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astonmartinii · 4 days ago

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other side of the moon - chapter one | formula one imagine

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

chapter one: an offer you can refuse

years of solitude has led y/n y/ln down a dark path following her career-ending injury in 2022 but one rookie seems dead set on bringing her back into the fray

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

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“have you seen this?”

it’s too early in the day to be subjected to twitter in y/n’s opinion, but her manager - the one she’s always insisted in not needing - insists upon it. sara’s hand shakes as she hands over her phone, the video already playing loudly.

the video is a poorly clipped together compilation of kimi antonelli, for no better word, gushing about her. it’s earnest and even cute, but not cute enough. the formula one paddock was a vulture pit, one y/n had only escaped three years earlier with her life - barely.

“it’s cool. that’s all it is though,” y/n moves towards the door, picking up her coat and refusing to turn back towards sara, “i’ve told you since jenson insisted i hire you, there’s no way in hell i will ever go back to that paddock. and that’s the end of it, please. i’ll do any stupid vitamin ad or female empowerment talk if it makes you happy, but i can’t go back there.”

y/n grabbed her keys and left the apartment, leaving sara in her wake. sara reached into her pocket and pulled out a tattered letter with ‘y/n’ scrawled on the front in awful handwriting. she left it on the kitchen island and left, understanding this was likely to be her last time in this apartment - there's stupid and there's what she was doing right now, there was no way she would still be employed in the morning.

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girlsonthegrid

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 103,478 others

tagged: yourusername

girlsonthegrid: today we look back at the biggest what if for women in formula one - y/n y/ln. the 26-year-old drove for mclaren from 2020 to 2022 before she sustained a career-ending injury at silverstone. y/ln was the first ever female f1 race winner with her emphatic victory at monza in 2021 and the first ever female formula 2 champion with her win in 2019. her career lasted just 30 races and she hasn't been seen in the paddock or around any drivers since the crash. there have been reports that she has been approached about a mentor role but considering how fast her management rejected and shut down sky sports about a commentary role, this is also unlikely. what would you like to see from her if she ever comes out of hiding?

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user1: i mourn for her everyday

user2: the way she paved the way for so many but can't stand to be in the paddock to see what she did for the sport

user3: i really don't blame her

user4: doriane is the mercedes reserve and abbi is alpine's! her work is there even if she isn't and i know i'll always be grateful for that

user5: she's so overrated, if she didn't crash she still would've been out of formula 1 by now

user6: me when i'm the most wrong ever

user7: i can't believe there are still men to this day that think she wasn't great? literal world champions like max, lewis, fernando, seb and jenson have all said that she could've won a championship

user8: i mean no shade to lando but i think y/n would've made it 100x harder for max this season in that mclaren

user9: the way jenson tried to say that in the nicest way possible in las vegas lol

user10: and max agreed with him LOL

user11: the way it wasn't even proper lando shade or oscar shade like twitter painted it to be but like max just praising his bestie

user12: he does not play about her as he should

user13: i mean he's the only one we know y/n still actually talks to

user14: i can't wait for the tell-all biography that exposes half the grid because like how much have you must have fucked up for her to never speak to you again

user15: when twitter likes were public she was caught liking a bunch of tweets bout mick when he got his first points so like she doesn't even have hard feelings to the guy who put her in the barrier sooo

user16: it was proven it was break failure???? mick did nothing wrong that's why she still likes things praising him

user17: that crash really robbed us of the best ever f1 relationship with y/n and lando

user18: you know that's part of the reason that she doesn't speak to lando right?

user19: because she wished it was him not her?

user20: NO! because she hated that whole 'ship'

user21: and lando leaned into it way too much

user22: it made me a bit uncomfortable and i'm not even y/n

user23: AND she said on the beyond the grid podcast that she thought those rumours were really reductive and relegated her to just a love interest of her teammate rather than a race winner

user24: kimi antonelli please bring her back to us

user25: praying she'll listen to the literal child

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texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and max verstappen (italics)

did u give them my fucking address

my lawyer says to always deny everything?

i also actually have no idea what you are talking about…

i just got home and there’s a fucking letter from KIMI ANTONELLI on my kitchen counter

it’s creepy and a mad invasion of privacy

i did NOT give them your address?

i gave them sara’s contact details so they wouldn’t be able to directly get to you and i honestly thought she would be too scared to ask you

she showed me all the clips of him praising me.

it didn’t work.

it’s been three years y/n…

and it still hasn’t been long enough.

all i’m saying is read the letter, as creepy as it might be, he is just an 18 year old entering the lion’s den you could at least reply to him even if you don’t take up the offer

although i read they were going to pay you £10 million a year??? was that real?

unfortunately it is very real.

i didn’t think i was still worth that much

you are worth that and more, just give him a chance. we’ve both met him, he’s a sweet kid.

for now.

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it was cold in her apartment, y/n hadn’t shut the window from when she opened them that morning. in fact she hadn’t moved from the kitchen since she set eyes on the letter. it was bold she’d give him that.

the letter was crumpled as if it had gone through hell to get to her (it probably had) and the handwriting was a serious reminder of just how young kimi is. y/n had wondered if her maternal instincts would ever kick in like all the older women in her life insisted it would. sure she had felt intense feelings of love for her childhood cats and had cared her formula one cars (regina and heather, they were named after mean girls, because that is who they had to be on track) like they were children. but that true maternal feeling had never come to her, until now.

all y/n could think about was kimi. how young he was, how much he was set to lose. not everyone was her, the worst thing wasn’t going to happen to everyone - it just always seemed to happen to her.

her loud phone alarm jolted her out of her daydream, reminding her to take her painkillers. as she poured herself a glass of water, y/n slammed down the glass and ripped open the letter.

dear miss y/n y/ln my name is andrea kimi antonelli and i am going to be driving for mercedes amg f1 team in 2025. we met very briefly after i won all three races at mugello and lifted the italian f4 championship trophy. i know you were there on mclaren PR but for me it changed my life. you have always been my biggest inspiration alongside michael schumacher (i am italian, you must understand). it was always my dream to race alongside you and maybe even be teammates, i’d even betray toto and leave mercedes to make that happen (please don’t tell him i told you that). i know that can never happen now, but it could happen in another way? i know like me you grew up seeing niki lauda supporting and mentoring the mercedes drivers and i was wondering if you would be my mentor - who cares about george anyway. i know you’ve never come back to the paddock and are unlikely to do so for little old me. but if you could just think about it that would be great, if you don’t ask, you’ll never get! i hope this letter wasn’t horribly offensive, i mean it when i say you’re my favourite!!! love, kimi (p.s. i was at monza 2021, so you could even consider me a good luck charm) (p.p.s you won monza 2021 completely on merit but i was there) (p.p.p.s please don’t think i’m an idiot) (p.p.p.p.s i also loved interlagos 2020 that’s a super underrated drive)

with tears in her eyes, y/n placed the letter back on the counter, grabbed the glass of water and made her way to her bedroom. painkillers taken with a wince, she still hadn’t gotten used to the size of the pills even three years into taking them, y/n shuffled under the duvet.

the offer was there and it seemed sincere. her accountant would tell her that the money was worth the mental turmoil, even if she just did it for one season and returned to her little cave in west london.

there was no doubt she felt something for kimi - a kinship, a frienship or a maternal yearning - but was it worth ripping off all the bandages and opening herself back up to all the scrutiny again?

she would sleep on it.

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yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63 and 10,567,388 others

yourusername: much to think about these days. like how the fuck this app works now?

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user1: first post in three years and it’s THIS?

user2: i am not complaining

user3: i am savouring every little piece in case she goes missing for another three years

mclarenf1: the queen has returned

user4: no thanks to you

user5: how about we keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth

user6: socials admin i know it is not you specifically but i really don’t know how you can post up here like you’re completely absolved of your involvement in this. your car had break failure that broke her fucking back - it is a miracle she is even still walking! and you still don’t accept any responsibility for it

user7: i love y/n but like how is it mclaren’s fault? break failure happens all the time?

user8: well it’s in one part the fact that they were using her as a test dummy because it was a new faulty part that mclaren was experimenting with that was on her car and NOT lando’s and the fact that to this day when they feel like it they’ll heap guilt onto mick schumacher

user9: without being disrespectful there were two formula one careers that were ended that day because mclaren have kept to the narrative that it was mick that put her into the barriers eventhough siedel admitted when he left mclaren that it was a faulty break part that caused it.

user10: clock it

user11: yes clock it but maybe on a different post because it’s y/n’s return to the internet and all yall can talk about is the most traumatic event in her life?

kimiantonelli: i also love clairo

user12: what is bro doing?

user13: be quiet he’s our best hope of y/n coming back to the paddock let him cook

user14: name three songs local

kimiantonelli: bags (live), alewife and blouse

user15: this motherfucker might just do it

maxverstappen1: i miss brando :/

yourusername: you know my address

yourusername: use it since you like to give it out so much

maxverstappen1: I DID NOT GIVE THEM YOUR ADDRESS

user16: y/lnstappen friendship is BACK

user17: it was never gone?

user18: but now we get to see it :P

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when she woke the next morning, y/n knew she had to read the letter again before jumping into anything. in her sleep she was plagued with memories of the past, but not the usual ones that haunted her in the dark. there were no flames, no hospitals, no career-ending injuries. no, this time she was transported back to 2020 and her first few races of her formula one career.

march 2020.

the paddock was much bigger in formula one than it had been in formula two with hundreds more people running around, barging through crowds, hitting y/n on the way through and not even stopping to apologise. she had thought briefly that she would be making more noise as the first female racer to take part in a race since forever - y/n even thought that she’d made a bit of a splash during preseason testing, nestled between her teammate lando and alex in the red bull in fifth.

but she was invisible. even with the garish orange path to follow to the mclaren garage, y/n struggled to get through the crowds of people brandishing their paddock passes. her trainer had gone ahead to set up her driver room which left y/n to push through and arrive to briefing ten minutes late.

“i’m so sorry, i got lost and by the time i was going in the right direction the paddock had filled up?”

y/n stammered, not quite able to make eye contact with zak brown. the american wasn’t tall in comparison to the general public but he towered over y/n and the disapproving stare didn’t do much to help.

“just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

zak snipped, waving his hand in y/n’s direction, telling her to take a seat. y/n rushed to the nearest empty seat and looked for her teammate in the room. lando was sat just three seats to her right on a small table. y/n tried to make eye contact with lando but he avoided her gaze like it was burning him, so much for the ‘big brother’ act he had put on at the car launch.

the engineers stood in front of the screen and started their long-winded presentation about the prospects for the season ahead. y/n pulled her note book out and frantically started taking notes, she didn’t know if that was normal for formula one drivers, but knowing as much as possible couldn’t hurt.

y/n copied down the warnings about possible tyre wear in turn three when she heard some soft sniggers, like someone was trying to stifle their laughter. this drew y/n out of her focus on the presentation, looking around the meeting room to locate the perpetrator.

lando caught her eye immediately. he had a light blush across his face and his mouth was covered by his hand. he looked guilty, guiltier than the rest of the room who were listening intently to the engineers. y/n raised her eyebrow in question.

