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pboogerswbb · 2 days ago

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TOO LOST IN YOU - part IV

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

playlist, part I, part II, part III

Warnings: smut and i mean FILTHY OK, toxic!paige, kinda cheating, language, etc.

Wordcount: 7.4k (sorry but there's smut ok)

A/N: TY for being so patient with me, i've been feeling sick but slowly getting better and finally got this done. finally some fluff for y'all. also please leave feedback/live reactions I LOVE THAT SHIT! ok enjoy guys mwah <3

“You’re joking, right Paige?” A frustrated voice comes through the speaker as I lean back on the couch, spreading my legs to find a more comfortable position. The game of fortnite me, Aubrey and Ice had been planning on for like a week was turned down, not wanting the phone’s mic picking up the sounds.

“‘M afraid not,” I mumble into the phone, biting my lower lip in concentration. I was so close to getting a kill if I could just finally hang up, but here I still was, fifteen minutes of going back and forth on some topic that didn’t need all this drama with a girl whose last name I’d forgotten.

“But it’s my birthday,” Clara whines into my ear. Watching my character get killed, I groan and tilt my head back, throwing the controller onto my grey sweats.

“I know, baby. Look we can do a lil something next week, lemme make it up to you,” I say into the phone, needing to get this girl to get off my ass. “I promise.” I didn’t mean that though, it was just empty words.

Truth was I just needed some time, after what happened the other night with Valerie I had felt my thoughts chipping away at me. The things running through my head had made sleeping impossible and practice even worse. The lack of control I felt when she was around me was terrifying. I needed a night just with my girls, badly.

I felt tense, distracted.

“Clara, whatchu want me to do? it's an emergency.”

To get away from Clara’s plans for the night Aubrey and Ice had helped me to come up with an elaborate lie about me “pulling a muscle in my wrist and it needed resting”. I hadn’t found it as believable but for Clara it worked.

The girl’s soft sigh comes through the phone. “Fine, ok. But you gotta make it up to me.”

“I will I will,” I mumble, unaware of what I’m really saying, stuffing my mouth with a fistful of popcorn from a bowl on the couch. Sitting cross legged on the floor, Ice lets out a loud laugh, quickly covering her mouth as I give her a scolding look, pointing to the phone. Thankfully Clara doesn’t hear a thing.

As the new game begins I quickly grab the controller from my grey sweats, I needed to wrap up this call quick.

“I wish you’d let me come take ca-”

“Gotta go Clara, happy birthday,” I yell hurriedly into the phone before Clara could even finish, hanging up the phone and throwing it onto the couch which makes Aubrey and Ice snicker.

“Bro you suck at this game!” I yell at Aubrey who looks at me offended.

“Nah, that wasn’t my fault!! It was Ice!!” she scoffs.

The ringing of my phone interrupts the conversation. Before I can pick it up, or even complain about Clara getting clingy, the sound stops. Not to sound too cocky or like a piece of shit but if it was one of the girls on my roster, that ringing wouldn’t have stopped for a minute. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the power I had over some of these chicks, how they stayed up till 4am just to see if I called them up. They didn’t need to let me know it’s what they did, I knew all too well.

I grab my phone and quickly unlock it. With wide eyes and heart fluttering, I dial back.

“Paige I thought we were gonna have a girls’ night,” Aubrey groans but my finger comes up to shush her when I hear a soft voice come through the phone.

“Hey?”

“Valerie?” I ask, I can barely hear her from the loud traffic nearly burying the sound of her voice.

“Wh- why are you callin’ me?” she asks, her words are slurred enough to let me know she’s drunk. Even so, hearing her sweet voice might as well have been a choir of angels singing.

“You called me, mama,” I chuckle softly, walking away from the girls to hear better.

There’s a moment of silence between us as I slide into my own dorm room, closing the door behind me, leaning against it.

“Oh… uh I was trying to call Paige,” she murmurs and loudly gasps. I can hear her slapping her own mouth and a cocky smirk grows on my face. “JAY, JAY I WAS. I was trying to call Jay.”

The bite on my lower lip stuffles the laugh I let out. Honestly, it made me feel a little smug knowing she said my name instead of hers. I wonder if I was really on her mind that much. It had been quite a long time since I had wondered anything like that.

“Ohh right… Justine,” I joke, the name making me giggle each time. This time, Valerie giggles too.

“Don’t make fun P.”

“Alright alright,” I chuckle walking over to my bed and sitting down on it, pulling down my sweats a little so my boxers peak out. Faint screaming in the background of the call reminds me of why Val called in the first place - she’s drunk. “Woah, where you at Val?”

A deep sigh comes through the phone. “I dunno where my friends went, they were my rideee,” she whines, the sound of the cars making it hard to hear her. I lean forward resting my elbow on the knees.

“Did you call ‘em?” I ask, concerned over how drunk she was. How could her friends just dip? I’m gonna need to have a word with them.

“I’m nodding,” she slurs out and groans frustratedly. “Such a long way to walk,” Valerie whines again.

I’m already reaching for my keys when the words come out of my mouth. “Drop your location Val.”

She groans. “I’m walking by the highway.”

“You’re WHAT?” I yell into the phone, throwing on a puffer vest over my grey sweatshirt, struggling to get my shoes on. This girl was gonna get herself killed I swear.

“Relaaxxx.”

“Sit down and drop your location, I’m comin to get you ma.”

“Paige you’re so dr-”

“Sit your ass down. I’m so forreal now Valerie.” I command, without even waving a careless bye to the girls as I rush out, the plans for a girl’s night quickly forgotten. After a whine and a sigh from the drunk girl on the line I hear her set herself onto the ground.

“Fine,” her voice murmurs and I sigh in relief.

All of the fury I felt at her for being so careless goes away when I see her, in boots and a leather jacket thrown carelessly over her skimpy dress, sitting on the ground playing with the ends of her golden brown hair. I pull the car over, quickly rushing to her. How could her friends leave her in a state like that? From now on I should watch over her all the time, just to make sure she doesn’t get in trouble.

Nevermind her friends, how could Jay let this happen? If Valerie was my girl she would not be alone like this, yet alone going out without me at all. She needs someone who takes care of her, who truly cherishes every single thing about her.

“Paigeyyy,” she smiles as I reach down and pick her up, her hair was a mess and eyes bloodshot and tired. There’s a strong smell of alcohol as Valerie wraps her arms around me, but I don’t mind. I wanted to be mad at her for being so irresponsible, for making me come get her. But I couldn’t be.

I grin as I help steady her. Anyone could notice she’s gleaming looking up at me. Usually that would make my chest tighten, make me feel sick and claustrophobic. Now, for some reason, I felt like gleaming too.

“C’mon silly girl, before you get in more trouble,” I murmur, opening the door and making sure she gets in the car, helping her with the seatbelt.

“I got it Paige,” she laughs as I reach over her lap, grabbing the belt but I slap her hand away gently, biting the inside of my cheek to stifle the way I wanted to smile, the butterflies growing inside me.

“Lemme do it ma,” I tell her hoarsely. She’s grinning at me stupidly as I buckle her in, my fingers running along her neck to fix the belt. When our eyes meet just for a moment, it takes every bit of my self discipline not to kiss her, the way her tongue slides over her lips enticingly.

The drive back is quiet, soft R&B the only sound filling the car. I hum along to the songs, tapping the steering wheel to the beat. Valerie watches as she rests her head against the seat. An involuntary smirk takes over my face, my eyes flicking from her to the road to my speed. I was driving much more carefully than usual, I had something precious to take home.

“You admirin’ the view?” I tease earning a lighthearted scoff from Valerie.

“No I’m… thinking,” she explains slowly, moving her eyes to the road too. Suddenly she wasn’t so giggly, but seemed to be sobering up.

“I got some water in the back if you need,” I tell her, already reaching for it, other hand on the wheel as I lean back on the driver’s seat.

She reaches for it with me, our fingertips brushing against each other as I hand it over. “Thanks,” she murmurs and takes a few big gulps.

Valerie’s shoulders slump as she takes a deep sigh, I know her well enough that something was clearly on her mind.

“I lied P,” she says, her voice small. For a moment a wave of confusion washes over me, and I look at her expectantly. My first assumption is she’s talking about what happened between us in the bathroom, about how she hadn’t told Jay about it.

“‘S okay Justine don’t have to know,” I quickly console but Valerie is shaking her head.

“No I meant… Fuck, I mean I did mean to call you,” she let’s out, frustrated. “It wasn’t an accident.”

I swallow, feeling a heat rise to my cheeks. Was I… blushing? I must be more whipped than I realised.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, my tone a little too needy for my liking - I didn’t want her to think, no, to know I cared. That it mattered to me. Valerie could never know how I felt. I would just end up fucking everything up, at least now I had basketball. That’s enough.

“I just… I dunno I don’t wanna go to my dorm,” Valerie sighs, fidgeting with her fingers on her lap.

“Why’s that?”

“Jay’s waiting for me,” Valerie says with a slight shake in her voice.

Oh.

At first I’d been more jealous than I’d like to admit, the idea of Valerie, my Valerie, with someone else made me sick. But running into them at that party I knew Justine could never do what I could. But most importantly, Valerie didn’t shine the way she did with me with Justine. I had an inkling there was nothing to be jealous of, and got my confirmation in the bathroom. But now, I only felt more validated. She didn’t even want to be around her. She drunk called me, not her.

“‘S that why you got so fucked up? Because of Jay?” I try to sound nonchalant, like I didn’t care. But I needed to know for sure. I needed to know I wasn’t delusional in thinking she couldn’t just move on from me, from us.

“Something like that,” she chuckles and shifts in the seat, sipping her water still. Without thinking it through, what it might mean, what it says about my feelings, the words slip out.

“I can take you to mine,” I suggest, knowing full well my biggest rule was not letting girls sleep over. I guess my rules had gone way out the window with Valerie.

She scoffs and shakes her head, my heart aching at her disapproval. “No P, it can’t happen anymore, I mean it this time.”

A scoff leaves my mouth as I pull up to the campus parking lot.

“I didn’t mean that dumbass, I mean just to sleep,” I groan, parking my jeep. “I’ll even sleep on the floor.”

Valerie looks at me wide eyed and dumbfounded. Guess I wasn’t coming off as nonchalant as I’d have liked. I felt a strange feeling grow inside me that I could only call nervousness. It had been a while since a girl had made me feel anything even close to it.

“Okay,” Val nods and a wave of relief takes over me - I didn’t want her to go yet. Being with her felt good.

“Okay,” I repeat watching her start getting out of the car. I do the same and we head towards my dorm. Without thinking about it much, my hand wraps around her waist, whether to hold her up or to touch her I’m not sure.

Jana and Allie are in the kitchen talking, their heads peeking out when we come in the door. Meeting their gazes I realise I have never introduced a girl to my teammates.

“Yo, uh, this is Valerie,” I say a little awkwardly, the new situation making me unsure of how to act. Allie and Jana share a look that I pray the drunk brunette clinging to my arm didn’t notice. Looking down I see she’s too busy struggling getting her shoes off. Without thinking about it, I kneel down and my fingers unbuckle the strappy heeled sandals she was wearing, my touch on her skin tender and careful.

“Hey girl,” Jana says intrigued, waving her hand at us. As Valerie nearly trips, she lets out a loud giggle, my hand gripping her thigh, steadying her.

“Whoa there,” I chuckle, standing up from the ground as the brunette slaps her face with her hand, bashfully.

“I’m sorry I make a much better first impression when I’m not drunk,” her sweet voice lets out and somewhere deep down I feel my heart flutter at the idea of her wanting to make a good impression on my friends. Jana and Allie both let out friendly laughs as I guide Valerie towards my room.

“She’s gonna sleep here tonight, that cool?” I ask as we pass my roomies, who are both nodding but clearly shocked at the prospect of me letting a girl sleep over.

I bring the brunette to my room by her hips, closing the door behind us as she throws herself face first onto my purple sheets. She looked good like that, in my room, on my bed, burying her nose into my blanket. For a fleeting moment I let myself dream of an alternate universe where she could be here waiting for me, all the time. Only for a moment though.

“C’mon ma let’s get you ready for bed,” I suggest softly, walking to the bed. She groans and flips onto her back, my eyes flickering to her upper thighs where her dress had hiked up. A sudden need to touch her comes over me, but I push it away. It wouldn’t be right like this.

“But your bed’s so comfyyy,” Valerie lets out a whine as she stretches, her pretty eyes fluttering shut. I can’t help the smile that forms on my face, my heart aching at how cute she looked like this - drunk and tired, mascara flaking underneath her eyes and a small pout on her lips.

Throwing her a navy blue Uconn shirt to sleep in is finally enough to get her to sit back up, her eyelids half closed as her hands start pulling her dress down.

With wide eyes I quickly turn my back to her, staring at the wall. As much as I wanted to, it didn't feel right to watch her change. Valerie only giggles, and I hear her stand up and shimmy out of her clothes, my mouth growing dry from the filthy thoughts in my head right now, the way she was completely bare behind me.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before P,” she says teasingly and I almost groan, my mind jumping through memories of the way she looked in just a pair of panties, the curve of her ass, the way her tits sat pretty on her body, that long golden brown hair trailing down her back. Fuck. I felt myself getting wet. I rub my jaw frustratedly, trying to shake my dirty thoughts.

“Just get dressed Val,” I murmur, my voice hoarse with need. Finally, she obliges, throwing on the t-shirt I gave her. It’s not enough to stop my filthy thoughts, seeing her in my shirt and a pair of white lacy panties, thick thighs all on display, nipples hard and visible through the shirt. No. This wasn’t the time.

Valerie is about to crash back into the bed right when I grab her waist to keep her upright.

“Wanna sleep,” she whines as I guide her towards the bathroom.

“I know ma, in a little bit I promise,” I nearly whisper. It was the first time in my life I had promised anything to a girl and meant it.

Closing the bathroom door, I sit Valerie on the counter, her feet dangling off the edge which makes me smile. Grabbing a brand new toothbrush I try to hand it to Valerie, but her head is almost nodding, eyes completely shut now. This girl would be the death of me.

I wet the toothbrush, and gently holding her face, I brush her teeth. My face is only inches from hers as I watch her start to smile, realising what I was doing. For a moment her eyes flicker open and meet mine, and I feel something I have never felt before. I can’t name it, or quite place it, but the warmth in my chest, the blush on my cheeks and the way my breath hitched made itself known.

“Thank you,” Valerie murmurs, her mouth full of foam. She spits it into the sink, rinsing her mouth as I hold her hair, so incredibly softly, as to not hurt or disturb her.

“Let’s get this makeup off mama,” I say mostly to myself, wiping it all off with some micellar water, trying to be as gentle as I could. Her brown eyes roam my face, making me feel flustered.

“What about my skincare routine?” Valerie asks with a furrow of her brows and I chuckle, shaking my head, going over her face with a cotton pad.

“You don’t want me doin’ that, trust,” I murmur as I’m finally done. Watching her, the way her long dark lashes fluttered, her plump lips and soft skin made a shiver run down my spine. She must’ve been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, even more so like this.

I suddenly notice that my hands are rubbing on the skin of her bare thighs as she watches up at me. I can’t help myself when I lean down and press my lips against her forehead, the tenderness of it making my eyes close. Valerie hums and wraps her arms around my neck, her legs doing the same as I pick her up like that, holding her up by her thighs. Her skin was soft and warm underneath my fingertips, sending sparks all over me.

I carry her to my bed as she clings to me, gently laying her down on my bed and tucking the blanket over her, brushing a strand of hair off her face.

“I’mma get you some water and go sleep on the couch ok?” I murmur, my fingers brushing against her cheek. Her hands urgently grab my wrist and pull me closer.

“Don’t go,” she whispers and my heart nearly breaks at the way her voice sounds, pleading.

“You sure Val?” I ask carefully.

“Please.”

It doesn’t take more than that to have me throwing off my clothes, leaving me in black boxers and a Nike sports bra and climbing into bed next to her. I carefully lay my head down onto the pillow, studying her features. The curve of her nose, the way her eyebrows arched, the hint of red on her cheeks from the alcohol. Her eyes flicker open, meeting mine as we stare at each other in the dim room. I could feel the heat of her breath on my face, and she inches her head closer, our noses brushing against each other. I nearly whimper at how good it felt, being this close to her.

My blue eyes travel to her lips, the way they glistened as her tongue brushed over them, the way her lower lip was that much more plump than the upper one. In the haze of the night, it’s like I’m outside of my body, unable to control myself when I lean in and kiss her. Immediately Valerie hums, and I think I’m in heaven when her mouth opens to move against mine.

We had kissed plenty of times. But it was never without fucking afterwards. This was completely new, kissing just because. I didn’t know kissing with no end goal could feel this good. I breathe heavy and loud through my nose as our lips move against each other, Valerie’s hand pulling me closer from the back of my neck. My hand on her waist slides underneath the t-shirt and I press my body flush against hers. I feel all of her, the bare skin of her legs wrapping into mine, her breasts against me. But it’s enough for me. Just to have her like this.

