#she did not come together so neatly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

envy-of-the-apple · 3 months ago

Text

Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV.

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep.

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates.

And you were just extra baggage.

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted.

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you.

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did.

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space.

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you.

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day."

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider.

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all.

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak.

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever.

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?"

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys.

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back."

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders.

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob.

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out.

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise."

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being.

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them.

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other."

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could."

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left.

Satoru appears first.

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting.

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream.

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry.

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes.

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?"

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-"

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat.

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms.

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you."

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair.

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to.

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay."

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused.

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?"

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter."

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it.

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word."

He freezes. You smile at Utahime.

"Could you give us some time?" You ask.

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you.

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room.

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him.

"For what?"

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories.

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry."

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-"

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up.

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker.

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves.

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did."

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you."

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again.

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick.

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru."

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter.

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying.

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay.

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him.

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone.

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer."

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed.

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't."

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship.

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand.

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better."

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip.

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now."

"You haven't even given us a chance to-"

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods.

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house."

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare.

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort.

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you.

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not."

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you.

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes.

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic."

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her.

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown.

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around.

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear.

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?"

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes.

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends."

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs.

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue.

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side.

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better."

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better.

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared.

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure.

And so did Suguru.

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first.

"How have you been?" He asks nicely.

"Good." You respond. "You?"

"Good."

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long.

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school."

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter.

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not.

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh.

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable.

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same."

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine."

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were."

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to.

But now, you don't have that desire anymore.

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest.

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly."

Suguru frowns, troubled.

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-"

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable."

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place."

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift.

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that."

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru."

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately.

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?"

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole.

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you.

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours.

"I love you."

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse.

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't.

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding.

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet.

He's miserable.

You did this. This was all you.

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him."

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru.

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better.

"It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal."

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this.

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset.

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought.

"But what?" You press.

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face.

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out."

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation.

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?"

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach.

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her.

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long.

"You'll see!" You chirp back.

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later.

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise."

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'.

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy.

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought.

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass.

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you."

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!"

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore."

Shoko freezes mid-sip.

"What?" She asks.

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-"

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears.

"What's wrong?" You ask.

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?"

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again."

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces.

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal.

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand."

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-"

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time.

"Oh." You breathe.

"Oh." Utahime whispers.

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass.

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?"

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!"

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle."

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties."

"I thought we were just doing friend things!"

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified.

"I-I-" You give up.

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot.

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes.

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko.

"Do you want us?"

You take a deep breath.

You nod.

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely.

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more.

You break away, panting.

"You good?" She asks.

You nod.

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now."

"What?"

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses.

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks."

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit.

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh.

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?"

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy.

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy."

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next.

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation.

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you."

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy.

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes.

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?"

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush.

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet."

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself.

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm.

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair.

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight.

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime.

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue.

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go."

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams.

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always."

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep.

Shoko slaps your thigh.

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face."

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much.

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them.

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper.

"Awake?" She asks.

"Yeah." You softly say back.

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch.

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist.

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes.

"I'm gonna get food."

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you.

"What do you want?" She prompts.

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door.

The interaction makes your heart warm.

Still, it can't last.

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist.

"And where are you going?" She prods.

You fumble. "Back to my room?"

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now."

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?"

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?"

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine."

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly.

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder."

You laugh.

"That's not a joke." She warns.

"I know." And you kiss her again.

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place.

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up.

Everything was just perfect.

And then, it just wasn't.

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled.

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone.

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold.

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay?

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it.

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about?

The living room is horrific.

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels.

Suguru doesn't even blink.

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal.

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?"

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth.

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition."

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos.

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands.

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that."

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting.

But you know you aren't expecting...that.

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore.

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them."

You step back. They step forward.

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far.

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-"

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already."

He smiles again.

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores."

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete.

The worst part is that everything was your fault.

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak.

"I'm sorry."

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions.

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two."

Satoru halts. You caught him.

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder.

"You missed us?" He wonders.

The lie feels like sand.

"More than anything."

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry.

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault."

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much.

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh.

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms.

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands.

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance.

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry.

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat.

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed."

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here.

"I'm sorry," you say anyway.

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer.

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells.

And then, he grins.

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely.

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore.

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much.

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness.

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you.

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you.

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share.

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments.

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs.

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

#yandere jjk #yandere #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #dark content #yandere gojo satoru #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere gojo x reader #yandere jjk x reader #yandere geto suguru #yandere geto suguru x reader #dark geto suguru #shoko ieiri x reader #utahime x reader #yandere satosugu #dark satosugu #yandere scenarios #shokohime x reader

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luvsupa · 5 months ago

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a/n two posts in one day… ruh roh… (I miss gojo </3)

ex!satoru who doesn’t really understand the concept of being an ex. he just thinks you want a break from him. but permanently separated? hell no, he could never understand that.

“‘toru… things aren’t gonna work out between us,” you begin as he sits in front of you at your dinner table in your shared apartment. he looks at you with no emotion, as if you didn’t just end things. “we’re growing in separate ways, and i feel i would only—satoru.”

you could scream at him—he’s not paying attention, scrolling on his phone instead. he shows you the order he placed for dinner, coming in twenty minutes. of course, he bought your favorite.

“satoru, can you please be serious for one minute?” you huff, clearly annoyed that he’s not listening while he’s purchasing things he knows will make you swoon.

“i am serious,” he says, placing his phone down to observe your breathtaking features.

“you weren’t even listening,” you say, crossing your arms as you slouch in the seat.

“baby, of course i’m listening—you’re crazy if you think i’m leaving you,” he coos condescendingly, and you roll your eyes.

ex!satoru who, in fact, respected your decision and gave you your personal space, not exactly broken up in his eyes, just a temporary break.

ex!satoru who stays over at suguru’s place for a few months, whining every day and night about how he missed being in your arms.

“i miss her,” gojo says as he pets geto’s cat, miyu, while geto himself groans as he cleans his apartment.

“can you at least help out and stop whining like a bitch,” geto says, adjusting the pillows neatly on his couch. this only causes gojo to frown and embrace miyu in a tight hug, nuzzling his face in her soft fur as she tries to get away from his grasp.

“and let go of miyu, she doesn’t want you holding her.”

ex!satoru who continues to send you money, always sending you hundreds and hundreds of dollars for food, shopping, and especially paying for your necessities. he doesn’t care that you work for yourself—you’re still his baby, and he loves spoiling you. his money is your money.

unknown number sent $500! —go get some food, baby~ ♡

unknown number sent $600! —please unblock me on insta

unknown number sent $300! —i love u, mama

ex!satoru who chokes on his breakfast when shoko says you’re going on a date. gojo, never in his life, was speechless, and that really creeped out shoko and geto.

“satoru… are you good?” geto asks concernedly—even miyu jumps on gojo’s lap, sensing a difference in his character.

“yeah, i’m good…” he says calmly, placing down his utensils to pet miyu’s soft fur.

ex!satoru who does a little investigating of who this mysterious man is, finding his identity within ten minutes. he scoffs when he finds his social media—he’s nowhere near as handsome as he is. what do you see in him?

ex!satoru who sits comfortably in the luxurious restaurant where you and the mysterious man planned to go. little did you know, gojo texted the man, telling him that you’re married.

“aiko?” gojo hears a soft voice call as he turns to look at you. your eyes widen when you see gojo. this has to be some kind of joke—he is fucking crazy. you turn around, going back to the entrance, but gojo grabs your wrist.

“no, no, no, baby, please let me talk,” he pleads, and you fold from the way he calls you baby. oh, how you loved and missed the way he called you baby and claimed you as his own.

he guides you to the chair in front of him as he holds your hand, your pretty acrylics grazing his hands. he loved the way you looked well put together, his baby doll.

“my love, i promise to leave you,” he says, rubbing small circles on your hand. your heart pangs at his confession. “i just want to know how you’re doing.”

“i-i miss you so much,” you say. gojo feels like he’s hallucinating at what you just said. “shoko told me you were having a date today, and i felt so jealous—” you stammer, and gojo blinks multiple times, stunned at what you’re saying.

“this guy aiko asked me on a date, and i wanted to make you jealous,” you continue, frowning at being confused with your emotions. but gojo, on the other hand, is putting two and two together.

“give me your phone,” he sternly says. you stare at him in confusion, but you oblige, taking out your phone from your purse and handing it to him. gojo smiles as your lockscreen is still a baby photo of him. he unlocks your phone—the password still the same, his birthday.

“i was meaning to change the lockscreen,” you quickly state, not trying to look like a weirdo in front of him.

gojo goes into your contacts and clicks aiko’s contact information, calling the number. multiple rings go by, and the man on the other line picks up.

“hello—”

“shoko, i know this is you.”

you look at him and your phone in horror. shoko set you guys up by making a fake number to make you go on a date with ‘aiko’ but really you’d be with gojo.

“ahh, did my plan work? both of you kept whining about each other—it was infuriating. i had to do something,” she says on the other line, gojo clearly hearing geto’s giggles in the background.

“don’t ever do this again,” gojo says as he hangs up the phone. the two of you burst out in laughter, but for you, it’s more embarrassing that you were flirting with shoko through texts!

fiancé!satoru who proposed to you a few weeks later, he’s beyond happy to be in the arms of his baby again <3

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo fluff #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #divider from @cafekitsune

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kingkaizen · 8 months ago

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𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓮𝓻

∘ desc: although things are going great with your boyfriend nanami, sometimes you think he's too nice in bed. who better to ask for some pointers than from nanami's opposite, gojo satoru <3

∘ ft: nanami & gojo

∘ word count: 2.7k

∘ includes: voyeurism, threesome, pussy slaps, spanking, face fucking, edging, dacryphilia, dirty talk

Nanami is the best boyfriend that you’ve ever had.

No matter everything that you’ve been through together in the last three years, nothing has ever made you doubt the amount of love you had for each other. You absolutely adored everything about him. After being friends for years before getting together, it wasn’t hard to fall so deeply in love with the man that he’s become. Being able to come home to him is everything that you’ve ever wanted and more.

But, of course, all relationships come with their issues.

When Nanami received a message from you saying that you had to talk, his heart immediately dropped. What could he have done wrong? Was today a special day that he forgot about? Did he accidentally leave the toilet seat up? What could possibly be it? He rushed home from work, unlocking the front door to see you sitting on the couch.

“Is everything okay?” Nanami questioned, slipping his shoes off and placing them neatly on the floor along with pinning his coat on the rack. “Your text worried me.”

“No, Kento. Everything is fine, I promise, come sit with me.” You gestured to the cushion next to yours, trying to keep him calm. You knew that texting him like that would elicit this concerned reaction, but what you’re about to say could not be said through a simple text message.

“Kento, when I say this to you, I need you to know that I love you so much and you are an amazing boyfriend okay?” Nanami nods his head slightly, eyebrows slowly coming together in complete anticipation of what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“I want you to start being rougher with me in bed.”

Finally coming out and saying it, you felt like a weight being lifted off of your chest. Nanami always treats you like glass, in and out of the bedroom. Although you love how gentle and loving he is with you, you need something more. You can’t help but think back to all of the times that he would come back home from work, irritated about something that happened. How good it would feel for him to take out those emotions on you. But, knowing your sweet boyfriend, that thought would never cross his mind.

“Am I not satisfying you enough? I thought you enjoyed our intimate moments together…” Nanami responds, his brain thinking back to every single night you’ve spent together in the past. Why hasn’t he seen this before? Knowing that he hasn’t been satisfying you in the way that he thought hurt him much more than he was willing to admit right away.

“No, that’s not it at all. You know that you always make me feel good. I just want to change things up a bit, that’s all.” You placed an encouraging hand on his thigh, prompting him to look up at you. “I know you, Kento, don’t think too much into it. I love every moment that we have together, I just want us to try something different, that’s all.”

Nanami took in all of your words, making a pact to himself that he will change things for the better. He understands what you want, he’s just not sure how to fully give that to you. How he is in bed is exactly the way he is outside of that: sweet, loving, and overall just concerned. He would never forgive himself for hurting you in any capacity, so living up to your request will be a challenge for him. Who better to ask than his complete opposite in every single way?

“She wants you, Nanami Kento, to be rough?” Gojo almost can’t help but laugh at the thought. It’s not laughable because Nanami doesn’t have a rough side to him, Gojo of all people would know how it feels to be on the opposite end of that. The funny part is that he can’t imagine him being rough towards you. Even from an outsider looking into your relationship, anyone could see how he treats you.

“I didn’t tell you this so that you could laugh at me, Satoru, I’m asking for your help.” This request from Nanami also humored Gojo. Finally, after all of these years, Nanami is actually voluntarily asking for his help.

“How exactly do you expect me to help you? Do you need me to demonstrate?” Gojo laughed as he said this, waiting for Nanami to show some sort of disagreement in his face.

That look never came.

“That is actually exactly what I want you to do. I know the type of history that you two have, I’m not an idiot. All of these years since we’ve all been friends before we started dating, I would see the way you would look at each other. I know that there is chemistry there and I wouldn’t be surprised if you have been intimate before.” Nanami looked at Gojo, seriousness etched across his face. “I want you to show me how to treat her the way that she wants to be, I only want her to be happy.” As much as Nanami hates to admit when Gojo is better than him in any sort of way, he knows the truth when it comes to this. He sees how other women have fawned over him, and it must be for good reason.

“I’ll teach you how to fuck her like a slut.”

The sight of two shirtless men is enough to excite anyone. After telling Nanami what was on your mind, this is the last thing that you expected him to do. Of course he brought this up to you before this moment, always wanting to ensure your comfort. It was hard to disagree, you’ve been with Gojo years prior but it was never anything serious. Always flings, Gojo was never the “relationship type”.

“So gorgeous, my love.” Nanami always admired how ethereal you looked, both in and out the bedroom. He caressed your face, planting soft yet firm kisses on your lips, growing more and more passionate by the second. Gojo was sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, watching with an intense gaze. You would think that having another man watching the two of you would freak you out, but it weirdly turned you on. Gently, as always, Nanami laid you down on the mattress, fingers finding their way to your covered breasts, exposing them to his hungry mouth. After moving the fabric, his lips puckered around your nipple, tongue pushing on the hardened nub as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Kento, I need you so bad.” You whimpered, the impatient side of you coming out already. You know Nanami, you know that it doesn’t take much begging to get what you want. You know how bad he wants you too, he can’t help but fully oblige to every word you say.

“I know honey, I’m going to give it to you.” Nanami had no self control when it came to you. Gojo rolls his eyes in the corner, finally making his presence known.

“Nanami, you can’t let her talk to you like that.” Gojo slowly began to touch his growing bulge through his pants. “It’s like you already forgot everything I told you.” He stood up and walked towards the two of you, Nanami moving to the side. Gojo gently gripped your chin, turning your head to look him dead in his eyes.

“If you want something from him, you’re going to have to earn it.”

You nodded your head, his authoritative tone sending a wave of pleasure throughout your body. Following his discrete directions, you kneeled in front of your boyfriend, fingers playfully toying with the zipper in his pants as you pulled it down along with the rest of it. You kissed his hard length through the last piece of fabric still left on his body, looking up at him through your lashes.

“D-Don’t tease me like that, (y/n)”. Nanami loved this obedient side of you, even if he wasn’t the reason you were acting this way. Before he could even process, Gojo lightly tapped the side of your ass, sending a slight sting throughout your body.

“Tease him like that again and you’re gonna have to make yourself cum. Now say sorry.” Gojo threatened, backing away once again to see how this unfolds. By now, he has fully released himself from the confines of his pants, fingers wrapping around his girth as he slowly began to pleasure himself at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” You looked up at Nanami once more, pulling away the last piece of clothing separating your awaiting mouth from his leaking tip.

“I’m sorry what?” Gojo sneered.

“I’m sorry sir.” Your pleading voice made Nanami groan, watching as you finally began to wrap your lips around the tip of his cock. You began to put your tongue to work, swirling it around his head while keeping your lips firmly around the top, sucking in. Nanami could tell that you were still in a teasing mood, refusing to go any lower than that. Suddenly, you could feel his hand find its way to the back of your head, forcing you to let more of him in. Nanami would never do something like this normally, his forcefulness with you turning you on tremendously. Gojo laughed, approving of Nanami’s sudden confidence boost. It’s arousing to him too, watching you take all of him so deep in your mouth, gagging on his length as he throws his head back.

“That’s it, take it all.” Nanami grunts, “I love how messy you look, choking on me like that.” He could feel you moan around his length at his words, thighs rubbing together in anticipation of what’s to come. “I know how wet you are already, if you want some help you have to ask for it okay?”

No matter what, Nanami is still always keeping your needs in mind, noticing how soaked you're starting to become. He removes himself from inside your mouth, allowing you to fully breathe. You look so beautiful, tears threatening to spill from your lash line and saliva coating around your mouth. He helps you back up to your feet, leading your body to lay backwards onto the bed, callused fingers catching any tears that manage to slip. “Tell me what you want.”

Your gaze moved from his eyes over to Gojo. “I want you both. Please sir, just touch me.” You felt pathetic as you begged, your core pulsing with need. You’ve never felt this sensitive before, everything feeling that much more intense given how hungry the two men in your presence are.

“Aww, what a little slut you are.” Gojo grinned, making his way closer to you. “What do you think Nanami, has she been a good girl for us? Should we give her what she wants?” Gojo’s fingers began to rub on the outside of your panties. “Look at how wet she is for us.” Gojo showed Nanami your slick on his fingers, watching it glisten underneath the lowlight.

“I think she has been a good girl.” Nanami smiles at you, so proud of how well you’ve been doing for them. “Go ahead, Gojo, you can touch her.”

“Finally.” Gojo quickly moved your panties to the side, the coolness of his touch catching you off guard as he teased the inside of your folds. “You don’t understand how torturous it was watching you without being able to touch you yet.” He makes quick work of finding your clit, slowly rubbing his thumb on your pearl as he watches you begin to writhe underneath. “Don’t forget why you’re here slut. You wanted to be treated like this so bad and now you got it. Beg for it.”

“P-Please Satoru, please touch me. I can’t take it anymore, I need it so bad.” You pleaded, beginning to feel helpless underneath him. Gojo smirked, plunging his slender fingers inside of you unexpectedly. You felt your body arch up in surprise, a gasp leaving your mouth as pleasure began to consume your body.

“So fucking greedy.” Gojo began slowly at first, catching a rhythm. “Look at how she’s drenching my fingers.” Nanami rubs himself at the sight, growing impatient. You’re too far gone to notice, feeling your own orgasm already beginning to slowly creep up in intensity. Before you know it, you're cumming all around his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Gojo quickly pulls his fingers out, not doing anything to help you ride it out. “Who told you that you could cum?” He taps his hand against your pussy repeatedly, watching you moan in a mix of pleasure and pain and you slowly come down from your high. “What a fucking whore.”

“I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t -fuck- I couldn’t help it.” You sob, looking at Nanami. You’ve never seen him look so angry. He didn’t say anything to you, only twirling his finger around, motioning for you to flip over. You quickly follow his que, not wanting to do anything to tick him off further. You can’t fully process that this is happening, your Nanami actually treating you this way.

You fucking loved it.

You felt his familiar touch rub over your ass as you got on all fours, arching your back slightly. He groaned at the sight of your wetness, glistening core almost calling out to him. He rubbed his tip against your folds, feeling your hole try to suck him in. Meanwhile, Gojo is sucking your juice off of his fingers, loving the taste of you.

“Get on with it Nanami, if she wants to be punished so badly then so be it.” Gojo made his way in front of you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your plush lips. “We told you what would happen if you didn’t listen, right? You have to be a bit smarter than that sweetheart.” The syrupy tone of his voice didn’t match his actions as he parted your lips with his head, feeling you wrap your lips against his girth. With that, Nanami finally pushed himself all the way in, moaning in unison along with you. Gojo could feel the vibrations of your moans against him.

Nanami gave you no time to adjust, pounding his entire length into you with such force that caused your mouth to hang open in shock. You felt so good, brain completely fogged over with no thoughts other than the complete monster that Nanami has become. He’s never fucked you like this, usually preferring soft thrusts over the hard pounding that he’s subjecting yourself to now. You suddenly felt a sharp slap on your ass, his large hand rubbing the sting away almost just as quickly as he placed it.

“Don’t ignore Gojo now, honey. I thought a slut like you would love to have two thick cocks filling you up this way?” Nanami questioned, picking up the pace which made it so much harder for you to focus. Gojo wasn’t having that. He placed one hand on each side of your face, holding it in place for him to thrust his hips against you. His cock filled your mouth, spit sloshing everywhere as your face got messier and messier.

“Fuck (y/n), you’re doing so fucking good for us princess.” Gojo moaned, the sounds coming from the room overwhelmed his senses. The bed creaking, you struggling to take Nanami while also pleasuring Gojo, and the sound of Nanami’s balls slapping against your ass sounded like music to his ears. Nanami couldn’t believe how hot this all was, feeling as your walls began to quiver around him.

“You’re gonna cum again baby?” Nanami asked, gripping your hips tighter as he felt himself get even closer. Gojo was already almost there, hips beginning to stutter as he watched you cry out. All you could do is whimper in response, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. Nanami made it there first, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he spilled himself inside of you. Ropes of cum flooded in as he fully pressed himself against you, beads of sweat threatening to drip off his nose. Gojo soon followed, shooting his load into your mouth as you took it all.

“Such a good girl.” Gojo mused, wiping the side of your mouth when he finished. He proceeded to kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. Nanami pulled himself out slowly, watching in delight as his seed slowly dripped out of you. You whimpered at the now empty feeling, your orgasm slowly starting to retreat.

“You’re not going to finish me off?” You angrily turned to Nanami, watching the smirk begin to creep up his face.

“Not unless you beg for it.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami x reader smut #nanami kento #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru

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bunny-jpeg · 4 months ago

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retired!price never thought that he'd ever become father. it honestly was only a passing glance throughout most of his life. like if he saw a kid at the grocery store or a colleague had a child. but, that all changed when you met him. there was something about you that got him going. he thought he had too much respect for women, but he felt almost chauvinistic towards you. you were younger, smaller, frailer. you should be at home cooking him dinner and putting the kids to bed instead of working the dreadful customer service job you were at. wouldn't life be better?

think about it, it's okay love. price would take care of everything. anything his angel needed, she got. that included a pretty ring and a round middle full of price brats. when price left where you work with purchases in hand, there was more than one occasion where he'd go back to his car and pleasure himself in the driver's seat. his car parked in the furthest part of the parking lot. alone with his thoughts of you. one baby on your hip and the other in your womb, price coming home to the scent of a warm-cooked meals. nights spent battering your poor soft, spongy womb, keeping it nice and full. you'd be in such contrast with your gruff husband. he stood so much taller than you, he could bruise you with ease. but he only wanted to love you, to feel you take him every night. to see you raise his children. he aiming for a minimum of three, close together in age. he was already looking at places that would be perfect. away from the hustle and bustle of london and somewhere quiet, where his wife would live a comfortable life. in his mind he always thought you were a virgin, pure for him to take apart and make to his liking. you'd be the perfect mrs. price, a phrase that went through his head as he came all over his hand. pearly cum even stained his blue jeans.

doesn't the life that price laid out for you feel perfect? a loving husband, kids, a big piece of land. you weren't going anywhere with this job, wouldn't it be more fulfilling to be married to price? he was retired and would raise your children alongside you. you'd be perfect for him. he wished that you'd see what he saw. something nicer for such a lovely woman.

it took a lot of courage for him to ask you out. it was the first time he felt nervous in a while. you simply giggled, a voice delicate like glass, you broke his head, "oh, sorry sir. i already have a boyfriend!" price just smiled and nodded, he wasn't going to cause a scene. he took his purchases and wished you a great day. but it was hard to pull the man that price was prior to retirement. the man needed a mission like a bloodhound needed prey.

oh, you had a boyfriend. what was his name? where did he live? what did he do for work? when price got his answers he didn't think your boyfriend was good enough. you needed a man, not a little boy who still used his old university i.d. to get discounts. he wasn't going to provide for you. he was weak. so why don't you take out your phone and text him goodbye because price always joked to his former team that he could fit a body in the trunk of his car. while he'd laugh it off, that and the neatly winded rope tucked in the corner were there for a reason.

please, his angel. come with him, he'll always keep you safe.

xoxo, bunny

#cw: dark themes #bunny writes #reader insert #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price cod #captain john price #john price #captain john price x you #captain johnathan price #captain john price smut

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buckyalpine · 1 year ago

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40's baby Bucky & baby Reader, Present Bucky x Reader, all the flufff, a lil angst but it just adds to the fluff, promise

Bucky sat under the tree with a very prominent pout on his chubby face, his arms crossed against his chest with his brows pulled together. He wasn't happy. Not one bit. Not after his favorite ball was kicked over a fence by the other neighborhood boys.