“i’m sorry are we distracting you two?”

zak interrupted the presentation, turning to look at y/n and lando.

“no, sorry sir,” y/n replied turning her chair back to face the screen. “lando?” zak pressed.

“i’m sorry zak but y/n was distracting me with her note-taking,” lando forced out between his boyish giggles. “i’ve never taken notes, i didn’t realise you would be sucking up to the engineers this early on?”

“i’ve always taken notes? is it a problem? i’m sorry if i was distracting you lando.”

“yeah we’ll see how much those notes help you on track, rookie.”

lando spat over the table. it was uncharacteristically mean for the lando she had seen in the mclaren social content and the lando she spoke with at the car launch. y/n felt tears prickle in her eyes but she swallowed them down, she couldn’t cry yet - or at least not in view of all the most important people on the team.

“right. we’ll get back to business then.”

the rest of the meeting went by in a blur for y/n, but despite the outburst from lando, she continued to take her notes, she would be damned if some comments from lando would fuck up her entire race weekend routine. y/n took her time when zak dismissed them from the meeting, not wanting to look unprofessional.

moving towards the door, y/n’s shoulder hit someone else’s. she looked up to make eye contact with lando yet again.

“you better not make a habit of making contact with me, rookie,” lando said, a slight smirk but a harsh look in his eyes.

“are you like okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be?” lando replied pushing past through the door.

“i don’t know, you’re just a little frosty this morning? did i do something?”

“why would i be thinking about you, seriously? this is my team, know your place and we’ll get on just fine”.

with that lando was gone and y/n was left puzzled. i guess PR really does work wonders, y/n thought before making her own way to her drivers room.

her trainer, luca, wasn’t there when she managed to locate the room but all of her gear was already neatly put away like they had discussed. y/n cracked open an electrolyte drink and opened her notebook to study the meeting points.

there was a loud knock at the door and before y/n could even utter a “come in”, the mystery visitor barged into the room. daniel ricciardo announced his arrival with a packet of tim tams thrown at y/n and a quick “howdy” before he started rifling through her stuff and studying her helmet.

“ah, another cool dude who has a cuddly guy on their helmet,” daniel said, picking up her helmet, pointing at the cartoon version of her childhood cat.

“oh that’s schumi, when we travelled for karting we always brought him up until he died of old age, but i still want him with me whenever i race.” y/n said, nervous that the heartfelt explanation would be deemed uncool by one of the coolest racers she had ever seen.

“oh that’s surprisingly cute, i bet schumi was a big hit in the paddock back in the day.”

“he sure was, he’s how i charmed max into not hating me after i took him out once,” y/n chuckled thinking back to the race where max stormed up to her with angry tears in his eyes until y/n practically threw schumi at him. in just five seconds, max had calmed down and schumi was happily purring in the young dutchman’s lap.

“that sounds like max. but speaking of the other young whippersnappers in the paddock, how is our lando treating you? i bet zak and that can’t keep up with you two…” daniel asked, slumping to the floor, taking one of her drinks from the mini fridge.

“oh. i am getting used to him, we’ll put it that way?”

“he’s not being rude is he?”

“no! well. he insists on calling me rookie and keeps making comments about me crashing into him and made fun of me taking notes in briefing but i’m sure that such the british banter.”

“you’re british?”

“well. um. yeah, you got me there.”

daniel grabbed her hands, forcing y/n to look him in the eyes rather than her very interesting shoes.

“i know lando is like some media darling, but so are you. don’t let him push you around, he may have been in this team a while but you’re just as good as him if not better. you’re here to prove yourself, not to play second fiddle, okay?”

it was the first time someone had actually tried to talk to her properly since getting to the paddock. again, tears climbed to her eyes, but this time she let one creep out. daniel wiped it away.

“we made the mistake of isolating max when he was young and new, we won’t make the same mistake - we can’t have two of you running rampant around here,” y/n let out a wet laugh which daniel returned, “just come to renault if you need anything from me. max will be there for you, you know, and seb, kimi, fernando and all the old men will listen to you. don’t rot in your drivers room or hotel suite and think you’re not wanted here.”

y/n nodded, feeling some butterflies in her stomach. she was actually here - a formula one driver. a seven-time race winner wants her here, world champions want her here. a private-school fuckboy wasn’t going to ruin her first ever race weeekend.

“thank you daniel.”

“i have to dash, but i’m serious, we’re here for you. and i would be honoured to kick that little shit’s ass for you, okay?”

the australian left in just as loud fashion as he came, but in the remaining silence, y/n finally felt some peace. this was her chance, and she wasn’t going to mess it up.

present.

y/n couldn’t let that happen to kimi. the young italian was just so unbelievably earnest in his letter that y/n couldn’t bear the thought of his kindness being taken advantage of. george russell had never been outwardly callous but with his attack on max late last season and his complete radio silence with y/n since her crash made her suspicious.

as she prepared to ask max for kimi’s number, sara (who did actually still have a job) sent her a link.

sara: zak brown believes mclaren has the strongest pairing on the grid with no more childish recklessness like in the early 2020s

sara: do you want us to put out a statement or ignore as usual?

y/n clicked on the link, even though she knew it would just annoy her to the point that her phone might become closely acquainted with the thames.

as the formula one world gears up for the 2025 season, zak brown has already stated his confidence for mclaren this season. the papaya team will be coming into the 2025 season as reigning constructors champions and lando norris and oscar piastri will be aiming to add the world drivers championship to that as well.

when zak brown sat down with us earlier this week, the mclaren ceo did not beat around the bush, stating that mclaren have the strongest pairing on the grid. with red bull promoting liam lawson in a test and, mercedes putting unproven kimi antonelli next to george russell and ferrari gambling with charles leclerc and lewis hamilton, brown might just be right.

in their journey to constructors champions, brown recognised that as a team they had straightened out all of their ‘growing pains’. this is exemplified in oscar piastri completing all laps in the 2024 season.

like they usually do, y/n y/ln’s particularly rabid twitter fans will probably detect some ‘shade’ towards the former driver. brown did touch on the prior mclaren drivers during his reign as ceo, saying that the team had some childish recklessness, but now they have a team that all know their place.

y/n y/ln hasn’t spoken about anything formula one related since her retirement, even forgoing the opportunity to congratulate the team that took the chance on her for winning the championship - something brown did not mince his words on off camera. brown lamented about y/ln’s silence, labelling her a brat and ungrateful for not still thanking him for allowing a woman to compete in formula one.

will mclaren make it back-to-back constructors championships? and will they sweep both championships this season?

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she needed that loud-mouthed american’s head on a silver platter. the letter had almost sucked her back into the world of formula one, only for the man who discarded her like a broken toy when his car had malfunctioned and smashed her and her career into a concrete wall to call her an ungrateful brat.

fuck him. fuck mclaren. and fuck that dumbass reporter for giving him the time of day.

y/n didn’t throw her phone from her balcony but pulled up her texts with max.

texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and max verstappen (italic)

have you read this absolute hogwash

zak brown believes mclaren has the strongest pairing on the grid with no more childish recklessness like in the early 2020s

i 100% get why you wanted to put him in a wall last season

you watched last season?

shut up not the time

did you text me just to call your old tyrannical boss a fraud?

i was going to ask for kimi’s number but now i’m back at square one

noooooooo

i want to be there for him, the way no one was for us.

but this is the bs they write about me when i haven’t been seen or heard from in three years, imagine the shite they come up with when i’m the paddock every weekend

WHEN?

no no no

i’ll give you kimi’s number

contact: kimi antonelli (mercedes)

you decide what you want to do

as much as i would kill to have you around the paddock again… even in the vicinity of george

i want you to do what you are comfortable with

thanks max

i’m not giving you a yes but i’m definitely thinking about it

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fin.

note: omg that's part one??????? i had this idea and have been planning and adding to it for a couple days. no spoilers but there will be multiple love interests, backstabbing and all that lovely stuff - i just love the drama !!! (yes i will finish guilty as sin at some point as well). i hope you enjoy the prose as well - first time writing that way on here lol ?! let me know if you liked it, who you'd like to see her with and what you'd like to see happen!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #other side of the moon #astonmartinii

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lola-writes · 6 months ago

Text

Prince Regent

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Word Count: 8.6k

Synopsis: Aemond returns to the Red Keep after the battle of Rook’s Rest with a newfound vigor for his wife.

Themes & Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI!), POV first person (Aemond’s & reader’s), s2x04,05 inspired, enemies to lovers trope, smut, violence, blood, dark/possessive Aemond, breeding kink, swearing, mentions of rape, high valyrian, fingering, multiple orgasms, p in v, doggystyle, creampie, rough sex, hair pulling, choking

Song: Hide and Seek ~ Klergy, Mindy Jones

Latest oneshot: A Dragon's Lullaby

Masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist | Playlist | Ao3

Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated ❤️

Enjoy the read!

[gif @aemondstark ]

AEMOND

Smoke. Dragon fire. Blood.

It clung to me, acrid and sweet, like a perverse cloak of victory.

A primal urge, raw and unbidden, erupted within me, a hunger that transcended the battle’s end. It devoured my senses. It vibrated within my bones. It consumed my very being.

My adrenaline ebbed, leaving a hollowness in its wake. The battle was over. Victory was ours. Gleaming armor was storming the castle. But that victory hung hollow, a meaningless echo in the carnage. My flesh seared with defeat. A strange fire, unsatiated, stirred beneath my skin.

I needed something more. Something I could sink my teeth into, as Vhagar had. Something warm and living.

From the air, I watched the smoke curl skyward, soldiers scattering like startled ants, and Meleys red corpse lay vanquished beneath brick and dust.

The warmth of my kill was still writhing. It was a fresh, living ember, demanding to be tended.

The impact of my brother’s fall had torn the wood asunder, set the ground ablaze, smoke and cinders rising steadily towards the heavens. My gaze settled on the inferno, and I urged Vhagar, my reflection in scales and fire, towards it, my mighty beast beating the wind like thunder as we circled twice around the barrenness of the forest, before she heeded my command.

“Qubemagon, Vhagar.” (Descend)

I dismounted her and trod a path towards the inferno, my sword materializing in my grasp with a practiced turn of my wrist. Shades of red marred my vision. The air shimmered, thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood.

Adrenaline trickled into my bloodstream.

Never had I been so close to my birthright, so close to erasing the past. My grip tightened around the hilt. Images swam up before me. A lifetime of humiliations, each one a searing brand in my retina. My brother getting what he wasn’t fit for, presented to him on a silver platter. But no longer. No more would he be the architect of my suffering.

But as a tremor shook the ground, a low rumble heralding the broken form of the golden dragon, a monument of smoke, blood, dirt, and ashes, none of it seemed to matter.

As I crested a rise, the world snapped into sharp focus. My gaze landed on him - my brother; melted into a nightmarish tableau of steel, flesh, and bone, encircled by his dragon’s golden body.

Resolution, cold and heavy, settled in my chest. Killing him would be fruitless. The Stranger had already requested an audience.

I had achieved what needed to be done. As I lifted the edge of my sword to its sheath, a voice echoed through the forest.