“P?” Valerie whispers, as I nuzzle my nose against her, breathless from the kiss.

“Yeah?” I murmur softly, the overwhelming warmth in my chest feeling dizzying.

“I-” she hesitates. “I know you don’t… like when girls spend the night-”

I stop her with a kiss, more for my own sake than hers. It might drive me insane if I have to think about it for longer than ten seconds. The way I was bending all my own rules, the feelings deep inside me. I felt terrified. I didn’t wanna think about it right now.

“You needed me Val,” I whisper against her lips, knowing it wouldn’t be a solution but that explanation would do. It’s not like I was in love, but I did care about her to an extent I guess. And I would never let her be in danger. Ever. I helped because I wanted her safe and because deep down I was a good person. But it has nothing to do with love.

I wrap my arms around the girl next to me, pulling her face into the crook of my neck, her leg swinging over my waist and nuzzling into me. I gently run my hand up and down her back until I feel her go limp in my arms and just for a second I let myself inhale the scent of her, my nose buried into her hair. Maybe, just maybe, if I wasn’t Paige Bueckers, if I wasn’t me, this might have had something to do with love.

As the morning sun shines in through the window I feel myself stir awake, immediately met with a pounding in my head as my eyes flutter open. I feel a tight grip around my waist, holding me tight. For a moment I get the uneasy feeling that it’s Jay, but then I hear the light snore of Paige in my ear. Warmth spreads all over my body when I feel her pull me closer in her sleep, her nose pressed against the back of my neck.

A soft smile spreads on my face as I remember last night, Paige picking me up, driving me back, taking care of me, letting me stay over. My stomach fills with butterflies knowing this isn’t what Paige did for any girl. The only thing that mattered to her was ball and that’s it. Girls were just a distraction, something fun to do. But she didn’t care, right? Then why did it feel like she did, when she took care of me last night?

An incredible thirst from my hungover takes over, and I carefully peel Paige’s hand from my waist. Thinking I was sneaky enough to make my escape, I start to climb out of the bed when the strong arm quickly pulls me back down, pressing my back into her front once more.

“Where you going?” Paige’s voice is deep and hoarse from sleep, words muffled against my neck as she holds me down, nuzzling her face into my skin.

“Need some water,” I murmur trying to flatten my hair and push the hand away but Paige doesn’t fold. All she does is shake her head.

“No,” she murmurs and holds me even tighter. It’s almost overwhelming, the way I was getting affection from her. For a moment I try and figure out why she would act like this, but then she kisses my shoulder through the navy shirt and I forget all about it.

“Paigeee,” I giggle but she only keeps shaking her head, her hands tightening around me.

“A lil longer,” she hums, her voice tickling against my ear.

“But I’m thirsty.”

“Fine.”

With a groan, Paige gives my cheek a kiss and climbs out of bed, putting on her basketball shorts and going out to fetch the water. I scooch up on the bed, quickly fixing my hair and trying to make myself look presentable when Paige walks in, carrying two bottles.

“There you go princess,” she grins. Her hair is matted and blue eyes tired as she gets back into bed next to me but I’m quite sure she’s never looked better. However, a sliver of fear in the back of my mind is nibbling away at me. I didn’t understand why she was acting this way, usually Paige’s motives were clear to me. Not this time.

Before I can spiral Paige leans towards me and presses a gentle kiss on my lips, her hand holding my cheek as she does. I kiss her back softly, my stomach twisting. Could she really be this good to me?

Paige pulls back and smiles. “Good morning Val,” she hums with another peck to my lips. I let myself smile back, deciding to worry about this later.

“Morning P,” I whisper and pull back to sip on my water, it soothing the pounding in my head.

“Hungover?” the blonde chuckles but I shake my head, though maybe I did feel the shakes a little bit.

Paige bites her lower lip not believing a word I said with a knowing smirk. She grabs her glasses, putting them on herself to see me better in the morning light. I can’t lie, she looks fucking amazing in her glasses and it makes it hard to ignore the ache between my legs when she looks like that - silver chain with a cross on her neck, sports bra, shorts and those fucking glasses.

I snuggle back underneath the blanket, pulling it all the way over my head, like that could somehow hide my filthy thoughts.

“Yo, where you going,” Paige laughs hoarsely, pulling the blanket away. I quickly bury my face in the pillow to hide.

“I don’t look good in the mornings,” I murmur, a blush rising to my cheeks from the way she was staring, let alone the dirty thoughts in my head.

Paige snorts and brushes my hair away from my face. “Oh so you care that much what I think huh?” her voice is smug and it makes me slap her arm, making her hiss.

She slides underneath the blanket too, her head resting next to my pillow. I can feel her watchful eyes roaming my face.

“Get outta here with that shit Val, you know you’re fucking gorgeous,” she murmurs, her words lighthearted but to me they mean more. My stomach filling with butterflies, I finally turn to face her, eyes meeting hers.

“You really think so?” I ask in a moment of vulnerability. I was a confident woman, someone who took care of herself, didn’t need anyone’s approval. But with Paige I found myself craving it. I hated it

With a roll of her eyes, Paige smirks and pulls me on top of her. “C’mere ma,” she murmurs and her hand drags me down for a kiss by the back of my head. I sigh into her lips, my body against hers and legs straddling her as Paige’s big hands explored my body, slipping underneath the t-shirt and brushing against my side. All the need accumulated since last night, no, since that night in the bathroom finally tips over.

I break the kiss to sit back up and pull off the t-shirt, Paige’s mouth agape as she looks up at me, wetting her lips as her eyes wander around my body, letting out a heavy breath as her gaze lands onto my breasts.

“Perfect girl,” she coos, bringing her hand to cup my breast. Goosebumps cover my skin as I lower myself back to kiss her jaw. I had completely forgotten about Jay at this point, all I saw was Paige.

My hands are quick to find her shorts, pulling them down with urgency while my lips suck on her neck. Usually she reminded me not to leave marks but this time all I hear from her is heavy breathing and quiet groans, bucking her hips up at me. I grin against her neck, testing the waters and sucking a little, enough to leave a little mark. Paige only hums and helps me by throwing her shorts onto the floor.

My fingertips sneak underneath her sports bra, my other hand pushing Paige’s rising hips down, seeking to find contact somewhere.

“Take it off,” I whimper and watch her lust filled gaze never break eye contact as she pulls the bra off, leaving her only in the black boxers. I found my mouth salivating for her, wanting to bury myself between her legs. But I must take my time, I needed to. I needed to drag it out as long as I could.

I watch her hiss and throw her head back as my tongue swirls around her nipple, feeling it turn hard underneath my tongue. Biting on it gently, I grind my clothed core down on her thigh, my wetness growing unbearable.

“Val, you’re killing me,” Paige nearly whines and I giggle, leaving red marks on her breasts, my hands gripping her thighs tight.

“Good,” is all I say as I continue my descent, placing sloppy kisses all over her abs, my mind wandering to the dirty thoughts of what they’d feel like flexing under my pussy, grinding my clit against them. I needed to keep that in mind for the future. But not now, I needed to taste her.

Paige groans frustratedly, and I feel her hands coming to my head to push me down. I slap her hands away, pinning them by her side, lifting my head to look at her. She could easily push my grip away and take me, but Paige was letting me have my fun, my fingers digging into her wrists.

“Baby, c’mon,” she whines, looking down at me with her teeth biting down on her lip, brows furrowed and hips bucking.

“Keep those hands to yourself Bueckers,” I murmur, my lips kissing along the band of her boxers. I hear her groan, arching to my touch. I lift my gaze to her, my eyes wide. “Oh, you want these off?” I ask, acting dumb, slowly beginning to pull down the boxers.

“You’re such a bitch,” Paige says, trying to sound serious but a small whine comes through in her voice, making me grin.

“I think you like it,” I tease, finally pulling the boxers off her. “I think it makes you wet,” I grin seeing the way she’s glistening for me as I spread her legs apart, making room for myself.

“Fuck it does ma,” Paige moans, watching me descend inbetween her legs, her hand finding my brown hair and pulling it off my face. I maintain eye contact, my own core leaking through my panties at this point as I kiss her inner thighs, feeling the way they tremble underneath my lips.

“That’s fucked up, you should go to therapy,” I grin, my mouth slowly inching closer to where she needed me most. “That’s gotta be some kinda- mmph,” suddenly Paige’s hands both pull me to her core, my mouth buried in her cunt as she lets out a guttural moan.

“Ohhhh shit Val that’s it,” she groans as I take the hint, my tongue swirling all around her folds, softly lapping against her clit just the way she likes. Her taste on my tongue feels like heaven and I feel my own eyes roll back from how good it felt to have her like this. My arms wrap around her thighs, pulling her impossibly closer as my lips suck on her clit, earning desperate whines from her.

“Mmmh, that’s it, just like that ma,” she moans and I hear her hiss as my tongue slips inside her, nose rubbing against her clit. Paige is making a mess of my face, and the sheets but neither of us bother to care at this point. She leans up against her elbows to see my ass in the mirrored closet opposite to her bed, letting out a groan as she sees the reflection of me bent over, eating her, a wet spot visible on my panties.

She leans over and I feel a loud smack on my ass as I continue to make a mess of her with my tongue, alternating between sucking her clit and licking sloppily. “Mmph,” I moan against her, it sending vibrations all over her body. That was enough for me to feel the muscles on her thighs start to tighten.

“Taste so good baby, fuck,” I whimper on her pussy, making Paige let out a guttural groan, her grip in my hair tightening further, guiding my mouth just right.

“Such a fucking good girl,” she hisses, watching me in the mirror, her eyes heavy as she found herself getting closer just from the way my tongue is lapping her up. “So fucking- ahh shit, sexy,”

“Yeah you think I’m sexy?” I whimper against her dripping cunt, shaking my head with my tongue buried in her folds. Paige’s eyes flutter shut and she nods, jaw going slack.

“Perfect, so good for me,” she mumbles, barely able to hold herself together. “Gonna make me– shit, gonna make me cum.”

I keep lapping her, listening for her reactions and holding her still as her body started to squirm underneath me, building to her orgasm. “Baby I need you to cum,” I murmur, my jaw hurting but the sounds coming out of Paige’s mouth making it all worth it.

“Please, Paige,” I whine and that does it. I feel her gasp, her hand gripping my hair and burying my face into her. I could barely breathe but I don’t mind as my mouth works tirelessly to get her over the edge.

“Valerie, oh fuck,” she groans, her head tilting back and back arching as she reaches her orgasm, grinding herself against my face. It’s so hot I nearly come too. I guide her through it, licking her until her moans turn high pitched and her hands in my hair ease up.

Panting, she brushes her hair off her face as I wipe my face onto her thigh, watching her from between her legs.

“Goddamn baby,” she says hoarsely, trying to catch her breath. Giggling, I climb back up on top of her, Paige’s hand slapping my ass hard enough to make me let out a squeal.

“Stop, you’ll leave a bruise,” I complain, but Paige grins arrogantly, pulling me into a sloppy kiss. I moan hard, feeling the dampness in my panties growing unbearable.

“That’s the point ma,” she chuckles against my lips, suddenly flipping me over and spreading my legs wide as she sits between them, biting her lips and gazing down at me. “Fuck,” she groans looking from my damp panties to my dark eyes. For a moment she looks almost a little flustered, trying to find the words.

“I uh, I got something new,” she says, her cheeks turning even redder. Curious, I lean up against the pillows behind me. “For us, I mean.”

Wait, she knew I was seeing someone, and she was seeing someone too, but she got something just for us two? What game was she trying to play? It felt impossible to figure her out.

Before my mind begins to race further, Paige has dug out a blue vibrator wand and is kissing me more tenderly than before. She pulls away a little, clearly hesitating for a moment.

“I don’t want you using the same toy on me and your other bitches,” I tell her a little offended but Paige quickly shakes her head.

“No no no, Valerie ‘s not like that,” she urgently stops me, kissing me softly. “It’s just for us, for you. No one else.”

Her words sound soft, almost tender against my lips which only makes me grow wetter between my legs. I didn’t know what parts were an act and what were genuine. All I knew is I needed her badly.

The moment I nod, Paige’s hands slide underneath the band of my panties, sliding them down to my ankles tenderly, her kisses soft and sloppy against my lips, moving to my neck. The breathy whimper I let out makes Paige let out a heavy breath as her hands spread my legs wide apart, wetness dripping out of me already.

“So pretty,” she murmurs hoarsely, licking her lips as she grabs the vibrator, the quiet, steady buzzing signalling it was turned on. I watch her wide eyes as she brings it to my thighs.

“Paige please,” I whine out squirming as she kneels between my legs and places her knees on my thighs to hold them wide open and steady. She watches me writhe underneath her, nearly gasping for air from how bad she loves seeing me like this.

“Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head, the vibrator ghosting my cunt to find my opposite thigh, vibrating against it. “You know what to call me.”

Fuck. She had gotten like this once before, made me call her something that drove both her and me wild. She knew I would remember what it was.

“Fuck. Daddy, please,”

With that Paige presses the toy against my swollen, sensitive clit, immediately forcing wetness to drip out of me as I gasp and grab onto the sheets around us. She gasps with me, like she’s feeling it too as my legs immediately start to shake, wanting to close around the toy, but Paige’s legs are pinning me down. It was way too much, overstimulating in every sense.

“Too much P,” I cry out but Paige shakes her head, shushing me as she towers over me.

“Just a lil more ma, you can take it,” she coos, leaning down to press kisses on my open mouth, turning the vibrator on a higher setting. “‘S gonna feel so good I promise.”

I feel my eyes grow teary as the toy vibrates against my soaking cunt ruthlessly, when suddenly all of the overstimulation turns into nothing but pleasure. My eyes roll back and I let out a loud moan.

“Daddy, shit,” I whine, my back arching and my nails digging into Paige’s back as she holds the toy steady on me, slowly starting to circle my clit with it making a quick mess of me.

“You’re so wet baby,” Paige gasps shocked as she glances down at the way her hand and the sheets were glistening. But I barely notice, already feeling that coil in my abdomen start to tighten. I’m gasping desperately now, hands grabbing anything they could, moaning loudly as Paige kissed my jaw and neck groaning against my skin.

“Daddy I’m gonna come-” I cry out, tears spilling from my eyes, Paige moving the vibrator against me sloppily, driving me to the edge.

“Fuck, already?” Paige asks, surprised but impressed, her nose pressing against mine. My legs tremble desperately as her free hand slides up to hold my jaw.

I nod, my eyes squeezing shut as I’m just about to roll over the edge. Suddenly Paige pulls the toy away from me, making my eyes snap open and leaving my core throbbing, no, aching for relief.

“What the fuck?” I ask but Paige just grins down at me.

“You didn’t say please,” she smirks, making me roll my eyes.

“I don’t have to say please,”

“Yes the fuck you do.”

“No I don’t,”

“Fine if you don’t wanna come ma.”

Frustrated, I groan. I simultaneously hated and loved when Paige made me beg for it. I hated giving her the satisfaction. But lying underneath her with my cunt throbbing and tears rolling down my cheeks I would’ve done anything to come for her.

“Please,” I say, my cheeks blushing as I look up into her blue eyes. She was enjoying this a little too much.

“Please what?” Paige teases, pushing the vibrator against my inner thigh again. It makes me moan softly, wanting to buck my hips closer, but it was useless.

“Please daddy,” I finally whine, earning a smile from Paige.

“Good girl.”

The vibrator is pushed against my clit again, now turned up all the way, forcing a moan to spill from my lips as I feel my orgasm quickly start to build once more.

“Open your mouth,” Paige commands and I don’t even think about it when I push my tongue out and feel her spit into my mouth before kissing my lips fiercely, moving the toy in a circular motion against my swollen clit.

“Daddy, fuck, please, please, please,” I plead, not even completely sure what for as my mind turns hazy and my body trembles uncontrollably.

“Such a good girl for daddy,” she praises with a hoarse voice, nose pressed tight against mine as she kisses my open mouth, bringing me to the edge.

“C’mon pretty girl come for me.”

I feel my body ride over the edge, all the muscles in my body tightening, back arching and a high pitched moan leaving my lips as the pleasure finally releases, waves of ecstasy rushing over me.

“Aww shit, look at that ma,” Paige mumbles, looking between our bodies watching the way my cunt was squirting all over her arm, legs and bed. My mind turns completely blank, eyes shut tight as my nails nearly draw blood from her back, the pleasure overwhelming me.

I swear I black out for a moment, only returning to consciousness from how suddenly overstimulating and almost painful the toy felt against my clit.

“Stopp, stop stop stop,” I whine pushing Paige’s hand away as she chuckles but obliges. The quiet buzzing of the toy ends as it’s thrown onto the mattress and the blonde crashes on top of me, nuzzling her nose into my neck.