"Bucky, do you want to play with me?" You toddled over to your best friend hoping to lift his spirits after seeing him so grumpy only to be met with a huff.

"No! Go play with Stevie instead. Leave me alone!" He frowned, brushing you off and turning his back at you to sulk facing the tree instead.

"But-

"I don't want to play with you" Bucky grumbled. Your bottom lip wobbled, dropping your shoulders as you walked off and sat by yourself under some shade on your porch. You didn't have many friends being the youngest and only little girl on your street; Bucky and Steve being the only two who included you in their games.

"Bucky's mean" You picked up one of your dolls, setting her up beside you while you toyed with a wild flowers, doing your best to keep from sniffling after he shooed you away. You knew he was upset but you wanted to make him feel better!

Of course it didn't take long for Bucky to feel bad, peeking over to see your fallen face sitting all alone on the steps of your house, eyes wet with tears which you were desperately blinking back. He got a bad feeling in his little pudgy belly, knowing he wasn't very nice to you. He knew his ma wouldn't be very happy if she heard how he'd spoken to you, especially after you were just trying to brighten his mood. He got up from his place on the grass, nicking a few flowers from his garden before shuffling over to you only to be met with your now grumpy face, crossing your arms and turning away just like he did.

"I'm sorry y/n" Bucky came and plopped beside you, moving the doll away, while clutching onto a few pink tulips. You didn't respond, still mad at him for being mean to you when you'd done nothing wrong. "C'mon jellybean, pwease?"

His baby blues were shining bright as he gave you his best puppy eyes, hoping you'd forgive him. You felt a giddy at the name he called you, one he'd given you because he thought you were sweet like one. You turned to face him while he gave you a shy little smile, placing the flowers onto your lap.

"I brought you flowers" He stated proudly, happy at the giggle you let out, setting them aside before tugging at his hand to run off and play.

"Y'promise you'll come back?" your eyes were wet with tears again although you were now 20 years older and the chubby boy you grew up with had grown into a very handsome soldier. He stood before you in his clean and pressed uniform, his face shaven, hair neatly cropped.

"Of course doll" He whispered affectionately, letting his thumbs swipe across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that fell. "I'll always come back to you jellybean"

"You better" You sniffled, standing on your toes to chase more of his lips as he pressed them to yours, his hands wrapping around your waist, picking you up with ease.

"M'gonna come right back to you, safe n'sound" He held you for as long as he could, rocking you close to his chest while you fought back a sob, giving him a brave smile instead.

"I love you Jamie"

"I love you jellybean"

That was the last time you saw him.

"This is a bad idea"

"When have I ever had a bad idea" Tony scoffed, continuing to tinker with his quantum portal while Bruce looked over numbers.

"It's not stable enough Tony, if we send someone through this, they could get stuck in an alternate timeline or we could end up changing the future-

"Yea, yea, stop worrying, hand me that spanner"

Bruce sighed, handing over the tool while contemplating on the safest way to test the machine. It wasn't ready to handle anyone actually travelling through time but at the very least they could potentially open portals to the past.

"We gotta put in a location to see if this works-how about-" Tony contemplated on a location, his eyes growing wide with excitement when he spotted Steve's diary that he'd left behind in the lab, "Let's see if Captain has any interesting places from the 40's"

"Why wouldn't you just see if we could get to the compound garden" Bruce groaned while Tony flipped through the pages, typing in an address that had been scribbled in. It was from a list of places Steve wanted to visit again from when he was a child, the address of the person listed under friends. There was only one other person listed there other than Bucky.

"Alright, call the others, let's see if this baby works"

"You're going to get us all killed" Bruce shook his head while calling for everyone to come to the lab. By now everyone was used to Tony's antics; the only one who was genuinely giddy with excitement was surprisingly Bucky. One thing he'd always loved was science; even his stoic expression couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye every time he got to see another Stark experiment.

"Glad you all made it. Now, thanks to Cap, we're going to see if we can open a portal that travels back to the 1940's. I suggest you all stand back since I haven't actually tested this before"

"Why are you like this" Nat snorted while Tony waved her off, pushing a few more buttons before hitting start. Bucky watched from the safe sidelines of the lab as the machine began to vibrate, a low buzz growing louder until a portal roared to life that lead to the inside of someone's home. Bucky and Steve were both stunned from shock seeing a flash of a very familiar living room for no longer than a second before the whole thing closed with a bang and a large puff of smoke in its place.

"Well done Mr. Playboy billionaire dumbass" Sam wheezed while the team was left coughing, the room cloudy as the loud buzz began to dull. "What was the location you even put in-

Sam stopped talking midway when he heard another voice coughing followed by mumbling coming from the place where the portal closed. The smoke hadn't yet dissipated but the shadow of a person was slowly becoming visible. Everyone froze when they realized there was someone on the platform, wondering who could've been sucked through.

"Bruce, turn on the fan-" Bruce hit the lab fan which pulled helped with the smoke revealing a young woman in a flower printed dress. An apron was still tied around her waist, flour streaked across her cheeks, a rolling pin still in her hand. "What the-

"JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES"

Bucky thought he was going to collapse as soon as he saw who was on the platform, his heart fluttering madly in his chest. He couldn't control the blush that crept up on his cheeks, butterflies bursting in his tummy, just as they did all those years ago. The young woman stormed up to the soldier, face full of fury as her palm smacked his cheek (Not hard enough to actually hurt him of course).

"HOW DARE YOU"

Everyone else in the lab silently congregated to one side watching curiously though Steve was still utterly frozen seeing-

"Y-y/n? Doll?"

"Don't you doll me" you whacked his arm with your rolling pin, huffing when it clanged back after hitting metal. That didn't seem to faze you as you switched and hit the other arm instead, making Bucky yelp. "You lied!"

You dropped your makeshift weapon to the floor, moving your hands to your hips instead, looking up and down at the man you loved with your entire heart, the man who you mourned for years after you were told he was dead. He looked much different from when you'd last seen him, the most obvious difference being an entirely new arm. His cheeks were scruffy and it was clear some form of time travel had taken place but none of that mattered. None of that mattered when the love of your life was standing right there, alive and well.

"Oh baby, no-

"Absolutely not Barnes" you huffed at the pet name he gave you, crossing your arms over your chest and Bucky thought he'd melt into an absolute puddle at the sight. He was thrown back to when you were both no more than 4 years old, with a cute little frown on your face whenever you'd get upset. "You left! I thought you-I thought you died!"

The sound of your voice cracking broke Bucky's heart, his hands itching to wrap you up and pull you close to his chest the way you loved. He could see your eyes twinkle with tears threatening to spill out while you rapidly tried to blink them away. You chewed on your bottom lip to keep from wobbling and it only made Bucky yearn to hold you and never let go.

"Sweetheart please, I didn't mean to leave you doll, I promise" He stepped closer to you, hesitantly reaching out to take your hand in his, not feeling the slightest bit conscious about his metal arm. The coolness of his hand calmed your racing heart while you sniffled, still refusing to meet his eyes as you stared down at your feet instead.

The day you'd been told he'd never come back had been the worst day of your life. You wept for months on end, losing the man you were waiting to marry. The only person you'd been in love with since you were 4 years old.

Seeing you standing there before him stirred feelings in Bucky h never thought he'd feel again. Having a home. A beautiful wife. Little chubby babies. All with his dream girl he'd loved all his life. There wasn't a day that had gone by where he didn't think about her. He didn't think he'd ever get the chance again but here you were, dusted in flour like you always were whenever you were in the kitchen, in a pretty dress he loved so much, fighting your cries after desperately missing him. He softly cupped your cheeks, swiping away at your tears, his forehead coming down to softly rest against yours. He smiled through watery eyes at your stubborn nature, still keeping your arms crossed while his nose bumped with yours.

"Jellybean" Bucky whispered, your heart melting at the name, swallowing the lump in your throat, "Please? I-I'll- I'll bring you flowers" He said with a shaky voice, nearly toppling over when you flung yourself into his arms. He caught you, squeezing you right back and lifting you off the floor to cradle you nice and tight before pulling back to smash his lips against yours. The collective sniffles and whistles from the team were drowned out by your soft giggles and warm lips.

"I missed you so much" you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the one that comforted yo the most.

"You have no idea how much I missed you jellybean, never letting you go again"

"Terminator, you wanna introduce us?" Tony was the first to speak up, not so subtly wiping away at his eyes while Bucky continued to look at you with heard eyes, introducing you to everyone. You could only wrap your head around so much at a time but nothing truly mattered now that you were back with your soldier.

And of course your other best friend.

"Steve" You giggled as Steve lifted you up with ease into a tight hug, grinning at his two friends finally getting the life they deserved together.

Seriously imagine how sickeningly cute these two would be. Bucky is so excited to teach you all about the future. He gets to show you how to use all the new technology around the compound. He's so naughty about it too, teasingly telling you he'd be happy to help you in the shower if there's any questions you has about water temperature.

He doesn't waste any time with asking to marry you. Its everything you've ever dreamed of and more considering Tony took the bill and ran. Bucky can't put into words how happy he is finally getting the life he thought was ripped from his hands.

On your wedding night, Bucky spends hours loving on you like there's no tomorrow which is why a few months later, your belly is swollen with your first baby. Bucky is thankful for the future because as excited as he is to start a family, he's scared shitless something could happen to his jellybean.

"Bucky, I'm fine-

"Absolutely not, why are you up Jellybean, go sit down, I'll bring breakfast to you"

"I can still walk y'know-

"Nope. You stay right there, don't move mama, just rest"

When you do have to move around, he's there holding your baby bump, feeling giddy over becoming a dad. He can't wait to meet his little baby that he's made with his dream girl.

After his son is born, he waits for your body to heal but no ones surprised to see you with a new bump not too long after.

Two baby boys are no match for all the avengers but they all happily share their god father and god mother duties.

Your third is a little girl and she's going to be spoiled by everyone.

Somewhere along the way, you get a white fluffy cat.

Bucky's life has never been better.

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vifilms · 5 months ago

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firefighter!abby who comes in every sunday morning to your floral shop, tucked in a tiny corner downtown. you’re usually tucked away in the back, doing floral arrangements, calculating your inventory, organizing new shipments, or just avoiding others in general. an introverted nature is ingrained into your bones. so, dina takes over the front counter. she’s sweet, kind enough to engage in conversation. big brown eyes and welcoming smile always seeming to put the customer’s at ease, assessing their needs as they step foot in the door.

firefighter!abby who comes in on the dot, half-past nine, right before her shift. her build, incredibly tone, clad in black cargos and her seattle fire department t-shirt tucked in. she greets dina with her blinding, pearly white smile. warming her up to the core as dina grabs the assortment that’s ordered every week. yellow roses, white lillies, and peach carnations make their way into the abby’s hands. she thanks dina, with the same somber look in her eyes before she exits with the same bouquet she always does.

firefighter!abby who is out for the day, cup of coffee in her hand, ellie to her right telling her about the black-haired beauty she met at the local pub. swearing up and down there was a cute friend, supposedly, but it really just sounds like this is her only way in which her friend needs to enlist help from the hunky-blonde for assistance.

“So, let me get this straight. You met this girl—”

“Dina.” Abby pauses, blonde eyebrows quirk upwards. “Wait, does she work at a floral shop?”

“Yes—” Ellie pauses, envy swirling in her emerald eyes immediately, “Fuck, Anderson, do not tell me you’ve fucked her!”

Abby smirks, wanting to tease her spunky friend. “C’mon, are you fucking serious? No. Shit. Did you really fuck her?” Abby winks as she takes a sip of her black coffee, bicep flexing in the process.

“Dude. How the hell am I supposed to compete with your greek god fucking biceps?” Ellie lifts up the sleeve of her shirt, comparing her much smaller arms to Abby’s very toned and thick muscle. Even Abby’s veins are more prominent than hers.

Abby giggles, “First off, you can’t but you don’t have to…this time. I just buy flowers from there and everyone kinda knows everyone. It’s Jackson.”

“Oh, thank god. You had me worried there for a second. Jesus.” Ellie nudges her shoulder, picking at her naibeds anxiously. “So, will you come so you can meet her friend?”

Abby thinks for a moment. How bad could it be? It’s just one night, right?

firefighter!abby who comes to the flower shop on a saturday this time. the doorbell rings signaling her entrance, but she doesn’t find dina working the counter like she normally does. you’re someone new, someone she hasn’t seen before, someone beautiful. so much so, she feels as if her feet have been glued to the hardwood floors. dear god, she looks like a goddamn idiot. she’s thankful you’re helping someone as abby tries to break from her caulking spell.

firefighter!abby who takes note of how attentive you are with the customers even if your body fidgets as you help them but then you smile, it makes her melt. anderson, get yourself together, you have a date tonight. it’s just one, incredibly beautiful girl. you’re fine. she’s fine. before her brain can make one more stupid thought, you’re walking up to her.

You smell of lavender, it coats Abby’s senses as you make a beeline for her. It could be the shop or it could be you. She believes it’s you.

“Afternoon, is there something I can help you with?” You ask, Abby reads the name tag on your chest and musters up somewhat of a coherent sentence. You start making the arrangement for her, it’s then she notices how familiar it is.

It isn’t the flowers she typically chooses, the one she orders through the website of the shop, but the craftsmanship is identical. Down to the yellow ribbon to wrap it neatly, keeping the specially made bouquet in place.

Abby’s blue eyes must light up with wonder because you smile, it's soft as it slips out of you, too quick for you to hide behind the wall you usually keep yourself within.

“Um, you make all the arrangements here, right?” Anxiously, you dust your hands on the maroon apron tied around your waist.

“Yeah, I would hope so. It’s my shop.” You’re not boastful about it, or snarky, it’s sweet. As if you’re proud and you should be.

“Oh, sorry! I hope you don’t take it the wrong way. I just, um—” Speak blondie, you’re making a fool of yourself. “ I come here every week and have just never seen you before s’all. It’s nice to match the wonderful shop to the even prettier owner.”

Abby wonders why she doesn’t ask for your number or even try to. She’s not exactly a stranger to beautiful women. When she knows what she wants, she’s like a dog with a bone. Never has she ever halted, or had someone stop her dead in her tracks without even trying.

In her mind, she’s finding excuses. It’s the sun’s fault for letting the light hit your eyes perfectly, saturating the color even further. Or the way she obsesses over your curves, or the joy seeming to radiate every time you smile.

It can’t be any of those little things.

Abby fishes for the wallet in her jacket pocket, before handing you her card, you finalize the transaction before handing the silver card back to her. Calloused fingertips press against yours, much softer than Abby’s, but it excites the two of you.

Not that either of you spoke a word of it.

“You’re girlfriend’s a lucky girl. It’s a thoughtful gesture—” but your eyes build a fright in them, a horror that you can’t take back. “I’m sorry! Oh my god. I didn’t mean to just, fuck, assume you had a girlfriend or that you’re into girls. Jesus, I don’t know what came over me. God.”

Abby bites down a smirk as you anxiously beat your nail on the countertop as if you ruined the interaction. Impatiently needing this to be over.

“S’okay, really, you didn’t assume wrong.” Mischievous pools of blue look you up and down, pointed canines kissing her pink lips as they bite at the flesh.

“I don’t have a girlfriend. Well—” Abby leans over placing her palm against yours, her fingertips linger on your skin, setting it ablaze. Releasing your grip of the bouquet and palming the wrapped flowers in her firm grasp.

“Not yet.”

lmk what you think! hope you enjoyed it! ♡

#currently working through my writers block so thank you for the patience <3 #here's somy fluffy goodness!#firefighter!abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x masc reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby x you #abby x y/n #firefighter!abby

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cherry-leclerc · 7 months ago

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star-crossed ☆ mv1

genre: angst, fluff, humor, lots of back and forth, smut

word count: 9.1k

Fixated, you and Max struggle to stay away from one another. All the while, everyone tries to convince you that it won't ever work out.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, fingering

inspired by this !

cherry here!...as a wise person once told me: footnotes = crumbs. hope that helps!! enjoy :)

The table was long, practically going for miles, but not really—it was just your closest friends. They all converse with one another, talking about the upcoming season, the upcoming season, and oh, what’s that? The upcoming season. And you’ve had enough of it, he can tell, so he gently rubs his thumb over your hand, easing your nervous tick.

White florals lay neatly on the wooden top, fairy lights hang up above your heads, and Frank Sinatra plays from your fiancé’s phone, connected to the Bluetooth.

Pierre stands up firmly, clinking his glass with a spoon. When it doesn’t seem to get anyones attention, Alex lets out a loud whistle. Everyone’s heads turn. “Merde—finally. Well, first of all, welcome on behalf of the groom's best man!” Crickets. His smile drops. “I-Its me. I’m the best man.”

“More like Best Party Killer. Sit down,” Daniel yells, aiming a peony at his friend's head.

The Frenchman swats it away, to which Kika glares as it hits her. He nervously chuckles, pecking her cheek, swiftly. “Comme je le disais…we’re here to celebrate two very important people. Can ya take a guess?”

“Why did you choose Pierre as your best man again?” you whisper to the twenty-six year old. He shrugs, hushing you once before his watercolor eyes flicker back to his friend.

“Any more guesses?”

“Okay, thank you!” you yelp, standing up and motioning him down. “Thank you, Pierre, for saying a whole lot of nothing, really.”

The blue eyed boy silently pleads, hands pressed together in prayer. “Oui, oui, I’m done, I’m done.” A warm hand snakes to wrap around your wrist and you sigh, sitting back down onto his lap. He clears his throat. “I thought we could go around and…share some stories about the soon-to-be husband and wife. I’ll start.”

“Great,” Kika groans, massaging her temples.

“September 4, 2022.”

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“You said it would be warm!”

Lissie squeals when you reach out to pinch her forearm. “I said slightly warm. More so cool.” A harsh glare. She winces. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Despite the evident goosebumps, you march your way over to the pen, awaiting your first interview. Lissie stands besides you, raising two thumbs up and a toothy grin. You got this! Your stomach churns as you fix your set up. She’s right, you’ve worked for this moment, day and night. You weren't going to mess up for any reas—

“Should I just come back later or…”

Blinking, your heart stops beating as your mouth runs completely dry. He looks around for his publicist who just sighs and starts tugging him away.

And we’re here with Max Verstappen, Lissie hisses—assisists. Coughing loudly, you bring up the microphone to your lips. “Max Verstappen!” The RedBull driver turns back to face you, clearly puzzled. You cringe at your sudden outburst, but continue. “So nice to see you. Saw you had a magnificent drive.”

Blue eyes pierce basically through your soul. He smiles, shoulders relaxing, hands leaning against the barrier. “Yeah. We did have a lot of luck on our side today. Plenty.”

It wasn’t that hard to pick up from there, question after question being basically given to you, to which he answers with professional ease. His dimples even pop out with every punctuation, it makes your chest swell. You clear your throat, eyes flickering to your list that now narrows down to one last inquiry.

“Everyone nowadays fears you, it seems like.” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “But I do have one question—how does it feel to be the villain in all of Formula One?”

His smile slips away. “Sorry?”

“Uh-oh,” Lissie mutters.

But you don’t catch onto it, his sudden defensive tone, his dark glare. Beaming like the sun on the earth, you nod. “Well you aren’t the most liked, per se. Often hated by others. Do you think your dominance has affected your relationship with the drivers on the grid?”

When you finally look up, you clearly notice his change in demeanor, and that makes you flinch. We should get going, his publicist squeaks, already pushing him away. Let’s not air that last question, thank you.

Fiercely, you turn to face your friend. “I still had a minute left!”

“Why would you say that?” she screeches. “Why, why, why?”

You blink. “I’m lost. What did I do wrong?”

The brunette sighs, brown orbs analyzing the short clip. “You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what.”

“Their relationship had started rather…rocky,” Pierre announces, swaying his hands back and forth for emphasis. “But don’t you worry! I. Fixed. Everything.”

“She really said that?”

Max whips his head to Checo, then to Yuki, then to Pierre. Each wears a loopy smile. He scowls. “She’s new here, she must be—I’ve never seen her before. Who does she think she is?”

“A legend, that’s who,” the Frenchman retorts, almost high and mighty.

Max takes a long sip of his energy drink before scoffing. “I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

A few hours have now rolled by and you’ve finally realized—you messed up. Here you go, basically painting him out to be the bad guy, when really, he’s just a strong driver. No one thinks he’s a villain, you think he’s a villain.

“You think he’s going to protest against me? Get me fired? Boycott? Hates me?”

Lissie giggles, tidying up the equipment from the last round. “No. No. No. Maybe?”

Groaning, you hit your forehead over and over again with your clipboard before a sharp accent makes you stop. “Hello.”

“Oh! Hi!”

His lips stretch, then steps closer to you. “I’m Pierre—”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m—”

“New?”

Your cheeks burn up at his accuracy. “Yes?”

“I thought so,” he pronounced with a goofy grin. Annoyance builds up inside of you but hold back and bite your tongue. The Frenchman fixes his sunglasses that lay on the bridge of his nose. “So…I’m going to take the chance and say that what you asked wasn’t meant to hurt his feelings?”

You soften up quickly. “I hurt his feelings?”

A nose scrunch. “Let me backtrack; Max doesn’t have feelings, therefore there’s nothing to hurt, but he does hold killer grudges, so yeah.” He lifts the frames. “He doesn’t like you.”

“Lovely,” Lissie mumbles from her spot besides you. “Is there a way…we…can fix all this misunderstanding? Because that’s what this is! A misunderstanding!”

The Alpha Tauri driver clicks his tongue in deep thought. “There’s not much to do other than apologize. Explain yourselves, maybe? He’s very Old-Fashioned.”

“Okay, yes.” You scurry down the paddock. “I could do that! I could so do that.”

“Other way!” he yells. Turning around, you see him pointing you down to the right. You giggle, nervously, and continue your sprint.

You catch him quite fast; his tall stature and blond hair are pretty easy to spot. “Hey—hi!” Gasping for air, you clutch onto your side. “H-hello. Again.”

His jaw ticks once, and in an eerie motion, a warm smile forms. You shudder. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologize about before. That was not the right thing to say, I am so sorry…please don’t demand for my release.”

A dark brow quirks up, looks around, then back down to you. “I’m not here to ruin your life, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You sigh in relief. “God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Crouching down to you, he tilts his head to the side with a sly grin. “You’re very welcome, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”

Your breath hitches, shivers spreading like a wildfire. “Sorry?”

“Yeah.” He steps away. “You already said that.”

“He was a bit guarded. Definitely guarded.”

“Isn’t this supposed to make me look good?” your fiancé grunts, dark eyes narrowing down on the Frenchman. “You know what? Just sit down.”

Pierre smirks. “See? Guarded.”

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“I’m not a quitter.”

“There we go!”

“But he makes me want to quit.” “Oh, well now we’re back to square one,” Pierre groans. “He’s being hard headed, that’s all. I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry.”

And he does.

It happens during one of the worst moments in your life; you weren’t wearing makeup.

“You look—”

“Hideous?” You blush. “Yeah, don’t even mention it.”

He swallows, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “I wanted to apologize… for the way I reacted. It was immature.”

“N-no, you had every right to be upset. I crossed the line and I’m sorry.”

Max nods, Adam’s Apple dancing up, then down. “Truce?”

Staring down at his large hand, you smile and slip yours past it. “Truce.”

And as a rare occasion, his smile meets his eyes, crinkles and all. The RedBull driver disconnects first, then rubs his jaw once before signaling down to your wet hair. “Pool day, I see? Enjoying the benefits?”

With a cheesy look, you shrug. “It’s one way to relieve stress.”