“Aemond!” Cole cried my name like a desperate warning. I glanced back, my weapon disappearing into its sheath with a final rasp.

I looked down at my sacrifice. The damage was raw, excessive. The damage that was wanton. A pang of unease twisted in my gut.

A glint of metal caught my eye, and I dropped to my haunches to retrieve the Conqueror’s Valyrian steel dagger from the bloodied earth. The dagger that was once Aegon’s. It was mine now.

Ser Criston’s rustling armor announced his approach. “Where is His Grace?” he asked, voice quivering.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I tilted my chin, allowing the glistening steel guide his gaze toward the grotesque sculpture of my melted brother encircled by golden scales.

Ser Criston crumpled to his knees without a word, as I rose to my feet.

A cold knot of regret twisted in my chest as I regarded my tribute. But it was fleeting, replaced by the icy fire of my ambition.

There was much to be done, and I needed to proceed if I were to achieve it. I turned on my heel and left Cole and my broken brother behind.

The battlefield and the devastation shrank beneath me as Vhagar’s powerful wings propelled us skyward.

A sharp thrill prickled my skin that was naught from the velocity, but rather that of my impending regency.

Upon returning to King’s Landing, I made my way to the small council chamber, ascending the stairs with slow deliberate steps. The air was thick with tension. The council was in disarray, engrossed in a heated discussion, but fell silent as the doors swung open. Eyes turned to me.

“My Lords,” I announced, my voice cutting through the sudden hush. I rounded the council table. “Mother,” I said, offering a curt nod of acknowledgement as I passed Alicent’s chair.

“Aemond,” she demanded, steel in her voice. “Where is Aegon?”

A heavy pause hung in the air before I met her gaze.

“Aegon has fallen,” I said.

The council erupted in uproar.

Cries of outrage and accusations.

Obscenities.

Scandal.

“How could this be allowed to happen?”

“What is the meaning of this?”

“We are doomed!”

The disapproval of the Lords sullied the chambers. This council was surely in lack of discipline. I already had my eyes on who I were to replace.

“The King is dead!”

“The King is not dead,” I countered, my voice calm and mellifluous, soothing the council members like warm milk. Voices dipped and eyes turned to me, an invisible shudder surging through the air. “He has merely sustained grave injuries and is being brought back to the Red Keep for treatment as we speak.” I began to pace around the table, hands slotted behind my back. “The King fought bravely,” I continued. “Landing mortal injuries to the Pretender’s cause. But the Red Queen cast him out of the sky before I could get to him.”

My pacing had brought me to the head of the council table, where I ceased my step. My hand reached out to allow my fingers to trace the chair frame, its iron vibrating with the power I so craved.

It was palpable.

It was mine for the taking.

I looked up at the members of the small council, my eye piercing each and every one of them until they quivered in their chairs.

“And in the coils of torment,” I spoke. “My brother, King Aegon, named me Prince Regent.”

A tremor vibrated the room, weary eyes glanced at each other, bodies twisting uncomfortably in creaking chairs.

“If anyone should be named regent, surely it should be me, his mother,” voiced Alicent.

I cast my gaze on her.

“Aemond is next in line,” came voices from the small council.

“Yes, but the King still lives!” Alicent implored.

“Who am I to contest the wishes of the King?” I said softly, casting her a look of pure innocence.

Alicent’s eyes welled like a tide of despair, her head dipping to the table with defeat. If Alicent could conjure words that had not been uttered to serve her own ends, why could I not?

“Aemond…” she started, her voice a gentle tremble. “Could we at least discuss this?”

“As prince regent, I vow to serve this realm, my Lords, and guide our path to victory against the Whore of Dragonstone.”

My gaze drifted to the platform in the center of the table, settling on the cold polished marble that remained. The King’s marble. I reached for it, and as my fingers closed around its smooth surface, I met Alicent’s eyes. A flicker of desperate plea danced within them, and I held it with a cold response. She exhaled with defeat as I seated myself in the King’s chair, placing the marble in its rocky nest.

“All hail Aemond, Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm,” Lord Tyland Lannister’s voice came, and the words echoed across the table.

A smirk played on my lips. “My Lords,” I began, splaying my hands atop the table. “Let us commence.”

YOU

Mutters. Whispers. Gossip.

The news, carried on frantic breaths, was a tangled mess.

One moment, the King was dead, the next, grievously wounded. Some murmured of a crippled monarch, others of his mighty dragon slain.

It buzzed in my ears as I made my way towards the throne room.

Fear, a cold serpent, coiled in my gut.

The throne room pulsed with tense energy. Hundreds of courtiers jostled for position, their faces etched with a mixture of morbid curiosity and nervous anticipation. I descended the cold stone steps, the weight of each step echoing the growing dread in my heart.

The Iron Throne loomed before me, an empty monument of jagged steel. Its cruel beauty, forged from a thousand fallen enemies, held a chilling glint in the flickering torchlight. I observed it over the shoulder of the woman in front of me, the precariousness of my position suddenly amplified.

A shiver ran down my spine. Sometimes, I believed it was cursed. Promising to cast whoever graced it to a terrible fate.

My fingers, restless with apprehension, turned my rings about my fingers, pulling them off and on in a nervous dance. A prickling sensation spread through me as I felt countless eyes burning into my back. Disapproval mingled with a strange reverence. The room thrummed with unspoken questions, and I, too, yearned for answers, desperately seeking a foothold in the swirling vortex of uncertainty.

A ripple of anticipation surged through the crowd as a figure emerged. I turned to witness the gleaming silver armor of the King’s Guard announcing Ser Criston Cole, the newly appointed Hand of the King. Hundreds of eyes swiveled in his wake as he strode towards the Iron Throne, which seemed to gnash its serrated teeth at his approach.

My mind churned in chaotic disarray. Ser Criston had marched on Rook’s Rest, prompting Aemond’s hurried departure. Where my husband was now, remained a mystery. Perhaps still at Rook’s Rest, tending to the fallen King, or perhaps continuing on to Harrenhal, a destination he oft mentioned.

None of it mattered.

My marriage to Aemond had been a political maneuver, as cold and sterile as a septa’s cell. He held no affection for me, nor I for him. He was the absent, aloof prince I’d always imagined him to be. Carrying a frozen heart of a killer. Our union was no more than an alliance. Though I was hardly complaining. Married life granted me freedoms I scarcely thought possible for a highborn lady. But I would jest if I said I did not long for something more. Something warm. Something living. But in Aemond, either would be the last place I’d find.

Ser Criston swept a steely gaze across the court, his face unreadable. He chewed the inside of his cheeks curiously, the motion ceasing abruptly when his eyes met mine. Cold and dark. I met his stare head-on, until an odd feeling took root in my gut.

Unanswered questions swirled in my mind.

Ser Criston tore his gaze from me, his eyes flitting across the room. Then, with a voice laced with authority, he boomed, “I address this court as Hand to inform you that the King has been grievously wounded in battle!”

A collective gasp ripped through the court. Whispers, like startled birds, rose in a flurry.

Ser Criston continued, a steely edge creeping into his voice, “Rhaenyra the Cruel will believe she won a great victory this day. May believe we will cower and offer her the throne like whipped dogs. But the False Queen is sorely mistaken. For the throne will not remain empty.”

Whispers escalated into a commotion. An unsettling prickle danced across my skin. My mind darted to the dowager Queen Alicent. Surely, in Aegon’s absence, they would elevate her to the throne. But after usurping Rhaenyra, would they truly place another woman in her stead?

My thoughts, apparently, mirrored those of the court, for Alicent’s name drifted around me like a persistent echo.

Ser Criston’s voice rose to a commanding pitch, reverberating through the throne room, “I present to you…” The heavy oak doors of the throne room ground open, drawing every eye in unison.

My breath caught in my throat as a figure materialized at the stairs.

It wasn’t Alicent.

A frame, draped in dark green leather that shimmered with silver accents, emerged from the groaning doors. The Conqueror’s crown, a heavy circle of iron, sat upon their silver head, casting a long shadow across a face half-obscured by an eyepatch.

“Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen,” Ser Criston declared, his voice thick with forced authority. “Rider of Vhagar.”

Aemond descended the steps.

“Slayer of the queen who never was.”

Aemond’s footsteps, muffled by polished leather boots and the collective murmurs of the courtiers, made a predator’s approach as he stalked toward the Iron Throne. Two King’s Guard flanked him with stoic expressions.

“And Protector of the Realm.”

He ascended the iron steps with a chilling grace, finally settling upon the throne. A hush fell over the court, thick and heavy. Silence stretched as he molded himself into the seat, his lethal hands caressing the equally lethal rests, a small smirk playing on his lips. His voice, a honeyed drawl laced with a hint of steel, echoed in the sudden silence.

“My Lords and Ladies,” he began, the menacing glint in his blue eye accentuated by the play of shadows on his face. “His Grace, the King, has been wounded at the battle of Rook’s Rest, and will be incapable to rule.”

There was a power in his presence, an unspoken threat that left the court speechless. Not a cough, not a rustle of fabric dared to break the silence.

“Therefore,” he continued, his gaze sweeping over the frozen faces, “I, will act as your sovereign.”

Unease prickled at my skin. Something about Aemond’s demeanor, the unnatural sheen on his face, sent a tremor of suspicion through me.

Had this all been a carefully orchestrated play? What truly transpired at Rook’s Rest?

My eyes darted to the ornate dagger resting at his hip, the ancestral blade of Aegon the Conqueror. It was the same dagger I’d last seen clutched in the hand of his brother.

As Aemond spoke on, a knot of apprehension tightened in my gut.

“The tide has turned,” he declared, his voice ringing through the stunned silence. “Rhaenys Targaryen is slain, along with her dragon.” A small smile tugged at his lips, a low hum escaping them. “The largest serving the Pretender’s cause.” He said it like it was a jest. “Rook’s Rest has been claimed, leaving Dragonstone vulnerable.” His fingers tapped across the blades. “This is a victory for us.”

Scattered heads nodded in agreement.

Then, his gaze snapped to me, a rapacious glint in his single blue eye. It seemed to bore into my very soul, stripping away any pretense.

“It’s all going according to plan,” he murmured, his voice a silken threat, and for a moment, an eerie feeling within told me he was addressing me alone. The fire that danced within his eye flickered a touch too bright, and it felt like he could see every thought swirling in my mind, every flicker of doubt, every spark of fear.

It felt like he was about to eat me alive.

A violent terror surged through me, icy fingers gripping my heart. Adrenaline tapped into my veins, a primal urge to flee.

Frantic energy fueled my movements. I shoved dresses, jewelry, all of my belongings, into overflowing wooden trunks. Their straining hinges mocked my desperation. My handmaid, silent but swift, followed my frenzied instructions. I knew then, with a chilling certainty, that I owed her my life after this escape.

Aemond’s chambers, once a familiar haven, felt cold and sterile now, stripped bare of my belongings. Rain lashed against the open windows, mirroring the frantic rhythm of my heart. The journey ahead would be long and treacherous. Circumstances weren’t optimal, but there was no other choice at my disposal.

My husband was a murderer and a kinslayer twice over. And my intuition told me it would soon be thrice. He wasn’t just ruthless; there was an unsettling hollowness behind his actions, a chilling absence of remorse. He was a walking blight, a storm that devoured everything in its path. And I refused to be struck down by its lightning.