I take a moment to try and catch my breath before I realise what just happened, and what a mess I had made. Looking down at us and the wet spot we were lying in I sigh, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Fuck I’m sorry P,” I murmur but she pulls away, looking at me shocked.

“For?”

“For, well…” I mumble and point to the mess but she only smugly smiles and shakes her head.

“You’re kidding, ma that’s so sexy,” she arrogantly says.

My eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

Paige licks her lips and nods. “Ye, really. Never made you squirt before.”

I blush a little as Paige presses a soft, tender kiss on my lips - almost loving.

“C’mon let’s go shower,” she murmurs.

I giggle a little, shaking my head. “I cannot stand yet.”

“Oh,” Paige laughs and looks down at my legs that are visibly still trembling.

“I’ll carry you then,” she says and easily scoops me up, walking us both towards the shower.

I rest my head on her shoulder, watching the way her nose turns up at the end, the way her lower lip pouts and how her jawline sharpens as she tilts her head. Something about her had changed. Lately she had been more caring, kind, tender. I didn’t understand it. All I knew is the way my heart fluttered and my mind eased up around her, I was in big trouble with Paige Bueckers.

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbismypassion69 @bueckersfive @onlyhereforpazzi @lovegalor333 @frankoceanlvr303039 @angryflowerwitch @mamixdanni @rosemariiaa @d3arapril @vbueckers @sageworld @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @justliketoreadsowhat @oreo2sblog @sftlyortega @slvt4her @julieloveswbb @vsz333 @faeries-posts @vamptizm @ellapurnellmybeloved @ivorygoal @onlyhereforpazzi @thelightknight21 @paigeluvvr @absolutelydreadful @imamartini @lupinqs @authentic-girl03 @isurpussygreen @xxloveralways14 (SORRY IF I FORGOT TO TAG)

#too lost in you #lilas writing #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers smut #wnba x oc #paige bueckers x female oc

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grapejuicenharry · 3 days ago

Note

Hello, how is your day going? I don't know if you are actually receiving requests, if not feel free to ignore this. What about you and Harry fighting in the car, maybe you're coming from a date and Harry was really late, the walk home is difficult with him and you start a fight, so she decides to get out of the car and walk home alone.

(English is not my first language so I apologize for any spelling errors that may have been made)

a/n: hello! My day is going well, thank u for asking. And yes, I do receive requests. No need to apologize—your english is great!

warnings: angst with a happy ending (sorry I couldn’t leave them like this!)

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

It was 9 p.m., and you had been sitting at this restaurant for the past hour, waiting for Harry. Tonight was supposed to be your date night—something planned since last week. You'd even reminded him this morning, but here you were, alone.

It had been Harry's idea to take you out, to spend time together, to simply enjoy each other's company after weeks of him being swamped with studio work.

When he'd suggested it, you were over the moon, practically giddy at the thought of a night just for the two of you. Just boyfriend and girlfriend.

You'd dressed up for him in the sheer black dress he loves so much, paired with your black stilettos that accentuated your legs. Minimal make up, save for the bold red lips that added a sensual edge to your look. You’d spent over two hours getting ready, perfecting every detail for tonight. But once again, you sat... disappointed.

He was late. not just ten or fifteen minutes, but a whole one hour.

Tears started to gather up in your waterline as the waiter approached your table for the third time, politely asking if you were ready to order. You forced a tight smile, declining him once again, murmuring that you were waiting for your boyfriend. You couldn’t help but feel like the staff was probably laughing behind your back—this poor woman, sitting alone, waiting like a fool.

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t an emergency or unavoidable crisis keeping Harry away. He’d used the same excuse too many times: Got busy at the studio, forgot to check my phone. Honestly, you were tired at this point of always coming second, but you know your pathetic heart will forgive him the second he starts blubbering out apologizes because you loved him—and you know he loved you, too.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You discretely wiped a stray tear that has rolled down your cheeks as the sound of commotion at the door caught your attention. Your eyes glanced to the entrance, and there he was—Harry, rushing inside, his eyes searching for her.

The second he spotted you, he knew he’d fucked up.

Harry strode over to your table, looking down at you with guilt written all over his face. His shoulders sagged as he spoke.

“Y/N—fuck, I’m sorr—“

You stood up immediately, not wanting to hear a word from him. Grabbing your purse from the table, you turned around and walked away. Ignoring him.

Outside, the cold air hit you like a slap, your hair whipping against your face as tears spilled freely down your cold cheeks. You wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, desperate to hold it together.

“Y/N, please—listen to me.” Harry pleads from behind her, his voice begging. He reached out to touch your arm, but you instinctively stepped back, putting more space between you.

"Don't,” you muttered, wiping your tears.

Harry froze, his hand hanging in the air for a second before dropping back.

His heart breaks looking at your state, your mascara slightly smudged, your nose red because of crying, and your cheeks red with biting cold. You looked so vulnerable, and yet you wouldn’t let him near you. The realization crumbles him from inside.

“I don’t want to hear anything; I want to go home. Just take me home or I’ll book a cab.”

You whisper, sniffling, your voice hoarse and shaky.

Harry’s throat tightened, but he nodded, silently stepping forward to open the car door for you. Without a word, you slid into the passenger seat. You fumbled with your seatbelt and stared outside the window. not glancing a look over him as he starts driving.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

The drive home is suffocatingly silent. The air inside felt heavy with tension and unspoken words. The only sounds were the low murmur of the radio and the faint hum of the engine in the background.

Harry's grip on the steering wheel was tight, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his emotions in check. The tension was evident as his other hand rested idling on his thigh, occasionally rubbing at his jaw in frustration. He wanted so badly to reach for your hand, to rest his palm on your thigh as he'd done countless times before. But he didn't. He couldn't.

It must have been forty minutes or an hour of driving in silence when you spoke, not able to sit in the tension atmosphere anymore. “Are we not going to talk about this?” You snaps.

Harry exhales sharply through his nose, trying to gauge a response: “What do you want me to say, love?" I said I was sorry.”

Y/N scoffs at his words, her frustration bubbling over. “That’s the problem, Harry. You think an apology fixes everything. It’s not about saying sorry—it’s about not doing it in the first place. You knew how important tonight was for me.”

Harry’s knuckles turn white on the wheel. “I didn’t get time to check my phone. I was so caught up in the studio—“

“Right, the studio.” Y/N interrupts bitterly, “Always the studio. Always something important than me.”

The words hang heavy in the air; Harry’s shoulders stiffen. His lips press into a thin line as he pulls the car over the side of the door, and tires crunching against the gravel.

“What are you doing?” You ask, heart pounding.

Harry throws his car into the park and turns to you, his green eyes stormy and dark. “I don’t know what you want from me; I’m doing the best I can.” His voice was low but sharp.

Your throat tightening at his words, shaking head, “Well, maybe your best isn’t good enough.” You whispers, trying to keep your tears at bay.

His eyes flicker, a flash of vulnerability breaking through his frustration, but you can’t take it back now. The tension feels unbearable. Before you could think, You unbuckles your seatbelt and reaches for the door handle.

“Where are you going?” Harry asks.

“Home.” Y/N bites out, stepping out of the car. The crisp air waves through your hair, goosebumps rising in your body. “I’ll walk.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he mutters back before opening the side of his door and stepping outside.

“Ridiculous?” You whirl around, glaring at him. “What’s ridiculous is me sitting there, pretending that I’m not hurt. Whats ridiculous is you acting like this doesn’t matter”

Harry’s chest heaves as he looks at you, searching for the right thing to say, but it doesn’t come fast enough; you turn around and start walking, your heels clicking against the pavement.

You hear Harry calling your name, but you don’t turn around, knowing there is nothing for him to say that would make you feel better—nothing. The chill of air whooshes past you as you hug yourself tighter, wrapping your arms around you, and quicken your steps.

The sound of his boots crunching against the ground, crisp leaves crushing beneath him as he follows you, the sound growing closer and closer, then you hear him say softly.

“Y/N, please..stop."

Against your better judgement, you stop. You stop in your tracks at his words and turn around. Harry jogs and comes closer to you; this time you let him... wanting to feel him close. His face morphs into something more painful than that clenched jaw like earlier. The lines of frustration are replaced by something softer, something that aches your chest.

“I get it,” his voice low, laced with hurt. “You’re hurt. And you’re right, I shouldn’t have been late, and I shouldn’t have brushed it off like it didn’t matter. It did; you matter to me.”

The sincerity in his words cracks your heart walls, the river of tears that you’ve been holding threatening to spill over.

"Harry, it's not just about tonight," you say, your voice trembling. "It's about feeling like I'm always coming second to everything else in your life."

His shoulders drop, and he steps closer, his green eyes fixed on yours. "You're not second, love," he says; the words sound like a plea. "You're the only thing that keeps me going half the time. And I know I've been worse at showing that, but I'll do better. I promise you, I will."

You blink at him, trying to brush away the tears. "You say that, but—"

Before you can finish, his hand gently takes yours. "Look at me," he says softly, and when you do, there's nothing but sincerity written all over his face.

"I'll prove it," he says. "Not just tonight, not just tomorrow—every day. I'll make time. For you. For us. You're the most important thing to me, Y/N. I swear it."

His words sink in, warming the cold that's settled deep in your chest. For a moment, neither of you speaks.

Then, his thumb brushes over your knuckles, and you realize how much you missed the warmth of his touch; he gently touches them and kisses each of your fingers softly.

"Can I take you home now?" he asks tentatively, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before nodding, the fight in you ebbing away.

"Okay," you whispered.

He lets out a relieved sigh and takes a step closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. "Thank you," he murmurs into your hair. "I'll make it up to you, love. I promise."

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jaysng · 2 days ago

Text

when you have to go on bed rest — park sunghoon

frustrated and emotional reader, stuck on bed rest during pregnancy, opens up to caring husband, sunghoon. overwhelmed, she asks him to hold her, seeking solace in his embrace as he gently reassures her, reminding her of her strength. [wc. 1.4k]

PAIRING. husband!sunghoon x preg!wife!reader

GENRE. reader is feeling hurt, so angsty fluff

NOTE. this has been sitting in my drafts for about a month now and i’ve been contemplating whether to post it or not.. but here i am guess

you hated being on bed rest.

every minute of it felt like a punishment. you were used to being on your feet, handling things your way, but now you were confined to your room, relying on everyone else to do what you couldn’t. and while your logical mind understood that it was for the baby, the emotional weight of it all was suffocating.

you sat propped against the headboard, arms crossed, staring out the window like it had personally wronged you. the ache in your back had returned, your legs felt stiff, and your mood was steadily getting worse.

the sound of the door opening broke you out of your sulk. sunghoon stepped inside, holding a glass of water in one hand and a small plate of sliced fruit in the other.

“you didn’t eat much earlier,” he said, setting the plate on the bedside table.

“i wasn’t hungry,” you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

he frowned slightly but didn’t push. “you still need to eat something.”

you sighed, glancing at the plate but not making a move to pick it up. the simple act of eating felt exhausting, and your frustration only grew.

sunghoon lingered for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. he didn’t say anything, his gaze quietly observing you.

“what?” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

he shook his head, unfazed. “you just seem upset.”

“of course i’m upset, hoon!” you burst out, throwing your hands up. “i’m stuck in this stupid bed all day. i can’t even get up to get my own water. my body hurts. my head hurts. and—” your voice wavered, “—and i feel so useless.”

his expression softened, but he didn’t interrupt. he just let you spill it all out.

“i can’t even…” you trailed off, your hands trembling as you clenched them into fists. “i don’t know. i feel horrible. and i don’t want to talk about it, but i can’t keep it in either. i just—”

you broke off, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill.

sunghoon hesitated for a split second before shifting closer, his hand hovering like he wasn’t sure if you wanted to be touched.

“can you just… hold me?” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. “please?”

his eyes softened further, and without a word, he slipped his arm around your shoulders, gently guiding you against his chest.

the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing—it was grounding. you let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as the dam finally broke.

“i feel like such a mess,” you mumbled, your voice muffled against him.

“you’re not a mess,” he said quietly, his voice calm and certain. “you’re just overwhelmed. it’s okay.”

his hand moved slowly, rubbing soothing circles on your back. he didn’t try to fix anything or offer solutions—he just let you cry, let you feel.

“i don’t know how much more of this i can take,” you admitted, your voice cracking.

“you don’t have to take it alone,” he said simply. “i’m here.”

it was such a sunghoon thing to say—straightforward, without unnecessary embellishments. but somehow, that made it more comforting.

“i hate being like this,” you whispered. “so… weak.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his brow furrowed. “you’re not weak,” he said, his tone firmer now. “you’re growing a whole human inside you. that’s… incredible.”

you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “doesn’t feel incredible.”

“doesn’t mean it’s not,” he countered, his fingers brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “and even if you feel like you’re falling apart, it’s okay. i’ll hold you together, for as long as you need.”

you looked at him, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes.

“thank you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch.

he didn’t respond with words, just wrapped his arms around you again, holding you close like you were the most important thing in the world.

and for the first time that day, the frustration in your chest eased, just a little. enough to remind you that you weren’t alone in this.

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enha #sunghoon #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon

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jayparked · 1 day ago

Note

hii!! congrats on 1k! ^^ can i perhaps get 47 + 75 with jungwon? <33

"jungwon, please! it's too much!" you cry out, tears staining your cheeks while your boyfriend relentlessly pounds into your pussy. he has you sitting on top of the bathroom sink in some random person's house, the music from the party downstairs vibrating the walls around you. it's the one thing you try to focus on in order to hang onto your sanity. jungwon has already made you come twice now and he's showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

he watches the spot where your bodies connect carefully, lips parted slightly as he pants with each hardened thrust. his tongue pokes out to swipe along his bottom lip before he looks into your eyes, his own cloudy with determination.

"not stopping," his words come out ragged as he continues to put everything he has into each thrust, "someone else thinks they can fuck you better? im gonna make you come so many times on my cock that you'll never doubt that i'm the only one who can do this to you. only i get to ruin you like this, you hear me?"

"wh-? what are you talking about?" your eyelids are fluttering now and you're desperate to ignore the way your bruised walls clench around him.

"heard some guy talking about you, eye fucking the hell out of you too. said he could probably make you come in less than five minutes," jungwon scoffs, "well i made you come in one minute. and i bet i can do it faster if we were at home." a darkness flicks across his iris's and suddenly he's gripping you even tighter, moving your legs higher up on his waist.

"i want you to scream my name," growling, jungwon grabs your hips and pulls your body in pace to his thrusts, each one harder than the last and it's a miracle you can even understand what he's saying with the way you're so fucked out.

"th-there are people outside this door. you want everyone to know we're having sex?"

"well, this isn't about them now is it?" he grows more aggressively, lips now attached to your collarbone, nipping and sucking on your flesh until pretty little red marks appear.

you try to hold on, you really do. but jungwon lifts you off the counter and holds you against his body, using his upper body strength to bounce you on his cock while he leans against the bathroom wall. the squelching is getting louder as your ability to hang on dissipates.

"fuck! yes! jungwon right there! oh my god jungwon please!" you dig your nails into his shoulders and flex your leg muscles around his waist, his pace still not letting up.

you were doing just fine until suddenly, jungwon's voice drops to a lower register, his tone even and demanding, "that's it baby. tell everyone i'm the only one who can ever make you feel this good."

suddenly, without any warning, you're releasing on his cock once again, his name leaving your lips with a scream that rips through the house right as the music goes silent between changing songs.

for part of my 1k follower celebration send me a member and a number from this list and i'll write a short drabble about it ♡ masterlist

#tysm :)#jayparked 1k drabble event #jungwon smut #jungwon hard hours #jungwon hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #jungwon x y/n #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n

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hai7ani · 2 days ago

Text

Continuation | cw bonten universe, smut, sex work, murder, mdni

愛的最高境界是心疼

i. Earned It

Rindou is gentle with you today.

He always is, though 一 he never goes too far with you even in bed. He never treats you less than a human. He says one thing the night before, make you overwork yourself like the Daddy he is, and the next morning you'll find a few extra digits than what was originally promised sitting pretty in your bank account. Rindou is always gentle and generous with you.

His hands are sweet and sticky as they latch onto your skin, never letting go off your arms while he wipes you down gently in the bath. He rubs your cheek with wet thumbs and combs your hair with so much care in the world. He has never once tugged on them as harshly as the man did; never once hit you for pleasure in his own bed. Never. Maybe a few spanks on your ass here and there as a little foreplay or when you're being a tease, but he never hits you.

Rindou is so gentle with you.

"How's your throat?" He asks. Your bubble pops and you look at him dazed. "Still hurts?" He reaches a hand up to check on your skin. You move your neck away before his hands can reach you 一 almost as if you're scared.