“Yeah—and what’s another?”

His tone is sultry and irresistible, you can’t help but rip your gaze away. “Anything that brings thrill, I suppose.” A tick. “Whatever that may be.”

“And what if it’s something bad? Does that still count?”

You laugh, throwing your head back. The Dutchman’s lips wobble as a weak attempt to not smile. “You’re not a bad person, so yes.”

His tongue clicks. “Uh, I don't know. As I recall, you called me a villain?”

Groaning, you gently smack his chest. “Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

Just as you’re about to respond, your phone rings and you smile. “L-Lissie.”

The blue eyed boy nods. “Are you going to be interviewing me from now on?”

“Ah—is my ban lifted?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes. “Then yes.” Strolling past him, you wave. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

“Where are you even going with any of this?” Lewis hollers from the end of the table, taking a sip of wine. “You’ve just been talking about yourself, not them.”

Pierre scowls. “I’m getting there!” He returns his attention to the couple, gleaming. “So, as you can imagine, once I weaseled my way in and fixed their problems—your welcome, by the way—a certain spark came through. It was clearly evident.”

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“Nepo-Baby?”

You hum. “They all are.”

Lissie groans. “So how will I know which one?”

“Oh, you’ll know.” Squinting accusingly, the British girl sticks her tongue out before standing up, hands on her hips. She yawns. “I have to go find Will. Something about—whatever, you probably don’t even care.”

You giggle. “Nope. Have fun.”

Silence engulfs you as you close your eyes momentarily, pulling your coat over your chest.

“Don’t you have to watch the race in order to report back on it? Ask questions?”

“Dude, I was just falling asleep…” You peek an eye open. “And yes. But it hasn’t started, so I'm clear.”

Max whistles, unimpressed. Falling down next to you on the fluffy couch, he places his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes, too. You try not to laugh and instead do the same.

“Haven’t seen you around much.”

“Been hiding from you.”

“Seems like. Don’t do that.”

“Fine.” You grin, sitting up straight. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Probably.”

You snicker, pink tongue poking from in between your teeth. The cold air makes you snuggle deeper into your wannabe-blanket and he can’t help but take occasional glances. Teeth chatter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you.”

“...and I turned and said, isn’t that Celine Dion?” Lissie waves her hands back and forth, swaying like a Fly Guy. She pouts, stopping her movements. “Turns out I was just really freaking high.” Will laughs, jotting down God knows what onto a piece of paper as she continues cluttering herself with an obnoxious amount of wires. The British girl huffs. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it was—” A sharp gasp. “Him? Oh my—it’s him!”

“Don’t you mean her?” Will hums from his spot, still not looking up.

But wide-eyed Lissie stares with her jaw on the floor as you and Max cross by, laughing and pushing each other as you make your way down the paddock. As soon as you blush when he winks, it becomes all the more real. The young reporter nods, curled hair bobbing up and down.

“R-right—her.”

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“Is he cute? Yeah, maybe.” A finger pinches her top lip before releasing. “In a weird way.”

“Hey,” you warn.

“Is he your type? Don’t know why, but yes. I could see why you’re into him.”

“Great…”

“But is he the right choice? No. Not at all.”

“...and fantastic.” Flopping down onto your towel, you groan. Suddenly the blazing sun wasn’t the worst feeling because Lissie was right. It’s unbearable, almost. You prop up, facing her with a scrunched nose and squinted eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh?”

“Oh no.” A sip of coconut water. She purses her lips. “God no.” You sigh, slowly, then sprawl back down with a sour snarl. You can hear her debate; muttering, mumbling. Still, that doesn’t get rid of your bad mood. The brunette pokes your thigh gently, nibbling her bottom lip. “He’s just so—and you’re just so—” A beat. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah.” Waves crash harder. Sun beams brighter. You open up the bottle of sunscreen, spurting some onto your burnt legs. You rub briskly; up, down. She flinches. “Yeah, I know.”

“And for a while, that was that,” Pierre announces, feigning indifference. “No more love birds.”

“Oh,” George blurts. Dark brows pinch up, teasing smile playing out. “Then why are we here?”

“Oh God,” you groan, digging your face into the nape of the twenty-six year old. You can faintly sniff out his musk scent, clean and so him. It makes you smile like a teen. “What if we just elope?”

He chuckles, vibrating and sending you on your own personal rollercoaster. “We always can. Is that what you want?” And he asks because he knows—no. That’s not what you want. Separating yourself to peck his cheek, you shake your head with a playful pout. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Good.” Watercolor eyes flicker to where Pierre finally gets yanked down and Lissie takes over with a proud smile. “Because I think this is actually going somewhere.”

Bahrain International Circuit—-March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

So you kept your distance, and oddly enough, he did too. For plenty of reasons. And it wasn’t even that hard, really. He spent his summer break traveling and you spent yours as a homebody. No texts, no calls, no nothing.

“Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

A sly grin. The silver coins flips a couple rounds before jumping up and down, clapping. “Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

“You’re going to get a sugar high and not be able to sleep later.”

“Until I can feel my teeth rot,” you retort, slipping your tongue over your pearly whites.

Answering a few emails, you perch onto a chair. It’s too stiff, so you twist and turn until you ultimately decide to just stand. A gust of wind salutes you as your orbs flicker up to the sudden shadow. A breath catches.

Max tilts his head in greeting. “Working hard already?” Your lips part. “The season’s barely begun.”

And just like that, your world tilts on its axis, but this time with more to lose.

“As your best friend—” Lissie points clumsily at Carmen who giggles while the British girl furrows her thick brows. She glances around before spotting you dying with laughter on your fiancé’s lap. She claps. “I knew straight away—he was the one for you.”

Miami International Autodrome—-May 7, 2023 (Miami Grand Prix)

“How long has this been going on for?” she hisses, disappointed eyes challenging both you and Max. She gags at the hickeys on your neck and his tousled hair.

With wobbly legs, you take her hands into yours. “A week—”

“No.”

“Well, two—”

Green paints her face. “No.”

“One month,” he murmurs from his corner in the elevator. Watercolor eyes flicker up, loopy. “It’s been a month. Ever since—”

“Azerbaijan.” Shamefully, you look down at your shoes and nearly scream bloody murder when you spot your thong just a few steps behind her. “Ew, gross,” Lissie gasps, shutting her eyes in despair. Taking in the opportunity, you scatter down and retrieve the thin fabric. The Dutchman releases a laugh, but bites down when the British girl glares hard. She curls a brow at your breathless state. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Giggling nervously from your place on the floor, you keep your hands behind your back; out of sight, out of mind. “Begging for forgiveness?”

“Oh stop it, a piece of land is what I need in order to forgive you for being dumb as shit.”

You frown, but quickly stand up when she exits the elevator. You can hear him follow with a bored expression. “Lissie, wait!”

Like a spinning top, she turns back, long layers slapping her pink face. “You two know this isn’t a good idea, right?”

“Yes—”

“For a million different reasons—”

“I-I’m aware,” you stutter.

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers.

And the truth is, you don’t know. All you know is that nothing else matters when you're with him. It’s sickening how blindsighted you get. Anxious eyes twirl over to the blue eyed boy who shared the same expression despite being unbothered a few seconds ago.

Licking your lips, you play with the fabric. “That’s it. We’re done.” You turn to the RedBull driver. “Tell her.”

“Done.”

For a moment, you almost let yourself flinch from how fast and easy he’s able to say that one word. Lissie’s judgmental eyes look at you, then him, then sighs, reluctantly nodding. An awkward moment ticks by and then she’s focused, appalled.

“Are those your panties?”

“You were like a dog who couldn’t bear the idea of leaving its bone.” Everyone snickers while you throw the same peony Daniel had aimed at Pierre to shut him up. She laughs, raising her arms up in defense. “And I know—I know—I came in like a monster, warning you off of all the drivers because like it or not, they’re scumbags—”

“Ey. Watch it,” Carlos deadpans from the corner, brown eyes playfully glaring.

She shrugs. “But I no longer liked playing the role of an evil step-sister so…” Tears brim and you choke on a wet sob. “I’m just so happy that you’re happy.” A pause. “That you're both happy.”

Leaping off his thick lap, you rush over, embracing her. She laughs, returning the gesture. “I love you,” you start. I know. “And I’m so happy that you never—”

A knowing smile. “I’d do anything for you.”

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

Sneaking into his motorhome, you moan as soon as he gets his hands on your; sliding up and down your body with urgency. Heat radiates off of him and onto you. All of this— the cramped room, his lips attacking your neck—makes you dizzy. Clutching onto his sweaty hair, you arch, completely to him and for him.

“We s-shouldn’t.” You gasp. Long fingers tease your aching pussy as you whine. He instantly slaps a large hand over your mouth as he continues his movements. The stretch burns, but it's fairly familiar that you don’t even cry out, just stare back with knitted brows and an open mouth that he can’t see, but can feel expand beneath his palm.

“You’re probably right.” A steady stroke. “You should be out there.” His knuckles curl as he reaches your g-spot. “Preparing those foolish questions.” A muffled moan. “But you’re here, because you know that this excites you as much as it does me.”

Calloused pads push down before drawing figure eights deep inside. “You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be—”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t even try and blame it on—”

“Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”

Feeling your orgasm rolling in is one thing, but your snarkiness is another. Gritting your teeth, you force him down to kiss you, teeth and all, and then rip away with a sultry smile. “Maybe, but who cares?”

You’re not completely off. At that moment in time, neither of you cared about the consequences. It’s just that as soon as a room of watchful eyes flicker to you two, you swallow a low wince.

Grabbing your microphone, you fix your disheveled hair. Lissie’s eyes flicker between you and him, slow and scary. Like she’s reading right through you and your lies.

Beaming at the awaiting grid, you raise your chin up. “Who’s ready?”

“Finally,” Daniel yells, rolling his cuffed sleeves. “Someone with an actual story to tell.” A wide smile has never made you more nervous than at this very instant, so reasonably so, you swallow the entire glass of—

“Vodka, baby! That was my vodka—your champagne is right there.”

Blinking, you giggle, wiping your plump lips with the back of your hand. “What yours is mine, no? Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”

He chuckles. Lean arms wrap around your waist like a harness. “Keep this up and you’re not going to be able to sleep later.”

“The opposite, actually,” you state as a matter-of-fact. “Just need to get blackout drunk.”

He cocks his head to the side. “That’s not like you.” “...should have seen her! She was wasted as shit!” the Australian yelps, buzzing with excitement. You nip at the air all while he raises his voice an additional octave. “I found her there, at the bar, close to getting alcohol poisoning, but you know what they say—only drunks and children tell the truth.”

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Oui, the beer! Fucking amazing,” Pierre declares with a mouthful.

“Say it, don’t spray it,” someone screeches, and is quickly identified to be Alex when he wipes his shimmery forehead. You laugh, taking baby sips from your drink. Shirley Temple, because contrary to belief, you weren’t a nasty drunk.

The Frenchman pouts, tapping his fingers against the brown glass. He turns to you with a sheepish grin. “I read your article.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Have to admit, it's kind of boring. It’s not your fault though. Max Verstappen's domination has made the sport sort of…” He pretends to wilt, to which you toss your head back with laughter.

“Your time will come, Pierre, your time will come.”

“Shit, shit, shit! Bathroom!” Lissie’s long legs wobble like a plate of jello as you hurry over to catch her.

“Crap—you smell like shit.”

The British girl squeals, yanking her hair, dancing from side to side. “I smoked a fat blunt, but never mind that, if I don’t find a loo in approximately five seconds, then I will smell like actual shit.”

A nose scrunch. “That’s not very lady-like.” She paces some more. “Let’s go.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the crowded room, Max watches as the two journalists slip away. He keeps a close eye for a while until a certain brunette swoops in right next to him with a loopy grin and crinkly eyes.

“You should talk to her. Seems like you really like her.”

“What? What makes you say that? What makes you think that?”

Daniel shrugs, rotating his blunt back into his mouth. “Dilation.”

The Dutchman gags. “What…like when a woman gives birth?”

A sore laugh. “As in your eyes.” Another hit. “Y’know…they just look—different. When you look at her, I mean.”

And he hopes it is not apparent that these words make him swallow. For the past year, he’s tried his best to hide his feelings for the sake of not making a fool out of himself, and later for a whole other, but…

He licks his sudden dry lips. “Hm. Doesn’t matter if my eyes fucking shine or not, she’s not my type.”

The Australian frowns. “Sucks. Lissie’s really cool.” His eyes flicker over to the RedBull driver in a nonchalant manner, but when he blinks back with rose tinted cheeks, despite not having a sip of alcohol, he chokes on his puff. “Oh shit, no…”

In a flash, Max yanks the blunt away, dipping it into an anonymous drink. “You’re right, she is so cool—”

Brown eyes narrow down in accusation, brows knitted sharply. “Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie…” A wince. “Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.”

And just like that, Daniel notices the blown out pupils revert back to its original shape. Small and empty. “Yeah. Of course.” He plops back down onto his stiff seat, rubs his eyes, then smiles. “I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.”

“He—” Daniel points over to the broad twenty-six year old who sits with a timid smile. “...didn't have a single sip of beer that night because he was too focused looking after her.” A whistle. “And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

“Wow, congrats,” George says to your fiancé. “For not being an alcoholic, really, that's impressive.” You can hear the humor that coats his voice and you can’t help but giggle. Calloused fingers slip up to pinch your thigh as you laugh harder.

“That’s why I drank twice as much that day,” Pierre announces with a firm voice. “Because he was missing out on some fantastic beer.”

“Drunkard,” Alex whispers to Lily who stifles a snicker.

The tall Australian clicks his tongue. “So who was the wasted one who confessed their little white lies?”

Everyone’s eyes turn to face you as you burn up with mortification.

“What the fuck, I barely even drink!”

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“You.”

“Me?”

You snarl, stomping over. “She's a lightweight, dumbass. Why would you get her high? Jesus, we have a flight in eight hours.”

Daniel cackles, clapping as if delighted at the fact. “She kept insisting! I felt bad.”

An eye roll. “Douche.”

He tries to make it up to you with a drink. “Pierre says they’re good.” You eye the bottle hesitantly. He sighs. “Come on, trust me.” He eventually sneaks off for a minute, but returns with a new blunt.

“Did you pull another one out of your ass or where did you get that from?”

“Oh no. How many did you drink?”

Squinting, you motion him to take a seat. He does, but he can’t even smoke in peace now that you sway from side to side, despite being seated. “I don’t know. Too many.” He groans, large hands tugging his hair. You take a long sip, then raise your glass like some wannabe. “He told me he loves me. Tonight. Right when you left. And you know what I told him?” Another sip. “I told him I love him too.”

The Australian chuckles. “I didn’t expect you to fall for someone like him.”

“Me either. But I fell—tumbled.” You frown. “I’m just not sure this is the right thing to feel, y’know?”

His orbs flicker to the twenty-six year old who huddles with a bunch of the other drivers. He smiles, tilting his head. “Why not?”

“Because everytime I look at him, I fear the way my heart beats. He laughs, I laugh, and it feels wrong. He smiles, I smile, and it feels wrong. He makes one of our inside jokes, I understand, and it feels wrong.” A shaky laugh. “And something that should feel fucking right, doesn’t.” Glossy eyes switch over to him. “Does that make sense?”

“Not really.”

“Great,” you let out, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to understand.”

Daniel smiles, fondly, like an older brother. “It doesn’t, and you want to know why?”

“Why?”

A second passes by before he leans back against his chair. “Because it looks like you really—really—like him, so why should any of that matter? Just let yourself be happy, fuck everything else.”

You scoff, furrowing your brows. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” Almost robotically, he drops his blunt into your beer bottle. “You can’t…”

“Yeah. I know.” A pause. “Beer’s ass, by the way.”

Daniel taps his fingers against his chin, comedically. His orbs flicker between you two who stare up at him in deep focus, awaiting for his next words. He grins. “You two, it works. It always has.”

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into you harder as you cling onto his arm, eyes screwed shut. “H-holy fucking—hell.”

You moan, mouth hung wide open. “Feel so good, Maxie, so, so good.”

Blue eyes admire the way you arch towards him like some sort of warm invitation. The way your legs lazily drape over his sweaty waist, how your scent hugs him like no one else. It’s all so familiar, and nice, and right. Your soft palm grazing his jaw makes him alert in an instant, desperate to not miss a single thing that lives inside this moment.

He furrows his dark brows. “We-We’re not made for one another.”

“I know.” He grunts, animalistically. “They warned me about you.”

“They told me to stay away from you.” His tip brushes against your g-spot and your head lolls back, a loud sound. “But God, it’s been impossible.”

“Max, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m close.”

He grins, rubs your clit, and whimpers when he feels you reach your orgasm. You shudder when he follows soon after, face digging into the nape of your neck. Your heart pounds like a ticking time bomb, but still, you run your fingers through his dirty blond waves.

“Lissie…Daniel…they’re—”

“Right?” You choke up. “Yeah, you don’t know how much I hate that they are.”

He pulls away, and somehow, his watercolor eyes appear more blue than ever before. Black, almost—nearly. And you’re sure yours do too.

Max plays with your hair, tracing it like a map. He gulps. “So do I.” A tug. “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

A wet laugh. “I love you, too.” Wobbly smile. “And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

He hums. “What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

“I know many of you guys are wondering why I’m best man—”

“Not wondering, more like questioning,” Carlos quips with a sly smirk.

Pierre flips him off and you laugh at the immature interaction between the drivers. “Because it really could have easily been anyone else. Ha! Even you Carlos.” The Spaniard mocks him with a shady, playful, look.

“Then again, who would have thrown a better rehearsal dinner for Charles and his bride-to-be?”

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

"You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what."

“It’s probably nothing or he’s just a sensitive little pussy,” you shoot back defensively.

Lissie snickers, hushing you, orbs scanning the pen. “You can’t say shit like that! Any of it, actually,” she adds. “Just…think before saying anything.”

You huff, arms crossed, stubbornly. “Fine.”

As the open area starts filling up more and more, by some miracle, your nerves start dying down.

Or so you thought.

“Before I let you go, I do have one more question.” Charles smiles down at you, shy dimples poking through. You return the gesture. “Would you consider yourself Ferrari’s savior or their scapegoat?”

“Jesus,” the British girl groans, covering her eyes with second-hand embarrassment.

The Monegasque lets out a nervous laugh, turning to face his publicist who simply tippy toes and whispers something into his ear. He nods. “I-I-I actually have another interview set up, but thank you for your…questions.” Pink tints his ears as he looks at you one more time before strolling away.

“Alrighty then,” Lissie hollers. She sneaks the microphone away. “Jitters, totally normal, but yeah, you’re done for today.”

“I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

“Would you look at that?” Pierre gloats with a wicked grin. “Max Verstappen got butthurt.”

The Dutchman scoffs. “No, I did not. I just don’t like stupid questions, and she made one.”

Yuki snickers at his wary response. Pierre rolls his eyes. “I could talk to her, if you want me to. I love shit like this.”

“I don’t.”

“Well too bad, I’m going to.”

“Yeah. You already said that.”

Dumbfounded, you blink as he walks away, wet towel draped over his head. If you had known he was this much of a shithead, then you wouldn’t have bothered to try and apologize. Clicking your tongue, you burn with fury as you glare, but as soon as the Ferrari driver brushes past you, you fall back from your trance.

“Hey!”

He turns, green eyes furrowed with confusion. “Hey.”

A wince. “I’m sorry about my ignorant question from earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Charles blushes. “Am I that easy to read?”

“No, but Pierre let me know.” You awkwardly kick your shoe against the pavement and his eyes follow. You stop. “I sort of pissed off two of the most important drivers on the grid today. You, uh, just happen to be one of them.”

He softens like ice cream on a hot summer day. “I’m not pissed.” You almost let out a giggle from how foreign his accent makes the curse sound. He stammers. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. Plus, I can’t answer questions like those. It would make all of us look bad.”

“Oh. Duh. Of course.” Now you burn up. “I should have known. And it’s no excuse, but I’m new and I’m just…figuring it out.”

His eyes crinkle as he nods. “Who was the other driver?”

You groan. “Max.”

He winces, shaking his hands, theatrically. “Yikes. Yeah, now he’s probably pissed.”

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

As soon as your phone dings, vibrating against your palm, he curls a brow. “L-Lissie,” you fill in with a subtle smile. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

Rushing back to the pool with a new bottle of SPF, you grin as he aims a deadpan expression. “A little Vitamin D is always necessary.”

“Don’t care, I don’t want to look like a peanut in two years.” You plop some onto his hand as he childishly swipes it over his face. You squirm with the way droplets slither down his toned chest.

Charles extends his hands. “Can I have some more?”

You laugh, wet hair tossing back like a curtain. “Hypocrite.”

Green eyes glare down, playfully.

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“I can’t believe someone’s rocking your boat,” Lissie yelps, clutching onto your hand desperately. “This is monumental.” A teasing giggle. “We should definitely document this.”

As soon as she pulls out her phone, you flip her off. “And this, my dear, dear friend, is why I’ve been keeping this a secret.” She zooms in as you laugh, brushing her away. “Quit!”

The British girl groans, slipping it into her back pocket, then wiggles her thick brows. “Can I guess who it is?”

“No.”

“It’ll be fun!”

You spin around. “No, Lissie—no.”

“Nepo-Baby?”

Flustered, you twirl your necklace and hum. “They all are.”

“Fucking hell. So how will I know which one?”

A mocking laugh. “Oh, you’ll know.”

The brunette stays wondering despite being in the middle of telling her story from last week at the pub. She traces back to every possible driver, but they’re all natural flirts, so fuck that, how would she ever even be able to guess that—

“Oh my—it’s him!” She gasps with hawk eyes as she watches you two keep a careful distance from one another, as if temptation burns within the gap. Lissie lets out a delirious laugh as she turns to Will, who is still rather focused on his task. “I, um, will be right back!”

Wearing a goofy smile, you make your way back to the pen, but squeal when a firm grip wraps around your waist, tugging you into a cramped bathroom. You cringe at the suffocated smell. On the other hand, Lissie jumps from corner to corner. “How did I not notice? I mean, shit, you’re eyes—they’re huge!”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a toothy grin, she pokes your ribs. “It means I know who it is.”

Your heart stops, then bite the inside of your cheek, feigning indifference. “We’re just getting to know each other, but he’s really kind, and I…I really like him.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” she whispers in a seductive manner, jeweled hands slapping your ass. You chuckle, opening the door, and turning back. “You get lost in his eyes, don’t you? Heard that could happen.” A swoon. “So what? Are they like the ocean? Like a blueberry Laffy Taffy?”

“Hm. No. More like green apple.”

She halts, mid-shimmy. “What do you mean green? His eyes are blue. And I would know—they scare me half of the time.”

“What are you talking about? Charles’ eyes are green.” The brunette gapes, mouth hung wide open as she pushes herself to speak, but can’t find the strength. You knit your brows, neat and high. “I told you not to scroll through your phone at three a.m. anymore. See? Jet lag is catching up to you.”

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tired eyes squint over at the blue waves, then at the kids who build sandcastles.

She sighs, propping herself to face you with a sorrowful smile. “It’s okay to be confused about your feelings.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, I know its as bad as it sounds.” You raise your straw onto your plump lips, sucking. “But they’re just so different from one another. I mean, Charles makes me feel giddy. Like really giddy. It’s nauseating. He’s sweet, and caring, and he's snappy but it’s endearing.” A soft smile and dreamy eyes. “He even helps with my notes.”

“But Max…he’s hot tempered. It drives me nuts. He never asks for help and always hides behind some brick wall. It isn’t like him to show me that he’s interested in getting to know me, but…” Cries ring through the hot air as a wave washes the sandcastle. “I want to get to know him. The real him.”

Lissie’s lips turn downwards at your broken tone. You act uninterested, but she knows it just for show, and that might be the worst torture of all.

She bumps your head with her shoulder, softly, and you instantly pout. “You’ll know what to do, babe. But if we’re being realistic here, Charles won’t wait forever.” Pause. “And Max isn’t the kind to grovel for anything other than podiums.”

Bahrain International Circuit—March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

“Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

Charles lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as he strolls away. You pick and choose emails to respond to before leaning against one leg, typing away fiercely. You even have time to get back to your sister who begs for a souvenir. Any, she adds with a thousand smiley faces.