The apartment doors shuddered open, shattering me into distraught. My flight instincts flared, but I refused to cower. My hand instinctively shot out, grasping my maid’s hand tightly. We held our breath as a large, porcelain hand reached out and pushed the door wider.

Aemond entered, leaving the door ajar. His gaze, unwavering and cold, locked with mine. “Leave us,” he commanded, his voice a smooth, cold current.

My handmaid curtsied, her grip faltering as she pried my fingers loose. With a hurried glance back, she scurried out, the heavy door slamming shut behind her.

An oppressive silence descended, broken only by the frantic pounding of my heart against my ribs.

Escape seemed impossible; the air thick with a chilling dread.

“You sent for me, wife?” Aemond’s voice, a silken caress laced with steel, echoed in the cavernous chamber. He approached with a predative grace, each deliberate step shrinking the distance between us.

Confusion slammed into me. I hadn’t summoned him. This was, by far, the most he’d spoken to me since our loveless union.

“You are mistaken,” I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. My feet, traitors that they were, retreated with each of his advances. Then, it dawned on me, that it might have been his intention to put me in a state of dubiety, making me more malleable. A cutthroat, not only lethal, but cunning.

He stopped beside my overflowing trunk, a flicker of amusement playing on his lips.

“Travelling somewhere?” His single blue eye, unnervingly perceptive, held me captive.

Panic clawed at my throat. I clenched my trembling hands into fists, slotting them behind my back, forcing my lips into a gentle smile.

“I wish to visit my family,” I said. “With war looming, I wish for us to be together.”

Aemond took another measured step closer. “Ao issi aerēbas mirriot daor,” (You’re not going anywhere), he murmured, the High Valyrian rolling off his tongue like a sinister threat.

A furrow etched between my brows as I attempted to comprehend his words. My grasp of the ancient tongue was limited, and whether he intended me to understand was a cruel game. Perhaps, it was yet another tool to exert his dominance. But based on his relentless pursuit, I gathered me leaving wasn’t an option he entertained.

“I am of no use to you, Aemond,” I pleaded, maintaining a safe distance. “Me staying serves no purpose.”

“On the contrary,” he purred, his voice dripping with a dark promise. His head tilted covetously, venom flashing in his eye.

“We barely exist to each other,” I continued. “What difference would it make if I was half a world away?”

“It would make all the difference.” The warmth in his voice vanished, replaced by a glacial edge. “There’s the matter of heirs.”

Seven Hells.

Anguish twisted my gut. Intuition, a primal scream, roared to life. Images flashed behind my eyelids – Aemond sitting the throne, and Aegon reduced to ash.

Had this been his plan all along? Was he the reason for the King’s lethal end?

The pieces slammed together in my mind, a horrifying mosaic.

I gasped, my back hitting the cold stone wall. Aemond’s ambition stretched far beyond my naïve expectations. Loyalty to his house, to his brother, had been a carefully constructed facade. Beneath it, he schemed, a shrewd predator stalking his ultimate prize. The crown.

And the crown needed heirs.

He towered over me, his presence overwhelming. He was much taller than I recalled, every inch radiating a rapacious tension. A hand braced itself against the wall, inches from my head.

“What have you done?” My thoughts materialized into shaky words, laced with an enmity that surprised even me. My gaze raked over him, revulsion twisting my features. The green leather seemed to pulse, an illusion fueled by my churning stomach.

A flicker, a hint of something akin to uncertainty, crossed his single eye. It darted across my face, as if truly seeing me for the first time. Perhaps he was. In this desperate flight, we’d never been closer. Close enough to be enveloped by his scent, a foreign musk that did little to quell my churning nausea.

“Skoros iksin bēvilagon.” (What was necessary)

I frowned again, aggravated that he took to High Valyrian as an attempt to shut me out of his thoughts. My jaw clenched, frustration a bitter taste on my tongue.

Malevolence rose like a flood as I leaned forward, so close that our noses nearly touched, “I would not have your child in a million years, kinslayer,” I spat, my voice trembling with contained fury. I lunged forward, aiming to push past him, to escape his suffocating presence. But his other hand shot out, slamming against the wall beside me, effectively caging me in.

A venomous glint flickered in his eye as he narrowed it at me through his lashes. A twitch played on his lips, a cat batting at a cornered mouse. “Be that as it may,” he said mellowly. “But even a bad wife must obey her king.”

A scoff escaped my lips, my eyes sizing him up and down. “You are no king,” I hissed, defiance lacing my voice. “You are not even a man.”

His reaction was swift and brutal.

One hand shot out and grabbed my face, forcing my head against the cold stone. Pain erupted at the impact, but quickly subsided as he leaned in, his hot breath fanning against my lips.

“Speak such treason again, and I’ll show you what I really am.”

“What will you do?” I spat back, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and insurgence. “Cripple me, like you did your brother? Force yourself on me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he growled, his voice simmering with barely contained violence.

A tense silence ensued, the air crackling with his restrained fury.

My suspicions, already simmering, solidified into a horrifying certainty. He’d orchestrated his brother’s downfall on purpose.

“Have you no honor?” I whispered, the words a ragged plea.

The silence stretched, broken only by our ragged breaths. His hold on my face loosened gradually, his hand falling away. But his gaze remained fixed on me, a storm brewing within its depths.

“You cannot stop me, Aemond,” I said, my voice shrinking. “I will leave this place, one way or another. You can play king in my absence, but it will be a hollow crown.”

“Kesan arghugon ao naejot se mōris hen tegon.” (I will hunt you to the end of the earth)

“Speak plainly,” I snapped, my patience with his cryptic pronouncements wearing thin.

A chilling smile, devoid of warmth, stretched across his lips. He pushed himself away from the wall, backing away, creating my long-desired distance between us.

“You may go,” he drawled, the amusement in his voice laced with a dangerous edge, that sardonic smile still plastered on his lips.

Acrimony filled my gut. What little I knew of this man, I feared greatly, but also told me this was a trick. He wouldn’t relinquish control so easily. He’d allow me to make my “escape”, only to have me snatched back by the King’s Guard, now under his control, a public display of his authority. There was no true freedom with him.

Maegor’s tunnels, a potential escape route, loomed tantalizingly behind me. If only I were alone, a simple push against the wall would send me tumbling into its dark embrace. But escape without a plan or supplies was a fool’s errand.

My mind spun, each possibility twisting the knife of despair deeper. Even if I reached my family, what awaited me there? Shame would be their welcome. Aemond, no doubt, would make sure of it.

The rain continued its relentless assault on the outside world, punctuated by the booming symphony of thunder. A flash of lightning illuminated the apartments, casting Aemond in a grotesque, menacing silhouette.

Exhaustion overwhelmed me. I slumped to the floor, seeking solace in the meager comfort of my arms wrapped around my knees. Here I was, a prisoner in this gilded cage, condemned to bear the children of a traitor until flames consumed us all.

Aemond crouched before me, his wrists resting on his knees. He regarded me with an intensity that bordered on scientific curiosity. A flicker of something, perhaps disappointment, played at his edges.

“I’d take you for many things, wife,” he cooed, the endearment dripping with veiled malice. “But weak was not one of them.” His words landed like a body blow. “If I’d known you’d crumble so easily, I would never have wed you in the first place.”

I sniffed and looked up at him, exhaustion a heavy cloak on my lids. “You did not have much of a say in the matter,” I countered.

A wicked smile twisted his lips and his head tilted to the side. “No,” he said softly. A sudden chill iced his demeanor. “And neither do you.”

He rose to his feet with predacious grace, leaving me pleated on the floor. He sauntered to his chair and seated himself, one leg propped up on his knee, his leather splaying atop the arm rests.

I watched him. His face was turned to the violent storm outside, immersed in contemplation, lightning whipping across his features. A vision of menace. A weapon poised to strike.

“So, what is your scheme, Aemond?” I started; my voice hoarse. His head turned slowly, his gaze locking onto mine with the piercing intensity of Valyrian steel. “Do you envision a period of mourning for the King, followed by a convenient acclamation in your favor? Or will you hurry along the succession and carry out the deed yourself before anyone suspects?”

A single corner of his mouth quirked into a cruel smile. “Suppose I have not yet decided.” His voice was like liquid.

Defiance flickered within me. “The court will never agree to this once they find out what you’ve done.”

Aemond hummed, a deep sound in the bottom of his chest. “Dragons don’t concern themselves with the opinions of sheep.” He leaned forward, resting his arms across his knees. “I am next in line to the throne,” he drawled. “None is better suited than I.”

I staggered to my feet and went to sit beside him. “With a legitimate heir,” I said carefully. “Your claim would be uncontested.”

He smirked, as though I’d read his mind. He leaned back, his eyes gleaming with dangerous delight.

“A woman’s pleasure is,” he began, a slow, suggestive smile playing on his lips. His blue eye drifted down my form in a way that made my skin crawl. “Of as much importance as the seed itself.”

A hot flush crept up my cheeks at his implication.

“Which is why submission must be a willing act,” he finished, his voice dropping to a husky murmur.

I swallowed, provocation crackling through me. Did he truly believe I would succumb to his advances? He seemed to think he could manipulate anyone to his will, whether through seduction or brutality, though I had yet to see the former.

“And if I refuse?” I challenged, my voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in my hands.

A low growl vibrated in his chest, his face soft. “Then you’ll find yourself counted amongst the sheep,” he drawled.

Deflating, I sighed and dipped my head. The only path forward seemed excruciatingly clear. Raising my eyes to meet his, I lifted an eyebrow in rebellion.

“Consider me sheep then.” With that, I rose from the settee and strode towards the apartment doors, the cold of the metal handle stealing the warmth from my fingers as I heaved it open.

It shut then, with a loud thud, and I jumped, a sudden heat radiating behind me. Aemond’s fingers splayed on the oak door above my head. My pulse drummed in my ears, Aemond’s lips grazing my lobe, urging it to pick up the pace.

“Jaelā naejot mazverdagon nyke jorarghutan ao, ābrazȳrys?” (You want to make me chase you, wife?) His voice rumbled into me, a low growl as potent as the thunderstorm.

The rolling, guttural words sent a strange warmth through my core. His air consumed me. A rich mixture of smoke, leather, and dragon, infiltrated my senses, intoxicating and unsettling in equal measure.

“I can’t understand you,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I felt him smiling against my ear, a low chuckle reverberating into it, sending goosebumps erupting across my skin.

“You won't need to,” he said softly. His hand drifted away from the door and closed around my throat, surprisingly gentle, yet the warmth of his fingers felt like embers branding my skin. They snaked around the back of my neck, the pressure tightening as he turned me to face him. His single eye, a bottomless well of intricacy, held mine captive.

My gaze flickered down to his lips. They were curved into a wicked grin.

His scent became a suffocating presence. The heat radiating from his body, fervid as a dragon, made sweat bead on my forehead. My entire being screamed I was at his mercy. He could crush my life out with a mere squeeze, or worse, with his single eye, he could strip me bare without ever laying a hand on me.