He feels a foreign ache creep up his chest. His heart palpitates weirdly behind his bones. Your pupils dilate and you hide your neck with your arms. You shiver despite the warm water engulfing your body.

You are so frightened.

"I-" You swallow, feeling the sour ache going down your throat and you rub on your neck unconsciously, eyes squinting as you wait for the pain to pass. "I'm fine." Your voice is hoarse, very deep and broken, and he almost didn't hear you.

"The doctor's waiting out front. Want him to check?" He doesn't buy into your white lie at all. It's obvious it still hurts a lot and you won't let him touch you, or even see you. But you nod anyway and his shoulders relaxes a little.

ii. Million Dollar Man

"You're fucking insane!" Kokonoi is furious when Rindou waltzes into the room. "Blowing off a multi-million dollar deal for a whore, you're fucking nuts, Rindou!"

Mario Ricci is tied up against a wall, mouth stuffed with a bloody rag cloth as he struggles against the tight ropes wrapped around his figure.

"Yet you didn't proceed with it?" He questions in a sarcastic tone, an eyebrow raised and Kokonoi scoffs. "How could I? Gotta let these bastards know Bonten can't be fucked with. If I let him go more people will do it again."

Kakucho clicks his tongue from where he seats, next to Takeomi who is busy rolling up a blunt. "The deal is off the table now. No point arguing. We'll kill this guy and move on to the next. Keep everything quiet."

He stands, calves pushing against the heavy chair and it screeches loudly, sharply, against the concrete floor.

"But what about you?" His voice is low and dark when he addresses Rindou. He stares him dead in the eye.

"You're the reason why we have no deal. What are you going to do about it?"

The air is humid with Kakucho's anger 一 everyone in the room knows that much. For once, Sanzu is silent. He does not mess with his weapons loudly nor does he make a noise to pitch in his idea. Mochi's eyes are bright and sharp from where they burn holes into Rindou's back 一 he can feel the sting already. Ran is leaning against the wall behind Rindou while he plays with his set of keys in his pockets.

But Rindou remains stoic from his position. He is not afraid of Kakucho at all. He eyes the gun on the table next to him and snatches it off, soon realising that it belongs to Kakucho himself.

"I'll kill him, since that's what you want."

He aims for Mario's neck in one swift motion upon loading the gun. He sees the shimmer of desperation in his orbs, and he struggles to escape even further. His voice is muffled against the cloth shoved deep into his mouth but Rindou still hears him clearly.

"Please don't kill me."

"You're a fucking moron." And he pulls the trigger.

iii. Love song

Rindou returns to his quarters very late into the night. You're still up at this hour despite having taken heavy meds a couple of hours ago, when he'd monitor you swallow the pills with an immense amount of pain in your throat.

He finds you in his kitchen scavenging through the cabinets and fridge for a little something to eat, like a sneaky little alley cat. His penthouse is ice cold, the servants have taken their leave long ago, and he dismisses Tsuji, his trusted right-hand, with a wave and an assuring nod.

Your sleeping gown (one that he got for you as a gift) hugs your curves beautifully under the white fluffy cardigan you like to keep yourself warm with.

He watches in silence, hiding behind a wall as you simply be yourself, alone, away from the eyes of just anyone at all. You give up scurrying for seasoning after a while, settling for the bowl of plain white porridge a servant had prepared for you earlier.

Rindou watches as you lean against the countertop and play with your feet, crack your toes out of habit, hum a soft melody, as you slowly eat your food. It's endearing to see you like this. You're quiet, you're calm, but you're alone and you're by yourself 一 and a smile nobody has ever seen him do stretches across his lips when you put down the bowl to do a little twirl. Your humming gets louder and he recognises the tune shortly 一 one that you have always liked playing on the piano sitting in his massive living room.

You're a slut, but you're also just a girl.

iv. Glory Box

Rindou is still so gentle tonight when he wraps you in a blanket and smooths a warm hand down the back of your head. Your scalp is still sore, so he doesn't run his fingers through your locks this time.

You're almost asleep when he makes a noise. Low, but comforting. His chest vibrates against your cheek.

"Do you want to leave?"

You're confused by his question. "Where?" You move your head away from his chest and look at him 一 eyes clouded with sleep, and you blink twice to see him properly again under the moonlight. The windows are closed but he left the curtains open. He likes doing that a lot.

"Follow another man, pleasure him instead. Or just leave, find something else to do. Pick one. I'm giving you a chance to live."

His voice is stern and this is how he chooses to start the conversation 一 by threatening to kill you if you do not make a choice right now. He is sudden and he is stubborn.

It's not like you want to, anyway. You're not afraid of him.

"No." You frown. "I want to stay here, with you."

He is nonchalant at your response, and you look like you're about to cry.

He does not respond or react.

"Are you giving me away?" You push.

Rindou finally lets out a breath he did not know he was holding in when the first tear finally rolls off your rosy cheek. "Please don't give me away. I'll be good, even more better for you. Today was a mistake. I didn't know anyone would be there. I was waiting for you to come."

He hates that you're blaming yourself for what happened to you earlier.

He hates that you're downplaying your trauma just to amuse him and make himself feel better, a little trick you had learned to use during your time while working in this industry.

He isn't enlightened, not at all 一 because he knows exactly what you're doing.

He'd ended the life of the man who'd put you in pain, but it does not mean that killing Mario Ricci would take the pain away from you.

The foreign ache from earlier has not once subsided from his chest. It remains, sometimes growing even more suffocating and frustrating. Like when he had to sit through the meeting hearing Kokonoi and Kakucho 一 mostly Kokonoi because he was at the scene, and he is still very unsatisfied with Rindou's behaviour 一 going back and forth about getting rid of you like you're just some giveaway slut because they claim he is being distracted from the real job at hand, while his eyes are constantly flickering between the two who are shoving accusing fingers in his face and the leash that Mario Ricci had tied you in sitting at the corner of the room.

You have managed to engrave yourself in all parts of his heart 一 every little nook and cranny, you are there.

The girl he's tried sleeping with earlier to make himself feel a little less bad about having to kill you as an apology to Mikey, doesn't feel the same. He keeps telling himself that you are just like any other girl from the many who are working under Bonten's establishments.

Yet the second he pushes in, he pulls out, away, and he leaves. He throws her a stack of cash anyway and makes his way back immediately.

Because she isn't you. She does not look at him like you do. To her, he is just like any other rich man paying her for quick pleasure. To you, he is everything gentle and soft and warm.

You have managed to capture his attention the first few nights you've spent together 一 two years ago, as a temporary replacement for the girl he had originally booked for that night.

And then he keeps coming back. Again and again for two whole years, and now you're looking at him like he'd just broken your heart. His heart beats wildly in his chest and he ushers for you to come closer to him.

The way you would hold onto him while he drills into you frustrates him. He likes that you always let him have his way in bed, but manages to make him cater to your likes in the end every single time, and he has to remind himself that he is the one paying for your services, but he never cares, because it's you. He puts an extra zero when transferring funds into your account and he handpicks your gifts. Your eyes are always so glossy and full of hearts when they'd gaze into his purples. Your mewls are always so sweet and only for his ears when you'd try to moan quietly even when you're alone in his lonely, freezing penthouse.

And you won’t fucking leave him.

You're a gentle, quiet girl, and you make him want to be gentle and quiet with you too.

You straddle him and pin him to the bed. You want him to take you seriously this time. "I am yours." You try to make yourself sound stern but your lips end up pouty and red and hot tears are dripping on his face.

He tried to, really. He really wants to take you seriously. But the collar of your dress is low and your milky breasts are showing. Your lips are so kissable and he folds.

He presses one hand down your back and guides your upper body closer to him.

"You don't wanna leave?" He asks, rhetorically. His voice is muffled when he buries his face in your mounds to kiss and suck on your tits. He sneaks a hand up under your dress to fondle with them, to grope your soft flesh and listen to you whine like an angel on his lap.

"Don't wanna." You pout.

He reaches under your dress to rub a sweet thumb on your clit 一 messy figure-eights and sticky circles, pressing down just the way you like it 一 through the thin fabric of your panties and watch as you unfold so beautifully before his eyes.

His favourite, pretty girl.

His heart starts beating normally again. It hasn't beaten like this for a very long time 一 not since he was a teen.

Haitani Rindou wonders just when did he ever lose the ability to love.

"You'll be my liability now."

#writing #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou haitani #haitani rindou #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #tokrev x reader #tokrev #tr x reader #tr #bonten x reader #bonten #tokyo revengers smut

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escapisttt · 2 days ago

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a lot of this was supposed to be posted for redacted kinktober but. college got in the way. i’m ovulating let me have this. it’s very long OOPS WHO LET ME OUT OF MY CAGE.

NSFW LMAO

lasko has a puppy kink. he likes being told he’s a good boy and craves to be of service to dear. would do anything to please them and do it well; it’s what turns him on the most. leash and collar. god, he’d lick the fucking dirt from their shoes if it made them smile down at him. yeah perhaps him and ash could bond over this. the difference between them though is that during those moments, lasko will never goof off or make jokes meanwhile ash is a bit of a brat. lasko would never disobey dear, but ash likes to push baabe’s buttons so that they “force” him into submission.

milo uses “good girl/good boy/good pet” hnnnngghh. as well as “pretty girl/pretty boy/pretty thing” oh my god. he’s so good at praise.

milo is usually pretty physically rough with it, going fast and deep, but you wouldn’t know that if you were just listening to his voice. sometimes while he’s absolutely fucking sweetheart’s brains out, he’s right in their ear speaking so softly and encouragingly with soooo much praise. “that’s right baby, ‘m i doin’ it right?” when he KNOWS he’s doing it right, he just wants to hear their confirmation. “yeah, lemme touch you, you like that? tell me you like that.” he looooves making sweetheart tell him how they’re feeling, and when they inevitably confirm that it feels good, he nods and doubles down. he craves good feedback, it’s his praise kink. “awwww i know it feels good baby, ‘m gonna make it feel even better.” it’s not condescending, it’s confidence. he knows what he’s good at, and he wants to get better. he’s a huge pleaser.

this is self indulgent if you aren’t into daddy kinks don’t read this one lmao. but daddy milo is soooo real to me. “was that too much? aw ‘m sorry baby, daddy’ll make it feel better. shh shh it’s okay, daddy’s sorry…” OUUUGGHHHH. “daddy wants what you want baby, tell‘im what you want. c’mon, be good and use your words, daddy wants to hear you,” i can’t do this anymore RELEASEEE MEEEEEEE. milo does it tastefully okay he’s not one of the weird ones TRUST ME.

milo who subs occasionally. to put a number on it, about 10% of the time. it may not be his natural default, but when the time is right, it’s so right. it happens one of two ways: either milo had a really rough, tiring day and needs to be coaxed into being cared for, or his sweetheart had been relentlessly teasing him. he’s such a brat at first, rejecting every dominant advance from sweetheart with a performative cocky demeanor, but it breaks down quickly enough when they touch him in the right places.

porter is such a masochist, but not in a traditionally submissive way. god, he loves when treasure slaps his face, yanks his hair, and scratches his back deeply on purpose. he likes being choked a little sometimes as well. but when all of these things are enacted on him, he smiles. he’s got a cocky grin and he’s nodding emphatically, his hips pistoning, almost twitching, even if he’s not inside of treasure. he’s groaning and his eyes are rolling back, but he’s not submitting. he’s daring them to do more, knowing that the only one whose limits being tested are theirs: how much are they able to take of porter when he’s losing himself to the pain? the more intense the pain, the harder he fucks treasure. basically porter is saying without saying, “the more you hurt me, the more i’ll pleasure you.” treasure essentially controls their own pleasure through him; if they want him to go faster, they dig their nails into his back or his scalp or his hips. and as soon as they let go, he lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and eases back down to a slower pace. and porter knows what they’re doing. he likes it. he likes that they have that level of control over him, but he’s absolutely not a whimpering mess like lasko.

david does not like using toys or bondage material. that’s his job. he’s very animalistic in the sense that he does not want anything, even objects, interfering with his time with his mate. he’s the type to get jealous of a vibrator or any sex toy. not because he’s worried about it doing a better job than him, but because it was the thing pleasuring his mate and not him. if his angel is in the mood, he wants to know so he can take care of it. an unspoken rule in the shaw house is that neither of them are allowed to touch themselves. david sticks to this rule through and through, but if angel is caught in the action, the punishment is pretty intense, meaning overstimulation. david is usually quite rough and is already a lot to take even when he’s going slow, so him when he’s angry can be… a lot. he’s got angel on their tummy in the prone bone position and is absolutely laying into them, growling in their ear with genuine irritation. “you should’ve told me… why didn’t you tell me? is this not cutting it for you? you had enough of this cock? i thought you liked it. thought you liked being full of me, not a piece of fucking plastic.” yeah he’s angy. and he’s not being mean to them, he just wants to prove to them and remind them how good he makes them feel. they shouldn’t want anything else. and when angel does it because they think david is too busy for them? yeah he would stay up during all hours of the night to prove them wrong. “how do you think like that, hm? you think i’d put work above this? god angel, i do everything to come home to you, give my time to you. you don’t get that? let me keep showin’ you….”

azmidi who literally nuts on a lot of phone call role plays with sweetie (it’s canon yall hear the way his breath shakes all the time). just hearing their pretty voice, god he feels his pants getting tighter (if he wears those lol). he demands they tell him about their day even though they know he knows exactly how their day went. it feeds into that delicious fear of stalking, the idea that their every movement is being tracked and scrutinized and constantly mulled over. he wants to listen to them talk while he palms himself, nodding along with their version of events, happy that they’re being obedient and not lying to him. he doesn’t have to take himself out of his pants, though he likes to most times. he can come without that, just dry humping into his hand and pressing the phone to his ear, letting out the occasional moan. he knows sweetie can hear him, and if they show signs of getting flustered, it only makes him harder. “you know what you’re doing to me, right? you—you know… oh god…. hey, don’t stop. don’t stop talking. you’ve been doing such a good job, sweetie. let me hear you.”

william “eye contact” solaire. hngggnhnnhg. let’s imagine he’s got a long term partner, right? he is suuuuuuch a gentle lover. he’s not about rough sex very much, he’s too sophisticated lol. no, the actual reason he isn’t too keen on rough sex is because to him, his lover is a deity; an angel that walks the earth, the image of divine perfection. he isn’t going to treat them like a ragdoll, he worships the air they breathe for gods sake. he doesn’t see himself nearly worthy enough to be their companion, their equal. he gives them everything and then apologizes because it just isn’t enough. when he gave them their crown? “i hope you like it. the jewels are the finest i could find of course, for you. i—i perhaps could have gotten larger ones… i apologize. oh, but the weight may be a bit much for your neck… oh dear.” yeah this man is rich but he fucking won’t be if his partner doesn’t stop him from spoiling them. but i’m ranting, this is supposed to be about sex lmfao please ask me to make a post ab william i will do it so fast. this aspect of himself shows especially when he and his partner are intimate. he’s on his knees a lot of the time, staring up at his lover with worshipful reverence. he pleads in his soft spoken voice, his eyes fluttering shut as they put their hand on his cheek. “my love, what would you have me do for you? ask me anything.” and he means anything.

#redacted audio #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted headcanons #redacted lasko #redacted asher #redacted milo #redacted porter #redacted david #redacted azmidi #redacted william

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loganhowlettshousewife · 24 hours ago

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animal

chapter 6

friendly reminder that i am not a writer, i'm just a girl who loves logan howlett and wanted to write something exploring his animalistic side since i so rarely see it done. my first language is also not english, so please do not be rude when giving me any feedback.

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (fem!receiving), unprotected piv, my first time writing smut so i'm sorry if it's horrible

series masterlist │my masterlist

you’ve known three versions of logan so far. the feral, animalistic version of logan that seems to be at the core of who he is - without any memories, that’s the personality he reverted to, those were the actions he took when controlled only by his baser instincts. then there’s the version of logan you imagine he’s created over the years to deal with his pain, the one that drinks himself stupid and fights against his nature to make others more comfortable, terrified to hurt anyone, terrified that he’ll prove to everyone that he’s a monster.

this version of logan though, the one you see before you now, is as close as you’ve ever gotten to knowing the real him. a person's memories and experiences make them who they are, shape them as a person, and the same can be said for logan. but he’s no longer trying to hide what his mutation makes him, at least not as much as before. he’s not the innocent, loving man you’d brought into your home - you doubt you’ll ever get that exact version of logan back - but he expresses himself in a new way now.

he’s explained to you some of the conditions of his mutation, why he acts the way he does. it makes more sense to you now, why his face is always finding its way to your neck, pressed to the spot where your scent is the most pronounced, mixing your scent with his to mark you. it soothes him, to walk by you and recognise that even when he’s not at your side his presence clings to you.

it’s nice, watching him slowly let his guard down, opening up to you. you’re proud of him every time he mutters something about himself or his past to you, quickly and quietly as though he’s partially hoping you won't hear him.

