered to help in the first place?" His words were slow as he pulled away, loud enough to hear. "Do you know why Steve jumped on board and corralled us to join? It's because he is tired of me dragging my fucking feet."  

"Bucky-"

But he closed the space for another set of slow kisses, deep and intentional.

"I've been an idiot." He admitted. "The guys know how I feel about you. I think they've always known." Another kiss as you pulled back, gripping the shoulders of his jacket. Expensive fabric under your fingertips, hot breath against yours. You were dizzy.

"And you agreed to help with this idea." You noted.

It wasn't a question, no challenge in your words. He agreed to help find you a man. Bucky took a hefty exhale.

"You know the business. It's not safe –" but you raised your hand with a groan, not buying his excuse.

Your fingers brushed over the curve of his chin, the sharp line of his beard a welcome sensation. God, you only ever dreamed of this. You savored the feel of him, your hand moving up his ear and combing your fingers through his air. Buck's eyes were darker than you've ever seen, his open mouth curving up in awe.

"'s not safe." He whispered. "I'm not gonna put you through that."

It was a weak defense. You knew the coterie of mercs, the warehouses, the shipments. You knew all of it and were aware of the danger. But it wasn't like you could cut ties and leave your life behind. You weren't sure you even wanted to.

"You wanted me to find someone else?" You dared to ask. The whisper died as he shook his head.

"All this deal did was make me jealous." He affirmed. "And tonight," His eyes raked down your frame. He never did finish his thought as lust washed over him. A breath passed between you two. "I never meant for you to hurt over it."

The limited space lets you mimic his actions, noting his heaving chest, blue eyes, and the pout of his kissed lips. How he kneeled down in front of you, crowding your space, made you dizzy. While your mouth curved up into a wanton grin, you couldn't help but chase another kiss.

Each touch melted the last of your anguish. The night was long forgotten as soon as he pressed forward, flattening you against the back of the seat. While you pulled up for air, his other hand moved to cup your chin. And then, with your eyes locked on his, he tilted your chin, eyes staring into the roof of the sedan as you felt lips against your jaw.

Hot, languid kisses burned against your pulse. The scrape of his teeth and burn of his beard drove you wild. And as he pulled back, his hand released your chin, following a mesmerized pattern down your skin.

The palm of his hand cupped your neck, down your shoulder, pulling down the thin strap of your dress. Your soft skin was on display, and Bucky's expression was wonderous. But his hand continued mapping, cupping the curve of your breast. A tactful squeeze left your head falling against the seat, a soft gasp on your lips, and your hand blindly reaching up to cover his. With a sharp breath, you found his eyes again. His pink lips were parted, eyes pleading with you.

You knew Bucky was a man of action, but this was uncharted territory. Your nod and an affectionate squeeze of his hand pulled him from his reverie.

He needed more, craving your skin. And as his hand fell from your chest to a solid grip on your ankle, you craved his exploration.

Shallow breaths were traded for deep, hungry kisses. Years of longing, of yearning for his touch and affection, finally were coming to a head. The brush of his tongue left your mind reeling, and regardless of the heat, a trail of goosebumps followed the path of his hand. Under your dress, he lingered over the smooth skin of your calf, over your knee, up your thigh, and to the meat of your hip. Rough, dexterous fingers carved prints into your skin hot enough to burn.

You refuse to miss a moment, eyes fixed on Bucky's as his palm covers the top of your thigh, the intention sitting heavy in your stomach. A live wire of nerves, you can feel him from the heat of your cheeks buzzing down to your toes.

And then, palming where you needed him most, your mouth dropped open with the softest of moans.

Bucky's eyes are wide, but it doesn't last as he finally lets himself get lost. As his eyes close, you admire the curve of his nose and his soft, dark eyelashes. But Buck is greedy, and as he peels his way under the cloth of your panties, you, too, close your eyes. Fingers are nimble, caressing your dripping seam under the dress.

You're a vision.

Convulsing under his touch, rogue pulls off his fingers drip honey down your thighs. Your breath is heaving, and your chest is dangerously close to falling out of the dress. Bucky finds refuge by rubbing slow, devastating circles against your clit. Every hitch of your breath and moan spur him on until you are staring at him with such reverence he thinks he'll collapse.