But a strange fire flickered within me, a rebellion against his dominion. My hands, fueled by a desperate need for control, reached out and began loosening his doublet, my fingers slow and deliberate.

Aemond stilled, his eye falling to my movements. He watched, transfixed, as I unfastened the green leather halfway down his chest, then trailed my fingers lower. His gaze darkened and his breath grew uneven, as the bulge beneath his belt pressed against my touch.

A visceral desire flared within me, a response I couldn’t fully comprehend. My pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, slowly drifting between my thighs at the sight of his desire.

His grip softened at my nape, and with a surge of defiance, I ripped myself free from his hold, and landed a heavy blow to his stomach. But a wave of terror washed over me when Aemond barely flinched.

Panic clawed at my throat.

Taking advantage of his momentary surprise, I flung open the chamber doors and fled, the sound of my pounding heart echoing in my ears.

AEMOND

The aftershock of her blow lingered, a dull ache radiating from my gut, while I allowed her to make her escape. Fury, a familiar companion, usually surged through me, promising retribution, suggesting to make her death appear an accident. This time, however, a different heat consumed me, a mix of surprise and… arousal.

Rarely did I misjudge a person. Yet, the meek mouse I’d wed had transformed into a daring she-wolf before my very eyes. This escape attempt, fueled by defiance, was a revelation. It made my dick hard.

A rapacious glint flickered in my eye. A grudging respect, laced with something far more primal, coiled in my gut. I had underestimated her, and the unexpected turn of events had ignited a spark within me.

A smirk twisted my lips, and I hummed with satisfaction, the thrill of the hunt coursing through me.

“Jaelā naejot tymagon?” (You want to play?) I murmured, the challenge laced with amusement. “Kesi tymagon.” (Let’s play.)

I started into the storm-ridden castle.

YOU

Immediate regret shot through me with a pang, a cold fist squeezing my breath.

To toy with a dragon was like asking to get burned.

My lungs screamed in protest, my legs burning with each step down the Red Keep’s slick stone steps. Blood, metallic and sharp, left traces in my mouth as I hoisted my cumbersome gown to avoid tripping. The castle shuddered from the storm, which groaned and wailed its onslaught. Guards stood stoic at their posts, their expressions unreadable underneath silver helms. Appealing to them was a fool’s errand.

None dared defy the one-eyed prince.

Driven by blind instinct, I found myself pushing through the massive doors of the throne room.

The Iron Throne, a monstrous silhouette of twisted blades, dominated the chamber, its edges flashing white-hot under the lightning’s fury. I stumbled towards it, chest heaving, gasping for air.

If it truly was cursed, could touching it offer some strange absolution, a release from the gilded cage that was my life? Surely, it couldn’t be worse than the fate that awaited me back in his clutches.

Ascension. My trembling legs carried me up the steps, each one a monumental effort. Reaching the top, I lingered to sit, an action so simple, yet it loomed so immensely in my mind.

“Waiting to make your peace with the gods?” came a voice, and I turned with a gasp.

Aemond stood in the middle of the room, arms slotted behind his back, approaching with slow, menacing steps, like a predator savoring the hunt. Thunder boomed overhead.

“No,” I countered, spite flaring hot in my chest. “Waiting for you to catch up so I can meet them myself,” I said, descending the steps.

“Once more, so quick to admit defeat,” he taunted, venom dripping from his words like the rain outside.

I studied his sharp features, while the burden of my reality settled like a weight in my chest. “There is no escaping you,” I gritted out, holding his heavy gaze.

His violence loomed heavy, and depravity flickered in his gaze. “Your perception waxes,” he conceded, and suddenly, the world tilted on its axis as he scooped me up and tossed me effortlessly over his broad shoulder.

The journey back to his chambers was a furious ballet of resistance. My limbs flailed wildly, desperate for purchase, and obscenities, laced with an untenable fear, ripped from my throat.

A sharp slap landed on my behind, eliciting a yelp of surprised pain.

“The more you struggle,” he growled, the sound a low rumble in his chest, “the worse it will be.”

A part of me recognized the truth in his words, yet a bestial defiance warred within, refusing to yield. Fueled by a surge of adrenaline, I lunged for his silver hair, grabbing a fistful and yanking with all my might.

He hissed through his teeth, followed by a guttural sound echoing deep within him. “Ilībōños,” (Bitch/Bastard) he cursed.

The apartment door slammed shut behind us as he entered, his movements purposeful. With a rough toss, I landed unceremoniously on the bed, the air whooshing out of my lungs on impact. Fury, a searing inferno, consumed me, each cell screaming in protest, my claws unsheathing. I wanted to hurt him.

Anything within reach became a potential weapon. Pillows, a discarded jeweled comb – I hurled them all at him, each item a silent scream of rebellion. But his movements were swift, each projectile dodged with practiced ease.

Frustration mounted, morphing into a desperate rage. I lunged at him, a clumsy attempt to push him back. But he remained immovable, an unyielding mountain. Undeterred, I pushed again, and again, fueled by a futile contempt.

Finally, as I drew back for another pointless shove, his hands shot out, lightning fast, pinning my arms to my sides. He moved swiftly, his body caging mine in a steely embrace.

“Lykirī,” he hummed, the word a low thrum against my ear.

“Fuck you,” I spat, my chest heaving from my ambush.

Did he mistake me for his winged beast that he could command to his will?

My attempt to wiggle out of his hold was a pointless endeavour. Rage crackled in my veins, but it flickered under his touch. My breath hitched as he leaned closer, the heat of his body searing through my gown. The scent of him, smoke and leather, filled my senses. And the undeniable press of his erection against my stomach sent a jolt through me.

This perverted man was enjoying my defiance. His grip tightened, a teasing hold that both frustrated and excited me. My body, traitor that it was, started to soften against him, a spark igniting beneath the embers of anger.

“Have you had your fill of my company?” he whispered, his voice husky against my ear. His hands trailed down my arms, sending shivers skittering across my skin.

Every rational part of me screamed to break free, to run for the tunnels, to fight back. But the intoxication of his touch, the heat radiating from him, the suggestive murmur against my ear – they all conspired to trap me.

Before I could think, my head slowly turned from one side to the other.

He hummed deeply. “Say it.”

Frustration warred with a strange vulnerability within me. My cheeks burned, and I clenched my jaw hard enough to taste blood.

“I haven't.”

“You haven't what?”

Fury flickered back to life, fueled by his smug grin and the realization of how easily he’d manipulated me.

“I haven't had enough,” I gritted out, the words a reluctant surrender.

A growl of satisfaction escaped him before he grasped me by my throat, pushed me back against the wall, and tasted my next breath on his tongue.

His lips, hot and demanding, devoured mine like a beggar, silencing the gasp that threatened to escape. Heat, a wildfire erupting at the junction of our bodies threatened to consume me. Fury, a simmering ember, still flickered within. I shoved against his chest and stomped on his feet; futile attempts against his unyielding form.

“Gaomagon vīlībagon nyke daor,” (Do not fight me) he said roughly against my lips, nipping at the bottom one. “Kesā botagon daor.” (You would not survive)

I didn’t understand him, and it urged on my fury. I opened my mouth with a quip in mind, but he used that opportunity to slide his tongue inside, hot and wet. The anger threatened to drown the blossoming desire, creating a tempestuous war within. I panted, torn between resistance and a strange, unfamiliar need, a fever writhing and pulsing inside my veins. My hands clenched in the rough leather of his doublet, a desperate attempt to maintain some sort of control.

I closed my teeth on his bottom lip, and he hissed sharply, encircling my throat with his hand, pushing me against the stone.

“Kelītīs,” (Stop) he growled.

The question of whether he even realized he was speaking High Valyrian was a fleeting thought. I melted into his rough hold, to his wicked mouth crashing against mine again and again, getting lost in the hot glide of his tongue. His rough kisses, the frantic press of his body, all contrived to unravel my carefully constructed defenses. A soft moan escaped my lips as my nipples brushed against his chest, sending sparks lower. He groaned low in his throat, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth.

With practiced ease, he untied the strings of my dress, letting the fabric pool around my ankles. I stood there in only my kirtle, breathless under his heated gaze. A dark groan rumbled from his chest as he slipped his hands beneath my thighs, effortlessly lifting me. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. His grip tightened on my bare flesh, a touch too rough, and I retaliated with another yank on his silver hair. An angry sound erupted in his throat as he attempted to shake off my grip.

He carried us to the bed, the world tilting on its axis as he settled me on top of him. Our mouths met in a frantic clash, a tangle of tongues and heated breaths. We tore away from each other briefly, just long enough for him to pull my kirtle over my head.

Naked and exposed, I felt a shiver dance across my skin under the intensity of his gaze. Something dark moved through his eye, and my skin prickled with goosebumps.

He gripped the swell of my hips, his palms sliding upward, a slow exploration that sent sparks igniting in my blood. The fight drained from me, replaced by a heavy languor. His fingers, surprisingly gentle for a cold-blooded killer, traced patterns across my skin, before cupping my breasts into a rough grip. A soft moan escaped my lips as his thumb brushed a nipple, and pleasure rushed to my core. He leaned in and closed his mouth over a peak, drawing it in with a slow, gentle suck. My head fell back, a groan escaping my throat. My hands filtered into his thick silver, my fingers impulsively easing off the leather tie that kept it out of his face, and it went cascading around his features like spills of moonlight.

Awe mingled with desire as I watched him continue to explore my body, his mouth leaving a trail of wet heat across my skin. I cupped his sharp face in my hands, the rational, caged side of me screaming to tear him off me. I made weak, pitiful attempts to do so, but Aemond growled his disapproval and sucked my nipple hard. The wet heat of his mouth tugged between my legs as he moved to the other, flames curling low in my stomach. I ground down on him, my wet entrance dampening the dark leather of his breeches, the friction sending a delicious heat through my core. A moan ripped from his lips.

I was on fire, a confusing mix of desire and desperation clawing at me. I needed something more, something to push me over the edge. My body moved of its own accord, grinding harder, seeking that elusive release.

He released my nipple with a graze of teeth that sent a jolt of white heat through me, and looked up at me with his eye dark like the storm.

“Skoros gaomagon jaelā?” (What do you crave?), he rumbled.

Exhaustion gnawed at me, but a visceral need pulsed deep within. “Please,” I pleaded, the word a ragged whisper escaping my lips, the frustration of the language barrier a dull ache compared to the firestorm raging in my core. “More,” I begged, grinding against his erection with desperate mewlings.

When his hand lowered to palm my pussy, my skin caught on fire, burning me from scalp to toes. Desire inflated in my throat when he ran his hand up my neck, into my hair, grabbing a fistful and using it to arch my head back, his touch both possessive and arousing.

“Is this what you desire?” he rasped against my throat, his voice husky with restrained passion. His calloused thumb began drawing circles on my clit, a slow, deliberate exploration that sent frustration battling with a rising tide of pleasure.

I nodded desperately. “Yes,” I gasped.

He slipped two fingers into my wetness, and I arched my back, groaning in pleasure and a little pain, his fingers filling me up to the brim. My hands found purchase in his hair, anchoring myself as he moved his digits, flames of pleasure licking at my walls.