“i love you,” he says, taking a break from kissing you to breathe the words into the shared air between you.

you smile back at him. the words are as easy as breathing. “i love you too.”

he kisses you again, loving and intimate, a hand going to your waist, gripping onto your flesh tightly as if you’ll vanish if he ever lets go. you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers tomorrow, a reminder of his touch, of the way he worships your body. you part your lips for him, gasping lightly when his grip tightens, giving him free reign to explore your mouth with his tongue.

heat grows in your stomach, wetness flooding between your legs, insistent, and you grind down on his lap, feeling him growing hard underneath you. he’s big, you’ve seen him naked enough times to know, but it feels different with you pressed against him, much more imposing.

“need you,” he groans, fingers sliding under the elastic waistband of your sleep shorts, releasing it to watch it slap your skin. you gasp again and he chases the noise with his mouth, catching it on your lips.

he takes his time pulling your sleep shorts down your legs, reverently. there’s always a strange duality to intimacy with logan. he’s intense in everything he does, taking you apart multiple times a night, his gaze almost predatory as he explores your body. and yet he treats you like a queen, taking his time to make sure you feel good before he ever does anything for himself.

he spreads your legs open with his large hands, kneeling between your legs. he kisses up your thighs, so close to where you want him and you squirm.

“please, lo,” you beg, your hands in his hair.

he starts off slow, a consistent rhythm that has you begging for more, your moans growing breathier and louder until he can no longer control himself, eating you out like a man starved. his beard burns against your thighs, a delicious pain that only makes the pleasure more intense.

he adds one finger, the thick digit brushing against your walls, pressing against the spot inside you that makes you cry out. his fingers are bigger than your own, longer too, and he’s always much more effective at fingering you to an orgasm, able to give you what you need. he always knows what you need.

he adds a second finger, and that paired with the way his tongue drags against your clit, catching on the tip, has the pressure building inside you.

your orgasm hits you like a wave, a slow crescendo and then you’re falling. you ride his face as you cum, using your grip on his hair to pull him closer to you, feeling his nose bump against your clit as you press your cunt against his mouth. you shudder as you come down from your high and logan pulls away, mouth and beard glistening with you.

he’s still nearly fully dressed, which you find absolutely unfair, so you pull his shirt off, tossing it aside, making quick work of removing the rest of his clothes until he’s gloriously naked. his cock is hard and proud, flushed and straining.

he needs you, and he tells you so, the words echoing between you, the sentiment going straight to your core.

you wrap a hand around his cock, stroking him a few times, running your thumb over the tip to collect the beads of precum and rub it down his shaft. he groans at the feeling, rutting into your hand. usually this is the part where you take him into your mouth, let him fuck your throat until you’re gagging around him and spit dribbles from your lips around his thick cock.

but you want something different today, you want more. you haven’t taken this step yet, you didn’t feel ready before, wanting to wait until you were at a point where your rocky, unlabeled relationship felt solid. now, you couldn’t imagine not being ready to share this step with him, to give him every piece of you, putting your life and your love in his hands and begging him to keep it, keep you.

“lay down,” you order him, letting go of his cock to shove lightly at his chest, not hard enough to actually move him - you’re definitely not strong enough for that - but he goes willingly, and you smile at how quickly he complies.

you’re not usually the one giving orders in the bedroom, but he’s always weak to your whims, regardless of how small or meaningless they might seem. he wants to make you happy, something he’s told you multiple times when you teased him about how willing he was to do anything you asked of him. you could easily make him submit to you in bed if you batted your eyelashes at him and asked nicely.

he watches you with dark, lustful eyes as you crawl over him, straddling his lap, grinding your leaking pussy against his hard cock. you both moan at the feeling of your wetness sliding against his length, at how ready you both are for this.

“i want you inside me,” you say.

“are you sure?” logan asks, breathless. he wants it, you can see how hard he’s fighting not to rut up into you, but he’s holding back. it makes you feel warm all over, the way he cares so deeply about you, never pushing your boundaries, never wanting to push for more than what you’ll allow. it makes you want him even more.

“i’m sure,” you affirm, “don’t think i’ve ever felt more ready for anything, actually.”

you line him up with your entrance and slowly sink down, feeling the stretch with every inch of him. you're thankful he stretched you out with his fingers, but you have to stop to breathe regardless when he’s halfway inside, the sound of your heavy breathing mixing with his own ragged pants as he fights to let you take the time you need.

finally you sink down onto him, a sigh escaping your lips when he’s fully sheathed inside you. you roll your hips to adjust to the feeling and logan growls, low in his throat.

you lift yourself up halfway before sinking back down, a new rush of heat rolling over you when you hear the way logan groans. he holds onto your waist as you move, helping lift you so you don’t get too tired, but eventually you start to falter, unable to keep up the steady rhythm. you pout as your movements become slower, annoyed at yourself, but logan takes over the moment you can’t, rolling you over onto your back so he’s hovering above you.

you wince at the feeling of him slipping out of you, but as soon as he has you positioned on your back the way he wants you, he’s lining himself up with your hole again, fucking into you hard and fast.

“this okay?” he asks, though you doubt he needs the answer given how you’re whining and writhing underneath him.

his thrusts are relentless, a steady pace that he could probably keep up for days and days. he has wonderful stamina, something you’d learnt the first time you’d made him cum when his cock immediately hardened again in your hand, your eyes widening as you looked up at him. he’d shrugged and smirked as he explained he didn’t have much of a refractory period. “‘least not when i’m with someone as pretty as you,” he’d continued.

he’s using one hand to grope your breasts and the other sneaks down between your legs, rubbing circles over your clit. he’s hitting that perfect spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, and you can feel your second orgasm approaching, more intense than the first.

“fuck,” logan grunts, “y’feel so good, so tight.”

he looks wild, fucking into you like this, his eyes roaming over your body like a predator assessing his prey. you feel your stomach twist pleasantly at the thought. he keeps up his pace until you’re coming around him and even as you squeeze around him he doesn’t falter.

“logan!” you scream as he continues, overstimulation bordering on painful.

he grunts and growls, and you grip onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his arms. he moans loud when you accidentally draw blood from the intensity of the hold you have on him. you feel the blood welling against your fingertips and then the strange sensation of his skin stitching itself back together until it's smooth again under your touch.

“gonna breed you,” logan growls, and you babble incoherently in response. you’re not quite sure his words are even penetrating your mind. all you hear is the sound of his voice, the rough timbre of it. “gonna make you mine. my mate.”

“yes, yes logan, please, come inside me. need you!” his thrusts get more erratic as he gets closer to the edge, and then they falter for a moment and he’s coming. hot spurts painting your insides as he keeps fucking into you, shallow thrusts that push his cum deeper, closer to your womb.

he presses a kiss to your stomach, nuzzling his head into the soft flesh there. his breathing is as ragged as yours. you feel completely undone, your mind fuzzy and content, like you could stay right here forever and you’d be perfectly happy.

“that was amazing,” you say.

he looks worried now, eyes narrowing like he’s not quite sure he trusts you to be telling the truth, like what just happened wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

“you sure?” he asks, “that wasn’t too much?”

“no,” you smile, “i told you, i like when you act like an animal.”

you can feel his cock hardening again inside you, pressing against your walls. he moves his hips so you can feel it shifting with the change in position, at the perfect angle that he knows will make you scream. you watch his lips curl up, a dark smile that matches the darkness in his eyes as he stares at the way you’re trapped underneath him.

“do you?” he says, not a real question. you love when the feral side of him takes control, and you’re watching it happen now, can read what he wants from the look in his eyes.

yeah, you’re in for a long night. and you couldn’t think of anything better.

“you called me your mate,” you comment much later, feeling sated and boneless with your head resting on logan’s solid chest, feeling it rise and fall along with the steady pace of his breathing.

logan hesitates for a long moment. you can feel him tense underneath you, his muscles freezing in place, the smallest hitch in his breath that you wouldn’t have noticed if not for your close proximity. you don’t mind waiting for him to cycle through his thoughts, the words caught in his throat, seconds ticking by in comfortable silence until his frame relaxes once more and he pulls you in closer.

“i did,” is his only reply. short, succinct, waiting expectantly for your response, your reaction to a term that is distinctly animal-like. it’s also the first time he’s put any sort of label on your relationship, other than calling you “mine”, possessively whispering the word in your ear as if you’ll forget if he doesn’t remind you.

“what does that mean for us?” you ask, tracing patterns on his skin, forming each letter of your name with your index finger, “we’ve never actually said what we are, you know. and i can’t say i know the ‘human’ equivalent of the term mate. does this mean you’re my boyfriend? something else?”

“that’s a childish term,” logan says, lines forming between his brows as he frowns.

you smile, leaning in to kiss away the tension there, feeling the slight sheen of sweat that had formed over his skin while he fucked you, not quite dry yet. you should be getting up to shower, rinsing away the salty layer of sweat from your activities, throwing the ruined bedsheets into the laundry to be replaced by clean ones.

but you’re comfortable where you are now, avoiding the mess you’d made of the sheets by curling up on the other side of the bed, wishing you could push up closer to logan despite the fact that you’re already as close as humanly possible. if only you could crawl into his skin, break past his ribs and settle there, protected where no one else could ever reach you, tucked right against his heart.

“what would you want me to call you then?” you ask.

“for now, nothing,” logan says. in his eyes you see a battle, words and thoughts that you wish you could read, that you hope he’ll one day say aloud. “there isn’t a word that’s enough to describe this. one day i’ll be your husband, but until then, just say you’re mine. my girl.”

“are you proposing to me?” you laugh, eyes bright and smile pulling at your cheeks in a way that’s nearly painful.

“no,” he grunts, “when i propose to you it’ll be much better than this.”

and what else can you do but fall into him? your heart feels like it might burst from the warmth that fills you, threatening to spill out from every cell in your body, too much for anyone to properly handle. it’s on your hands when you use them to hold him down, swinging your leg over his lap so you’re straddled atop of him, kissing him in the hopes that it’s enough to express what words will never be enough to express.

he meets you in the middle, mouth hot and demanding. you’ve never felt more wanted, never felt more loved, like you could take on any struggle the universe may throw at you and be fine because logan’s by your side, always there to catch you. you read the promise on his lips, and the word forever is unspoken but you both hear it anyway.

taglist: @mystiquesvendetta @raeinyourdreams @babey-fruit-bat @meetmypointlessaddiction @kneelforloki @deaky-with-a-c @hypermarvellove @littlepeanut03 @the-ruler-of-death @aliengutzstuff @misscrissfemmefatale @mynamesstevenwithav @teaganthemorningstar @blackkatzz @leryg0 @fries11 @forksloree @i5uckersblog @dragovegogrimborn @quillycrow @melday0105 @just-a-little-cellist @scorpiosaintt @akasha157-blog @insanesosciopath @eridektbh @trickstergabriel69 @lord-bingus666

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soldearestsoulmate · 3 days ago

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Inspired by the Bad End of the game.

Something small. Angst time. (and venting I guess. depression rocks lol)

The sound of the clock ticking that hung on the wall always sounded loudest in these moments.

He hated it, but Sol endured it. Since he had no choice after all.

He silently waited in his seat for the woman sitting across from him to finish looking through his book...His book full of drawings, sketches, of what he made this week.

She hummed lowly, closely looking at one of the drawings. "I see you drew them again...Quite the memory you have to have picked up all their details, Mr. Brugmansia."

Sol didn't respond to that...He was used to hearing this by now. How many times has these sessions happened? He lost count...

"The rest however...You still can't let that day go, I see...The more you cling to that day. The less likelihood we can make progress on your healing to be released, you know?"

Now Sol let out a low chuckle, it sounded forced, and exhausted.

"You know I'm never getting out of here, doctor..." He spoke with a look that said it all...He was tired, drained...but not because of these sessions, these repeated days.

No...He was tired of living these days without them...

Without you...

"...Then I guess there's no point in this session then. I can skip straight to filling out the paper work for your medica--"

"NO! Please...Just...Can you not do it...This once? Please? I...I rarely can feel not numb anymore since coming here. It's...You don't understand how horrible it feels...To feel like a zombie...A stranger in your own body...It's like..."

"I completely understand, Mr. Brugmansia. That only means the medication is working. It's for your own good. You don't want a repeat of what happened last time, after all...Right?"

Sol looked down at his lap, his hands clenched into fists as he remembered. It wasn't his fault those bastards said that stuff about you. They deserved it...Deserved having their heads bashed in...and put into comas. It was all for you.

The woman opened his sketchbook again, and flipped through a few pages until stopping on one.

"May I ask why you drew him in color this time?" She showed the page...Which had Crowe in it...Usually he'll be colored in black and white or in red...for blood.

"...I had my reasons..."

"Speak then."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." She leaned back in her seat, getting her pen and clipboard ready, prepared to write and take down notes.

Sol sighed and then spoke. "...The night the medication wore off earlier than usual...I had a dream again...A vivid one...I saw them again, but they were...They looked and felt so real. I didn't want to wake up...Not be away from them again..." He smiled at the memory, then paused, his smile fading. "Though they asked me of something. I hated it...I hated the request, but for them...I did it. It was for them..."

"Mhm...By "them", you mean Y/n correct?" Sol nodded lightly. Hearing their name spoken made his heart ache.

"...They said they love the way I bring color and life through my art...That's why I draw them a lot...To--"

"To bring them back to life." She felt pity for the man before him, but not enough. Especially after knowing what he done.

"They wanted to see...Ichabod...with life again...Even after I took it, they asked of me to bring it back, bring him back." He gave a smile, desperation in his eyes as he looked at her. "THAT HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING, RIGHT?! THAT MEANS THEY STILL LOVE ME AND TRUST ME! THEY'RE WATCHING ME! WAITING FOR ME! MY PUMPKIN! MY SOULMATE LOVES ME! EVEN AFTER WHAT HAPPENED, THEY UNDERSTOOD, AND KNEW I DID IT FOR THEM! FOR US!! THEY LOVE ME!!"

It'll be a lie to say she wasn't startled by his outburst, especially with the crazed look in his eyes, but worked to remain calm in her seat. Until he looked to calm himself with a lovestruck smile over his own delusion of what he thought that dream meant. Over believing you actually spoke to him...and met him again.

"...Of course you did, Solivan...Of course." She wrote down a few more things, then clicked her pen shut. "Our session is over now. Please, do eat your food tonight, Mr. Brugmansia. As well, get plenty of rest."

After Sol left the room, with cuffed hands and escorted out by some men, like always. Luckily with no fight this time like the other times.

The woman sighed and rubbed her eyes in frustration. "He's not showing signs of improvement...His delusions truly have a tight hold on him...A change of medication might be best...or a higher dosage..."

#;literature 🖋️

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 hours ago

Text

Meet the Family 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your boss needs a last-minute favour for the holidays.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: um I woke up to this in my head. Sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You honk your horn as another driver slowly veers toward the line. You’re not letting them in. If they can’t weave in, then they aren’t fast enough to leave the slow lane. You sigh and gesture at them as kindly as you can in that instant. You have enough going on.

Your phone starts to ring. Again. You tap the button on your steering wheel to answer. You would know who it is even without his custom ringtone. Your boss allows no space for breathing, even on a call.

“How far out are you, pixie?” Lloyd asks as you growl and lean on the gas pedal. You hate driving on the highway, especially at night, and the sky is steadily dimming.

“Close,” you assure him. “Next exit,” you flip your blinker on.

“Thank god. You got everything?”

Yeah, everything you forgot. You don’t give the dry retort aloud. You know better. Where your boss has no filter to be found, you find yourself often censoring yourself. As much for his ego as for others’. Arguing never gets you anywhere.

“I believe so--”

“You believe or you do?” He asks impatiently.

“Mr. Hansen, I got everything on the list,” you assure him. “All with a bow on top.”

“A life saver, pix, I swear,” he praises, but a compliment from him is rarely genuine, more transactional. You did him a favour so he’ll give you a treat.

“Alright, I need to get over, ramp’s coming up. So--”

“Yeah, yeah,” his ends rustles and you hear a muffled female voice, “I got shit going on too. You got the address, text me.”

He hangs up first. You can never be the first to end the call. He has to make the decisions. You just know how to guide him to the right one. You merge into the exit lane and follow the ramp away from the whirring stream of headlight. Finally.

You’re less than pleased to be within minutes of your destination. This isn’t how you envisioned your holiday. A last-minute itinerary change to fix yet another of Mr. Hansen’s oversights. It’s never a mistake, he’s just a man with so much going on that it slipped his radar. Another bandage for his ego.

The slower pace feeds your agitation. At least on the highway, you felt like you were getting somewhere. The lazy roll of the cars in the town tweaks at the nape of your neck. You just want to be in one place and that won’t happen even when you get to Mr. Hansen.