“Working hard already? The season’s barely begun.” Your breath catches so sharply that it hurts your throat for a second. His voice is somehow deeper, but it could be because you haven’t seen or heard from him in about forever. Max steps closer. “H-how was your summer break?”

Your berry lips open, then close, then repeat. It’s embarrassing. “Never bad to get ahead, and I—had a good one. Much needed.” He nods attentively. “You look—” You stop before admitting. “Healthy. You look really healthy”

A booming chuckle. “Thanks. You look really healthy, too.”

Blue eyes linger for a second too long and that fills you up with unwanted adrenaline. “Why are you here?” Pink expands through your cheekbones as you grimace. “I mean—here.” You point at the tiny tent as if it weren’t obvious what you were referring to. “Here, here.”

The Dutchman’s lips dance, fondly. “Well I was walking by, saw you, and wanted to say hi.” He looks around with a subtle frown. “Is now a bad time?”

“Well—”

“Mate,” a sweet accent rings through the air as you screw your eyes shut. Max turns to face Charles with a slow grin. The Monegasque tilts his head in greeting, hands occupied with your beverage and his. “How have you been?”

“So, so. Yourself?”

“Good. Refreshed.”

“For me?” he jokes. The brunette chuckles, raising the coffee cups with bright orbs. “Lazy Carlos, always sending you, right?”

The Ferrari driver shakes his head, curls following, then hands it to you. You hesitantly take it from him as you avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Charles.”

His smile widens, pecking your lips. “Still don’t think you should drink it on a daily basis, but hey, you’re welcome.”

Max blinks. “W-when did this happen?”

The green eyed boy hums, lips twisting against his straw. “Over break.”

“Oh.” Gaze slips over to where you bite your cheek. “You spent it in Monaco?”

A harsh tick. “Yes.” With an open mouth, he nods, like a muppet. You purse your lips, facing your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Do you want to start making your way over? I don’t want Carlos to say anything about being late. You know how he is.”

Charles snickers, then intertwines his fingers through yours. “See you on track?”

The RedBull driver released a low breath, cracking a smile that looked more like a snarl. And while Charles doesn’t notice it, you do. Of course you do.

“See you on track.”

Miami International Autodrome—May 7, 2023

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. The judgment and confusion that radiates off of Lissie is enough for you to grow gray. She rolls her tongue. “You can’t be doing stuff like this anymore, you have a boyfriend.” Her eyes screw shut, then snap open. “He adores the ground you walk on, are you insane?”

Tears well up at her truthful words. They sting all at once, and you carelessly crumble as your numb lips start to wobble. “Lissie—”

“No. Just—stop. Stop talking.” Max raises his eyebrows at the journalist and her sternness, but feels bad as you inch back, heels clicking. She huffs, pacing the hall. When she comes to a stop, she glares at the Dutchman. “How could you do this, too?”

“I never meant any harm—”

“Bullshit! Both of you are so stupid, it’s worrisome.” Shame fills your veins as you look down, pinching your undergarment as some coping mechanism. The British girl sighs. “You have to tell him.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? He deserves to know.”

Decreasing the gap between you two, you sniffle, shaky hands clutching harder. “It’s going to kill him, Lissie. I can’t do that.”

And you can tell she’s running through her options because she’s your best friend. And above all, you were hers. With hesitance, she nods. “This has to end.”

You nod, desperately. “That’s it. We’re done.”

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

“You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be Charles that’s making you feel that way?”

“No. Don’t even try and blame it on him.”

He pinches your nipple, then licks your humid skin. You whine at the sensation. “You’re not getting anything in return for lying. It’s pathetic.”

You hiss when your climax tempts to fall. “What's the lie?”

“That you love him.”

“I do love him—”

He groans into your neck. “You sound so pretty.” A sloppy thrust. “When you choke around my cock, my spit, my cum.” Your eyes roll back when he pushes against your g-spot at a different angle. “Admit it, you’ve always enjoyed it.”

“You’re sick."

“Maybe, but you’re well worth it.”

You clench around his length and he hisses like a snake. In pain. In lust. Doesn’t matter. “You’re a shitty friend—”

Jaw clenches. “You’re a shitty girlfriend.” When you cry out in pleasure, he smirks. “Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”

“Maybe, but who cares?”

And there's nothing left for him to do, simply smiling down at you like the Cheshire Cat, somehow scarier than The Joker. If not more.

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie. Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.” Daniel grimaces. “She’s taken.”

“I know,” Max stutters. “Who do you take me for?”

The Australian is easy to tell when he laughs genuinely, but even the RedBull driver can spot the difference to the one exiting his mouth right now. “You think she’s pretty—that’s all.”

“That’s all,” he confirms.

“And that’s not a weird thing to admit because she is a pretty girl,” the brunette tries to help as Max nods happily.

“Exactly.” A pause. “You get it.”

Daniel brings the blunt up to his mouth, taking a hit, then blows out. “Y-yeah…because it’d be bad if you liked her, liked her.”

“I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” His heart pounds fast against his ribs when you giggle, pecking Charles’s neck, all while conversing with Lissie, Kika, and Pierre. He directs his attention back to the Australian and lets out a raw laugh.

“I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” In an instant, his brown eyes follow yours, and it makes his heart drop. Because it’s not Charles that you’ve suddenly realized that you love, but Max. “You can’t…” Somewhere close by, Pierre yells, cheering with a group of older ladies as Kika glares, shaking her head. He inches closer. “You can’t do that to Charles. He loves you.”

“And I love him,” you announce, brushing your hair back. Timidly, you peek over at him. “I’m not a saint, I know that, but I would appreciate it if we kept this between us.” A sore chuckle. “W-what matters is that I choose Charles. He’s the love of my life.”

And Daniel knows he probably shouldn’t agree to any of this, and yet, he finds himself nodding, curls bouncing. “Just between us.”

You smile gently, going in for another sip before laughing at the blunt that sticks inside.

“Beer’s ass, by the way.”

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

“I love you, too. And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

“What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

He flinches. “I-it doesn’t have to be that way. You could lea—”

You sigh, pulling your dress up as he zip his race suit. “I can’t leave him, Max. It’s not that easy.”

He pants, blue eyes tracing your face anxiously. “A-and why not? Why can’t it be that easy?”

A cruel laugh wiggles up your throat as you dig your nails into your palm. “Because I’m engaged!”

He ricochets with a scoff. “Oh, what? Now you suddenly care about not being called a cheater?” You look away and he chuckles. “Because that’s what you are—a fucking cheater.”

Your face patches into a shade of pink as you breathe heavily, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what does that make you?”

“I am not a cheater.”

You snarl. “No, but you’re a God awful friend.”

He steps back, large hand running against his lips, drying them out, getting rid of your saliva. “You’re just—you know what? Fuck you.”

You gasp. “No. Fuck you.”

Max rolls his blue eyes, finally reaching his breaking point as he pushes you against the wall to his motorhome. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of realizing what we actually are.”

Heavy pants. Orbs flicker down to his rosy lips. He almost smiles. “What are we? A cheater and a bad friend?”

“No. A villain and their accomplice.” That seems to do it. A strong tide takes over as you sob against his grip. And it doesn’t hurt, it’s not tight. It’s only secure. He continues with a dark look swirling his orbs. “You know, you were always the first one to point out someone as a bad person, when in reality, it's you.”

“Okay, stop—”

“And I’m not innocent either—I’m well aware—but I’m not the one with a ring around their finger.”

“Stop!” you yell, pushing him away harshly. It should feel foreign, the fury and the shame, but that’s all you seem to know these days. Or ever since you met him. “You’re right. We’re two rotten apples, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but can you blame me? You’re fucking with my head, Max!”

He softens, and for a moment, its pure silence, other than your tiny cries. Licking his lips, he pats his thigh. “You already know I’m wrongfully in love with you. I just actually thought I stood a chance. That it would be me.”

“Max…”

He winces in pain with how sweet your voice sounds pronouncing his name. It’s always been that way. When you first interviewed him a year ago, to when you first kissed him back and gasped his name. But it only got dirtier and dirtier throughout the course of time.

“Be honest with me, please.” Bloodshot eyes look up at him. “Is he your safest option? Is that what this is?”

And with one final, tormented look, you open your lips to breathe out.

“He’s someone I could envision a future with, Max.” A beat. “And you’re just a footnote.”

“Voilá!” Charles cheers as he claps loudly against your ear. You yelp at the sudden sound all while trying to reach for his hands to stop his movements. He grins, deep dimples imprinting like feet on sand. “That was beautiful, really, it really was.”

Rubbing your ass against his bulge is the only way you think you can get him to shut up, and he does, immediately letting out a strained chuckle. Smiling sweetly at your friends, you shrug. “I had my doubts, Pierre, but this was pretty cute. Thank you.”

The Frenchman gloats, clicking his fingers. I told you, I told you they’d like it! Your fiancé kisses your cheek. “That’s why I chose him.” A playful frown. “You see, mon amour? You never hold any faith in my decisions.”

Rolling your eyes, you stick your pink tongue out at him. “I still think you should have chosen one of your brothers.” A stern look. “Like Lorenzo—wasn’t he the one that helped you buy the ring?”

“Yes, but that would have been unfair to Arthur. He would’ve felt left out.”

“Arthur’s too distracted trying to figure out the difference between left and right!” The Monegasque tosses his head back and you admire with a soft glow. “I lo—”

“Wait,” Carlos hollers, deep accent ringing. You and Charles turn, bubble bursting. “We all went around sharing but Max.”

“Yeah,” Lily ponders, fingers tracing her lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pierre hums. “Mate?”

Max blinks, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s alright. We’ve heard enough, don’t you think?” His joke is meant to be easy going, but it comes out dry, and even to this day, you can notice it. Licking your already glossed lips, you flip your gaze to Lissie and Daniel who share the same worried expression.

Because Lissie was your best friend. She would carry your secret to the grave.

Because Daniel was Max’s best friend. He would carry his secret to the grave.

But the Dutchman himself didn't care. He honestly felt like he had nothing else to lose.

“Okay then,” he whispers, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. He slightly tilts his head to the open sky, as if wondering when it would swallow him whole. He was secretly hoping it would. Beady, excited, and petrified eyes stare back at him as he smiles awkwardly. “I…”

“He doesn’t want to,” you declare, twisting to signal the Frenchman. “If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”

“No.” Blue eyes darken as he places his drink down onto the wooden table. “I want y—” He bites his tongue, immediately tasting metallic. “I want to.”

“Let him,” Charles says, chuckling softly. “Don’t kill his stride.”

So, with neat brows drawn together, clammy fingers playing with your silver band, you sit back down. Like a force of nature, the Monegasque hugs you from behind. You gulp, leaning the back of your head against his shoulder.

“I think it’s crazy how one minor decision can change absolutely fucking everything.”

“Oh shit,” Lissie and Daniel mutter next to each other, exchanging the blunt back and forth.

Your face twists up like a wrinkled shirt. “If you’re not going to say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” he instantly shoots back, but feverishly deflates when Charles furrows his dark brows like some Doberman. Astonished at his cold tone, you blink, lashes fluttering like a notebook. He almost swoons at the sight, but amazingly holds back.

“If you hadn’t taken Pierre’s advice and apologized to Charles, then we wouldn't be here. If you hadn’t spent summer break with him, then we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn't fallen in love, then we wouldn’t be here.” He swallows. “It’s the little things.”

“And, um...what makes a relationship work out is the commitment. If one person commits and the other doesn’t then it won’t ever work out, but you two…” You nibble on your bottom lip harshly, holding your breath as he looks into your bright eyes. He releases a forced chuckle, as if it would help get rid of his splintered heart. “You two chose each other, so…cheers to that.”

“Wow,” Charles hums, blankly. “That was surprisingly heartfelt…” A sheepish grin. “Thank you, mate.”

It’s as if he’s suddenly admitting defeat to someone who didn’t know they had him as an opponent to begin with; the way he throws the peony at the Monegasque, who catches it with ease. “Don’t mention it.”

So, as Max sits alone, with no date, he begins to wonder that maybe—just maybe—you were right all along.

He gave his speech last.

He was the footnote.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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regressionschool · 11 days ago

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Lilly stood in front of her mirror, twisting her hips slightly as she admired the soft pastel design of her pull-up in the reflection. She grinned, her short, ruffled t-shirt barely brushing the waistband, leaving the pull-up fully visible. “Six whole days dry!” she thought proudly, snapping a photo with her phone.

She glanced over her shoulder at the background in the photo—the neatly stacked rows of diapers on the shelves behind her caught her eye. A pout briefly flickered on her lips. "Not for long," she whispered determinedly before sending the photo to Mommy with the caption: Look! Still dry, Mommy! Six days in a row! Can we get rid of the diapers now?

It didn’t take long for Mommy to reply. Lilly’s phone buzzed with a picture of Mommy’s amused smile and a message: Good job, sweetheart! But let’s not be too hasty. Those diapers might still come in handy! You’re not in that big of a rush to grow up, are you? 😉

Lilly puffed out her cheeks as she read the reply, her face flushing pink. She quickly typed back, Mooommy, I don’t need them anymore! I’m a big girl now!

Her phone buzzed again. Big girls don’t pout, Lilly-bug. Why don’t we wait a few more days, just to be safe? I’m so proud of you, though!

Lilly let out a huff but couldn’t help the small smile creeping across her lips. Mommy’s teasing didn’t erase her pride. She posed in front of the mirror again, this time sticking her tongue out playfully. “A few more days,” she muttered to herself. “But then they’re gone for good!”

She snapped another photo—this time with her tongue out—and sent it to Mommy. Mommy's reply made her giggle: Big girls are so silly!

Lilly sat on the soft nursery rug, her legs splayed out in front of her as she banged two colorful blocks together. She was entirely absorbed in the clatter they made, her cheeks glowing pink from exertion, a faint pout on her lips as she concentrated. She barely noticed the slight crinkle and sag of her diaper beneath her onesie, though the growing warmth spreading through it was impossible to ignore. Her brow furrowed briefly as her body took over, the back of her diaper expanding as she unconsciously filled it without a second thought.

From the rocking chair nearby, Mommy watched with a knowing smile, resting her chin in her hand. “Well, well,” she teased, her tone light but dripping with amusement. “What’s this, baby girl? Did someone just make a big mess in her diapee?”

Lilly looked up at her mommy, wide-eyed and confused, the blocks slipping from her hands. She gurgled softly, as though trying to respond, but her thumb quickly found its way into her mouth instead. Her lips moved around it as she babbled something incoherent, completely unfazed by the state of her now sagging diaper.

Mommy chuckled, shaking her head. “Just five days ago, you were my proud, big girl. You sent me pictures of your dry pull-ups, remember?” She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with playful teasing. “You even said you didn’t need those diapers anymore. But look at you now.” Lilly only blinked at her, tilting her head slightly. The words seemed to wash over her without meaning, her little mind too fuzzy to grasp the irony. Her attention quickly shifted back to the colorful blocks at her feet, a giggle bubbling up as she clumsily grabbed one.

Mommy smirked, her tone softening as she cooed, “This happens every time, doesn’t it, sweet pea? You grow up so fast, get so close to being a big girl… and then, poof! Back to square one. My silly, unpotty-trained baby girl, just where you belong.”

Lilly gave a delighted squeal, her legs kicking out in excitement at the sound of Mommy’s voice, blissfully unaware of the teasing as Mommy stood to gather changing supplies. Mommy gently patted her diapered bottom, shaking her head with a warm smile. “Don’t you worry, baby. Mommy knows you’ll try again someday… but for now, let’s get that stinky bum cleaned up.”

#ab/dl stories #regression school #ab/dl caption #ab/dl girl #diaper captions #wetting diaper #diaper stories #ab/dl diaper #diaper bulge #ab/dl

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lesbewriting · 3 days ago

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brat

[Dom!Sevika x Sub!Fem!Reader] [ 1.2k words]

SUMMARY: Are you sevika's good girl?

WARNINGS: 18+ | Minors DNI | thigh riding??, cockwarming(but it's a strap), semi-public sex???, smut, sub!reader, brat!reader, brattamer!sevika

A-N: Not me, wondering why, I've never wanted to write smut before. But then I realise I've never wanted to write it if it's of a man.

So yeah, it's 1st time, so it's probably pretty bad, and some parts may not make a ton of sense. But it's Sevika 😍, so I tried

[masterlist]

The crowd in The Last Drop bar was rowdy and quite loud that night, like it always seemed to be. It was filled with all the regular customers, either playing cards, dancing, or drinking as much alcohol as they could possibly get their hands on.

One of these regulars was Sevika, who sat further towards the back, in her usual booth, alongside a couple of others. A cigarillo nestled neatly between her dark lips, blowing out a bit of smoke, as she scanned the table of her opponents before her.

You felt a brief squeeze on your thigh for a moment, from where you sat prettily and patiently on Sevika's lap. You bore no underwear, as Sevika's strap nestled deep in your cunt, as you sat there.

Your thighs clenching together at the way your walls folded around the rubber. The only thing that covered your bare bottom half was the short and thinly strapped dress you wore.

“Be a good girl, sit there, and warm daddy's cock.” She whispers in your ear momentarily, right when she leaned forward to play another card. “You need to be quiet.”

You only nod silently. Despite the warmth that continued to spread between your legs. Having to bite your lip carefully in order to suppress a whine from slipping out. You knew you had to be quiet now.

You knew you had to be, or otherwise you'd let all other attendees at the bar know what was happening. Something which you didn't want, not in the slightest.

You continued to try and be quiet, staying as still as possible on her lap. The strap stretches your pussy greatly. But it was beginning to get difficult, from how much you itched to ride her thigh. Gain more friction against your bare lower half.

You mentally curse yourself. Why did you have to suggest doing this while she was playing cards? Why couldn't you keep your damn mouth shut and just stick to the regular kinks and stuff in private. You were really regretting bringing up your wish to try it.

“Sev...please” you whisper, but it comes out more like a whine. As you begin to shift your position on her lap, in an attempt to feel her more. You needed it. You needed more.

Sevika’s regular arm reaches down to your nearest thigh and clutches at the pudginess of it. Tightly wrapping her long fingers around it, almost enough to leave a mark. Then she leans back down, beside your ear, and whispers into it once more.

“Nuh, uh, stay quiet. This was your idea. No moving.” The words came out sternly, from her lips. As if testing you, testing to see if you’d listen to her again.

Her eyes were calculating, fierce, and daring as they bore onto you before she focused on the card game that still happened before her. The others who played remained none-the-wiser to you both.

“B-but—” You start, shifting again on her lap. The feeling of her cock inside you, was overbearing. You itched to feel it stretch you further.

You were silenced once more when another sharp squeeze, tighter now, was felt on your thigh. As if a warning, from Sevika, to behave or you'd regret it soon. You bite back another whine from escaping your lips as you sit there.

Another minute or so passed by quickly, and your own neediness was growing increasingly stronger. Your legs clench tighter together as you shift on her lap. Slowly, you found yourself rubbing against Sevika's clothed thigh, shifting so that her cock inside you would rub further up against your walls.

With your teeth proceeding to gnaw at your bottom lip in an attempt to not be loud or let everyone know your pleasure. You slowly went a little further, feeling the strap inside you more and more, with each movement you made.

Sevika had noticed.

“What do you think you're doing?” Sevika growls out into your ear. Both her hands suddenly make their way to your hips tightly. Which halted your movements on her thigh. It was evident with how she sounded to you that she was getting irritated. “Did I say you could move?”

You shook your head slowly. When she gripped at your hips. You didn't release your hold on your lip.

“Then, why did you?” Sevika growls out, again into your ear. Scolding you for going against her orders. Her grip on your clothed hips is getting tighter. It's almost tight enough to leave red markings.

“‘M sorry.” You apologise quietly, almost inaudible to her ears. But Sevika heard, and next thing you knew.

She’s standing from her spot at the table, lifting you with her so that your legs wrap around her waist, and she’s carrying you with strong arms towards the nearest room in the tavern.

The door was kicked shut with a slam, by one of her feet. As she’s shoving you onto the nearest surface, a desk inside. Her strap is still buried deep inside you.

“Is this what you want? Brat. Are you so needy for my cock, that you can't be patient and wait till I'm done.” She spits, irritated.

Her hips thrust as she begins to pound into you with the strap. Her thrusts come out aggressive and harsh. Almost taking you by surprise at how fast she’s going.

You manage to groan out at the pace she’s going. Of the sounds of her cock pounding in and out of your tight cunt. A coil tightening up inside of your stomach, as you slowly go towards your limit.

“I should very well not let you cum, when you're being so bratty, and not listening to my orders.” She spits again, thrusting inside you again and again. Not giving you a chance to take a breath, with how rapid her cock slides in and out of you.

“Sev…” You start, whining. The continuous sounds of squelching filling the room you two sit in, when the rubber of the strap slides through the wet folds of your pussy.

With each intense and fast-paced pound of her strap into you. You can feel yourself so close to reaching your limit, and the more you get closer, you groan and whine.

“Gonna come around my cock brat?” She asks, her aggressive thrusts not slowing inside you. Eyes piercing as she glares and intensely watches your face, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at each rapid thrust.

You only nod, gasping, at the feeling of her inside your clenched, and wet pussy. Feeling each time the cock slides inside of your tight hole, you come closer and closer towards your limit.

Eventually, after another couple minutes or so, you do reach it. Your back arching further against the desk, with your legs wrapping tighter around Sevika's waist, with each thrust she continues to pound into your cunt.

Your whines and groans are coming out just a little bit louder as you find yourself riding your high throughout. Sevika's thrusts begin to slow down now, until you’ve finished your high.

“You learn your lesson now, or do I need to punish you more?” Sevika lets out, her cock now just sitting inside your cunt, no longer pounding harshly into you. Her eyes locking onto the fucked out and dazed expression, that she can tell now resides onto your features.

You nod your head, tiredly. Resting your head back against the wood of the desk beneath you. Maybe you had, maybe you hadn't learned your lesson. But if it gets you fucked like that by her, then you think you'd probably like to be a brat more often.

#lesbian #wlw #imagines #smut #sevika x reader #sevika arcane x reader #arcane x reader #arcane #x reader #sevika #fanfiction

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http-shield · 1 month ago

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Bucky is high-key appalled by the lack of chivalry and politeness exhibited by the men of the twenty first century. Can't fathom that men ignore women on the train or bus who need seats, that doors aren't being opened for women, seats aren't being pulled out, space isn't made for women as they pass packs of men on the sidewalk. There are many things in this new age world that Bucky can't wrap his head around, but the disregard for women is something he'll never understand, so he opens doors for ladies if they are both going in the same building, vacates seats when there is a woman around in need of space. He can't help it, having grown up in a world entirely different to the one he is now. It is second nature and comes as quickly as breathing, but it stuns you a little the first time you get treated like that. You swoon at the fact Bucky holds the door for you, lets you pass before him, makes sure you walk on the safer side of the pavement, holds your hand when you cross the road, makes sure you get the food and drinks first, offers to drive and pay for date nights, the list is endless. Still, for once in your adult dating life, you don't question the sincerity of his words as they are backed up by actions.

"Did something happen to men while I was gone?" Bucky's confused voice floats down the hall of your apartment as he strides in, kicking his shoes off and placing them neatly on the rack by the bathroom door.

"What do you mean?" You look up from your spot on the couch, laptop sitting on your raised legs. "Like, did they go extinct and come back?"

Bucky reaches the living room and shucks off his jacket and gloves to hang over the chair before coming to the couch and plopping beside you. A soft kiss is pressed to your cheek, stubble grazing your skin as he mumbles a greeting before settling into the plush sofa.

"I mean, did they lose all manners?" he shakes his head in disbelief, hands splaying out in frustrated emphasis. "Do men not open doors for women? Or move out of the way for them on the side walk?"

You close the laptop and stow it away on the small shelf of the coffee table, no longer focusing on the information packets Tony had sent you early this morning.

"What happened?" You ask, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, enjoying how he melts into your touch.

"I just watched a bucnh'a men in suits practically push a woman out of the way to get through the door." he sighs, clearly exasperated at the lack of respect for other humans. "And then they didn't even hold the door for her! They just let it swing closed. How do they act on dates? I doubt they pay."

You hum, letting his rant continue.

"And I was on the line."

"Online." you correct gently, spiking his hair up with your fingers, the shorter strands finally obeying you.