Ecstasy unfurled in my veins like milk of the poppy, mind-numbing, delirious, as he slid his thick fingers in and out of me, rubbing a sensitive spot deep within. Hot pressure expanded, and my eyes rolled back in my head. A throaty moan escaped my lips with every thrust of his fingers and a delicious rumble rolled in his chest.

His grip around my hair suddenly vanished and his thumb began rubbing circles on my clit as he fingered me. I cried out, the intensity overwhelming, and I braced myself on his leather-covered shoulders, a cold sweat starting beneath my skin.

“Sholīze,” (You’re so wet), he groaned against my skin, the word a brand that sent shivers lancing through me, the heat beneath the surface threatening to erupt. I rolled my hips on his fingers, and a satisfied growl escaped his mouth, his eye dropping to witness me riding his hand as my pleasure ran down his wrist, my leg and onto his lap.

“Shkelagon zhēdys,” (You’re making a mess), he whispered into my mouth, swallowing my desperate cries.

A third finger, bold and intrusive, slid inside, the added pressure sending me over the edge. My vision swam, black dots exploding at the edges. My heart pounded to the fire searing through every nerve in my body. Throaty moans tore from my lips over and over, as I clenched around his moving fingers. He groaned with dark satisfaction, encircling my waist, pressing me against him as I rode out my orgasm.

The storm within me subsided slowly. His fingers, once urgent, now moved slowly in and out of me while I caught my breath and the ringing in my ears faded. He didn’t withdraw until he’d coaxed out the very last tremor of pleasure from my body.

A languorous warmth, a deep sense of satiation unlike anything I’d ever known, bloomed within me.

Lost in the afterglow, I trailed kisses up his neck, small noises of contentment escaping my lips.

“Gevie,” he panted, slipping his fingers out of me.

I knew that word.

Beautiful.

AEMOND

I never thought the act of making an heir would be this… riveting.

So much pure heat, flame and pleasure, fueled not just by my own desire, but by the sight of her pleasure burgeoning under my touch. It was a new prospect entirely. I could have reached my own release simply from witnessing hers.

But this was not going to make an heir, after all.

She ran her fingers over my erection, her lips and teeth teasing a line down my neck as she came down from her high. My hand, forearm and lap were slick from her sweet desire.

She settled back into my lap, a vision of post-orgasmic bliss. Her eyes, usually bright and defiant, were now hooded with languid satisfaction, her cheeks flushed a becoming crimson. Her lips, slightly parted, breathed shallowly. I pushed my thumb between them, and she met the intrusion with a beckoning glide of her tongue, the wet heat settling in my groin. I pulled my thumb free, wiping the evidence of her touch across her lips.

This woman, this force of nature, was mine. My wife.

Lightning played across her features like she was its master. Like she embodied the raw power of the storm.

Untamed, fierce, fuckable.

She was molded just for me.

Her fingers, tracing a familiar path down my doublet, encountered the bulge straining against the fabric, my dick throbbing at her faintest touch.

“Take it off,” she said, working on the buckle. I reached my hands up my neck, loosening the doublet from my frame.

“Do not attempt any strikes this time,” I drawled, a playful challenge in my voice. I relished the smile that spread across her lips.

“You have my word,” she said softly.

The leather of my arms whispered down, discarded on the floor like a shed skin. Her eyes ignited with raw desire, a flickering flame that mirrored the inferno that had been building within me. Her fingers, hesitant at first, traced a path down my chest, my abs, further, until her hand slipped beneath my breeches and over the length of my dick.

I hissed through my teeth. The heat, a branding iron searing flesh, intensified as her hand, unsure but determined, wrapped around my erection, heat curling at the base of my spine. Her hesitant touch grew more confident as she stroked me from base to head with smooth, gentle motions, sending a low groan rumbling from my chest.

I grabbed her face and grazed her chin with my teeth, making her stroke me harder. “I’ll fill you with my seed, wife,” I growled, the words rough against her skin. A promise, a threat, a declaration of possession – all rolled into one.

Her sigh held a hint of resignation, contrasting the fire in her eyes. “As long as you’ll leave me alone once you’re done,” she mumbled, the words laced with quiet defiance.

Fury, a red-hot ember, flared within me.

I threw her down on her knees on the bed and yanked her head back by her hair until her head rested against my shoulder. The vulnerability in her exposed throat fueled a dark avarice within me. My erection pressed against the heat of her ass, restraint becoming an impossible enemy.

“You’re bound to me now,” I growled in her ear, the words a possessive vow. “You’re not going anywhere.”

A ghost of a smile played on her lips, a silent challenge that both frustrated and excited me. I leaned in, whispering a single word against her ear, “Ñuhon.” (Mine) I nipped her earlobe, making her hiss.

When I released her, she sagged forward, head hanging low. Her shoulders slumped, and she lowered herself onto her hands, the curve of her backside a sight that ignited a fresh wave of heat within me.

I discarded my breeches, the urgency a physical ache in my core. Kneeling behind her, I pushed two fingers inside of her. She clenched down on me so tightly. I groaned and pulled my fingers free. As I rubbed the head of my cock against her wet opening, the heat of it almost burned me. A tremble coasted throat her, and her fingers gripped the sheets, bracing herself.

I eased into her, and, gods spare me, she was so fucking tense, to the point she nearly resisted me entirely. I caressed her ass, her hips, running my hand up and down her back, attempting to relax her, uttering words I scarcely knew were the Common Tongue or High Valyrian.

“Vīrȳn (take it), you’re so fucking wet, gūrogon mirre yno (take all of me).”

Until her walls softened and I watched myself slide into her, until I was as deep as I could go.

Seven Hells.

The feeling was overwhelming. The way she clutched me like a wet fist. Every cell in me ached for more, to fuck her hard, relentlessly, but I gave her a moment to adjust, squeezing her, running my hands all over her.

Soon, she was rocking back against me, and I gave her what she wanted, pulling out all the way before slowly pushing back in, every inch of me vanishing. She groaned and dropped her face to the bed, fisting the sheets in her hands. I gripped the swell of her hips, guiding her warm, wet pussy onto my throbbing dick over and over, watching their salacious union, my sight darkening at the squelching sounds that ensued. A deep hum erupted from my chest.

She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes hooded with lust, settling on each lazy thrust.

“Iksis ao bisa ijiōrtan?” (Is this pleasing you?) I rasped, but before she could answer, I fucked her a little harder. It occurred to me that she probably could not have understood what I’d been saying half the time.

Her head fell forward, and the sight of her biting down on her hand to quiet her moans sent a heady rush to my head, lighting me on fire.

Thunder rolled overhead.

I was completely lost in the heat of her, taking her hard, watching her ass bounce against me with every thrust. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against my chest.

She was panting, fucked into soft compliancy.

“To whom do you belong?” I growled in her ear.

She didn’t resist any of my advances this time. “You,” she breathed.

“Say my name.”

“Aemond.”

“And who is your King?”

“Aemond.”

My grip snaked and tightened around her neck as I fucked her.

“Say it.”

“You’re the King, Your Grace,” she whined. “The first of your name.”

It set me on fire.

I pushed her back down and fucked her through her second orgasm, holding her hips up when her legs gave out. She shuddered and clenched around me, the pressure sending licking fires down my back, threatening to erupt. I gritted my teeth as I came inside of her, a white, hot fire shooting through me so hard, my vision went black.

My muscles shook from the aftershock.

I doubled over her, letting my forehead rest on her back as we came down.

When I pulled out of her, I watched my seed leak out of her entrance like white tears. I plugged it with my fingers, burrowing deep inside of her, and she gasped.

“Dragonseed is precious,” I rumbled into her ear. “Would not want it to go to waste.” I kissed her temple.

“Tepagon aōha dārys iā dārilaros, dōna ābrazȳrys.” (Give your king an heir, sweet wife)

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yanderenightmare · 5 months ago

Text

♡ TW: nsfw, dubcon, yandere, omegaverse, forced/accidental bonding, subjugation

♡ part one

♡ fem reader

Once you wake up in the morning, you feel… changed.

Your body feels full—as though you’d indulged too much last night—heavy and sticky and sore all over. There’s a strange taste in your mouth—sweet, somewhat salty, and metallic. Geez, you’re head’s pounding—how much did you drink last night? No, this feels different from a hangover—more full-bodied than that—a withdrawal of some kind or another. You must have done more at the party than drink, and yet, you can’t remember having stayed there all that long. No, you left with someone. That’s right. You went with… that overgrown Omega.

Oh no.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

He comes in only wearing a pair of snug boxers—body stacked with brawn, not a single hint of Omega-like softness aside from his tousled bed hair. There’s a big toothy smile on his face—eyes are creased in cheer while carrying an overfull breakfast tray. You know you’re hungry, and yet you can’t bring yourself to feel anything but sick to your stomach by the horrid sight of his flaunted neck, decorated by a gory ring of your bitemark.

No. No, no, no, no, no! Fuck! “Tell me that’s not what I think it is…”

He laughs lightly with an awkward smile, apologetically scratching the back of his neck while balancing the tray in the other hand. “I’m afraid so…”

The world stops spinning, and for a moment, you think it might actually never start up again. Your throat snares, and you think you might throw up. How the fuck could this happen?

He sets the tray down next to you, then himself. The whole bed takes waves upon his weight. You remain still—eyes unrest and mouth hung.

“Hey, I know this might not be what we had planned, but…” he starts.

But you don’t let him finish before declaring, “I’ll take full responsibility.”

There’s nothing else to do, you think. The red string of fate has tied the two of you together. It’s sealed.

“There is no going back now.”

His face expresses shock, but if you’d taken a closer look, he’d probably not be able to hide it—the overwhelming sensation of victory. Oh, bless your Alpha pride. He knew you would say that.

He smiles softly. “I’m in your care then.”

It’s a work in progress after that—slow in the beginning, but that’s to be expected. You never pegged yourself to be the type who got caught up in the unmendable mistakes of a one-night stand, but then here you were—mated with a stranger, moving into his apartment because it’s bigger and closer to work, sharing the same bed and eating the same meals and helping each other through one another’s ruts and heats.

He's still no closer to being your type. In fact, he’s the total opposite—too giant to give you even a semblance worth of superiority over him. A couple of days ago, when he’d been searching for the remote in the couch you were lying on, he’d taken to pick you up instead of just asking you to move. It was completely humiliating. He’s so brazen, and it’s starting to become clear he’s doing it all on purpose!

He doesn’t get fussy when you state your claim of being the one on top—no, but what he does instead is somehow worse, going along with it with snide praise, grinning up at you, his big hands weighing heavy on your haunches as you roll them, calling you his good girl. It seems to humor him how it angers you—chuckling behind your hands as you layer them both atop his mouth, growling at him to “Shut up!”

No, he doesn’t mind letting you take charge. He rather enjoys the view of watching you ride—working so hard to appease him while he rests pretty and admires your body—all soft edges and plush curves. You tire quickly, though—poor thing, why don’t you leave the rest to him?

You had rejected it the first few times he’d offered. Your bruised pride simply wouldn’t have it—you’d rather you both stop than let him finish you off. But a couple more nights and you’d quicker come around than either of you expected—perhaps worn down by his constant nagging or simply fed up with your own failure—you let him assist by bouncing you on his lap.