You’ll be lucky to have two hours of sleep before you have to catch your rebooked flight. Yep. You’ll play Santa and drop off your lot before hiding at the hotel long enough to dread the airport jungle. Then it’s off to your own familial obligations. Those are rarely enjoyable and being a day later than promised will hardly please your mother.

Your phone announces your arrival at the destination. The long drive of the over-sized suburban mansion is full. You park on the street and turn on the interior light. You get out and open the back seat. The whole medley of shiny paper and quaffed bows stares back at you.

You text Mr. Hansen and wait, huffing and puffing with impatience. Of course, you have to upheave your plans to meet his deadlines, but he’s taking his time. It’s not a surprise, not even a disappointment, you expected as much.

“Pixieee,” Lloyd drags out the last syllable, “there you are, pretty pixie.”

Pretty Pixie? He’s drunk or he’s going to ask for something else. You brace yourself as his shadow struts up the long driveway and passes beneath the cone cast by the tall street lights. Coloured lights glimmer over him from the eaves of the surrounding facades.

“Mr. Hansen, wrapped, labelled, everything you requested,” you gesture to the backseat.

“An angel. A true saviour, pixie,” he surprises you as he grabs your head, his palms pressing to your cheeks as he bends to kiss your forehead, “did I ever tell you you’re immaculate?”

“Mr. Hansen,” you gently pull his wrists until he drops his hands. You smell the alcohol radiating off of him.

“It’s the holiday, call me Lloyd, sweet cake,” he insists.

“Right,” you tut and turn to drag out the largest gift bag, “here, you better just take all this, I have to check-in--”

“About that,” he ignores the gift as you hold it out. “We’re just about to start dinner, you should pop in, have a bite.”

“I can’t, Mr. Hansen--”

“Of course you can,” he insists. You look up at him. His eyes gleam in the spectrum of lights shining from your car, the houses, and the tall poles. You sniff. He’s only tipsy, there’s still the hint of authoritarianism firmly implanted in his tone. “I told everyone you would.”

“Everyone?” You echo anxiously.

“The family,” he exclaims as if it should be obvious.

“Okay, I can come say hello but--” you wiggle the bag at him.

“Damn right you can,” he catches your hand and takes the bag. He drops it on the ground carelessly.

“Mr. Hansen, that’s fragile,” you say.

“Shhhh,” he grabs your hand and you curl and unfurl your fingers desperately, “Lloyd, remember?” He feels around in his pocket as he keeps you in his vice, “now, you just need to slip this on.”

He struggles to line up the ring with your finger as you squirm in confusion. What is he doing?

“Mr. Han--”

“Lloyd,” he growls, all humour trickling away. He squeezes until you whimper. “Look, I just need you to smile and bat those long lashes of yours, alright?”

“What’s going on?”

“As far as anyone knows, I proposed to you on Thanksgiving,” he says.

“Proposed?!” You nearly shriek.

He hushes you again and finally rams the ring down to your knuckle. “Look, pixie, mommy’s being a real pain in my ass so you just need to play along.”

“Mr.--”

“If I have to tell you one more time--”

“Lloyd,” you gulp, “please. I... this is... strange. What? Why? I have a flight in eight hours.”

“Cancel it,” he sneers. “Double time and a half for holiday overtime. See the family in the New Year.”

“What? That’s-- This is insane--”

“This is your job, honey,” he clings to your hand. “To do what I say or you can spend your January trawling the job boards.” He squeezes until the band digs into your flesh. “Now, I know Mr. Walker thinks you’re darling and he offered you a role last year but once I tell him about your little defiance issue, I don’t think he’ll be interested--”

“Huh?”

“I know a lot more than you think,” he grits. “Alright? So let’s start getting this shit inside. That’ll give you a chance to get yourself together.”

“Lloyd,” you gasp. “Why--”

“No more fucking question. Since when did you get so uppity,” he barks.

“Sir--”

“Ah, none of that, either,” he lets you go and waggles his finger in your face. “Relax. Have some eggnog when we get inside and take the edge off.”

“This can’t be happening,” you murmur.

“It’s fucking happening, alright?” He picks up the bag off the ground. “I keep you around ‘cause you’re quick on your feet, Pix, so let’s get to it.”

“Oh god,” you utter.

“Keep it to yourself,” he warns.

Your disbelief has you a bit dumb. You’re panicking. He knows you have an insurance policy with Walker and you have no doubt he’ll do all he can to spoil your future if you fuck around with his present. You’ve worked long enough for him to believe his threats, even when everything else is dubious.

You turn and grab several gifts from the backseat. You move out of his way and he gathers some more himself. He backs up and uses his knee to close the door. He nods you toward the house.

“Smile, act like you’re excited,” he commands.

You pass him and stare up at the blaze of holiday lights. The lawn is decorated with a Santa and sleigh, complete with all his reindeer. You make the march up the walk and towards the glowing windows that trim the front door.

Lloyd comes up next to you and kicks it, “open up.”

It isn’t long before obedience appears from the other side. You do a double take at the man who answers the door. He looks a lot like Lloyd but not. He doesn’t sport the same bristly stache and his hair neatly combed, the sides unshaved but tidy. He rolls his eyes.

“Was hoping you got lost in the snow,” the man scoffs.

“Shut up,” Lloyd shoulders through, “always a fucking prick, Hugh.”

The other man snarls, “don’t fucking call me that.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, baby boy,” Lloyd puts the gifts on the bench against the wall, under the large mirror with an elaborate frame. “Why don’t you go suck on mommy’s teat?”

“You’re disgusting,” the other man, Hugh, hisses.

“Speak for yourself. We’re the OnlyFans thot? She not joining us?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“Fuck you, fuck me, we already did this, remember?” Lloyd faces him.

“And who’s this slut?” The man tosses you a sharp glare.

“Woah, man, that’s my future wife,” Lloyd lies so easily it startles you. He sounds almost genuine and you’ve never heard him sound like that. “Not a slut, so keep your eyes and your hands to yourself.”

“Huh, I didn’t believe it,” the man puts his hand on his hip as he looks you up and down, “she’s tiny.”

You narrow your eyes, speechless as they talk about you like a new lamp.

“Ransom,” Lloyd gestures to him derisively, “Pixie. Now you’ve met so you can skedaddle back to the liquor cabinet.”

The man, Ransom, snickers, “good luck, sweetheart,” he scoffs. “If you need a drink, just look for me. You probably will. At least for the next forty years.”

He struts off through the archway behind him and you look at Lloyd. He takes the armful of gifts from you and grumbles. He stops and crosses his arms.

“Well, get your boots off. Mom will kill you if you’re tracking salt all over her freshly polished floors,” he shakes his head. “And a bit of advice, stay away from my cousin. Ransom’s a fucking pest.”

“Right, sir.”

He tilts his head and you show your palms, “Lloyd.”

“Good girl,” he says and slips free of his loafers. “Now, you’re going to have to meet my parents before anyone else or I won’t hear the end of it. I’ve already got an earful. I know I shoulda booked that resort...”

You unzip your boots and set them aside on the rack. You stand and he beckons you past the open archway and down the hallway. You take in the decor; gold on beige on ivory. It’s all very luxurious.

He pushes through a white birch door and warmth enshrines you along with the smell of turkey. There’s a clattering beneath a shrill voice snapping out orders, “oh, not mashed, whipped!”

A tall blonde woman crosses her arms as she hovers like a vulture over the aproned staff crowded around the large marble island. Lloyd grabs your hand and drags you after him. Your socks slip on the tile as dread coils up your limbs.

“Mom, she’s here,” he announces as he gets close to her.

“Ugh, about time, they already set the table and I was dreading the empty plate,” she slithers. She turns her chin down to see you, “Oh, look at her. She’s so... petite.” She levels her hand with the top of your head, “much different than I envisioned.”

You look at Lloyd as he pushes his shoulders back. You’ve never heard anyone talk to him like that and you’ve never seen him so uptight. You turn your attention back to the woman.

“Hello, Mrs. Hansen, it’s nice to meet you,” you offer your hand.

She considers it then grabs it, turning the ring up. You examine the jewel as she does the same, your first glimpse at the thing. She harrumphs, “that’s the ring?”

“Mom,” Lloyd utters.

“Mm, very well. Dear, you may call me Gwenyth, not Mrs. Hansen,” she lets you go. “Now, dear son, out of my way. I’m trying to get dinner done.”

Lloyd stares at her, almost expectantly, the takes your hand again and leads you away. He pulls you back through the door. You don’t dare say a word. He leads you away from the kitchen and the wall of voices buzzing from the front room. He guides you through the archway opposite and around to another door.

He knocks and there’s a lull as you wait. He taps again. There’s coughing from the other side. “What do you want?”

“Just me, Dad,” Lloyd answers.

“Ugh, get in here then,” the timbre calls back.

Lloyd twists the knob and urges you in ahead of him. The smell of cigar smoke blows in with the cold wind. A gray-haired man puffs by the window, his efforts to puff through the opening sabotaged by the wintry gusts.

“Close the door. I don’t need the banshee sniffing me out,” he growls.

“Sure,” Lloyd shuts the door. “Dad, uh, this is her. The woman I told you about. My fiance.”

“Took you long enough,” the man sneers. You flinch and his grey eyes soften, “him, I mean. Forty-three years--”

“Dad,” Lloyd rasps.

“Well,” his father looks you over, “she’s young. Bit small...”

You do your best not to let your annoyance show. So you’re a little shorter than average.

“William,” he introduces himself, “and you are?”

“Pixie,” Lloyd answers for you.

“Didn’t ask you, boy,” William rebukes and keeps his eyes on you. “You smoke?”

You mull his question and sigh, “never tried it but I guess it’s never too late to start.”

William snorts, “truer words.” He puffs, “I don’t recommend it. Horrible habit.” He tamps out the stogie in a copper tray. “Well then, is the food ready, or did you just come to show me your woman?”

Lloyd stiffens and touches your lower back, “guess I just came to do that.” He mutters, “come on, let’s go get something to drink.” He turns and opens the door.

“Don’t let the smoke out,” William snips as you spin around.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the gray man #dark!lloyd hansen

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damn-stark · 2 days ago

Text

Chapter 30 No woman no cry

Chapter 30 of Moonlight

A/N- Sweaty eyes that’s all it is :)

Warning- talks of pregnancy and labor, ANGST!!, swearing, violence, fire, blood, and DEATH. SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 520-534

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

There exists a serene silence where only your soft breaths, and the sound of waves rolling over the sand fill whatever room you are in.

A much crueler chill seems to be your companion, but a light feathered touch of warmth does seem to exist dancing over your face and it makes you squint as your eyes flutter open.

Yet as gentle as that touch is on your face, when you open your eyes a stinging pain hits you as the sun burns your eyes before you give them relief as you shield them from the beaming sunlight.

“Cregan?” You call out softly and then groan as a sharp wave of pain hits your head and your chest, reminding you at that moment of the injuries you sustained and put you in a state of limbo, and now on this bed and in this…stone chamber?

Did they take the keep at Tumbleton? Is this where you are?

“Ser Cane?” You call out next since Cregan is probably attending to other matters.

However, your sworn protector doesn’t respond by walking in or speaking. There’s a continued silence where only the sound of distant waves lingers in your chambers. Which is why you sit up and only get welcomed with a pounding headache.

“Damn,” you hiss and lift your hand to hover your palm over where it hurts, feeling at that moment bandages wrapped around your head before you finally feel the bandages around your chest.

“Ser Cane?” You call out and glance at the end table to search for water, but alas there’s not even a candle. “Ser Cane?”

You drag yourself to the edge of the bed and notice your gown before you notice that someone took the time to clean all the blood off your hands.

It must’ve been Cregan. He must be so worried.

“Ser Cane?” You call out one more time and drop your hand on your belly which seems to be lower than usual, which means the twins should be coming soon.

“Add—” you cut yourself off as you remember that Addam won’t be able to respond to your calls anymore because he’s…dead…

You sigh and rub your eyes before you lift your head and avoid crying, but also finally come to recognize where you are. You try to deny it. You must be dreaming—You can’t be in your chambers at Dragonstone.

How could you be at them?

This must be a dream! You still must be in limbo, you can’t be here—unless your mother is here? How many days have passed since the second battle at Tumbleton?

Were you really unconscious for so long that you arrived at Dragonstone without knowing?

“Ser Cane?” You call out with panic and desperation replacing your patience and grogginess, and proceed to slip on some slippers before you push yourself off the bed and rush to the door.

Albeit when you try to open the door, you can’t, it seems to be locked.

“Ser Cane?” You call out. “Hello? Who is out there? Please open the door.”

You press your ear against the door and drift your eyes to the floor, catching shadows move, and hearing feet shuffle before you start to hear them recede.

“Hello?” You call out louder and with desperation rising. “Can you open the door and tell Cregan or The Queen to come? Please.”

You try to open the door, but again you’re met by the fact that it’s locked, so you have the urge to turn to the balcony to find a way out through there, but then the thought of why sets in.

Why should you find a way out? This is your home and your mother must be here. You don’t have to worry. You’ll be fine, the door is just locked for precaution. After all, your mother is being paranoid about not knowing who to trust, so the door is locked for your own safety.

“Okay,” you sigh and turn away with your hands clasped before you go to your wardrobe and change out of the gown, finding comfort in a purple and gold gown that has the skirts layers shaped like fins on a seahorse, and a golden corset decorated with beautiful designs made of sheets of gold.

It’s truly an impressive gown, and one you know Cregan will drool over, so you feel even more giddy wearing it—which reminds you of the wolf brooch Cregan gave you.

However, when you search for it you can’t find it amongst your things or on any surface. Maybe it fell off during battle or some moment thereafter?

You’ll have to ask, and if you did lose it then you’ll ask Cregan to give you a ring with the sigil on it, or a nice pendant. It’ll be easier to wear it then.

Nonetheless, you sit on the edge of the bed and look out of the window to bask in the sun's warmth, finding comfort in the sound of waves.

Besides, all the bad that’s happened as of late, you still find comfort in the sound of the sea, and it brings you joy to know you’re close. Being in those Wetlands for as long as you were was starting to make you feel as gloomy as a rainy day.

If only it was summer, you would be out lying on the sand or in the water. Alas, it’s winter and the water would surely make you freeze to death.

Shame.

Nevertheless, while you’re soaking in the sunbeams, keys finally jingle outside of your door before you hear the lock click and a knock proceed to a rap on your door.

“Come in,” you greet the visitor and stand from the bed to walk toward the door.

However, as the door opens and you get close, you come to an immediate stop when your eyes fall on a man you thought was long gone—Lord Larys Strong.

“Wh-“ you gasp and step back as you quickly scan the room in search of your sword. When you don’t find it you take a step back and tilt your head down to glower at him.

“Princess,” Lord Larys greets and bows his head, making your pinched eyebrows twitch as they crease deeper in your silence.

“I am so very glad you have awoken and seem to take well to your current injuries. The servants weren’t sure if you would wake.”

Servants?

“Where’s my mother?” You deadpan and start to also think about your dragon and whether she brought you here out of instinct, or they found you—Then again Cregan was so close when you last saw him on that battlefield, how did you end up here?

“Oh,” Lord Larys mouths before he gently shakes his head. “I am not sure. I heard she escaped Kings Landing after a riot. What a shame, she lost the most special gem just as she had it in her possession.”

If he doesn’t know then—

No, it can’t be!

“Where’s my dragon? How did you find me?”

Is Cregan here?

“Your dragon,” Larys says and glances outside and watches a bird fly past the balcony window. “She dropped you off in the sand. One of the guards saw you and went to your rescue. They tried to capture your dragon, but she eluded capture and flew back where she had come from.”

You blink with surprise yet find yourself letting out a relieved sigh because she’s not in the clutches of the enemy.

“Dragons truly are marvelous beasts,” he rambles and meets your gaze. “She must have thought you would be safe here, but, alas,” he sighs and flashes you a smirk. A smirk! Out of all things he smirks at you because he knows you don’t have the upper hand now.

What a little cunt.

“…it was too late when she tried to take you back,” he whispers before he digs in his pocket and pulls something out—“His Grace is ready for his audience with you,” he reveals what you had been trying to deny. Aegon is here. Aegon is still alive. He didn’t die in some ditch like you had hoped. The little bastard is still alive! And your mother…she must not know or else she would have not left Kings Landing. Damn it! Damn it!

“You had this with you when we found you,” Larys says and opens his hand to show you the wolf brooch Cregan had given you.

“I thought you would want it back.”

You continue to pierce your glare into him for a moment longer before you look at the brooch and slowly walk toward him to snatch it from his grasp.

“Are you ready?” He makes sure to ask, making you scoff.

“Do I even have an option?” You quip and he doesn’t answer you, instead, he turns and leads the way out. With no other choice you drag your feet after him and follow him all the way to the main hall where whether you like it or not, your breath catches when you see Aegon.