"I was online," he rectifies. "and I saw this video of a woman talking about a man getting angry that she wasn't gonna go home with him after the first date."

"Please tell me that never happened to you." His attention shifts to you now, genuine distress simmering in his blue eyes, and when you don't answer, he becomes distraught.

"Doll, no," Bucky shakes his head as if you confessed to the murder of his beloved stuffed animal. "Come on, you gotta be joking."

"It was years ago! I was young and stupid and didn't know my worth." You shrug, obviously not as upset as your counterpart. “I've learnt my lesson. I know I am worth at least two dinners now." The joke falls flat as Bucky stares, not amused.

"It's a joke, Buck."

"I know, but I don't like it." He grumbles, folding his arms across his chest like a child. "Don't like that you were treated like that."

"Well, good thing I've got you now, huh?" you abandon his hair, stroking the back of your fingers over his stubbly cheek.

Bucky pouts. "Still don't like it. You deserved better."

You kiss his cheek, feeling his cheeks round as he smiles. "You're too good to me, Mr. Barnes." another kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Even if we did sleep together on the first date."

"Hey! That wasn't the same. We knew each other before that." Bucky protests as you stand from the couch, walking to the kitchen to start on dinner. "At least I paid!"

#http shield ♡ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ౨ৎ ‧₊ .ᐟ #✮⋆˙ bucky barnes #draft dump #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky fanfic

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thefreakandthehair · 10 days ago

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ornament.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: ornament | wc: 999 | rating: teen & up | tags: eddie pov, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, the party, steve's nuggets (+ friends) love him so much, fluff, tree decorating, getting together

Eddie’s sitting on the couch with sweaty palms between Nancy and Steve with Robin to Steve’s right while the kids, including Will and El who’ve moved back to Indiana permanently, sit in a poorly constructed circle near the Christmas tree.

The tree Steve hates.

The reason Eddie’s palms are sweating.

“I just hate this thing,” Steve had sighed as he flicked on the pre-lit white lights. “When I was a kid, I’d beg for the colored lights and when I’d make ornaments in school, mom would give me this polite smile and then I’d never see them on the tree anywhere. It’s always these stupid red and silver bulbs.”

It hadn’t taken much for Eddie to rally their friends and host an ornament painting party, everyone crammed into his trailer under threat of death if they blew the surprise, but now that’s it’s here, Eddie kind of wants to run and hide.

What if he hates it? What if he thinks it’s stupid?

Nancy knocks a knee against his and raises her eyebrows with a quiet smirk. Eddie nods, just one quick jerk of his chin, as his heart clatters in his chest and Nancy excuses herself. It’s telling, probably, that Eddie couldn’t keep the box of ornaments at his trailer because Steve spends too much there with him but Eddie’s too busy wiping his palms on the rough denim of his jeans to unpack that at the moment.

“Where’s she going?” Steve asks.

“We don’t need permission to go to the bathroom, do we?” Robin teases, uncharacteristically smooth in her distraction.

Steve’s too busy needling her back to realize the front door opens and shuts, at least until Nancy comes back in with the shoebox she’d helped Eddie wrap.

“Oh my God, yes!” Dustin pipes up, spotting Nancy and whacking Lucas on the back. “Look!”

“What—” Steve looks around in confusion, mainly down at the box that’s plopped in his lap. “What’s happening?”

“Tell him, Eddie!” Max grins at Eddie, always a little too smart and observant for her own good. Or Eddie’s, for that matter.

“Uh,” he stutters. “Well, we wanted to do something I guess, special? For you? It’s really nothing big but—”

“Will you stop underselling it?” Robin laughs. “It took me days to get that paint off my fingers. It was a big thing!”

“Paint? What are you talking about?” Steve asks again, huffing. “None of your presents are ready yet, so we can put this under the tree or something and then—”

“Nope, you need this before Christmas. That’s the whole point,” Nancy chides, sitting back down next to Eddie. “Right, Eddie?”

“Yeah,” he nods, meeting Steve’s eyes with a blistering vulnerability he’s sure Steve can see, can maybe even feel with his thigh pressed against Eddie’s. “You should open it.”

“Alright, alright,” Steve agrees, sliding a finger beneath the neatly folded paper, peeling back the tape and tossing the wrapping paper to the ground. “Did you guys get me new shoes?”

“Just open it!” Robin snorts beside him and elbows him gently in the stomach.

Eddie holds his breath and hopes he doesn’t pass out as Steve lifts the lid and finds the handmade ornaments carefully placed in the box.

On top of strands of multi-colored lights sit a dozen ornaments with tiny hooks ready to be hung on branches. Lucas’ sits on top, painted to look like a basketball. Max’s is made to look like the nail bat he’d once used to save her life. Robin’s is an ice cream scoop with an anchor painted dead center. Dustin’s looks like a can of hairspray which Eddie still doesn’t completely understand but Dustin assured him that Steve would get it. Jonathan and Argyle’s pizza ornament, mailed from California. One after another, Steve pulls out ornament after ornament with splotchy paint by the people who love Steve more than they’ll ever begin to express.

It’s silent and loud all at once as Eddie watches Steve pick each one up and run his fingers along the imperfections, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose before he speaks.

“You… you guys make these?” Steve finally asks; soft, hushed.

“We did!” El offers with a cheery smile. “It was Eddie’s idea.”

“Holy shit, this is…” Steve whips over to Eddie, and any nerves he has disappear. He can’t possibly hate it, can’t possibly think it’s stupid when he’s smiling ear to ear, his nose wrinkling from the force of it before he chokes out a laugh that sounds almost like a sob. “Thank you.”

Eddie swallows and feels the heat creeping from beneath his jacket collar. He shrugs and bumps their shoulders together, nods at the kids across the room. “They’re all such great little artists, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t speak for long seconds, staring directly at Eddie until Max, menace that she is, speaks up.

“You guys can kiss after, okay? Can we decorate the tree now?”

Oh, she’s never getting a ride to school from him again.

“Okay, everyone come grab an ornament!” Robin claps her hands together and pats Steve on the back, winking at Eddie as she stands up.

Neither Eddie nor Steve move.

At least, not until the kids have their backs turned with Robin and Nancy trying their hardest to wrangle the kids into wrapping the lights around the tree. Steve leans over, Eddie’s impression of the vest he’d once thrown at Steve— the same vest that tethered Eddie to life as he’d gripped it with bloody fingers while Steve carried him out of the Upside Down— resting in his palm.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Steve whispers, the back of his hand landing on Eddie’s thigh. “Seriously. I can’t tell you… this means a lot, man.”

“They love you, Harrington,” Eddie tries for subtlety but that’s never been his strong suit. “We all do.”

“C’mon,” Steve nods at the tree, his smile reaching his eyes. “The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can prove Max right.”

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steddieholidaydrabbles #myblurbs #hate that i can't write every day right now these prompts are all so good!!

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misswynters · 28 days ago

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Getting married to ekko

short drabble

requested by anon

There was a rare kind of joy that managed to push through the usual grime and chaos. Strings of mismatched lights. Some flickering, others glowing bright, were strung across the open square near the hideout. The firelight children had scavenged scraps of cloth and patched them together to create banners, their uneven stitching adding a charm no fancy Piltie celebration could ever replicate.

In the middle of it all, you stood on a small platform that the Lost Children had hastily constructed. Your dress wasn’t traditional, it couldn’t be. It was a creation, crafted lovingly by Zaunite hands. Pieces of old fabric, some shimmering with oil stains, others dyed in vibrant hues, came together to create something uniquely yours.

Ekko stood opposite you, his usual bravado tempered by something soft and awed. He wore his best—a patched-up jacket you’d once teased him about because he refused to throw it away. But it was clean, and you knew it meant something for him to wear it today. His hair was neatly made, the streaks of white bright against the locks. He had a grin on his face that was wide, even as he tried to play it cool.

Scar, who had appointed himself officiant, stood between you two. His wiry frame looked almost regal in the dim light, though his crooked grin betrayed his usual cheekiness. “Alright, settle down!” he called out to the gathered crowd of children and a few adults who had wandered in, lured by the unusual festivity. “We’re here for somethin’ special tonight. None of your usual fightin’ or stealin’, this is about family.”

The children, sitting cross-legged around the square, erupted in cheers. You caught Ekko’s gaze, and the two of you shared a smile, the kind that spoke of shared dreams and whispered promises.

Scar cleared his throat dramatically. “Now, I ain’t exactly licensed or whatever it is those Pilties do, but who needs paperwork when you’ve got love, right?” The crowd laughed, and he winked at you. “So, let’s get to it. You two got somethin’ to say?”

Ekko took your hands, his palms calloused and warm against yours. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he looked at you, his voice steady but soft. “I never thought I’d get to have somethin’ like this,” he began. “Not here, You—you’ve made me believe that we can make anything, even in grimy place. You’re my balance when the world feels too heavy, my fire when it’s too cold. I promise, no matter what comes, I’ll always fight for us.”

You felt your chest tighten, your heart swelling as the words you’d wanted to say fought to escape. “Aww!,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’ve shown me that even in a place as broken as Zaun, there’s beauty worth fighting for. You’ve given me hope, and I want to spend every day proving to you that you were right to believe in us. I’m yours, forever.”

The children cheered again, but Scar waved them down with a grin. “Hold on, hold on! We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” He nodded to a group of children at the side, who scrambled to their feet. The youngest among them, a tiny girl with oversized goggles slipping down her nose, held a small wooden box. She marched forward with all the seriousness of someone tasked with an important mission. Ekko knelt to her level, his grin widening as she opened the box to reveal the ring he’d made.

It wasn’t like any ring you’d ever seen. The band was crafted from a piece of scrap metal, polished until it gleamed faintly in the light. Set into it was a shard of green crystal, likely salvaged from some forgotten Zaunite machine. But the real magic was in the delicate etchings along the band—tiny gears and vines, symbols of growth and movement intertwined. It was unmistakably Ekko’s work, a reflection of his resourcefulness and heart.

“You made this?” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the ring as he slid it onto your hand.

“Course I did,” he replied, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his voice. “Nothing else felt good enough for you.”

Scar clapped his hands together, breaking the moment with his usual exuberance. “Alright, lovebirds, that’s it! You’re officially stuck with each other.”

Laughter and applause erupted as the children threw bits of torn paper and confetti into the air, creating a chaotic, colorful storm around you. Ekko pulled you into his arms, his laughter mingling with yours as the two of you spun in the midst of it all.

The celebration that followed was as Zaunite as the ceremony itself. Someone had rigged a broken radio to play static-filled music, and the children danced wildly, their joy infectious. A few of the older kids brought out food, whatever they could scrounge together. As the mismatched feast was laid out on a long, uneven table.

Ekko never strayed far from your side, his hand lingering on your waist or your fingers brushing against his arm. At one point, he leaned close, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You know, for a thrown-together wedding in the middle of Zaun, this might be the best day of my life.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Might be?”

“Okay, fine. Is the best day,” he admitted, his grin softening.

As the night wore on and the children began to drift off, Ekko led you to a quiet corner, away from the noise. The lights overhead flickered, casting his face in warm, uneven purple shadows. “Hey,” he said, his tone still soft. “Can’t believe we are official married now!”

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek. “Unreal that i can officially call you my husband.”

For a moment, the chaos of Zaun fell away, and it was just the two of you. Two survivors, two dreamers, building something beautiful in the midst of ruin. And as he kissed you, the city seemed a little brighter, and the air a little lighter.

note. if there’s any mistakes let me know!

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @annybah @niredsw @stqrlxght @kriss-w @marilovz @blkmystery @multiverse-fandoms-2001 @turquoizxe @mishellii @kor-0suu @feelya @theamazingmilli @multim00n @m00nd0v3 @sodavrr @maialublmere @radtragedyarcade @spiderhook @night-fall-moon

banner. @anitalenia

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hisfavegirl · 8 days ago

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Shadows - Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader x Aegon Targaryen.

summary : your marriage to aemond was based solely on his obsession and regret for not being able to have your sister, helaena. you were just a shadow of your sister in his eyes, and you were determined to make him realize that he was wrong.

You leaned your head against the headboard of your bed, fingers lightly gripping the book in your hands. The soft glow of the nearby candles illuminated the delicate pages, the words blurring slightly as your mind wandered. It was a gift from your mother, given to you on your 18th nameday just yesterday. Her thoughtful gesture had filled you with warmth, a rare comfort in the cold, stony halls of the Red Keep.

Your eyes shifted to the door as it creaked open slowly. For a moment, you thought it might be the wind, but then you saw one of your maids step inside, her eyes lowered respectfully. She curtsied, folding her hands neatly in front of her.

“Princess,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Prince Aemond has asked for you to come to his chambers.”

Your heart tensed at her words. It was late. The moon was high in the sky, and most of the Keep had retired for the night. For a moment, you considered refusing. You were tired, and the quiet of your chambers felt safe, peaceful. But you knew Aemond. He was not a man to be denied.

With a quiet sigh, you closed the book gently, running your fingers over its cover before placing it on the side table. The weight of duty settled over your shoulders like a heavy cloak. Your maid moved forward, ready to help you with your robe, but you raised a hand, stopping her.

“I’ll go on my own,” you said firmly, and the maid bowed her head, stepping aside.

The halls were dim, lit only by the flickering glow of torches mounted on the stone walls. Your footsteps echoed softly with every step, and with each echo, your heart grew heavier. The walk to Aemond’s chambers felt longer than usual, each step carrying with it a mix of anticipation and unease.

When you reached the door, the guards outside gave you a brief nod, stepping aside to let you in. You paused, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before pushing the heavy door open.

The warmth of the room hit you first — the glow of the fire crackling in the hearth bathed the chamber in a soft orange light. The rich scent of burning wood mingled with the faint hint of leather and steel. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for him.

There he was. Aemond sat in the large chair by the fire, legs spread slightly, one arm draped lazily over the armrest while the other toyed with the pommel of his dagger. His eye was sharp, focused, and his face unreadable, save for the slight curve of his lips — not quite a smile, but something close to it.

His eye lifted to meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. He tilted his head slightly, his silver hair falling over his shoulder.

“Come in, wife,” he said softly, his voice smooth and sharp, like a blade hidden beneath silk.

You stepped inside, letting the door close behind you with a soft thud. You didn’t move further, waiting for him to speak, to explain why he had summoned you so late. But he didn’t. He just sat there, watching you, his gaze as steady and unyielding as stone.

“You called for me, husband,” you said, trying to keep your voice even, calm.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. His gaze never left yours. “Is it so strange that I wish to see my wife?”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning you couldn’t quite grasp. Aemond was never direct — not with his words, not with his emotions. Everything he said, everything he did, had layers beneath it. And you had spent far too much time trying to unravel them.

“I was reading,” you replied, lifting your chin slightly, not wanting to seem small before him. “A gift from mother.”

Aemond’s gaze flickered, barely a shift, but you noticed it. His eye lingered on you longer now, sharp as a blade, as if he were trying to read you the same way you tried to read him.

“Our mother gives you books,” he muttered, leaning back in his chair. “I give you more than that.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You hated the way he twisted things, how every word out of his mouth was both truth and poison.

“Is that why you called me here?” you asked, your patience thinning. “To remind me of what you give me?”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, dark and quiet. He tapped the pommel of his dagger twice against his knee, his gaze never straying from you.

“No, my sweet wife,” he said, rising slowly from the chair. Each step he took toward you echoed in the quiet chamber, slow and deliberate. “I called you here to remind you of something far more important.”

Your heart began to race as he closed the distance between you. He stood before you now, taller, broader, his gaze pinning you in place like a hawk cornering its prey. He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Everything you have,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, “is mine.”

Your breath hitched, your chest rising and falling a little faster now. His fingers lingered on the side of your face, the touch deceptively gentle, but the weight of his words pressed down like iron shackles.

“You know that, don’t you?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you more closely. His eye, clear and sharp, searched your face for an answer. “Say it, wife.”

Your throat felt tight, your pride warring with the reality of your position. But you knew what he wanted. He wanted to hear it from you, to have you say the words so he could hear them aloud.

“Yes,” you whispered, barely able to force it out. “I know.”

His hand lingered on your cheek a moment longer before he let it fall away. His gaze softened, but only slightly. He leaned in close, his lips just a breath away from your ear.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Remember it.”

You stood there, your eyes fixed on the flickering flames in the hearth, your heart growing heavier with each passing second. The warmth of the fire did nothing to chase away the cold you felt within. You glanced at Aemond, his figure moving with slow, deliberate steps as he circled you like a predator stalking its prey.

Your patience thinned, your voice sharper than before. “Why did you call me here at this hour, husband?” you asked, turning your head to follow his movements. “I’m tired.”

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze was steady, piercing, his lips curling into that faint, knowing smile that always made you feel as if he knew something you didn’t. His eye, sharp as a blade, watched you with unnerving intensity.

He reached out, fingers brushing against the loose strands of your hair. He toyed with it, twisting a lock of silver around his fingers as if it were silk. The gentle tug made you inhale sharply, but you stood your ground, refusing to let him see how he unsettled you.

“You shouldn’t leave your hair down like this,” he muttered, his voice a low hum, almost thoughtful. “It makes you look too much like her.”

Your breath hitched. Your eyes narrowed as you looked up at him, trying to read the meaning behind his words.

His fingers lingered in your hair a moment longer before he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. He tilted his head, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead, an intimacy so gentle it could have been mistaken for tenderness — if only it had been real.

But then, he whispered her name.

“Helaena.”

Your entire body tensed. The name echoed in your mind, louder than the crackling fire behind you. You froze, your breath caught in your chest as if he’d driven a dagger through your ribs.

Slowly, you pulled back, just enough to see his face. His expression was unreadable — calm, cold, as if nothing had happened. But you knew. You knew.

All at once, it became so clear. Every glance, every touch, every moment you had tried to convince yourself that maybe he saw you — it was never you. It was her. It had always been her. Not because he loved her more, but because you looked like her. Because you shared the same silver hair, the same eyes, the same face.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as anger and something far more painful welled up inside you. You pulled your head away from his touch, your eyes burning with an emotion you weren’t ready to name.

“You called me here for this?” you said, your voice trembling with barely restrained fury. “To remind me that I’m just a shadow of her?”

Aemond tilted his head, his gaze cool and unaffected. “You are not a shadow, wife,” he said, his tone too smooth, too controlled. “You are the reflection of something I cannot hold.”

The words stung worse than if he’d slapped you. Your throat tightened, but you refused to look away from him. You would not let him see you break.

“Then perhaps you should call for her next time,” you said, your voice sharp as broken glass. “Not me.”

His eye flashed with something — surprise, anger, or perhaps amusement. It was always so hard to tell with Aemond. But you didn’t wait to find out. You turned on your heel, your steps firm and unyielding as you moved toward the door. Your fingers curled around the handle, gripping it tightly.

“You forget yourself, wife,” Aemond said, his voice louder now, commanding. “I called for you. Not her.”

You froze, your back to him, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. Slowly, you turned your head, just enough to glance at him over your shoulder.

“No,” you said quietly but firmly, your eyes burning with something far stronger than pain. “You called for the part of me that reminds you of her.”

His face hardened, his jaw tightening as his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t deny it.

Without another word, you pushed the door open and stepped out, letting it close behind you with a dull thud. The sound echoed through the corridor, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the storm inside your heart.

You walked away, refusing to look back. This time, you wouldn’t let him see you break.

You walked slowly, each step heavier than the last as if the weight of Aemond’s words had settled on your shoulders like an unshakable curse. The cold stone beneath your feet echoed with every step, the silence of the Red Keep pressing down on you from all sides. Your breath was shallow, your chest tight with a storm of emotions you couldn’t quite name—anger, hurt, resentment, and something far more dangerous: love.

His voice lingered in your mind, his words like poisoned thorns that refused to be pulled free. “You are the reflection of something I cannot hold.” No matter how many times you tried to push it away, it echoed louder. A reflection. Not a person. Not you.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms, grounding you in the present. But it wasn’t enough to silence the flood of memories that surged forward.

You remembered the day you gave birth to your first daughter—his daughter. The pain, the exhaustion, and the overwhelming relief when you heard her first cry. You had waited for him, had told the maester to send word to Aemond the moment it was over. You wanted him to be the first to see her, to hold her, to tell you that you had done well.

But he never came.

You had waited for hours, lying in that bed with your newborn daughter cradled against your chest, her tiny hand clutching your finger. You had thought, he must be on his way. He’ll come. But he didn’t. Not that day. Not the next.

Later, you learned why.

He had been with her.

Your heart twisted in your chest at the memory. Your sister, Helaena, heavy with Aegon’s child, had been feeling unwell. He had stayed with her, comforting her, attending to her every need. Her. Not you. Not the mother of his child.

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now. You bit down on your lip, your head held high as you walked through the dimly lit halls. I will not cry for him. Not again.

When you reached your chambers, you pushed the door open with more force than necessary. The sharp creak of the hinges echoed like a scream. You stepped inside, slamming the door behind you, your breath shallow, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum.

Your eyes swept over the familiar room—the soft glow of the candles, the bed that suddenly felt far too large, the book your mother had gifted you still lying open where you’d left it. The sight of it brought a bitter smile to your face. Mother always said I was strong. She had believed in you, trusted in your strength. But right now, you felt so fragile, so breakable.

You leaned back against the door, sliding down until you sat on the cold floor, knees pulled up to your chest. Your arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold the pieces together.

Why wasn’t I enough? The question clawed at your mind, a whisper that grew louder with every heartbeat. Why her?

You hated how much it hurt. Hated how much you still wanted him. Despite everything, you wanted him to choose you, to see you, to love you for you. Not because you shared Helaena’s face, not because you reminded him of something he could not have.

But you knew the truth. No matter how many children you gave him, no matter how many times you stood by his side, he would never look at you the way he looked at her. She was his comfort, his light in the darkness. And you? You were just the shadow she cast.

A sob built in your throat, but you pressed a hand to your mouth, stifling it before it could escape. Your chest ached with the weight of everything you had tried to hold in for so long. The pain, the jealousy, the love you still felt for him even when you knew it was foolish.

Minutes passed—maybe hours. You weren’t sure. But slowly, the tears dried, and the ache dulled into something colder, something harder. Your breathing steadied, your heart slowed, and the storm inside you quieted into a sharp, bitter calm.

You lifted your head, your eyes sharp with a new resolve. If he wanted a reflection, if he wanted something he could never have, then you would show him exactly what he had chosen to ignore.

If he will not love me, he will fear me.

The morning sun bathed the garden in a soft, golden glow, but your presence outshone it all. Each step you took was deliberate, purposeful, the soft rustle of your gown trailing behind you like the whisper of a storm about to break.

Today, you were different.

The gown you wore clung to you in ways it never had before — tailored perfectly to your figure, the fabric flowing like water over your curves. The sleeves were sheer, the neckline daring but elegant, revealing just enough to draw attention but not enough to be called improper. The color was striking, a rich, deep green that matched the jewels on Queen Alicent’s crown. It was a choice no one could ignore, and that was exactly what you intended.

The whispers began the moment you stepped into the garden. Servants and ladies alike glanced your way, their eyes narrowing with judgment, their murmurs growing louder as you passed.

“She’s trying too hard.”

“Did you see her dress? How shameless.”

“She’s just desperate for attention.”

The words floated around you like gnats, insignificant and easy to brush away. Your chin lifted higher, your gaze fixed straight ahead as if none of them existed. You could feel their stares, sharp as daggers, but you refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

Let them whisper. Let them stare. They will learn.

Your steps were slow but steady, the click of your heels on the stone path echoing with every stride. You felt powerful in a way you hadn’t before, as if each glance thrown your way was feeding something inside you. For so long, you had felt unseen, unheard. But not today. Today, you would be seen.

Ahead, you spotted familiar faces—ladies of the court gathered beneath the shade of a large tree, their eyes darting toward you like vultures watching prey. Their gazes lingered on you with envy, disapproval, and a hint of fear. Good.

You didn’t look away.

Instead, you met their eyes, one by one, holding their gazes with quiet defiance until each of them shifted uncomfortably, their confidence faltering under the weight of your stare. It felt satisfying, far more than you had expected. Let them know who I am.

Further down the path, you spotted him.

Aemond.

He stood near the edge of the garden, speaking with Ser Criston. His posture was as rigid as ever, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, his gaze focused on whatever the knight was saying. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but you knew he would. He always did.