You wouldn’t admit it to his face, never, but you’d enjoyed it far more than you could have ever thought…

Thankfully, your face in and of its own glory told him all he needed to know. It didn’t take long before he’d taken full advantage of it, nor for you to begin allowing it without being asked. Soon you were letting him fuck you against the wall, making the entire room shake—wall creaking and shelves rattling, pictures falling down. You hold your tongue and hold on tightly, arms and legs wrapped around him—moaning sweetly right by his ear. Fuck, you even bite him again.

As time passed, you came around to indulging more and more of his antics. Letting him fuck you from behind—hard and heavy and deep—thrusting into you while grappling your waist. You even go down on all fours when he does it—digging your claws into the sheets.

Lying belly-up beneath him still makes you feel nervous—and slightly ashamed—almost convinced something’s wrong with you for liking it. And yet you can’t help it. You know any other Omega wouldn’t fuck you like this. They wouldn’t have the stamina, the drive, or the desire. Not like him, who does it all like it’s his nature even when it shouldn’t be.

Guess you’re both freaks.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Oikawa, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira, Isagi ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

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ozarkthedog · 1 month ago

Text

𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬

summary: you wear Marcus’s gold laurel crown while he worships you.

pairing: Marcus Acacius x afab wife!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni. smut. body worship. basically, treating you like the Goddess that you are. feels. praising. oral sex (f). fingering. cream pie. i'm sure there are inaccuracies so just don't pay them any mind. reader is abled bodied. no y/n. no beta. w.c: 1.6k

an: so i had this thot the first time i saw Marcus and i haven't been the same since.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

War is dreadful and barbaric.

Marcus plots the Emperor's commands despite the incessant regret that sours his stomach. His army of men slay soldiers and pillage towns. There is savagery wherever he looks. As he's aged, he's become callous to the bloodshed, no longer the feral ravenous beast he once was.

Finding you warming his bed is a sight bestowed to the Gods, he thinks.

His body aches, muscles sore from weeks on the battlefield, but the moment he sees you, all his pain vanishes. His white and gold armor rests against the foot of the bed; signs of war have no place in this sanctuary.

You beckon Marcus in the silence of his bedroom, lit only by candles that make the room glow an ethereal hue, while your supple body is wrapped in his cream-colored sheets like a bouquet. Your fingers find his as he climbs into the bed, interlocking like vines along a lattice as he lies beside you. He rests his laurel-crowned head on your lap like a child longing for warmth and compassion.

Marcus gazes up at you, his other half in this forsaken world, his goddess.

"You did well today." You praise, smiling down at him, remembering how regal he looked in the golden diadem as he gave another victorious speech to the crowd.

Marcus hums as you run your fingers around the golden leaves and through his curls. He allows himself to rest in your divine embrace, if only for a moment. Your heavenly harmony soothed his worn, remorseful soul.

"I do it all for you, my Lady." the General purrs, tenderly lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles.

Marcus's white tunic shifts as he rises to his knees and plucks the crown from his head. His curls bounce with the movement before he places the crown atop your own.

You timidly raise your hands, feeling the intricate design and the solid gold leaves as the crown sits heavy on your head, but he looks at you with awe.

"I've never seen such beauty in all my days." Marcus compliments like a man staring at the sunrise for the first time.

You were the shining beacon that kept him sane during the days of war, and he would make sure you knew the effect you had on him.

"My Empress," Marcus gently tugs the sheets, dragging the cotton down your body. He relishes your voluptuous form with a soft groan. "It's been too long since I gazed upon you." The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkles as he trails his gaze from the tips of your toes to your gilded halo.

His hands burn. He flexes them at his sides as he hungers to feel your tenderness, warmth, and compassion. "My goddess."

Your face flames as your lashes flutter to the sheets, overwhelmed by Marcus' adoration. If he only knew that you'd happily drown in the wake of his love.

A solid finger lifts your chin to meet his sober stare. "Do me the honor of watching me pour my devotion upon you."

A lithe gasp falls from your lips as he drops his hand and lightly cups your breasts. Worn and calloused, the hands of a known killer, though he's always so gentle with you, your nipples pucker as he skims each bud with delicate circles.

Your lips part with a gasp, chasing his hands when he withdraws. He chuckles at your panting breaths. "Do not fret. There is still much time to ravish you."

His mustache tickles your skin as he leans and sucks your left breast into his mouth. Tounging the pert bud, he brings succulent pleasure to the surface and a soft cry from your lips. He massages the right with expertise, kneading and pinching, knowing exactly how much pressure to apply until he has you squirming.

He strives to leave no spot unclaimed. He's a man of his word; nothing can stop him once he's begun. Stone walls and fleets of men wielding swords and canons cannot stop him.

Soft lips trace under the arc of your breasts before moving to your ribs. A mischievous tongue darts out at the curves, tasting the thin layer of salt on your skin.

"I'd sail across the ocean for you." he professes; the timbre of his voice is as deep as the sea.

A barrage of kisses presses to your waist and the softness that you carry. Marcus's stormy beard lightly grazes your skin as he makes his ascent, leaving pebbles in its wake.

"I'd fight my own army to get to you."

Your fingers card through his locks as he settles between your thighs, making room for himself and pushing your legs apart. He hooks them over his broad shoulders with a devilish smirk. A wry tongue licks a straight line from your pulsing opening to the crux of your mound, making you tug his hair with a wanton mewl.

Marcus stills, like a predator, having just sunk its claws into prey, and presses his scarred, aquiline nose into the soft curls that top your mound. His nostrils flare as your heady scent invades his senses. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he lowers his head, watching you from under his lashes. His once enchanted eyes have now become slivers of torrid black as he latches his teeth into your fleshy mound.

You cry out from the impish bite, hips unconsciously grinding toward your lover as he unlocks his jaw and finally smothers your cunt with his mouth.

Your nerves sizzle from the immoral embrace as his tongue dances over your clit. Nimble fingers trace your sticky petals, dipping in and out of your hole, drawing more blood to fill your already throbbing folds. Your heart beats in time with the pounding of your lower half as Marcus takes his time to worship you.

"Seems my Lady enjoys my touch." He purrs— a slick, shiny grin plastered on his face.

Your body bends, curving sharply like a bow aimed and waiting for the charge. Marcus keeps you primed like the General he strived for ages to become. "Tonight, you will not want," he claims, notching two fingers at the opening of your core.

He holds your fiery stare as he presses into your soaked channel. Your head lolls, and your eyes flutter like butterflies as his thick digits widen your velvet passage.

"Always so good to me." Marcus coos, curiously curling his touch along the hidden ridges deep inside. His cock aches, soaking the sheets with his pearly spend, desperate to be inside you. "Letting me adore and worship as I please."

You want to hold him in your arms and repeat every word he praises back to him in a whisper, but Marcus is a man of his word; tonight is about you and only you.

His shoulders stop your legs from closing as a violent wave of pleasure rolls over you. A wicked laugh rumbles from the man as he suckles your inner thigh. "So close, my Lady. I can feel it." Marcus works his fingers in and out, driving you to the edge, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Slick, drenched kisses stain your skin, another sign of his devotion, as your limbs tangle even more with the stoic man. His rough hands easily hold you down as you wriggle in his grip. Your breathing escalates, and blood pulses in your ears as the eager desire to come consumes you.

"Yes, my Love, take what I give you," Marcus begs, thrusting his weeping cock against the bed in time with his fingers, working you higher and higher.

Marcus wraps his lips around your clit, suckling and swirling the tiny bud until you're chanting his name. He tortuously hooks his fingers onto the spot behind your clit, forcing you to swell and explode into a mass of sparkling particles.

The moment your eyes blink open, having floated back down from your glorious high and into the comfort of Marcus' bed, he notches his cock at your creamy opening and thrusts himself to the hilt.

Your jaw drops with a silent cry. It's devastating and empyreal but your body welcomes him home like always.

"Her embrace is so warm and tight. Like how I dreamt on all those lonely nights", Marcus groans, dropping his head to your shoulder.

The image of Marcus touching himself in the darkness of his tent after a day of savagery makes your cunt quiver. The power you hold over this man is not to be taken lightly.

As you become one, your breasts press against his broad, dewy chest as he blankets your smaller frame and pushes you into the mattress with every cant of his hips, driving his length into the deepest depths.

Crescent moons pepper his freckled back as he shows you sights you've never seen, eliciting his name from your lips with a broken, gasping prayer. Your hold tightens around his bouldering shoulders, his thrusts gaining immense strength as the end closes in, shoving you up the bed.

Marcus noses your cheek, drawing your attention from the blissful heaven. "My Love," his hands encompass your face, from chin to temple, so cautiously, like he's holding a newborn. "I've never experienced such wonders than when I am inside you."

He continues to rock you in the safety of his arms and his bed, hurrying his thrusts when your eyes roll and your limbs become stiff. Marcus wants to meet the Gods with you and feel the rapture and glory as they carry you off into the heavens as one.

Marcus growls with bared teeth as he comes; his spine flexes as he spills his seed and fills you to the brim. He doesn't stop thrusting until his come is leaking onto the sheets, and your folds can no longer hold his offering.

You are his temple, and he will worship until the day he falls.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

#marcus acacius #marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius x you #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal

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torpublishinggroup · 8 months ago

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Celebrate Pride with Tor Publishing Group!

Rakesfall by @adamantine

They met as children in the middle of the Sri Lankan civil war. Later, in a demon-haunted wood, an act of violence linked them and propelled their souls on a journey through the ages. As they reincarnate ever deeper into the future, a truth emerges: Some stories take more than one lifetime to tell.

Running Close to the Wind by @ariaste

In this queer pirate fantasy, Avra Helvaçi has accidentally stolen the single most expensive secret in the world. To avoid capture, he flees to the open sea, where only his on-again, off-again ex aka pirate Captain Teveri az-Ḥaffār can help him survive, profit, and become a legend.

Cuckoo by Gretchen Felker-Martin

Something evil is buried deep in the desert. It wants your body and wears your skin. Welcome to Camp Resolution, a queer conversion center where everyone leaves a different person. In 1995, seven queer teens were abandoned here by their parents, but survived. Sixteen years later, they’re scarred and broken, but back to face an evil that threatens the world.

Kinning by Nisi Shawl

In this alternate history where barkcloth airships soar and former colonies claim freedom from imperialist tyrants, the identity of the island of Everfair still wavers. Victorious in the wake of the Great War, a new threat looms. Can Everfair continue to serve as a symbol of hope for anticolonial movements around the world, or will it fall to forces within and without?

Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea by @rebeccathornewrites

Can one of the Queen’s private guard and the most powerful mage in existence leave their lives behind to settle down in their new bookshop that serves tea? This cozy fantasy is steeped in sapphic romance and nestled on the edge of dragon country.

The Fragile Threads of Power by V. E. Schwab

Once there were four worlds, nestled like pages in a book, each pulsing with fantastical power and connected by a single city: London. After a desperate attempt to prevent corruption and ruin in the four Londons, there are only three. Now the worlds are going to collide anew—brought to a dangerous precipice by the discoveries of three remarkable magicians.