He sits at the other end of the hall on a wooden chair with wheels, a blanket over his legs, and a dull yet narrowed look that does reflect a glimmer when he sees you walk past the doors and stop just under the beam of sun that shines in the hall.

“You stand in the presence of King Aegon of House Targaryen, the Second of His Name, Rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. And Rightful Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.” A guard announces loudly near your ear, making your glower even more fierce.

“You’ve awoken!” Aegon interjects loudly so his voice travels down the hall. “I’m glad.”

You draw out a deep breath and continue to trudge forward, but never with your head down. You keep your head high and your nose pointed to the air. When you get close that’s all you do, get close, you never close the gap to the point you can hear each other's whispers. You stay under the sunbeam that reflects through the windows on the high ceilings and scowl.

“You,” you mutter and look at him up and down (which doesn’t take long as he’s seated on that wooden chair), and notice that he seems to sport more burn scars than before, and his legs that he keeps under a blanket are bent in a pretty uncomfortable manner. “…look more awful than before,” you say bluntly and catch his lips twitching to a frown.

However, a sinister look then makes his dull eyes glimmer.

“I recently got into a dragon battle with your cousin…Rhaena—no,” he chuckles and his malice then shows on his lips that slowly curl to a smirk as he sees your eyes lose the sun’s twinkling glow as your head slowly falls with your demeanor. “Baela,” he huffs. “Her dragon is dead and she is in a dungeon knowing what it feels like to burn.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and feel your breath catch as your heart skips a beat in your worry. Only making Aegon that more cocky.

“And you,” you mutter and slowly drag your eyes up with a fire slowly burning within them. “Did you burn again? It looks like it. You look even more horrifying to look at. At least Baela will have a menacing charm to her, but you,” you click your tongue and force a snicker before you suck in your cheeks to gather a ball of spit and hurl it at his feet.

Aegon’s eyes quickly fall on your ball of spit and his lips curl while his nose scrunches in disgust as well as frustration.

A guard standing nearby lunges forward and from the corner of your eyes you see him lift his hand in reaction to your “disrespect”.

Albeit Aegon then lifts his hand to motion the guard to stop, and he immediately does so before he can swing his hand over your face.

“As traitorous and disrespectful as she may be, she is still your Princess, and carrying my brother's children,” Aegon says and catches you by surprise, but still not enough to warrant a thanks or any kind of reaction.

“What do you want, Aegon?” You press impatiently.

Said man scoffs as he looks away from the guard and then sighs deeply before he gives you a response. “I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay. It seems you sustained quite a few concerning injuries, so I was just making sure you were okay.”

You huff and he slowly lolls his head to the side.

“I also do have a proposal,” he adds and piques your interest. “After the twins are born you are of no use to me, so I will kill you alongside your mother and your brother, and keep my brother's children so my mother can raise them, and Aerion can be my heir. But you,” he pauses and clicks his tongue to mock you.

“However, you may keep your life if and only if you marry me,” he throws out a rather daring offer. One that shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did, but it did because it’s quite ballsy.

“You will be Queen, and we will show the realm that we are a united front. There will be peace—or so Larys says,” he mutters and glances at the man before looking back at you with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“No,” you deadpan before you flash him a mischievous smirk. “I am betrothed to Lord Cregan Stark,” you announce, making Lord Larys shift where he stands, and causing Aegon to lose that stupid mischievous look and instead make his face harden.

“Very well,” he grumbles and sits up straight. “So you chose death. I did not want to marry you anyway.”

“Your Grace,” Lord Larys interjects. “With the Princess betrothed to Lord Stark it will not be wise killing her, nor marrying her now. Whichever choice you go with would lead Lord Stark and his army to retaliate and possibly add more fuel to a war you want to end.”

Your smirk deepens as your invincibility is now revealed, leaving him with you as a hostage, but still unable to kill you or touch you in any way.

“So I hold you, hostage, have him bend the knee, swear his loyalty, and give his army to me,” Aegon is quick to come up with an alternative you had already started to think about before he could even form the first thought. “Thank you. You have now turned your mother's greatest ally against her.”

You don’t falter or show weakness because you know Cregan. He won’t fall under pressure, he will keep fighting because no matter what, you will be protected because of him.

Aegon doesn’t realize all of that, but he sees your smirk and his face only twists with more frustration.

“Take her and bring her back when her mother arrives to shore. She can watch her die instead.”

This time your face falls. He hits you right in your weak spot and he knows it because he counters the fear that paints your face with cockiness that he displays on his face the moment you’re walked out of the room as if showing you he had the last laugh.

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

How? How?

Without Astraea how can you leave this damned place to save your mother?

There’s no candle lit to burn the door down. There’s not even a fire in your fireplace and that’s probably due to the fact that Aegon doesn’t want you to use fire against him. And without any weapons how can you get out?

You pace in your chambers watching the moon rise and slowly spin around the earth as time passes bit by bit without any kind of nudge on what to do.

Escaping out the window is impossible, there's nothing to grab onto and it’s too high off the ground to jump…

Then again even if you find a way out how do you find her? You know she’s heading to Dragonstone, but from which way?

Then again why should that truly matter in the grand scheme of things? You need to save her one way or another and you’ll scour the earth to find her to keep her away from here. Even if it means…having to give your own life.

Yet what do you do?

You let out a frustrated breath and throw yourself on your bed, feeling at that moment the twins starting to move inside you.

“Yes I should sleep, but I need to…” you trail off and sit up whilst you press your hand on your belly. “Thank you,” you whisper down toward your belly before you run over to grab your goblet of water, and return to the side of the bed to spill the water on the ground. After that, you hide the goblet under the bed and sit back down to press your hands on your legs, and lean down to start crying out in pain.

“Help…” you feign pain to grab the attention of the guards outside. “I need help!” You yell out and moan as if you were in labor. “Please!” You bellow and let out another sharp cry.

When you go quiet for a second you strain your ear and hear the guards shuffling behind your door, so you yell again. “Please! I need help!”

The lock clicks before the door flies open and two guards rush in with panicked wide-eyed looks on their faces.

“Princess?” They call out cautiously as if you were something they were frightened of.

“The twins,” you say between pants as you clutch onto your belly. “I think they’re coming,” you lie and glance up, catching them looking at each other helplessly, which only excites you more.

“Get the maester or anyone who can help me!” You sneer before you cry out again to stress them out further.

“Okay—okay,” one guard breathes out as if he’s the one going to give birth. “We’ll be right back!”

Your eyes widen out of panic and before they can leave you throw your head up and blurt. “Can one of you stay? I don’t want to be alone.”

You bat your eyelashes and take quick and heavy breaths to feign being in distress and get them to pity you, because if they both leave then they’ll lock the door again, and you can’t let them bring the help you say you need or else you won’t be able to get out. Thus you feign innocence.

And luckily they believe you. One guard stays while the other one leaves, but you don’t stop pretending. You keep letting out fake sounds of pain to let the guard that left your chambers put some good distance between here and there, whilst also mentally laughing at the guard who stayed as he seems extremely uncomfortable by staying with you while you’re “in labor”.

“Could,” you pause and pant. “Could you please bring me some water?”

The guard avoids eye contact and nods stiffly before he turns and starts to walk away toward your pitcher of water. And it’s when he’s giving you his back that you swipe one of your shoes with a pointed heel off the ground, and push yourself to your feet without any struggle whatsoever.

You then stretch your neck from side to side after having it hanging for so long before you proceed to quietly stalk after him with an almost predatory glare burning through the back of his neck, and a wicked smirk curling on your lip. And luckily the guard is so caught up in his own discomfort and disgust that he keeps his attention locked on the pitcher across the room—he doesn’t even notice that you stopped complaining.

He doesn’t hear you walking toward him, nor does he feel any kind of burning on the back of his neck. He keeps his back facing you so when you finally catch up to him you raise the heel in your hand and swing down hard to dig the tip of the heel in his neck.

The man tries to yell out, but with the heel impaled on the side of his neck, all he does is gurgle and slowly turn around to face you.

“<Idiot.>” You remark in Valyrian before you mock his choking noises and snicker before you take his sword and give him the mercy of death by impaling his throat.

When he hits the ground you take your shoe out of his neck and then walk back to the side of the bed to grab the other shoe and quickly slide them on before you walk to the door.

Once you see that the ghost is clear you turn down the opposite hall the other guard took and instead try to escape through the side of the castle that leads to the hills that sit beside your home.

You don’t try to be too fast so as to be careful and stay discreet, but you also try not to be too slow and risk getting caught by someone. This was once your home, this castle was run by your mother, and the servants and guards were all loyal to your mother and your family, but since Aegon is here and spreading fear you don’t know if they can be trusted, so you stay in the shadows while also listening out for any potential danger.

You’re so focused on not being caught in fact that when you hear the echoes of the heels of someone’s shoes hitting the ground you fail to locate exactly where it’s coming from. You just quickly try to slip around a corner to hide, but that’s when you bump into a servant.

“Princess,” the servant woman gasps at the same time you let out a startled breath of air. She then looks down at your bloody hands for a second before bouncing her gaze to the bloody sword in your hand, and then lastly to your face, catching your surprise slowly starting to slip away and be replaced by something cold and threatening.

“You—”

“Not that way,” the servant cuts you off just as you were going to threaten her so you didn’t have to kill her. “Follow me you can take the servant corridors,” she reveals and then snatches your hand from your side to pull you with her down the corridor.

“You will take the stairs all the way down until you reach the caves. After that follow the lights all the way out to the loading docks. You will find a small ship there. You use it and leave.” She presses as she digs her fingers on the back of your hand.

“Okay, okay,” you say breathlessly as you follow her at her pace to not slip from her grasp and fall behind. “But…why risk your life? Aegon will have you killed when he finds out you helped me.”

The servant woman peers back and with a twinkle in her eyes, she shakes her head. “I would die for my Queen. I serve only her. Therefore I serve you.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and when you see that she’s not being deceitful you offer her a small but proud smile. “Thank you then,” you offer and wish you could do more but that’s all you can give her. Your gratitude. “My friend.”

The lady offers you a small nod before she looks ahead and quickens her pace to drag you with her down corridor after corridor until you reach a secret door that she opens for you.

“Through there, my Princess,” the servant lets you know as she points to the corridor that leads to a spiral staircase. “That will take you down.”

You glance at your escape and then look back at her with a worried look peeking through. “Okay,” you breathe out. “Thank you once again and be safe,” you offer her one more time whilst she hands you a torch from the wall.

“I would do it again,” she says softly, making your breath hitch and a soft smile flash on your lips that you offer her before you turn around swiftly and walk in the passageway.

Once the servant closes the door behind you, you then turn to look down and try to locate your exit, but as you look down the long spiral staircase you gulp as all you see is a dark abyss that only grows deeper the longer you stare at it.

“Okay,” you say as you draw out a deep breath. “Here we go.”

You glance back at the door one more time and draw in another deep breath. This time though you gain confidence and a drive that makes your heart skip a beat. All because of the servant woman who risked her life to give you a chance to escape.

There was no question or bargaining. She risked her life for you, and you won’t waste it. You will reach that boat and find your mother to prevent her from reaching Dragonstone to save her and the rest of your family that she’s clinging onto.

You won’t fail her. Not today.

Thus with those thoughts running through your head, a spike of energy travels through your blood and hits your heart, making it jolt before it starts to race as you grow eager and determined beyond measure.

Now you know you shouldn’t go past any pace beyond a walk down the wooden staircase, but you don’t care. You could break through a wooden step, skip one in particular, or almost trip and you wouldn't care. All that occupies your mind is saving your mother, so you run and run as fast as you can down the stairs.

It’s true you run out of breath fast, so you’re heaving and panting before you can even get halfway, but you don’t care. You keep pressing as all you see is her. Her eyes. Her soft golden-silver hair. Her pain, grief, and tears. Her joy and her smile. And every single memory you have stored inside your head.

You see her. The one you cherish above all else, even life itself, and all you can do is run.

When you reach the cave, there’s no light; not even on the walls. There’s darkness and the sound of rain—which by the way, when did it start raining? Has it been raining all night? You’ve been so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice.

Regardless, you hear the sound of the rain as it falls outside and brings darkness, but not discouragement because with your torch you can make out the path that leads outside and that’s enough to know that you’re closer to your destination now. You won’t reach the end until you reach your mother, but you’re close and that thought makes you take a deep breath and start moving your legs again.

At the very first second, you don’t start off fast. You take some time to pick up speed considering what’s weighing you down and the exhaustion that brings you, but you push through it. Even if the flames on the torch die out you keep going. Even if your lungs hurt. Even if your legs and every muscle in your body scream to stop, you continue pushing forward. You speed walk before you jog, and jog before you run and run and run down that cave until the weight of heavy rain falls over you and a dim natural light bombards your eyes.

“Okay, okay,” you say between pants and squint your eyes to strain your vision so you can look through the cover of night and the shadows that the rain clouds bring.

At first, as you panic through your exhaustion, you can’t make out any boat. It terrifies you because that would bring a setback, but alas, you see the boat the servant told you about and you don’t linger back any longer. You quickly make your way to the boat and carefully climb onboard.

The waves are calmer thanks to the rain, but that does mean you have to fucking row the boat to move. And you’re already under so much strain! But you…push through and manage to get away from the dock and direct yourself to the mainland.

You can figure out where to go from there. As for now maybe you can catch your breath…

Breathe…as you row.

Breathe.

You close your eyes and relax your body.

Breathe.

Alas, when you’ve put some distance between you and the dock, you come across the harbor just below the Dragonmont and notice a strange Braavosi ship called the “Violande”.

Is it Aegon’s ship, you wonder at first before it hits you that it's your mother's ship when you see a Queensguard disembarking the ship—That’s where your mother came on.

That’s her!

“No, no,” you whisper and hastily stand at your feet.

If you row to the harbor you’ll take forever to get there. Without the help of the wind, you have no support.

You have to swim. No thought about it!

With that, in the front of your mind, you drop the sword on the boat and then dive into the cold water, and gasp loudly when you resurface like a bobbing apple as the cold water feels like falling in cold and wet piles of snow.

The cold embrace makes you want to find a way back on the boat, but you have to swim and keep pushing forward.

So you do. With that same adrenaline picking up in your veins you push forward. You don’t think about the possibility of your mother already reaching the gates. You can’t or else you’ll panic and be discouraged, so once again you think about reaching her, and that’s like a triple shot of adrenaline that helps you swim as fast as your body can muster.

Once you finally get out of the cold icy water you draw in a deep shaky breath and feel the bitterness nip at your skin, threatening to drive you someplace warm, but you turn toward Dragonstone, the place you had managed to escape, and run.

The breeze that runs past you drives some water drops off your body, but then sheets of rain just pile on, making you feel like you’re getting slapped in the face again and again. And it hurts. It hurts so much, and the clothes on your back are so heavy now that it makes everything worse. You even start to cry, but you keep running.

You keep pressing forward. For your mother! For your brother, Aegon! For your son, Aerion! And everyone you lost so your mother could win this war! You run and run!

Until finally like a glorious light you see her in between the group she came with and the large host that greeted her. A host loyal to Aegon…

“Mother!” You bellow through the rain, making the party stop in their tracks, and making the woman you called out to turn and find your eyes.

Even though it’s pouring and that obscures your vision you find each other, and you reflect the panic on your face before you yell again. “Mother! Flee!”

You don’t stop there, you can’t. Words are not enough, so you start running again. You break through barriers of space to reach her and try to get her out of there. You’re so close. With every step you take on that wet ground, you get closer to her, whilst she steps away from her spot and starts to part the crowd as she attempts to meet up with you halfway out of concern.

Alas before you can reach her, before you get close to getting her out, a body slams into you, and arms hurl around you to bring you to a sudden stop.

As you look over you notice that it was one of the many guards that were probably sent to welcome your mother.

The man is a traitor and loyal to Aegon, but you don’t need to share that with your mother because the moment you were caught and your eyes fell on the guard, chaos was unleashed.

Some men from the host that were meant to greet your mother, turn around and swing their swords at the Queensguard.

You don’t watch the battle though, you know that three Queensguards cannot compete against a host of forty men strong; no matter how skilled they are. That’s why you slap your hand on the man who has you captive and dig your nails into his face to drag them down, causing him to yelp out and let go of you to hold his face and stumble away.

“Mother!” You call out and move your legs toward her with one goal in mind; getting her away.

Luckily she sees that goal clearly painted in your eyes because she shares that same dire goal, so she yells out your name and while her men are fighting and falling, she motions her handmaidens and Vanessa to follow her to try and reach you. After all, Ser Jason is with her. He could help her strike down anyone trying to stop her. He could be the very person who could help you escape Dragonstone and live another day.

However, while your mother and you are focused on reaching one another, you fail to see his conflict brewing within him.