There's a magnetism, the long-lasting chemistry drawing you nearer to him. He swallows your moan as he slides a finger inside. You're in a desperate frenzy, pulling him close and arching into his body. He spurs on a need you've never had, demanding his smoldering kiss as you shake in his arms.

He's all you've ever wanted. You're crazy to think it could have ever been anyone else.

And then the car jerked to a stop.

There's a breathless laugh as he pulls away, Bucky's forehead resting on yours. You kept a hand on his cheek, thumb brushing his chin. Maybe, if you just ignored it, the outside world would go away.

That is, until you see a porch light turn on from your periphery. You try not to let embarrassment flood your system as you realize your situation, with one of your closest friends knuckle deep in the back seat.

Bucky doesn't share your distress.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, finally pulling his head back. Bucky smiled. His fingers lingered longer before pulling away, leaving you empty and wanting.

You must have looked as desperate as him, finally looking down at the brutal strain in his pants. But you had no time to overthink as his fingers carefully plucked at your dress strap. He was putting you back together, smoothing out the burn of his touch as he sat up.

If you begged, you were sure that he'd ravage you right there in the seat. But you tilted your head to look outside. You needed a distraction, anything to regain your good sense.

As you focused on the brownstone, you knew where he took you. You were in front of his house – the Barnes family house. He said he was taking you home.

"This isn't my place."

His smirk reached his eyes, and as he pulled open the door and jumped out, his gaze was fixed on you.

"For fucks sake, doll," Bucky's eyes were soft, still blown out. He held a hand out. "We've known each other our whole lives. I'm crazy about you. Are you gonna come up with me or not?"

And with an ardent stare, as if he hung the stars himself, you reached for his hand.

[sky-high-standards]

Yandere Knight x Dragon Reader

sry I haven't posted in a while my single pringles enjoy~

Yandere Knight~ Who was summoned to rescue a princess from the clutches of the most feared dragon in the empire.

Yandere Knight~ Who indifferently agrees and begins his quest.

Yandere Knight~ Who charges to your land on his trusty steed and is then face to face with you your scales shimmering and your eyes burning with fury you were much more magnificent than he imagined...

Yandere Knight~ Who fought well bravely and was about to take the final blow ready to launch his lance into your throat when suddenly you transformed into your weakened part human form stopping him in his tracks.

Yandere Knight~ Who's eyes widened at the sight of you, you were gorgeous much more beautiful than any princess could ever be he took a moment to take in your form as you struggled to stay standing your wings spread and your fiery eyes glaring into his waiting for him to take the blow.

 Yandere Knight~ Who cautiously approached you and watched you sit there accepting your fate and smiles slightly as your eyes open confused as he caressed your cheek and horns muttering to himself.

"Ethereal..."

Yandere Knight~ Who is startled when you growl and fly away, and his eyes linger on your now distant form and internally groans when the princess runs out and throws herself at him as he fights back the burning urge to throw her off.

Yandere Knight~ Who confronts every dragon ologist to learn as much as he can about your kind, He has to know every detail about his new beloved after all.

Yandere Knight~ Who finds out your love for precious objects and always comes to your land leaving treasure and jewels behind picturing how lovely you'll look in them.

Yandere Knight~ Who outright refuses the kings proposal for him to marry the princess as a reward for saving her his mind only occupied with how stunning you looked amongst your flames.

Yandere Knight~ Who makes sure no other knight is sent anywhere near you he can't have anyone else seeing your beauty or attempting to slay you.

Yandere Knight~ Who's attempts end up being futile and is sent with troops to slay you once and for all.

Yandere Knight~ Who is furious to see the last remaining knight standing over your weakened for with his sword raised ready to finish you off.

Yandere Knight~ who charges and kills the knight slicing his head clean off with a sick smile as he watches it fall at your feet seeing your frozen expression as he caresses your face with his bloodied hands.

“No one will ever hurt you my treasure I’ll be the only one who knows your true beauty, and I’ll never let anyone else see it~”

y'all can read my new yandere dragon x knight reader