Your heart tightened in your chest, that familiar ache threatening to return. But this time, you smothered it before it could take hold. No more waiting for him to see me. No more hoping for something that will never come.

With slow, deliberate grace, you continued down the path. You knew the moment he noticed you. His head tilted just slightly, his sharp gaze flickering toward you. His one violet eye narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he took in the sight of you.

You did not stop.

You did not lower your gaze.

You let him look. Let him see you.

When you passed him, you didn’t glance his way, didn’t offer him a word, not even a nod. It was as if he were the one invisible now.

You felt his gaze burn into your back as you walked away, each step as steady as the beat of a war drum. Let him stare. Let him wonder. Let him want.

Today, you had become something more.

And from this moment on, you would never let anyone, not even him, make you feel small again.

The soft, sweet voice of your daughter calling your name pulled you from your thoughts. You turned, and there she was — your little girl, her silver hair catching the sunlight like strands of pure silk. Her wide violet eyes, so full of warmth and innocence, gazed up at you with pure adoration.

A smile tugged at your lips, softening your expression as you knelt in front of her. You brushed a strand of hair from her face, pressing a gentle kiss to her round cheek. Her giggle was like music, light and pure, easing the weight you had been carrying in your heart.

“Mother,” she said, tugging lightly on your hand, her small fingers curling around yours. “Grandmother wants to see you.”

Her voice was so sure, as if she had taken it upon herself to be the messenger of important news. You nodded, letting out a small breath of amusement. Of course, mother would send for you.

“Then we shouldn’t keep her waiting, should we?” you replied softly, brushing your thumb over her tiny fingers. She beamed up at you, eyes bright with joy.

Hand in hand, the two of you walked together, her small steps quick and eager to match your stride. She hummed a soft, tuneless melody as she skipped beside you, her little feet tapping lightly on the stone path. You glanced down at her, heart swelling with love at the sight of her carefree happiness.

But then, you felt it.

A shift in the air, like a sudden chill despite the sun’s warmth. The weight of a gaze heavy on your back — sharp, unyielding, and far too familiar. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

Him.

Aemond.

His presence was as tangible as a blade pressed against your spine, the intensity of his stare burning through every layer of you. You knew that gaze too well — piercing, calculating, always watching. Your fingers curled just a little tighter around your daughter’s hand, grounding yourself in her warmth.

Don’t look back.

You kept walking, kept your chin high, your pace steady. You would not turn. You would not give him the satisfaction of seeing how aware you were of him. He always looks. He always watches. But he never comes closer, does he?

Your daughter’s humming continued, her small, soft voice unbothered by the storm that raged behind you. You envied her innocence, her blissful unawareness of the complexities that twisted between you and her father.

You could hear his footsteps now, slow but deliberate, following at a distance. His shadow lingered just beyond the edge of your vision, never too far away, but never close enough.

Always watching. Always waiting.

But you wouldn’t stop. You wouldn’t turn. Not today.

Today, you had more important things to do than worry about a man who only knew how to watch from the shadows. Your daughter’s little fingers tugged at your hand, and you glanced down at her, your heart softening all over again.

“Will Grandmother have lemon cakes?” she asked, her voice hopeful, eyes shining with excitement.

You smiled, leaning down just a bit to whisper, “I think she might, but only if you ask her nicely.”

Her giggle filled the air again, sweet and unburdened by the weight of everything you carried. And for a moment, just a moment, you let that warmth chase away the cold burn of Aemond’s gaze.

Let him watch.

You had more important things to hold on to.

As you stepped into your mother’s chambers, the soft hum of quiet activity greeted you. Alicent stood near the window, bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. Her handmaidens worked around her, adjusting the delicate green fabric of her gown and brushing her auburn hair until it gleamed. The faint scent of sage and chamomile filled the air, bringing a sense of calm to the room.

Her eyes lifted from the embroidery in her hands as you entered, and a gentle smile tugged at her lips. “There you are,” she said, setting the embroidery aside. “Come, sit with me.”

She gestured toward the cushioned seat beside her. You guided your daughter to a nearby chair before taking your place beside your mother. Alicent’s gaze lingered on you, taking in every detail, her eyes filled with that quiet, watchful intensity she always had. Her brow furrowed ever so slightly as her eyes trailed over your gown — a gown that was different from your usual choices.

“You look… different,” she remarked, tilting her head, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. It wasn’t disapproval, but something closer to curiosity. “Is there something on your mind, dear?”

Her voice was soft, careful, but you knew better than to think it was a simple question. Alicent never asked without reason. Her eyes were trained on you like a hawk, waiting for any sign of weakness, any hesitation.

You shifted slightly in your seat, glancing at your daughter, who was humming to herself while playing with the lace on her dress. For a moment, you considered how much to say. How much to reveal.

“It’s nothing, Mother,” you replied, straightening your posture. “I simply wished for a change.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow, her lips pressing together into a thin line. “A change, is it?” she repeated softly, her tone thoughtful. She leaned forward just a bit, her gaze sharp as she studied you with that look you’d seen so many times before. It was the look of a mother who knew something wasn’t being said. “And who is this change meant to impress?”

Her words were pointed, though her voice remained calm. You could feel her searching your face for a reaction. She was too clever, too perceptive. She saw more than you wanted her to.

“No one, Mother,” you answered firmly, lifting your chin. “It’s for me.”

A pause lingered between you. Alicent’s eyes remained on you, unblinking, and you held her gaze. For a moment, you weren’t just her daughter — you were a woman who had learned to wield silence as a weapon, just as she had.

Finally, she leaned back in her chair, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Good,” she murmured, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “It should always be for yourself.” Her voice lowered, her eyes hardening slightly. “Don’t let anyone else dictate who you must be. Not your husband. Not even the king.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt the weight of them, knowing she spoke from experience.

“Now,” she said, her tone lightening as she glanced toward your daughter. Her face softened as she leaned forward, her smile more genuine. “And how is my sweet granddaughter? Have you been keeping your mother in line, little one?”

Your daughter giggled, her smile bright and innocent as she nodded. “Yes, Grandmother! Mother is always good.”

Alicent laughed quietly, her eyes crinkling with warmth. “Is she, now?” she teased, glancing at you with a knowing smile.

For a moment, the tension lifted, and the room felt lighter. You allowed yourself to laugh softly with her, the warmth of her presence washing over you like a shield from the world outside. But even in that warmth, you still felt the weight of unseen eyes on you — the memory of Aemond’s sharp gaze burning into your back earlier in the day.

But for now, you let it fade. Here, with your mother and your daughter, you felt a fleeting sense of peace — and that, for now, was enough.

You were seated beside your mother, watching your daughter play with the lace on her dress, her soft giggles filling the room like the chime of little bells. Alicent sat gracefully, hands folded neatly in her lap, a serene smile tugging at her lips as she watched her granddaughter with quiet affection.

“She has your spirit,” Alicent remarked, her gaze never leaving the child. “Bold, unyielding, and far too clever for her own good.”

You chuckled softly, glancing at your daughter. “She’ll need it,” you replied, your tone carrying the weight of experience.

Just as your mother was about to speak again, the sound of the door creaking open drew both of your gazes. The soft murmuring of servants hushed instantly, and the familiar heavy thud of boots echoed into the room. A figure stepped inside — tall, commanding, with silver hair that caught the dim glow of the chamber’s light.

Aemond.

He didn’t say a word at first, his single eye locked onto you with that unwavering intensity you’d grown used to. He didn’t look at Alicent, didn’t look at your daughter. His gaze was for you alone. There was something sharp in the air now, something unspoken but undeniable.

“Aemond,” Alicent said softly, standing from her chair, her brow raised in question. “Is there something you need?”

But Aemond didn’t answer her. His steps were slow and deliberate as he crossed the room. You didn’t move, didn’t speak, only watched him with wary eyes. When he reached you, he didn’t ask, didn’t explain. His hand wrapped around your wrist, firm but not harsh, and with a single tug, he pulled you to your feet.

“Come,” he said quietly, his voice low but commanding. “We need to talk.”

“Aemond,” Alicent’s voice came sharper this time, her gaze darting from you to him. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing that concerns you, Mother,” he replied curtly, still not looking at her. His focus stayed on you, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you like a storm cloud.

You glanced at your mother, searching for her guidance, her permission — but Alicent only watched you, her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes hard to read. She said nothing.

Heart pounding in your chest, you turned back to Aemond. “Can we not do this later?” you asked, keeping your voice calm, steady. “I’m with our daughter.”

His grip on your wrist didn’t loosen. His eye narrowed, sharp as a blade’s edge. “Now, wife,” he said with quiet finality. His tone wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. It left no room for argument.

Your daughter’s playful humming faded as she glanced up, her little face scrunching in confusion. “Mother?” she called, her voice soft and unsure.

You swallowed the knot forming in your throat. Slowly, you turned back to her and forced a smile. “Stay with Grandmother, my love. I won’t be long.”

Your daughter hesitated, her small fingers curling into the lace of her dress, but Alicent approached her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Come, sweet girl,” she said softly. “Your mother will be back soon.”

With that, Aemond tugged you forward, leading you out of the room. The sound of the door closing behind you was louder than it should have been, sealing you both away from the warmth and safety of the chamber.

The hallway was colder, quieter, and somehow it made his presence feel larger than it was. His hand remained on your wrist as he led you forward, his pace faster than yours, forcing you to keep up.

“Aemond,” you said firmly, trying to pull your wrist free. “What is this about?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at you.

“Aemond,” you said again, sharper this time. You dug your heels into the floor, yanking your arm back with more force. It was enough to stop him, though his grip didn’t release you. Slowly, he turned to face you, his face shrouded in shadow, his sapphire eye gleaming like ice.

“Why do you wear that dress?” he asked suddenly, his gaze flicking down to the gown you wore.

Your breath caught in your chest. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb,” he said, his tone colder now, colder than the stone walls around you. His eye locked onto yours, and for a moment, you saw something dangerous in him — jealousy, rage, something darker. “You know what I mean.”

You pulled your wrist again, and this time he let you go, but his eye never wavered.

“It’s just a dress, Aemond,” you said slowly, your eyes narrowing. “Am I not allowed to dress as I please?”

His jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together. “You know it’s not just a dress.”

Silence stretched between you. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

“Why do you care, Aemond?” you asked, your voice sharp and unforgiving. “You barely looked at me when I bore your child. You didn’t come to me. You didn’t see me. But now you care about a dress?”

His face remained stone-cold, but his eye flared with something fierce, something wild. He stepped forward, close enough that you had to tilt your head to look up at him.

“You are mine,” he said slowly, deliberately, as if daring you to argue. His gaze bore into you, unwavering and unyielding. “Not theirs. Not anyone else. Mine.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it. “Yours?” you repeated, your eyes flashing with defiance. “When have I ever been yours, Aemond? You love her. Not me.”

His nostrils flared as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “Watch your tongue, wife,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “Or I will remind you exactly who you belong to.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you didn’t lower your gaze. Not this time. Not now. “Then act like it,” you shot back, your voice sharp as a blade. “If you want me to be yours, Aemond, then claim me. Stop looking at her. Stop leaving me in the cold. Stop pretending that I’m a shadow of her.”

His face twisted, his features caught between fury and something else — something you couldn’t name. His breathing was shallow, his lips parted, but no words came.

For a moment, you both stood there, silent and still, breathing the same sharp air that filled the hall.

Then, slowly, his eye softened, the edge of his rage dulling. His gaze lowered from yours to the floor. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He only stood there, his silence louder than any argument you could have had.

You stared at him, waiting for him to say something — anything. But he didn’t.

With a deep breath, you stepped back, lifting your chin high. “When you figure out who you truly want, Aemond, you know where to find me.”

You turned on your heel, walking back toward Alicent’s chambers with your head held high.

He didn’t follow. He only stood there, alone in the cold, just as he’d left you so many times before.

You stepped back into your mother’s chambers, closing the heavy wooden door behind you with a soft thud. The warmth of the room embraced you instantly, a stark contrast to the cold tension that had filled the hallway with Aemond. The soft glow of the fire illuminated the chamber, casting golden light onto Alicent’s face as she sat with your daughter on her lap.

Her gaze was sharp, searching, as she watched you cross the room. “What happened?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. Her voice was calm but firm, the way only a mother could be.

“Nothing, Mother,” you replied quickly, forcing a smile as you approached them. “All is well. There’s no need to worry.”

Alicent didn’t look convinced. Her eyes, as sharp as ever, studied you in silence. She had seen too much in her life, endured too many lies and half-truths, to be deceived so easily.

“Is that so?” she asked quietly, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Then why does your face look as if you’ve been at war, child?”

You felt your breath catch in your chest, but you didn’t answer. Instead, you turned your gaze to your daughter, who was watching you with wide, curious eyes. Her little hands tugged at the hem of Alicent’s sleeve, her small voice breaking the silence.

“Mother?” she called softly, tilting her head in that innocent, curious way children do. “What’s wrong with Father?”

Her words were like a dagger to the heart. You froze for a moment, your fingers curling into the fabric of your dress. You glanced at your daughter, her wide, expectant eyes staring back at you, waiting for an answer.

How could you explain it to her? How could you explain that the father she adored so much had left cracks in your heart that you couldn’t mend? That he looked at you but didn’t see you. That he touched you, but only as a reminder that you were his — not because he wanted you.

You crouched down in front of her, forcing a smile onto your face even as it strained the muscles in your cheeks. Your hands cupped her small face gently. “Father is just… tired,” you said softly, brushing a lock of silver hair behind her ear. “He has many responsibilities. It’s nothing for you to worry about, sweetling.”

Her brows pinched together as if she wasn’t fully convinced, but she nodded slowly, her little hands reaching up to touch your face. “Don’t be sad, Mother,” she whispered, her voice filled with childlike concern. “I’ll stay with you.”

Your chest tightened with emotion, and you pulled her into your arms, holding her close. “Thank you, my sweet girl,” you murmured against her hair, feeling the warmth of her small body pressed against yours. “That’s all I need.”

From behind you, Alicent’s voice rang out, quiet but certain. “He should not make you feel this way.”

You didn’t turn to face her. You didn’t have the strength. “It’s fine, Mother,” you replied, your voice muffled as you held your daughter closer. “It’s always been fine.”

But you both knew that wasn’t true.

You spent the afternoon with your mother and daughter, their warmth and presence offering you a fleeting sense of peace. But a restlessness settled in your chest, and soon, you found yourself longing to see your sister. The thought of Helaena brought back memories of simpler times, times when you both leaned on each other without the weight of politics, duty, and marriage pressing down on your shoulders.

So you left your mother’s chambers, your daughter staying behind under Alicent’s watchful eye. The hallways of the Red Keep felt colder than usual, the torches lining the stone walls flickering faintly. Each step echoed softly as you made your way toward Helaena’s room.

Her door stood ahead of you, the carved wood familiar, almost comforting. You raised your hand to knock, but before you could, a sound from inside stopped you.

Laughter.

Not just any laughter — his laughter.

Your breath caught in your throat, heart tightening with an uncomfortable pressure. You knew that laugh too well. Aemond’s laughter was a rare thing, something that had always felt like a secret meant only for a chosen few.

But he had never laughed like that with you.

You stood frozen in front of the door, hand still raised but unmoving. Your fingers curled into a loose fist, and for a moment, you debated walking away. Don’t go in, a voice in your head warned. You already know what you’ll see.

But curiosity — or perhaps something more painful — drew you in. Slowly, quietly, you pushed open the door just a sliver, careful not to make a sound. The sight before you made your heart sink.

Helaena sat by the window, her head tilted back with a soft, joyful smile on her face. Her laughter was like bells, light and innocent, as if she had no care in the world. And there, sitting close beside her, was Aemond. His gaze was fixed on her, his lips curved into a smile — not the cold, sharp smirk he often wore, but a true, unguarded smile.

He looked at her like she was the only light in the world.

You gripped the edge of the door tightly, nails digging into the wood. A bitter taste filled your mouth, something between rage and heartbreak. You had seen him smile, yes — but never like that. Never for you.

The urge to slam the door, to march inside and demand answers, burned hot in your chest. But what would you say? What could you say? That you were jealous of your own sister? That you hated how he looked at her like she was precious while you felt like an obligation?

Your breathing grew shallow, and you stepped back, letting the door close softly. You felt your heart pounding, a mixture of fury, sadness, and something else — something more dangerous.

Why her? you thought bitterly, turning away from the door. Why does it always have to be her?

Tears threatened to rise, but you refused to let them fall. You straightened your back, shoulders tense with the weight of pride and anger. If he wouldn’t see you, then you wouldn’t let him see you break.

With quiet, deliberate steps, you walked away from Helaena’s door, your face a mask of cold indifference. If love was a game of thrones, then you would play it too — not as a sister, not as a wife, but as a woman who refused to be forgotten.

You ran toward the gardens, your breath sharp and uneven as you tried to escape the storm brewing in your chest. The world around you felt distant, the soft rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds drowned out by the thudding of your heart.

Why her? Why always her?

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You couldn’t let them see you break — not him, not her, not anyone. The cool breeze brushed against your skin, but it did nothing to calm the fire of betrayal burning inside you.

You came to a stop near a large tree, leaning against it to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell quickly, and you closed your eyes, pressing your hands against the rough bark as if grounding yourself to the world.

Then, a sound.

A low, familiar chuckle echoed behind you. It was sharp, almost mocking, but far too familiar to mistake for anyone else. Slowly, you turned, wiping at your face quickly as if to erase any sign of weakness.

There, leaning casually against a stone pillar, was your brother, Aegon. His eyes were half-lidded, his smirk lazy but sharp, like a blade hidden behind a smile. A cup of wine dangled from his hand, as always. He raised it slightly in greeting, taking a slow sip as his eyes watched you like a cat watching a bird with a broken wing.

“You look upset, sister,” he drawled, tilting his head with mock concern. “Did something happen?”

You didn’t answer, your lips pressing into a thin line. You hated the way he always knew. Aegon was many things — careless, selfish, and drunk more often than not — but he was never blind.

His grin widened as if he could read your mind. He pushed off the pillar and walked closer, his steps slow and deliberate.

“Let me guess,” he said, voice low, his eyes narrowing with amusement. “He’s with her, isn’t he?”

Your whole body tensed. His words hit harder than they should have, his casual tone like salt on an open wound. You hated that he knew, hated that he could say it so easily — as if it were obvious, as if it were inevitable.

“Shut up, Aegon,” you hissed, your voice sharper than you intended.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin never fading. “Why? It’s true, isn’t it?” He took another step closer, his eyes scanning you with slow, lazy interest. “Poor little sister. Stuck playing second to the precious Helaena. Must be exhausting.”

“Leave me alone,” you muttered, turning away from him, trying to put distance between you. But you heard him follow, his steps crunching softly against the gravel path.

“You think running will change it?” Aegon called after you, his voice carrying the cruel edge of someone who knew too much. “He’ll always go back to her, you know. Always.”

You stopped in your tracks, your fists clenching at your sides. Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes blazing with quiet fury.

“At least I don’t have to drown myself in wine to forget who I am,” you snapped, your voice low and sharp like a dagger. “You’re pathetic, Aegon.”

His smirk faltered, if only for a second, but he recovered quickly. His eyes darkened, his grin shifting into something colder.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug, raising his cup as if in a toast. “But at least I see things as they are, not as I wish them to be.”

You didn’t reply. There was nothing more to say. You turned on your heel and walked away, heart pounding harder with every step. His laughter followed you, lingering in the air like smoke from a dying fire.

“He’ll always go back to her.”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, tasting copper. No. You wouldn’t let that be true. You couldn’t. But as much as you hated Aegon, there was something far worse about the fact that his words had struck something you already feared.

What if he was right?

You turned to face Aegon, your eyes filled with a quiet sadness that even he couldn’t ignore. His grin faltered for a moment as he tilted his head, finally taking in the change in you. The way you held yourself, the way your gown clung to you with deliberate elegance, the fire in your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

He blinked slowly, his gaze sweeping over you like he was seeing you for the first time. Then, just as quickly, his grin returned, sharper now, more knowing. His chuckle was soft but cruel, cutting through the stillness of the garden like a blade.

“Well, well,” Aegon muttered, taking a long sip from his cup. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he lowered it, licking a stray drop of wine from his lip. “Look at you, little sister. Finally decided to remind him of what he has, hmm?”

You said nothing, your eyes narrowing as you folded your arms across your chest.

Aegon let out a louder laugh, tilting his head back, his silver hair catching the light of the setting sun. It was the kind of laugh that grated on you — not because it was loud, but because it was laced with too much truth.

“You think he’ll notice?” Aegon asked, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Men like Aemond never notice until it’s too late. He won’t see it, not until someone else takes it from him.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers curling into the fabric of your gown.

“That’s enough, Aegon,” you said firmly, your voice calm but laced with warning.

“Is it?” he asked, his grin widening as he leaned in, his breath reeking of wine. His voice dropped to a low, taunting whisper. “You know I’m right. You could dress like a queen, shine brighter than the sun itself, and he’d still be chasing her shadow.”

Your heart ached, but you didn’t let him see it. You lifted your chin, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“At least I don’t drown in my misery like you,” you shot back, eyes hard as steel. “I know my worth, Aegon. Can you say the same?”

His eyes flashed, a flicker of something like anger or maybe regret, but it was gone in an instant. He smirked, leaning back with that same lazy arrogance he always wore like armor.

“Careful, sister,” he said, pointing at you with his cup. “That fire of yours might just burn you first.”

“Then let it burn,” you replied coldly, turning on your heel. “At least I won’t waste away, watching from the sidelines like you.”

You didn’t wait for his response. You walked away, each step more purposeful than the last, your gown trailing behind you like a banner of defiance. You could still hear him laughing, the sound echoing in the garden like a ghost that refused to leave.

But you didn’t stop.

You wouldn’t stop.

If Aemond was too blind to see you, then perhaps it was time to remind him what he stood to lose.

You sat on the edge of your bed, the soft fabric of your nightgown pooling around you like a quiet storm. The room was dimly lit, the glow of the lone candle flickering against the stone walls, casting long, shifting shadows. But your mind was far from calm. Aegon’s words from earlier echoed in your head like a bell that wouldn’t stop ringing.

“He won’t see it, not until someone else takes it from him.”

Your fingers tightened around the edge of your bed, your jaw clenching as the realization settled in. You had spent too long waiting for Aemond to see you — to truly see you. You had given him everything: your heart, your body, your devotion. But it had never been enough. Not when her name was still whispered between breaths, not when his gaze lingered just a little too long on Helaena’s face.

Enough.

If Aemond would not see you for what you were, then you would make him see. And to do that, you needed someone who knew how to play the game better than anyone. Someone who had spent his entire life weaving lies, indulgence, and chaos into every step he took.

You needed Aegon.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you stood from the bed. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier, like it knew the weight of what you were about to do. The cold floor beneath your feet was a sharp reminder that there was no going back from this path.

Walking over to your mirror, you stared at your reflection. Your silver hair spilled over your shoulders, untamed and wild. Your eyes, once so soft and full of hope, now burned with quiet resolve. Slowly, you reached up and undid the loose tie of your nightgown, letting it slip just enough to bare the curve of your collarbone and the tops of your shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to remind anyone — everyone — that you were not a woman to be overlooked.

Your gaze hardened as you pulled the fabric back into place. No more waiting. No more hoping. You would seize what was yours, even if it meant playing with fire.

Without another thought, you walked to the door. The cold metal of the handle sent a shiver up your spine, but you didn’t hesitate. The hallway outside was dim, but you knew exactly where to go. Each step echoed softly in the quiet of the Red Keep, your heartbeat matching the rhythm of your footsteps.

When you reached Aegon’s chamber, you paused. Your fingers hovered just above the door, your mind swirling with doubt for the briefest moment. Was this truly the way?

But then you saw Aemond’s face in your mind — cold, distant, always watching someone else. And suddenly, your hesitation vanished.

You knocked.

There was no response at first, but after a few seconds, you heard a shuffle from inside, a low grunt followed by footsteps. The door creaked open just a sliver, revealing Aegon’s familiar, half-lidded stare. His hair was a mess, his tunic loose and wrinkled like he’d just woken up. He raised an eyebrow at you, eyes scanning you from head to toe with a lazy sort of interest.