It’s true there should be no doubt running in his mind. Ser Cane Clegane would have not thought twice about trying to help the Queen, your son, Aegon, and you escape. He would given his life for you, but no matter how hard Ser Jason is trying to be that way. No matter how hard he’s tried to change his cowardly ways; seeing two men take out two Queensguard, and seeing the only Queensgaurd knight left kill two men before dying suit gives Ser Jason no motive.

The Bastard Knight sees that there’s no possible way to find an escape. He sees men coming after him too after having killed the Queensguard, and he can’t be everything his father was. He was not even half the man Prince Daemon Targaryen was, so Ser Jason raises his sword and steps forward to get in between you and your mother, leading you to believe that he is finally stepping up to aid in your escape. Yet The Bastard Knight then turns on his heels and points the sword to your belly, causing you to come to a skidding stop, and forcing your mother to stop out of fear he’d hurt you and her unborn grandchildren.

“What?” You ask breathlessly as you’re hit with disbelief and look at him with your lips parted, and your eyes slowly widening in shock and filling to the brim with tears of betrayal.

“Take another step and I will impale her,” Ser Jason threatens as he averts your gaze and looks over at your mother slowly contorting her face to show her anger and nothing else.

“Traitorous cunt,” she sneers and glares at him with a pointed glare whilst the host of guards start to surround you, closing the last gap to escape and returning you to Aegon’s grasp once again.

“Mother,” you call out in a broken voice, and immediately gain her attention and look that breaks away from her anger to display a softness—“Forgive me. I—”

Before you can finish, men grab your mother's arms and forcefully turn her away, forcing your next words to go unspoken and unheard.

“Walk, Your Grace,” the men spat at her mockingly.

“You picked the right choice, son,” Ser Alfred Broome praises Ser Jason. “Nevertheless, you understand why we have to take your sword? Just for now of course.”

Ser Jason glances at you with a hint of panic in his eyes, but you refuse to look at him anymore. You rip your eyes away and instead let your eyes fall on your greatest friend and handmaiden, Vanessa.

She also finds you amid the chaos and pushes your son, Aerion, in the air so you can see him and see that he’s bigger, but okay and unaware of what’s transcending—perhaps that’s the best gift an infant has, being able to be unaware of the chaos that brings adults and older children so much painful distress.

When he’s older and you ask him what he remembers he will most likely say nothing. He probably won’t remember his father or how much he loved him, he’ll only know him by the words that come out of your mouth, and that’s all. He probably won’t remember a thing of his life past a certain age and you’re thankful for that. Can you say the same for your brother Aegon?

It’s hard to say. He’s young but is he old enough to cling onto some of the worst memories of his life?

It’s hard to tell. If he lives, only time will tell.

Until then what other option do you have now but to let yourself be dragged back to the castle and past the rotting bodies of Maester Gerardys, and Ser Robert Quince hanging from the battlements of the gatehouse?

Seeing their dead bodies only worked to clarify that this was not some nightmare your mother could wake from. This is real, she got betrayed at her own ancestral home and now you, her son Aegon, her grandchild Aerion, and her are getting dragged toward the castle by traitors all loyal to none other than the slippery cockroach that is her half-brother Aegon. There’s no doubt about it because all the family that was against her is already dead except for him.

And that assumption only gets proven true when you reach the castle ward and come face to face with Aegon on a balcony unable to stand up or move. He’s bound to the same wooden chair as before and he carries the same dull look in his eyes that do welcome a sinister gleam once he sets his eyes on none other than his greatest foe and eldest sister, your mother, Rhaenyra, for the first time in a long time.

“Sister,” Aegon calls coldly, but with a hint of cockiness as he now has all the control and all the power over her that he didn’t have before.

Nevertheless, when your mother looks away from Sunfyre lying on the ground of the courtyard, she never shows defeat. She raises her head and points her nose in the air just like you tend to do before responding coldly and spitefully.

“Dear Brother, I had hoped that you were dead.”

Aegon scoffs. “After you,” he says with a twitch on the corner of his lips. “You are the elder.”

Your mother huffs, feigning some humor before she rebuttals. “I am pleased to know that you remember that.”

Aegon answers with silence and then turns his attention to you and his eyes glimmer, but not with a hint of malice, but smugness. “Back again? Here I thought you were smart. That’s all people say,” he mutters and rolls his eyes. “What an incredible hero The Blood Dragon is.” He scoffs. “If they could see their Blood Dragon now.”

He shoots you a smirk and you just raise your chin and glance over at his dragon Sunfyre to note that he is not even half the dragon he used to be. He now sports new raw scars that accompany the old ones, and one of his wings sticks out at a weird angle. He only has his beauty intact, but what is that worth?

Nothing, you know that and Aegon knows that too, so you look at his dragon with a teasing smirk and then look back at Aegon so he knows that you think less of him and his broken dragon.

And when he sees your reaction his smirk falls, letting your mother slip in to interject loudly and with a ferocity that cannot be diminished. “It would seem we are your prisoners…but do not think that you will hold us long. My leal lords will find us.”

“If they search the seven hells, mayhaps,” Aegon mutters before he drags his eyes away and offers a small nod that sends men after you to keep you where you are, but makes men pull your mother, her handmaidens, and your brother to the side, while Vanessa and Aerion are dragged toward him.

“Aegon,” you now call with a shift in your tone. Rather than trying to sound unaffected, you sound desperate. “Aegon, please,” you beg even though you know his plans for your children.

“Shut up,” he throws out. “You know what will happen to him. He’s now my heir so I will keep him by my side until I return to King’s Landing, while you…” he trails off and leans forward in his seat as best as his broken body can let him.

“I thought about it,” he continues and slowly drifts his eyes to your mother. “I do not care that you are betrothed to Cregan Stark. How will he know that you did not die due to your wounds from battle, hm?”

You blink in disbelief while a horrified breath escapes you. All while your mother's face loses all its color. The defiance she proudly held falls without a fight, and she shows an agonizing fear only a mother about to lose their child knows.

“Ser Alfred,” Aegon calls out, and the man that was called stomps toward you, causing the man holding you in place to force you to your knees.

“Move boy,” Ser Alfred tells Ser Jason, but you don’t see his hesitation as he starts to realize what’s about to happen because you realize the cold truth; you’re about to die, and you don’t want to die. Not like this, not yet. You want to meet your twins, you want to raise your children. You want to live…

You don’t want to die…

“Mama,” your voice quivers as you call out to her helplessly.

And even though she was hurt and angry that you had left her again to chase after Aemond, that grudge is long forgotten. It was long forgotten the moment she saw you try and come to her rescue like a warrior only heard about in stories of past heroes. Besides, how can she be angry while you look at her like a helpless little girl searching for her mother's consolation and help?

“Aegon,” she cries out desperately before Ser Alfred can get his sword out of his sheath, and tries to press forward, but she’s yanked back by the guards. “Please…please, don’t hurt her. Please,” she begs on behalf of not just her child, but her firstborn. The child she let sleep on her bed even against the wetnurses and handmaidens’ wishes because you were such a sick child, and the only way Rhaenyra could sleep at night was to have you next to her to hear you breathe and help the moment you needed it.

“She’s my daughter. My only daughter,” she tries to argue in her defense while also trying to touch any inkling of his heart. “She’s my firstborn, she’s mine,” her voice cracks as what’s left of her withered heart aches for you, for the life of the only companion she had while her father was getting sick, Laenor was mourning his lost love, and Alicent relentlessly bullied her and alienated her in her own home.

“Please,” Rhaenyra begs with tears slipping past her eyes. “Let her go. Let her live, and if you do, we will leave. I swear. We will run and never come back. We won’t raise any swords against you and we will never turn Astraea on you. You will rule for the rest of your life without any resistance from me. Just please let my girl live, please,” she cries for the only daughter she ever had. Her pride and joy, and the child that turned her into a mother only a year after her wedding to Laenor.

She begs with all her heart. She begs desperately and like never before because she needs you to live.

“Ser Alfred,” Aegon presses as he holds his sister's pleading gaze, causing her to snap her eyes to you whilst you start to weep, but also keep your head held high.

“<I love you,>,” you tell her in Valyrian and offer her a wobbly smile that makes her cry out.

“Aegon!”

The sword that was getting brought to your throat stops, but you still wait for the sharp blade.

Alas, it doesn’t come, so you look over at Aegon and he has his hand in the air to motion Ser Alfred to stop and let the guards let you go and fall on your hands.

Ser Jason immediately comes to your aide, but you refuse his help by pushing him away.

“Take her,” Aegon orders, and once again the guards grab your arms to pull you to your feet and drag you to where your mother is.

“Mother,” you whisper out weakly and she examines you but only for a brief moment because guards then drag her away.

“Mother!” You call out as if that would stop them.

“I just wanted to see the great Rhaenyra look defeated first,” Aegon muses. “You will die now because there's no way I would let you go. Do you think I believe you and your promises? No. Fuck that,” he spats. “We can’t both live, sister. It has to be you.”

Your tears dry from your eyes as they almost bulge out with your utter disbelief.

“No,” you whisper a broken whisper and watch in horror as they drag your mother toward the broken Sunfyre. The dragon you had only moments ago looked down upon.

“No,” you whisper again and examine the scene, realizing that Aegon is going to use Sunfyre to kill your mother. Not a sword, a dragon. Fire you can save her from…

Thus with a spike of adrenaline, you yank yourself away from the clutches of the guards holding you captive and run with the purpose of saving your mother. The one you cherish the most. The only reminder you have left of your old life, your brothers, your father, and everything good; all the light in this world, all the warmth, and all the love and mercy.

“Mother!” You call for attention so she knows you’re coming to her rescue and throw your hand out even though there’s still some distance between her and you.

Nevertheless, reaching her and saving her could only be left as a beautiful dream because before you can reach her and as you reach the middle of that courtyard, Ser Jason tackles you to stop you, letting the guards catch up and pull you from his grasp to forcefully shove you to ground so you wouldn’t try to run again and make them look bad in front of the King.

In doing so though they slam your belly and hit your head on the ground—Not hard, but they did hit the spot where that arrow scraped you, so the wound opens and warm blood begins to ooze out.

“Let me go!” You bellow without caring about the fact that you were just hurt. “LET ME GO!” You growl and squirm. “Aegon! Mother! Mother!”

Said woman is left there before the broken dragon, and Aegon utters the word. “Dracarys.”

You squirm harder, but the guards keep you pressed against the ground.

“NO! PLEASE! MAMA!” You cry out desperately and sharply, feeling tears run down your face as they leave your eyes. “AEGON!”

Albeit even if Sunfyre gets closer to your mother, he doesn’t seem to find interest in burning her to eat her. He sniffs her but doesn’t open his jaws, giving you a false sense of hope.

But you should have known better because as you held your breath and thought your mother would be spared because of the dragon's defiance, Ser Alfred stomps to your mother and nicks her breast with the tip of his sword.

This time Sunfyre begins to sniff your mother as his eyes go dark, making you realize what’s going to happen.

“AEGON PLEASE!” You plead with all your will and all your strength for some sliver of hope that you could gain his mercy. “Please don’t do this! Please!” You cry and beg at the same time as you thrash around like helpless prey caught under a trap. “Please!” You bellow out your plea for the first person you ever loved. For the person keeping your hope and will alive.

“The time for pleading is over,” Aegon mutters and then continues to repeat the same command. “Dracarys.”

This time Sunfyre starts to open his mouth as he builds up fire in the back of his mouth.

“Mother! Mama!”

Said woman turns her head and looks you in the eyes with tears welled in her eyes and a small smile only meant for you and you alone. “<I love you,>” she redirects those last words you had given her when you thought you would die.

“Mama!” You mewl out and throw your head back to try and hit the guard pinning you down. “Please!”

Alas, Sunfyre spits out a ball of fire as your mother points her head to the sky and shrieks one last curse before she’s bathed in fire, and then torn apart by Sunfyre’s jaw, robbing her of her life in an instant, and leaving you stunned on the ground in your numbing disbelief that leaves you speechless and robbed of breath.

Your brother Aegon begins to cry, but he sounds so distant that it almost sounds like some illusion coming from your mind.

The flames still dancing on the ground slowly lose their bright color way before it completely dies out, and the coldness nipping at your skin is forgotten; not because the first sunbeams of the new day break out of the horizon and reflect through the window behind you, embracing your back with its gentle touch and almost making it look like a glorious crown around your head. No, it wasn’t that. It isn't even the warm trickles of blood that leak from your head wound and roll down your cheek, no. The coldness didn’t hurt because you were numb to it.

As your eyes stay on the blood that spills from your mother's corpse you are numb. As you watch Sunfyre open his jaw to go for another bite you are numb, but you don’t stay paralyzed, you finally snap from your stupor.

“LEAVE HER ALONE!” You bellow and push yourself off the ground, slipping from the guard's gentle grasp to try and run over and pull your mother's corpse from Sunfyre’s jaw, but Ser Jason sees clearly that there’s nothing of your mother left to save. All you’ll do is piss Sunfyre off by interrupting his breakfast, so he captures your arm and yanks you back against him.

“Stop, stop,” he whispers sharply. “She’s gone. She’s gone.”

Even though a part of you knew what he was telling you, another part of you throws your hand out to try and push him off you whilst you thrash your body in an attempt to slip away, but his grip is harsh and he manages to keep you against him.

“Mama! Mama!” You cry out as if her burnt corpse getting torn apart could hear you. “Please! Someone help her! Mama!”

Sunfyre takes his third bite, and then forth, and with each bite that part of you that was in denial starts to accept the truth, making you slowly lose the last fragment of who you were and the person you became to a fire burning inside. All while your heart; that withered thing Cregan had brought back to life loses its rhythm as you lose yourself.

“Cregan,” you mutter helplessly. “Someone get me, Cregan!”

Sunfyre takes his fifth bite and your legs start to shake as your weight starts to become too much for them to hold.

“STOP IT! PLEASE!” You cry out and slowly start falling to your knees. Ser Jason can’t hold you up as you continue to squirm so he falls to the ground with you.

“Mama…” you trail off as you lose your breath the moment Sunfyre takes his sixth and last bite before leaving just her leg and nothing else.

There’s nothing left of her but that single piece of limb. She’s gone…every fragment of your old life is gone with her. Your happiness, your heart, and who you were and who you grew to be dies out with her, leaving nothing but a frail soul that finally found her breath, but only to wail out all the agony and grief that slams into you like waves angered by a terrible storm.

You hadn’t cried when Addam died, and when Aemond died you wept, but right now you scream as you know the one you loved the most is gone forever. Along with everyone else you loved.

There’s nothing left…

Even your voice is lost due to the strain not so much later, leaving you weeping silently on the ground. Ser Jason tries to console you, but you shove him away and stay put without even trying to fight back.

You stay there with your body bent over and your head hanging even if your body is still pampered with rain and ocean water, and you’re shivering.

That is until a sharp pain shoots through your lower body and you can’t help but grunt out and shoot straight up to cry out to the sky.

“Princess?” Vanessa whispers out as she notices your hand fly to your belly before you cry out again.

“Princess!” Vanessa yells out and turns to try and run to you, but the guards keeping her in place stop her—“She’s going into labor!” Vanessa says as she recognizes the signs without having to wait for more signs to show.

“She needs help!” She throws out and snaps her head to Aegon. “She can’t do it on her own. Not in the state she’s in.”

“Princess, you’re going to labor, try and keep calm,” one of your mother's handmaidens offers her help behind her captors keeping them from reaching you.

“No, no,” you mutter as you shake your head. “Not now. Not now!” You bellow before you let out another strained cry.

“Your Grace!” Vanessa yells out as she looks at you.

“Very well,” Aegon waves her off. “Let those women help the princess deliver my brother's twins,” he says and looks over his shoulder to let the guards know he’s had enough of being on that balcony.

After that the guards holding Vanessa and the other handmaidens' back, let them go, and they all scurry to you, forcing Ser Jason to carry Aerion and your brother Aegon.

“Get them out!” You shriek as another wave of pain hits you and lasts longer than the others.

Then again as paralyzing and agonizing as the pain of labor is, none of it truly compares to the pain of grief that riddles you.

Your mother's death plays over and over again as if someone was trying to torture you. It heightens the intensity of your distress, while also making the entire process of labor a blur.

One moment you’re in that courtyard, the next you’re in your quarters again, pushing and crying while also trying to fight against giving birth—not like it stops the twins from coming. The pain only worsens and your distress keeps growing until…it’s all gone the moment your twins, Daenys and Daenerys, come out crying and kicking into their new world.

Albeit you couldn’t find joy in your newborns. When you look at them it's with a distant look and no exhausted smile.

Your lips didn’t even twitch. Your eyes are cold, but in your icy demeanor, deep inside, a fire burns and turns your sadness to ash, letting a fierce rage rise from its remains.

A/N- FINALLY NOT PREGNANT!!!

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