“Well, well,” he muttered, leaning against the doorframe, his grin already forming. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit, sweet sister?”

You didn’t flinch under his gaze. You stepped forward, just enough for him to see the determination in your eyes.

“I need your help,” you said, your voice steady but low. “With Aemond.”

That got his attention. His grin widened, slow and wicked, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. He let out a soft chuckle, his gaze sharp as a blade as he leaned in, close enough for you to smell the wine on his breath.

“Oh, little sister,” Aegon whispered, his voice dripping with amusement and something else — something darker. “This is going to be fun.”

You stood still, your breath caught in your throat as you felt the cold brush of Aegon’s fingers against your back. The soft rustle of fabric filled the room as he slipped the cloak from your shoulders, letting it fall soundlessly to the floor. The air felt colder against your skin now, but it wasn’t the chill that made you shiver. It was him.

His eyes moved over you slowly, like a lion watching prey, but there was something else there too — something sharper, more knowing. He tilted his head, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Foolish brother,” Aegon murmured, his voice low and smooth like silk soaked in wine. “Blind as a bat, that one.” His fingers brushed over your bare shoulders, not rough but deliberate, each touch a claim, each glance a challenge.

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see the tremble in your hands. You had come here with a purpose, with resolve. This wasn’t about Aegon. This was about Aemond. About making him see you. But you can't be sure now that he touched you like this.

“Does he even know what he has?” Aegon continued, his voice a soft hum as he circled you, his gaze heavy as it lingered on the curve of your neck and the line of your night gown. “All that pride, all that control… yet he can’t see what’s right in front of him.” He laughed, a short, breathy sound, bitter and amused. “Typical.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and you squared your shoulders, refusing to look away. “Are you going to help me or not, Aegon?”

His grin widened, sharp and wicked, like a fox that had just caught the scent of a trapped hare. He stepped closer, his hand lifting to cup your cheek. The warmth of his palm against your skin sent a jolt through you — not of fear, but of certainty. He would help you. Not out of kindness, not out of loyalty, but for the thrill of it. For the game.

“Help you?” he repeated, tilting his head as though weighing the offer. His thumb traced the edge of your cheekbone, his eyes narrowing with mock thoughtfulness. “Oh, sweet sister, I’ll do more than that.” He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ll make him beg for you.”

You didn’t pull away. You didn’t flinch. If he thought you were afraid, he was wrong. You had been afraid long enough. Your heart pounded, not with fear, but with something fiercer, something that had been building for far too long.

“Then do it,” you said, your voice like steel wrapped in silk. You turned your head slightly, letting his breath brush your cheek. “Make him see me, Aegon.”

His eyes flashed with something wild, something dangerous. He laughed again, the sound rougher this time, more real. His hands slid away from you, and he took a step back, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Oh, sister,” Aegon said, his grin sharp as a blade. “He’ll see you. I promise you that.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as aegon took off your nightgown, you could feel his gaze filled with lust and passion. his hands lifted to cup your breasts and squeeze them gently, you moaned at his touch. He smiled slightly and whispered "you even have a beautiful voice, sister. Our brother is really stupid because he doesn't know what he's missing"

You closed your eyes as he started to kiss your lips, your hands found their way to his hair, tugging and squeezing it gently. He let out a small moan in between your kisses, he guided your body towards his bed. Laying you down without breaking the kiss, you sighed in disappointment as he pulled away from you, he laughed softly "You have to be patient sweet sister, isn't it unfair that you're already bare while I'm not?"

You stared at him as he slowly took off his tunic, his signature smile never leaving his face. After he took off all the clothes on his body he went back on top of you, he looked at your face with a soft gaze. You had never seen this look from aegon, he stroked your cheek gently. He slowly lowered his face to capture your lips again, his kiss was soft and more demanding.

His hands began to stroke your body, starting from your chest then down to your stomach, and ending in front of your wet core. You moan as you felt his hands stroke your folds, he looked at you. Your silver hair spread beautifully on his pillow, your eyes closed because of him, your moans that were heard because of his touch. Something inside him woke up, you sighed because of him, not your husband, not your brother. but him.

"Aegon, don't tease me. Please" You said softly, he smiled then slowly he inserted one of his fingers which made you moan softly. He could feel your walls squeezing his finger, you felt him kiss your stomach as his finger started to go in and out of your core. His finger movements were slow and intense, he then added a second finger and sped up his movements. You moaned at his touch, your body arching up as his finger hit that spot.

He stretches your cunt deliciously, you are already drunk even with just his fingers. How will you be if he enters you with his hardened cock? he looks at you and pulls his fingers out, again you sigh in disappointment as you feel empty. He licks his fingers that are covered by your Arousal, you look at him with lust. Maybe you ask him for help, but there is also a hidden intention.

"Are you ready?" He whispered in your ear as he rubbed the head of his cock against your core, you nodded and begged him to fuck you. "Please aegon, fuck me. Fuck me like i'm one of your whores"

He kissed your neck before finally sliding his cock inside you, both of you moaning together, feeling your walls stretching with pleasure. "You are not a whore, sister. You are a goddess worthy of being worshipped" he whispered softly in your ear.

He stretches you deliciously, his size is different from Aemond's. Aegon's is thicker than him, he fills you deliciously unlike Aemond's. He lets you adjust to his size, Then he guides your legs to wrap around his waist. With this position you can feel him getting deeper inside you, and you like it.

“you squeezing me tightly sister, fuck” Aegon’ low groan breaks the silence, he loves the way your clenching walls are tightening around his length.

The moans spilling out from your mouth only serves as further stimulus for Aegon to pull back and slide his entire shaft inside you before pounding you in a rough rhythm. Aegon doesn’t hold back, “All mine.”

You could see something in Aegon's eyes, lust, furry, — or something darker. He found your neck and chock you softly, you moaned. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the pleasure he was giving you.

He keeps fucking you like there's no tomorrow, you can feel his cock twitching inside you. You stroked his cheek gently, then you captured his lips and kissed him gently. The knot in your stomach tightened and was ready to be released as Aegon kept abusing your cunt.

He broke the kiss and pressed your foreheads together, "You are mine from tonight, if Aemond is too stupid not to claim you. then I will be the one to claim you." You who were blinded by lust nodded wearily, "Yes, yes, oh gods. Aegon." Aegon smiled and thrust his cock into your cunt again, before he spurted his seed inside you, you moaned softly feeling the warmth.

your breaths met, aegon slowly lowered his head to capture your lips once more. his kiss was softer and more meaningful, he slowly pulled out his cock which was starting to soften. He lay down beside you and hugged you from behind

The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the dying fire, the soft crackle of embers the only sound breaking the silence. You lay beneath the warmth of the heavy blanket, the weight of it grounding you as much as the arm draped over your waist. Aegon’s breath was steady against the back of your neck, warm and slow, the rhythm of sleep just beginning to claim him.

His hand rested lightly on your stomach, his fingers brushing against your skin with a lazy tenderness you had not expected. His other arm was tucked beneath his head, his face buried in the curve of your shoulder. It should have felt wrong — it did feel wrong — but you didn’t pull away. You stayed.

Your fingers traced soft circles over the length of his forearm, feeling the rough texture of old scars and the faint ridges of muscle beneath his skin. It was a mindless motion, something to distract you from the weight of everything that had just happened. The air still smelled faintly of wine, sweat, and something sweeter — a scent you couldn’t quite name but now felt branded into you.

Your eyes flickered toward the ceiling, unfocused. No amount of darkness could hide the thoughts swirling in your mind. What have I done? The question echoed, quiet but persistent. You had made your choice. Aegon had been more than willing to play his part, and for once, you had felt seen — truly seen — even if it wasn’t by the one you had wanted.

The ache in your chest wouldn’t go away. You’d done this for him — for Aemond — but he wasn’t here. He was never here. And yet, in this moment, wrapped in the warmth of Aegon’s arms, it was easier to forget. Easier to believe, if only for a moment, that you had taken back some control.

“Still awake, little sister?” Aegon’s voice was a low rumble against your back, his lips brushing the curve of your shoulder. His tone was teasing, but there was an edge of knowing in it. He could always tell when you were lost in thought.

You didn’t answer right away. Your fingers stilled on his arm, your gaze still fixed on the ceiling. “I’m thinking,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Dangerous thing, thinking,” he murmured with a soft chuckle. His hand shifted, fingers curling slightly against your stomach, pulling you just a little closer. “Better to stay here. Warm. Quiet.”

“Is it?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. Can it ever be quiet again?

He hummed in response, his breath slow, lazy. He didn’t press you for answers, didn’t push. That was the thing about Aegon — he didn’t demand anything from you. Not your loyalty, not your love, not even your words. He just took what was freely given and gave as little as was required in return. And tonight, that had been enough.

Silence hung between you for a while, thick and heavy but not uncomfortable. You closed your eyes, letting your breathing match his. His fingers traced slow, absent patterns along your skin, his touch light but present, grounding you even as your mind wandered.

Will he know? The thought crept in like a shadow. Will Aemond know? Will he care?

You clenched your eyes tighter, willing the thoughts away. This was not about him anymore. This was about you. About being seen. About being wanted.

Aegon’s lips brushed the back of your neck, his voice low and drowsy. “Sleep, little sister,” he murmured, his words slurred with the pull of sleep. “No one can hurt you here.”

You bit your lip, the weight of his words heavier than he could have known. Slowly, you let your eyes drift shut.

No one can hurt me here.

Except, perhaps, yourself.

The sky was still a deep shade of indigo, the first light of dawn barely a whisper on the horizon. The Red Keep was silent, its cold stone halls eerily empty as you made your way back to your chambers. Your footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor, each step a quiet reminder of the night you’d just left behind.

The warmth of Aegon’s arms still lingered on your skin, a phantom sensation that refused to fade. His scent clung to you — wine, smoke, and something else uniquely him. For the first time in a long while, you felt… lighter. Not weighed down by longing or rejection. Not haunted by the feeling of being second to someone else. In Aegon’s arms, there had been no questions, no comparisons. Only touch, warmth, and the quiet, simple truth of being wanted.

You ran your fingers through your loose hair, attempting to tame it as you walked. Your gaze remained forward, unwavering, even as a few passing servants glanced your way. You could feel their eyes on you, hear the faint rustle of fabric as they bowed their heads. But you didn’t care. You didn’t shrink away. You didn’t lower your gaze.

Let them look.

You reached your chamber door and pushed it open with a slow, deliberate hand. The familiar comfort of your room greeted you, the soft glow of the dying hearth casting flickering shadows on the walls. You closed the door behind you, leaning your back against it for a moment longer than necessary.

Your heart was steady. No guilt. No regret. Only a quiet certainty.

This is what it feels like to be loved.

Not in whispered promises or stolen glances. Not in cold, fleeting touches or moments of duty-bound affection. But in the firm hold of another who saw you — truly saw you — and did not turn away.

You moved toward the vanity, catching sight of yourself in the polished bronze mirror. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips faintly swollen. Evidence of the night you’d had. You tilted your head slightly, brushing a thumb along the side of your neck where the faintest mark remained — a brand left by Aegon’s mouth.

Your fingers hovered over it for a moment before slowly dropping to your side.

You didn’t feel ashamed.

Let Aemond see it if he dares to look.

Your thoughts flickered to him then — your brother-husband. The man who was supposed to love you, to cherish you. But he had only ever seen someone else’s shadow when he looked at you. His gaze had always been for her. His heart had always been hers. No matter what you did, you would never be enough for him.

But for Aegon…

You breathed in deeply and turned away from the mirror, already untying the laces of your gown. It slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet as you moved toward your bed. Climbing beneath the sheets, you felt the soft warmth of the blankets surround you.

The sun would rise soon. Aemond would return to his duties. You would wear your gown and play the role of his wife, his shadow. But for now — for just a little longer — you would let yourself feel loved.

No guilt. No regret.

Only love.

The first light of dawn streamed through the window, casting a soft golden glow over your chamber. Standing before the polished bronze mirror, you carefully ran a brush through your hair, letting it fall freely over your shoulders in silver waves. No intricate braids. No pins or jewels. Just you — unbound, unhidden.

Your fingers hovered over the faint mark on your neck, the warmth of your touch bringing back the heat of last night’s whispers. “Let them see it. Let him see it.” Aegon’s voice echoed in your mind, his words dripping with mischief and certainty.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Yes, let them see it.

For so long, you had played the obedient wife, the forgotten sister, the overlooked daughter. But not today. Today, you would be seen. Not as someone’s shadow. Not as an echo of another. But as you.

You set the brush aside, letting your fingertips glide one last time over the mark on your neck. It wasn’t large, but it was enough. Enough for curious glances. Enough for whispers. Enough for him to see.

The green gown you had chosen for the day hugged your frame perfectly. The sleeves draped elegantly down your arms, and the neckline was just wide enough to leave the mark barely visible — a deliberate choice. Not too obvious, but not hidden either. If someone looked closely, they would see it. He would see it.

With one final glance in the mirror, you tilted your chin higher, a quiet pride burning in your chest. You had spent so long waiting to be seen, waiting to be loved. But no longer.

Today, you would no longer shrink into the background. Let them whisper. Let them wonder. Let him seethe.

With steady steps, you left your chamber, your hair swaying freely with each step. The soft rustle of your gown echoed down the stone corridor. Servants glanced your way, their eyes lingering on you a moment too long, faces flickering with surprise — perhaps even shock.

You didn’t care.

Not today.

When you reached the dining hall, the air grew still. The sound of conversation quieted as eyes turned toward you. Aemond sat at the far end of the table, a goblet in hand, his gaze already fixed on you. His lone eye scanned you from head to toe, his jaw tightening the moment his gaze settled on your neck.

His fingers curled slowly around the goblet, knuckles turning white.

He saw it.

You stepped forward, meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile. You did not bow your head. You did not avert your eyes.

For the first time, he was the one forced to watch you.

You moved gracefully toward the table, your gown flowing like water with each step. All eyes followed you, but you only paid attention to one. Aegon. He leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin tugging at his lips, his eyes half-lidded with mischief as he watched you approach.

You took the seat beside him, your movements slow, deliberate. His gaze lingered on your neck, and his grin widened knowingly. “Good morning, sister,” he greeted you, his voice smooth and soft, just loud enough for you to hear.

“Good morning, brother,” you replied, your tone just as sweet but layered with unspoken meaning.

Across the table, Alicent’s sharp eyes were already on you. Her gaze flickered to your neck — to the mark. Her brows furrowed, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing with that distinct look of a mother who knew exactly when something was out of place.

“What’s that on your neck, my dear?” Alicent’s voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the edge of suspicion in it. Her eyes darted between you and Aegon, her fingers tapping lightly on the edge of her goblet.

You blinked slowly, tilting your head slightly as if only now realizing what she meant. Your fingers lightly brushed over the mark, feigning surprise, before offering a soft, sheepish laugh. “Oh, this?” you said, glancing at her with an innocent smile. “I tripped last night while reaching for a book. I hit the edge of the table.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, eyes searching yours as if waiting for a crack in your composure. But you didn’t falter. You had spent too many years perfecting this mask.

“Clumsy of me, I know,” you added, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, knowing it would only draw more attention to the mark. Your smile didn’t waver.

Alicent’s eyes flicked toward Aegon, who sat far too quietly beside you. He took a long sip from his cup, his eyes glinting with amusement. When he met Alicent’s gaze, he gave her a slow, lazy smile, as if daring her to question it further.

The Queen’s lips pressed tighter. She knew something was amiss, but with Aegon grinning like a cat who’d caught a bird, she could only let it go — for now.

“Be more careful, child,” Alicent said finally, though her tone was colder than before. Her gaze lingered on you a moment longer before she turned her attention back to her meal.

You glanced at Aegon, your fingers resting lightly on the table. He leaned in, his lips brushing just close enough to your ear for you to hear.

“Careful, sister,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “Or you’ll end up with more marks for them to question.”

Your eyes flicked to him, meeting his with quiet defiance and hidden amusement.

“Let them,” you whispered back, your voice as sharp as a blade. “Let him see.”

Aegon chuckled under his breath, his grin growing wider as he leaned back in his chair, clearly pleased with your answer.

On the other side of the table, Aemond sat in tense silence. His knife sliced through his meat with slow, deliberate precision, his gaze never leaving you. The muscle in his jaw ticked as his eye trailed the line of your exposed neck, and you knew he had seen it.

Good.

You reached for your goblet, taking a slow sip, letting the silence stretch just a moment longer. You didn’t look at him — you didn’t need to.

He was already watching.

Alicent cleared her throat, breaking the sharp tension that had settled over the dining hall. Her eyes shifted between you, Aemond, and Aegon, her brow slightly furrowed in quiet disapproval. But as always, she maintained her composure.

“Come walk with me in the gardens after this,” Alicent said, her voice calm but firm, the tone of a mother who expected to be obeyed. Her gaze softened when it landed on your daughter, who was busy playing with a small wooden dragon on the table. “Bring her along. The fresh air will do her good.”

You glanced at Alicent, your heart slowing its wild rhythm. Her invitation wasn’t really a request — it was a command disguised as kindness. Still, you nodded, offering her a small, polite smile. “Of course, Mother,” you replied, brushing a gentle hand over your daughter’s silver hair. “I think she would love that.”

Alicent smiled at your agreement, but her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, sharp and knowing. You wondered if she had noticed the mark on your neck. She must have. Her gaze was too calculating, too perceptive. But she said nothing. Not yet.

Across the table, Aemond’s stare remained relentless, cold fire simmering beneath the surface. His jaw twitched, and his lips pressed into a thin line as he continued to watch you. Let him watch, you thought again, straightening your posture with quiet defiance.

Your daughter tugged on your sleeve, pulling your attention back to her. Her big, curious eyes looked up at you, and she smiled with that innocent joy only a child could have. “Can we pick flowers, Mother?” she asked, tilting her head with that soft, sweet look she always gave you.

You smiled down at her, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “Yes, my sweet flower. We’ll pick as many as you like.”

Her giggle was bright, a sound that eased some of the heaviness clinging to your heart. You turned to Alicent and nodded once more. “Shall we, Mother?”

Alicent glanced at Aemond and Aegon one last time, her lips tightening into a small, unreadable line. “Yes, child,” she replied, standing from her seat with slow grace. “Let us go before the sun grows too hot.”

With your daughter’s tiny hand in yours, you followed Alicent out of the hall. You didn’t look back. Not at Aemond. Not at Aegon. But you felt them both watching you, their eyes like shadows following your every step.

Silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. The sweet fragrance of blooming flowers surrounded you, but it did little to ease the weight pressing on your chest. Your gaze remained locked on your daughter as she giggled and chased a butterfly through the field of blossoms, her silver hair shining like threads of moonlight. Her joy was a stark contrast to the quiet tension that lingered between you and your mother.

You didn’t have to look at her to know Alicent was watching you. You could feel it — the sharp, piercing weight of her gaze on the side of your face, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Her silence wasn’t aimless. It was deliberate, calculated, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.

Your jaw tightened, your fingers curling into the fabric of your gown. You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to stay composed. But patience had its limits, and you were done pretending not to notice.

“If you have something to say, Mother,” you said softly but firmly, still watching your daughter twirl among the flowers. “Then say it.”

There was a pause. Long enough for you to hear the distant call of crows circling above the Red Keep. Alicent’s sigh was quiet but unmistakable, the kind of sigh that only a mother makes when she’s both disappointed and trying to be patient.

“I have always taught you to be careful,” Alicent finally said, her voice calm but edged with warning. “To be wise. But now, you walk the halls as if you want the whole castle to see you.”

You turned to face her slowly, tilting your head just enough to meet her gaze. Her green eyes, sharp as polished glass, met yours without hesitation.

“Is that what you think, Mother?” you asked with a wry smile. “That I want them to see me?”

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line. She stepped forward, closing the space between you. Her eyes flickered briefly to the faint mark on your neck — the mark you had left uncovered. Her gaze lingered for a moment too long before returning to your face.

“Do you think Aemond won’t notice?” she asked quietly, her voice like a knife hidden in silk. “Do you think he won’t care?”

You lifted your chin, eyes narrowing just slightly. “I hope he does,” you replied, your voice as steady as stone. “I want him to.”

Alicent blinked slowly, her expression unreadable. Disappointment, perhaps. Or maybe something else entirely. She studied you, her gaze sweeping over your face as if trying to decipher a riddle she hadn’t expected.

“You think this will give you power over him,” she said, her tone quieter now, almost sad. “But men like Aemond do not yield. They burn. And when they burn, they take everything with them.”

Her words hung in the air like smoke after a wildfire. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t bow your head.

“Then let him burn, Mother,” you replied, your voice colder than before. “I am tired of being the ash.”

Alicent’s eyes softened just for a moment, a flicker of something like sorrow crossing her face. But just as quickly, it was gone, hidden beneath her ever-composed mask. She glanced at your daughter, who had plucked a handful of wildflowers and was now weaving them into a messy little crown.

“You have more to protect than yourself now,” Alicent reminded you, her eyes returning to yours with quiet intensity. “Don’t forget that.”

Her words lingered as she turned and walked away, her green gown trailing behind her like a shadow stretching long in the sun. You watched her leave, feeling the weight of her warning settle on your shoulders.

Your daughter ran up to you, holding the flower crown high with a proud grin. “Look, Mother! It’s for you!” she beamed, eyes wide with excitement.

You knelt down to her level, letting her place the crooked crown on your head. Her little hands patted it into place, her giggles filling the air like birdsong.

“Does it suit me?” you asked, brushing your fingers through her hair.

She nodded eagerly, her eyes glowing with love. “You’re the prettiest queen ever, Mother!”

You smiled at her, pulling her close for a hug. Your eyes drifted to where Alicent had disappeared among the trees, her words still echoing in your mind.

“Then let him burn,” you repeated silently to yourself, holding your daughter just a little tighter. “Let him burn.”

You walked slowly through the long corridors of the Red Keep, the soft glow of sunlight streaming in from the high windows. The sound of your daughter’s giggles and her tiny, delighted murmurs filled the air like a melody, bringing a rare warmth to your heart. Her little hand gripped yours tightly, her steps uneven but determined as she tried to keep up with you. Her silver hair shimmered in the light, so much like her father’s — a thought you quickly pushed away.

Your smile lingered, but it faltered as soon as you noticed him.

Aemond.

He stood at the far end of the corridor, his tall figure framed by the light behind him, casting his face in shadow. But even without seeing him clearly, you knew he was staring at you. His one eye was fixed on you with that sharp, unyielding intensity that had always made you feel so small. His steps were slow but deliberate, his boots echoing with each heavy step as he made his way toward you.

Your heart clenched. There was no mistaking the storm brewing in his gaze. It wasn’t rage — not quite. It was something colder, something that sat beneath the surface and lingered like frost on a blade.

You braced yourself, fingers tightening around your daughter’s hand. She didn’t notice. She was too busy humming a little tune to herself, blissfully unaware of the silent battle unfolding in front of her.

Aemond drew closer, his lips pressed into a firm line, his gaze flicking to you and then to the child at your side. His eye lingered on the faint mark on your neck — the one you hadn’t bothered to hide. His jaw clenched. You saw the muscle in his cheek twitch, and for a moment, you wondered if he would stop walking entirely.

But before he could reach you, another figure appeared.

“Aha! There she is!”

Aegon’s voice echoed down the hall, loud and lazy as always. He strolled toward you with a grin, his arms wide as if greeting old friends. You barely had time to react before he swooped in, his movements quick but somehow still unbothered.

“Come here, little dragon,” he cooed as he scooped your daughter up into his arms, lifting her high into the air. She shrieked with laughter, her small hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

“Uncle Aegon!” she squealed with delight, giggling as he spun her around in the air. “Higher! Higher!”

“Your wish is my command, little lady,” he grinned, his voice full of playful charm. He twirled her once more, her silver hair flying in wild loops around her face.

You blinked, momentarily stunned, but quickly recovered. “Aegon, careful,” you warned, your voice firm but not harsh. “You’ll make her sick if you keep spinning her like that.”

He glanced at you, flashing that devil-may-care grin that had gotten him into trouble too many times to count. “Nonsense,” he said with mock seriousness, lowering her only a little. “This one’s a Targaryen. We don’t get dizzy.” He tapped his temple with a wink.

You tried to keep a straight face, but your daughter’s laughter was too infectious. A soft smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

But then you felt it.

That gaze.

Aemond hadn’t moved. He stood still as stone, his eye burning into the side of your face. His lips were pressed so tightly together that they had gone pale, his hands folded neatly behind his back, as if he was restraining himself.

His eye flicked to Aegon, watching as he cradled your daughter close to his chest, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm on her back. Aegon wasn’t even looking at him. His attention was fully on you and the child in his arms.

“She looks just like you,” Aegon said suddenly, his voice quieter than before. He glanced at you, his grin still in place, but something in his tone had shifted. “All fire and pride.”

You tilted your head, unsure if he was complimenting you or mocking you. “She takes after her mother,” you replied coolly.

“Of course she does,” he agreed with a knowing smirk. His eyes met yours — and lingered a moment too long. A silent message exchanged. One only the two of you could understand.

Aemond saw it.

He saw everything.

You could feel his anger like a second heartbeat in the room, slow and steady but undeniable. His breathing was controlled, his shoulders squared, but the flicker of his eye betrayed him. He was seething.

“Enough,” Aemond’s voice finally cut through the moment like a blade. Sharp. Icy. Absolute.

The air grew cold.

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his grin unfading, but he lowered your daughter from his arms with exaggerated care. She pouted at him, disappointed that their game was over.

“Uncle Aegon will play with you later, little one,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Go with your mother for now.”

Your daughter nodded, still pouting, but she took your hand obediently. Aegon gave her one last playful wink before turning his eyes back to Aemond.

There was no laughter now.

The two brothers stared at each other in silence, the weight of unspoken words filling the corridor like smoke after a fire.

Aegon’s grin was gone, replaced by something colder, sharper. “Brother,” he greeted with mock politeness, tilting his head slightly as if offering respect. It was anything but.

Aemond’s lips barely moved. “Aegon.”

For a moment, you wondered if they might come to blows right there in front of you. But Aegon, always the one to avoid true confrontation, only shrugged.

“Don’t glare at me, brother,” Aegon drawled, his eyes half-lidded with boredom. “You should be thanking me. After all, someone has to remind her what it feels like to be seen.”

The silence after his words was deafening.

Your breath hitched, heart thudding in your chest. You didn’t know whether to be furious or grateful for Aegon’s boldness.

Aemond’s face was still, so still that it was almost inhuman. But his eye — his eye was a storm. His lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. The weight of his anger was like thunder rumbling in the distance, waiting for the lightning to strike.

You squeezed your daughter’s hand, forcing yourself to remain calm. You could not let them see you break. Not now. Not ever.

“Come, darling,” you said softly to your child, brushing your fingers through her hair. “Let’s not waste our time here.”

You didn’t look at Aemond as you passed him. You kept your head high, your chin lifted, your steps slow and deliberate. You knew he was watching you. You could feel it, the searing heat of his gaze following your every movement.

Aegon’s chuckle echoed behind you, soft and full of mischief. “See you at dinner, little sister,” he called after you, his tone light and carefree. But you knew better. His words were never as simple as they seemed.

You didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.

But you felt it.

The fire.

The storm.

The weight of Aemond’s gaze burned hotter than dragonflame, and this time, you didn’t run from it. You let it sear into your back like a brand, unyielding and undeniable.

If he was going to watch you burn, then so be it.

Let him burn too.

You walked down the quiet corridor with your daughter by your side, the soft click of your shoes echoing in the stone hallways of the Red Keep. The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting a silvery glow on the floor beneath your feet. Your appearance tonight was different—more daring. Your silver hair, usually left to fall in gentle waves, was now loosely braided down your back, and the dress you wore hugged your figure in a way that felt more bold than your usual attire.

As you reached the door to your mother’s private solar, you paused for a moment, steadying your breath. You had made the decision, and now there was no turning back. You were determined to stand tall, regardless of the consequences.

When the door opened, you were greeted by a mixture of expressions. Your mother, Alicent, stood in the center of the room, her eyes wide in confusion as she took in your appearance. Her gaze flickered to your daughter, who tugged at your hand, seemingly unaware of the tension in the air.

But it was the other two men in the room who caught your full attention. Aegon, leaning casually against the stone wall, stared at you with a dark, unreadable look in his eyes, his lips curling into a slight smirk. There was something almost predatory in the way he watched you. And then, there was Aemond. His face was a mask of barely contained fury, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

Aegon’s voice broke the silence, smooth and laced with an edge. “Well, well… someone’s feeling bold tonight.”

But it was Aemond’s glare that pierced through the air like a sword. His fists clenched at his sides, his expression darkened, and his voice came out cold, sharp. “What is this?” he demanded, his eyes never leaving you.

For a moment, you hesitated. The weight of their gazes pressed on you, but you refused to let it make you falter. This was your moment. You had decided this path, and no matter how much it hurt, you would not back down.

“I’m simply here,” you said, your voice calm but resolute, “to have dinner with my mother. Is that a crime?”

Aemond’s anger was palpable, and his voice came out with a bite that made your skin tingle. “It’s not your presence that’s troubling, it’s the way you choose to present yourself, wife,” he spat, stepping forward. “You think you can—”

You didn’t let him finish. You could feel the tension between you, thick and suffocating, but you refused to let it control you. “I am not your possession, Aemond,” you said firmly, locking eyes with him. “I don’t need your approval.”

There was a moment of silence before Aegon chuckled softly, the sound almost mocking. “Aemond, I think she’s made her point,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe you should stop trying to control everyone.”

Aemond’s expression tightened, and his lips curled into a thin, angry line. The room seemed to close in around you as the weight of his fury bore down on you. But you didn’t look away. You had lived in his shadow for so long, but now, you were ready to step out.

“I think we’re done here,” you said finally, your voice a low whisper. You turned to your mother, who was still standing, her expression unreadable.

“Let’s go, darling,” you said to your daughter, your voice soft, almost a comfort to her.

As you walked past them, you could feel Aemond’s gaze following you, sharp and unforgiving. But you didn’t look back. You had made your choice, and now you would live with it. You would no longer let Aemond or anyone else dictate who you should be. You would forge your own path, one that was yours and yours alone.

You approached Helaena, who was seated gracefully with her twin children playing at her feet. Her gentle smile greeted you like the soft glow of dawn, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of warmth.

“Go on, sweet girl,” you whispered to your daughter, nudging her toward her cousins. She glanced up at you with bright, trusting eyes before running off to join them, her giggles mixing with those of the twins. The sound was soft, innocent, untouched by the weight of the world around them.

Helaena tilted her head, watching you with that faraway look she so often had. “She’s grown so much,” she said softly, her voice like a dream. “She looks like you.”

You smiled, brushing a hand over your gown. “She has her father’s stubbornness,” you replied, your tone lighter than you felt.

You turned and made your way to the table, your steps slow and deliberate. Your eyes scanned the room, and you immediately caught the heavy gaze of your mother. Alicent sat straight-backed, hands folded in her lap, her eyes locked on you. There was no mistaking that look. It wasn’t mere observation — it was scrutiny. A silent demand for answers.

You didn’t falter. You met her gaze head-on, unblinking, unyielding. She raised a single brow, a silent warning, but you kept walking.

Aegon was already seated, one arm slung lazily over the back of his chair. His sharp eyes followed you as you approached, a grin slowly curling at the edges of his lips. He shifted just slightly, making space for you at his side.

“Looking radiant tonight, sister,” Aegon remarked, his voice thick with amusement. His eyes dropped briefly to your neck — to the faint mark you had chosen not to hide. His grin widened. “It seems you’ve found yourself in some mischief.”

You sat next to him, ignoring the way his fingers briefly brushed against your arm. He leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping lower so only you could hear. “He’s watching you,” he murmured, his eyes flicking toward the other end of the room.

You didn’t have to turn to know who he meant.

Aemond.

He choose to sit with Helaena tonight. His posture as stiff as ever. You felt the weight of him before you even glanced his way. He was quiet, but his presence was louder than the chatter of everyone else in the room.

He didn’t look at you directly at first. His gaze flickered from his plate to Aegon’s hand, which lingered a moment too long on the back of your chair. His jaw tightened. The muscle there tensed, his lips pressing into a thin, firm line.

“Brother,” Aemond finally said, his voice cool and sharp, like the edge of a blade. “You seem particularly lively this evening.”

Aegon chuckled lowly, tipping his cup of wine toward Aemond. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s a fine night, after all.” He glanced at you, his grin widening. “And I have fine company.”

You felt Aemond shift beside you, his body leaning forward slightly, just enough to make his presence known. You turned your head slowly, meeting his eye. His gaze was sharp, cutting, filled with something you couldn’t quite name. Anger? Jealousy?

“Strange,” Aemond muttered, his gaze flicking briefly to the mark on your neck before returning to your eyes. “I didn’t think you’d need company outside of your husband.”

Silence fell over the table. Your mother’s eyes sharpened, her lips parting slightly as if to intervene. Helaena blinked slowly, still playing with her twins, as though she hadn’t noticed the shift in the air. But she had. You could tell.

Your heart pounded, but you kept your face calm, composed. You tilted your head, allowing a faint smile to tug at your lips. “A husband must first be present to be considered company,” you replied softly, your words carrying more weight than volume.

Aegon’s laughter broke the silence like shattering glass. He leaned forward, his eyes alight with mischief, his gaze flickering between you and Aemond. “Oh, she’s sharp tonight,” he grinned, shaking his head. “Careful, brother. You’ll cut yourself on her wit.”

Aemond’s gaze remained locked on you, cold fire burning beneath the surface. His fingers twitched at his side, his body taut like a bowstring ready to snap. But he said nothing. His silence was louder than any words he could have spoken.

Your mother cleared her throat, finally breaking the tension. “Enough,” Alicent said firmly, her voice cutting through the room like a queen’s command. Her eyes darted between you, Aegon, and Aemond. “This is a family meal, not a spectacle.”

Aegon only chuckled, sipping his wine with a lazy grin. You glanced at Aemond one last time, meeting his eye with the same unflinching defiance you’d shown your mother.

He would not win tonight.

Throughout the dinner, your attention remained firmly on Aegon. The two of you spoke softly, exchanging words only the two of you could hear. He had abandoned his wine tonight, a rare occurrence, and instead, his full attention was on you. His gaze lingered, sharp and knowing, a look that made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time.

His fingers brushed over your arm every so often as he spoke, light but deliberate, and when you laughed at one of his quips, he reached up to tuck a loose strand of silver hair behind your ear. The touch lingered just a moment too long. Warm. Familiar. Intentional.

Your heart fluttered, though you did not show it. It wasn’t love. No, it was something simpler but just as powerful — being wanted. Being noticed.

Across the table, you felt his eyes on you. Aemond. He was quiet as ever, his knife slicing through his food with sharp precision. But he wasn’t eating. No, he was watching. His gaze was unwavering, fixed on the space where Aegon’s hand had rested on your arm. His fingers curled around the handle of his knife, grip tightening until his knuckles turned white.

He hated it. You knew he did.

The weight of his jealousy filled the room like smoke, thick and choking, but you didn’t flinch. Not this time. You straightened your back and leaned just a little closer to Aegon, letting out a soft laugh that carried just enough sweetness to turn bitter in Aemond’s ears. You didn’t even have to look at him to know. You could feel his fury like a storm brewing on the horizon.

Alicent noticed it too. Her eyes darted between you, Aemond, and Aegon, her lips pressed into a thin line. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. What could she say? What could anyone say?

Aegon leaned in toward you again, his voice low but loud enough for others to hear if they truly paid attention. “Careful, little sister,” he murmured, his grin sharp as ever. “He looks ready to start a war.”

You tilted your head just slightly, glancing at Aemond from the corner of your eye. His face was stone, hard and cold, but his eye told a different story. It burned with something wild, something raw.

You turned your gaze back to Aegon and smiled, soft and sweet. “Let him,” you whispered, just loud enough for Aemond to hear. “I’ve had enough of his silence.”

Aegon’s eyes widened with surprise before he threw his head back in laughter. He laughed so loud and so carelessly that even Helaena glanced up from her plate, blinking in confusion. Alicent frowned deeply, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

But you didn’t care. For the first time in a long while, you felt in control.

Aemond’s knife clattered against his plate, the sudden sound drawing everyone’s attention. His jaw was clenched tight, his chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths. He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the stone floor.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice deadly calm, his eye never leaving you. His gaze lingered on you for a breath longer than necessary before he turned and strode out of the room, his steps sharp and echoing.

Silence settled over the table like a heavy blanket. Alicent glanced at you, her eyes full of questions she wouldn’t dare ask in front of everyone. Helaena blinked, her gaze following Aemond’s retreating figure. Aegon raised his cup, tilting it toward you as if to say well done.

You only smiled, eyes fixed on the door Aemond had just walked through.

He had always been so composed, so controlled. But not tonight.

Tonight, you had won.

The warmth of satisfaction still lingered in your chest as you made your way to your chambers. The image of Aemond’s face at dinner replayed in your mind — the tightness of his jaw, the sharp flare of anger in his eye, and the way he stormed out, unable to contain himself. It had been so long since you’d seen him break like that. He finally felt it, you thought to yourself. He finally knows what it feels like to be ignored.

Your steps echoed softly against the cold stone floors as you approached your door. You pushed it open, expecting the quiet stillness of your chambers. But the moment you stepped inside, the air shifted.

He was there.

Aemond stood in front of the fire, the golden flames casting long, flickering shadows on the stone walls. His back was to you, his hands clasped behind him. His posture was as rigid as ever, but there was something different tonight. Something simmering beneath the surface.

The door clicked shut behind you, and you froze. Your heart gave a sharp, sudden thud in your chest.

“Aemond,” you said, keeping your voice steady. You raised your chin, unwilling to show even a flicker of hesitation. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t answer right away. The silence was thick and stifling. Slowly, he turned his head, his eye catching the glow of the fire. He glanced at you from over his shoulder, his face half in shadow, half in light. His gaze dragged over you slowly — from your disheveled hair to the slight crease in your gown. His gaze lingered on your neck. On the mark that you hadn’t bothered to cover.

His lips curled into a sneer.

“Enjoying yourself, sister?” His voice was quiet but razor-sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. He turned fully now, his gaze locking onto yours with the intensity of a predator watching its prey.

You felt the heat of it, but you refused to look away. “I don’t know what you mean,” you replied calmly, stepping further into the room. You untied the clasp of your cloak and let it slide from your shoulders, keeping your eyes on him the entire time. “I spent the evening with our family, just as you did.”

His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, his jaw ticking with tension. He took a slow step forward, his eye never leaving you.

“Do not play games with me,” he said quietly, each word deliberate, dangerous. “You know exactly what I mean.” Another step forward. “Do you think I didn’t see it? The way you clung to him — the way he touched you.” His eye darted to your neck again, and you swore you saw his teeth clench. “Do you think i'm blind, sister?”

You tilted your head, your fingers toying with the loose braid in your hair. “You never seemed to care before,” you said, letting the words drip with venom. “Why care now, husband?”

That struck him. You saw it in the way his gaze darkened, in the way his breath grew heavier. He strode toward you, closing the distance between you in only a few strides. He stopped inches from you, his height looming over you like a storm cloud.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice low, quiet, but full of danger. “Do not mistake indifference for mercy.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you did not back away. Not tonight. Not after everything. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your eyes as sharp as his. “And do not mistake neglect for loyalty,” you shot back, your voice unwavering. “You gave me nothing, Aemond. No love. No warmth. You treated me like a shadow while you poured your affection into her.” Your lips curled into a bitter smile. “So forgive me if I sought comfort elsewhere.”

For a moment, silence reigned. His breathing was heavier now, his chest rising and falling as he stared at you like he didn’t know whether to destroy you or claim you. His fingers twitched at his side, itching to move, to act, to do something.

“You think you’ve won,” he muttered, his voice laced with something dangerous, something raw. “You think you’ve made me jealous.” He leaned down, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. “But jealousy is for fools. I do not envy Aegon.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he whispered, “I pity him.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you held your ground. You turned your face toward him, so close that your noses almost touched. “Pity him all you want,” you whispered, your voice a deadly softness. “But at least he knows how to cherish what’s his.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the sharp rhythm of your breathing. His gaze darted to your lips for the briefest second before he pulled back, his face twisted with something like fury — or maybe something more dangerous than that.

Without another word, Aemond turned on his heel and strode toward the door. But before he opened it, he stopped, his fingers gripping the handle so tightly you thought it might break. He glanced at you one last time, his eye burning with cold fire.

“Be careful, wife,” he said, his voice laced with warning. “When you play with fire, it does not just burn — it consumes.”

Then he was gone, the heavy thud of the door echoing through the room like thunder.

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, your breath shallow and sharp. Slowly, you pressed your fingers against the mark on your neck, feeling the heat of it beneath your skin.

Let it burn, you thought. Let it burn us both.

You sit on your bed, your thoughts tangled and chaotic after Aemond’s words. The weight of everything pressing on your chest feels unbearable. You slip on your robe to cover the nightgown you’ve been wearing, your movements mechanical as you try to regain some composure. You need to talk to Helaena, to try and make sense of everything swirling in your mind.

You walk towards her chamber, the steady rhythm of your footsteps the only sound in the hall. But as you approach her door, something stops you.

A muffled gasp.

Your heart lurches in your chest, an icy chill running down your spine. You stop in your tracks, frozen, as you listen. Another sound follows — a soft, breathy moan. His voice.

Aemond.

The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. Your body tenses as you try to steady your breath. You want to move away, to leave this moment behind, but something keeps you rooted to the spot.

You recognize the sound all too well — it belongs to him. You’ve heard it before, in different contexts, but never like this. Not with Helaena.

Your head spun, and it felt as if thousands of daggers were piercing your heart. Your hands shook at your sides, nails digging into your palms. Part of you wanted to run, to escape the reality standing so plainly before you. But another part of you needed to know. You had to know.

You stepped back, breath shallow, heart thudding painfully in your chest. Your gaze was locked on the door, and though you told yourself to leave, your feet wouldn’t move. You stood there, caught between heartbreak and rage, unable to tear yourself away from the sounds beyond that door.

A soft laugh echoed from inside. It was Helaena’s. You recognized it instantly. Then came his voice — low, rough, familiar in a way that made your chest ache. His voice, the one that should have been meant for you alone.

“Aemond…” Helaena’s voice was like a whisper in the storm, soft but sharp enough to slice through you. Your hands curled into fists, nails biting into your skin as your lips trembled. You knew you should leave. You knew it was pointless to stay, letting yourself be shattered like this.

But still, you stood there. Letting it destroy you.

You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood, trying to stifle the sob rising in your throat. Your chest tightened with every breath, a wild mix of pain, fury, and disbelief. For so long, you had tried to convince yourself that maybe — just maybe — Aemond would see you. That one day, he would love you the way a husband should love his wife.

But he never did. He never chose you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, hot and unrelenting. You touched your chest as if you could somehow reach into it and pull the ache out with your bare hands. But it stayed, heavy and unyielding.

It was always Helaena. Always her.

You wiped the tears from your face, trying to steady yourself. Desperate gasps and quiet groans grew louder from beyond the door. You couldn’t bear to hear it any longer. Your legs, frozen moments ago, now felt as light as air. You turned on your heel, gown swishing around you, your footsteps quick and determined as you fled down the corridor.

The tears wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard you bit your lip to silence your sobs. Each step echoed with the weight of everything you’d tried so hard to deny. He will never love you. Not as he loves her. Not as he loves Helaena.

But as you moved further away, a single name came to mind.

Aegon.

You remembered the way Aegon had watched you earlier. His gaze wasn’t distant or dismissive. It was focused. He saw you. His lingering touch on your arm, the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and the way he smiled at you at the dinner table. He sees you. He sees everything that Aemond refuses to see.

You wiped your tears with a rough, angry swipe, your breathing still uneven. No more tears. Not for Aemond. Not for a man who never saw you as enough.

That night, you would not sleep alone.

With that resolve, you left your chambers, letting your gown trail behind you like the shadow of a queen who had been wronged. You knew where you were going. You knew exactly who would be waiting for you with open arms.

Aegon.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel guilty. Not anymore.

You rush toward Aegon’s chamber, your steps frantic and your heart racing, the tears flowing freely. When you reach the door, you throw it open without thinking, startling Aegon, who had been sipping his wine. His eyes widen as he takes in your tear-streaked face, and before he can speak, you rush into his arms.

Aegon hesitates for just a moment, then pulls you close, his strong arms wrapping around you as you bury your face in his chest. His grip is firm and comforting, but he senses the desperation in your touch.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, brushing a hand through your hair. But you shake your head, your words muffled against him.

“I… I can’t anymore. I need you to make me forget,” you whisper, your voice fragile. “I can’t bear this pain anymore.”

Aegon stiffens for a moment, his breath hitching, before he gently pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes. His expression is soft, his own emotions carefully hidden beneath the surface, but the intensity of his gaze never wavers.

“Forget?” His voice is low, a mixture of concern and something else, something deeper.

You nod, your hands trembling as you reach up to touch his face. “Please… make me forget him. Just for tonight.”

Aegon stares at you, the weight of your words hanging heavily between you. He breathes in deeply, as if debating something internally, before he leans forward and presses his lips gently against yours.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but as you respond to him, it deepens, his hands pulling you closer. For a brief moment, the world around you fades away, and you forget the pain, the heartache, and the betrayal. It’s just him, and it’s just you, lost in the moment, as though you’re both trying to escape the heavy burdens of your lives.

When the kiss breaks, Aegon doesn’t pull away completely. He holds you close, his forehead resting against yours, and whispers, “For tonight… I’ll make you forget, if that’s what you need.”

He lifted you up and laid you on his bed, he didn't say anything else. He wiped your tears and started kissing you, his kiss was soft, softer than yesterday. Without breaking the kiss he slowly stroked your breasts which were still covered by your nightgown, squeezing them gently which made you moan in your kiss.

he slowly untied your nightgown and revealed your breasts, his kisses started to trail down to your neck, kissing the marks he left last night. then his hands played with your nipples making you moan his name.

"Aegon" He went back down your body with his kisses, moving from your stomach, then his lips arrived in front of your cunt. He started kissing it and licking it making you arch your body and moan softly, your hands went to his hair and squeezed it gently. Your legs were on his shoulders as he began to eat you out, his tongue skillfully licking and sucking your wet folds.

"you taste so sweet, love"

He inserted a finger into you and pumped it slowly, his mouth still sucking on your swollen clit you spread your legs even wider to make it easier for him. When he added another finger you squirmed beneath him and he held your hips to keep you still, your body arched from the pleasure he gave you, a pleasure that Aemond never gave you.

"Fuck me aegon, make me round of your child. Fill me up with your seed, breed me until i can't take your seed anymore"

Aegon growled, the thought of you being heavy with his seed made his cock even harder. Without thinking, Aegon crawled over you and kissed you roughly, you could taste yourself in his mouth. Without warning, he thrust his cock into you, both of you moaning together. He stretched you out deliciously.

Aegon didn't hold back, he slammed his hips into you roughly and fast. Seeing you moan helplessly beneath him made him even hotter, your breasts shaking in time with his thrusts, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your body arching as he finds that spot. You drive him crazy, crazy because of your body, crazy because he knows you are his now.

"tell me sister, did aemond fuck you like i did hm?" Your mind is too hazy, clouded by lust. your mouth was open but you didn't answer, you could only sigh continuously and it made him smile. "that's what i thought"

Your back arches up when the head of his member prods against your sensitive spot. “You take me so well, sister.” He groaned again as he felt your walls squeeze him, as if wanting to milk all the seed that was there.

“Gonna fill you up,” he growls. “With my cum until you’re leaking and breed you until I’m satisfied.”

You tries to formulate a coherent response, but your hazy mind betrays you and whines come out in response. Sweat dripping down your back as your hips rock back and forth, frantically seeking your own pleasure.

Laughter stumbles past Aegon’ lips as he delivers a sharp slap on your supple flesh, stroking it afterwards. “That’s it sister, let go.”

Your body shook as you felt your peak approaching, you screamed his name as you reached your peak. Aegon slammed his cock and spurted his seed inside you, he felt your walls squeeze him tightly and milking him until the last drop of his seed. He didn't let go of his cock, he hugged you and lay down with you. He kissed your back and let sleep consume the both of you.

And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, the weight of your world is lifted.

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