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The Archive Undying by @emcandon

This is a story about misplaced faith, complicated love, so much self-loathing, and yeah—giant robots. Plugged into his AI god when its apocalyptic corruption renders him unfortunately immortal, sad gay disaster Sunai takes a die-again-or-die-trying approach to things. Unending life’s tough when intimacy is somehow scarier even than either of the warring police states set on turning you into a weapon or the rogue undead mecha-fragment of your old god that wants to eat you.

Now available in paperback!

The Bell in the Fog by Lev AC Rosen

A dazzling historical mystery that dives into the shadowy, closeted world of the Navy, emerging in the gay bars of the city. It’s a whirlpool of missing people, violent strangers, and scandalous photos in 1952 San Francisco.

Now available in paperback!

Celebrate Pride with more titles from Tor Publishing Group here!

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a-ikuoliver · 4 months ago

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it's all in your head, i'm inside your head and you're never gonna get me out

pairing: hitoshi shinso x f!reader w/c: 2.1k warning/s: DUBCON/NONCON, brainwashing, female!reader, prohero!mindjack, just a lot of staring lmao, please lmk if i missed anything notes: based on this thirst inspo/acknowledgements: MY LOVER @definitelynotsaint FOR ALL UR HELP I WOULD BE NOTHING WITHOUT YOU MARRY ME PLEASE <3 + earworm by cottontail

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

"you seriously think you could beat him?!"

"you act like he's huge, kami, i have more chance with brainwashing than electrification. if i stay quiet, what's he going to do?"

"have you ever fought the guy?"

the argument had been going on for about… twenty minutes now, most of your other friends already filtering out of your place, but you'd trapped the blond, and subsequently shinso with your argument over the hypothetical: would you rather fight kaminari or shinso?

this was by far the most passionate you'd been so far, answering earlier versions of the question effortlessly: would you rather wear kirishima or mina's costume to a wedding (mina's), have an uncontrollable quirk with raw power or a perfected, slightly below average quirk (master of one). the moment sero proposed the final question, your eyes landed on his, your eyes glowing with smugness when they met his bored amethyst iris's, a spark of interest when you parted your lips to argue your point.

shinso remained reserved throughout your argument with the blond, studying a chip in the deep purple paint on his thumb idly, breathing slowly, evenly, apathetically despite his ears burning any time you'd say his name (his heart rate spiking every time, even with each word out of your mouth being a teasing jab of his lack of sheer power in comparison to you).

"why don't you test it sometime?" his voice is gravelly, nearly cracking after sitting in silence for so long, quietly nursing the last few mouthfuls of his drink while he peered at you; the animated way you spoke, the sparkle in your eyes every time you'd tease him, the curve of your neck when you'd toss your head back at something someone said. swallowing the final drops of the amber liquor, your attention is drawn back to him, proud smirk and all.

"what? you don't think i could fight you?"

shinso quirks an eyebrow at you, an uncontrollable, self-assured grin lazily gracing his lips, "i don't think you could keep quiet."

your mouth drops open to defend yourself, your glare growing more and more fiery as you spin to face him. he could prove it right now, brainwash you the moment the first syllable leaves your mouth, command you to remain completely still while he binds you, leave you wrapped neatly in the binding cloth to wake up in, leave you stuck while he revels in his victory. he could do it right now, annul your challenge before it could become anything, before your ego could swell even bigger.

"is that a challenge, mind jack?"

no, it's no fun to melt your wings before they're built, not until you're halfway in the air, dangling precariously over the raging sea, completely ignorant to the dangers below, complete trust in your makeshift wings.

offering you his hand, he ignores the apprehension in kaminari's golden eyes, "you wanna make it official?"

patience is a virtue, something hitoshi has to remind himself of frequently; patience, hitoshi echoing in his mind when you patrol by his side, promising to protect him from any villains, pulling him behind you if even a mouse came across your path. patience, hitoshi when you mock kaminari for fearing the muscular mans brainwashing, asking if he feared the boogeyman, too. PATIENCE, HITOSHI, it's like a mantra when you smirk up at him, your unspoken promise of beating him hanging in the air between you before you'd even part your lips to greet him.

a virtue, a true miracle he was blessed with such patience.

so, he waits, biding his time until the perfect moment, the absolute perfect time. it was spring now, weeks after your proposal, the scent of pear blossoms beginning to float through the sky. along with the sweet scent in the air, humidity made it grow thicker and thicker, as his patience grew thinner and thinner with every step closer to you.

"hitoshi!" you answer cheerfully, like you normally do, a bright smile on your curved lips, unfaltering even as your friend stares at you with burning eyes, costume awry and his dark hair mussed, pushed back from his forehead, "you look like shit."

the tension inside his body was ready to snap, a rubber band stretched far beyond what he could handle; hearing one too many jabs from you, (today, a text of your merch, a little plush of yourself that you offered, free of charge, to protect him on patrols when his brainwashing fails).

"you should see the other guy."

"oh, i'm sure you really showed him."

"you going to invite me in or just insult me?"

"aren't you going to make me? or not ready to accept the truth? i know it's hard."

he snorts, relaxing against the door frame, deciding today was the perfect day to claim his victory. to pop your ballooned ego.

"let me in," his voice is smooth, your eyes drawn to his lips at his low timbre, lips parting slightly. you feign stepping aside, dropping your head into an overly dramatic bow, only meeting his eyes again after a long moment, the smug sparkle still shining brightly in your pupils.

"huh, sorry, i don't think it worked," you stand straight once more, fixating on your limbs as if searching for a reason why his quirk hadn't worked, stretching each finger as if just to confirm your autonomy, to confirm his lack of reach, even into the weakest parts of yourself.

your wax wings spread wide, curling over shoulder blades, strapped around biceps, wrists and fingers, nothing but clear blue skies ahead of you, bright eyes zeroing in on the searing sun. you've forgotten all about the deep sea below, no concern for the waves crashing over the jagged rocks at the cliffs edge, of the current dragging helpless creatures further into the depths. what did you have to worry about the peril below when you could take to the sky? you wings will carry you far from the danger lurking in the murkiness.

"let me in."

like a baby bird, struggling to leave its nest for the first time, your wings fail you, cracking, burning, melting, sending you careening carelessly into the frigid depths below.

unlike your act, you can't feign when his voice, his quirk seeps beneath your skin, settling in your veins, in each wrinkle and valley of your brain, invading your nerves. your eyes go blank, inky pupils dilating minutely. no more burning hubris reflecting back at him, there's only the endless darkness he can watch himself in, the heat in his own eyes. the hunger. you obey (of course you do), your hand falling limply from the door frame as you finally step aside, welcoming him inside.

"aw, where'd all that talk go?" he grins, tilting his head condescendingly, arrogance oozing from him in waves as you stare at him, defenceless in his clutches, his hold the only thing keeping you from slipping into the depths, further from the sky you greedily sought. you're silent (of course you are, hitoshi hasn't commanded you to speak), a ditsy, dumb, blank look on your face as he steps over the threshold onto the genkan.

"close the door." you do, your arm falling back to your side as soon as the latch clicked.

"kneel." you do, heavy limbs bending and bowing until you were seated at his feet.

"take my boots off." you do, you make quick work of the hefty boots, shimmying them down his calves and over his ankles, his half-lidded stare trained on you, admiring your casual shorts riding higher and higher on your plush thigh when you leaned forward to place his boots at the edge of the step up into your home, the pair sat neatly, side by side.

"you're so good, so obedient," his voice is low, his tone would have you addicted, itching to hear his faux praise again and again if you could remember it. leering down at you, hitoshi is certain you'd snarl at him if you could, bear your fangs, bite and threaten him. rather, you're pacified staring up at him, doe-eyed like this he can imagine how you'd keen instead, how you'd lean into his touch when he pats your head, how your eyes would blur when he calls you pretty, dizzy and dumb nuzzling into his hand.

it was cute, laughable, he has to admit, studying your vacant stare with deep amethyst eyes, the way you really thought you could overpower his quirk, that you could win against him.

"such a good girl, aren't you? yeah?" shinso's thick gloves tangle your hair in tiny knots at the top of your head every time he pets you like a well-loved house dog, "how about you get me a drink, too?"

god, he wants to record you, to rub your nose in how well you behaved for him, blindly following every instruction and he didn't need to spend a single yen on training clickers or treats. shinso mulls over the decision for a second, just long enough for your chest to rise once more, your eyelids to drop in a blink; the expression on your lips when he would show you how pathetic you look is nothing in comparison to you rebuilding your wax wings every time you break out of his brainwashing, not remembering a thing; your attitude and teasing returning again and again, week after week when he knows exactly how pretty you look when your mind was a blank slate for him to carve any thought into.

by the time he's mulled over the decision, you've led him further into your home, back towards your the kitchen where the bet was born, where you began building the wings that would betray you.

opening the cupboard that housed the glasses, the tips of your fingers just bump the vessel with a light tink when his pink lips part to command you once more, "stop."

you pause, waiting oh so pretty for your next instruction.

"i could tell you to do anything right now, you know that?"

you stand like a marble statue, only blinking when your eyes burn.

"i could tell you to bark like a dog, and you would," you're silent, eyes staring forward even as he disrupts the air around you, tracing a gloved finger over the bare skin of the back of your thigh, just to watch the goosebumps unconsciously form in his wake, just to do it without your burning glare. "tell you to sit pretty, to shake, to roll over. would you like that, baby?"

shinso runs his bare pointer finger up your spine, tracing the nape of your neck until he buries his hand in your hair, tugging your head back and forth to nod along with him, "i knew it, you're just a pathetic, obedient little thing."

again, he manoeuvres your head to nod (he knows he can command it, but sometimes he likes getting his hands dirty).

"bend over," hitoshi tugs his gloves off, placing the pair carefully beside you on the counter, admiring the arch of your back as your tits squash against the stony counter. you were a fucking sight, something he'd never forget until the day he died; the image of you bent, dumb, drooling burnt into his retinas.

obsidian eyes follow every rise and fall of your chest, roaming over the expanse of your body, every sliver of bare skin catching his attention, taking his time to admire while you can't argue with his perversions. wide hands are drawn to your ass like a moth to the flame, the curve of your plush skin hardly covered by the fabric, even more so when he kneads the fat of your ass, squeezing and spreading anywhere he can reach.

"should i take these off? hm?" he toys with the waistband of your shorts, as if waiting for you to reach around and shove him away from you, to call him every name under the sun, to threaten his life if he even moves an inch closer, lays one more finger on your skin.

you don't.

"yeah, i bet you'd like that." shinso chuckles to himself, hooking his fingers under the elastic and tugging them easily down your hips, leaving them to pool around your ankles, left only in your shirt and the cutest cotton panties, marred by an ever-growing dark patch at the centre of your cunt.

"filthy little thing," his smile widens, a predatory stare locking onto the wet patch, tracing the shape of your pussy over your panties just to watch it widen, "you're so fucking perverted, huh? bet you've been waiting for me to try something like this."

his cock is aching in the tight constriction of his suit, he's acutely aware of how uncomfortable it would be to go home with cum staining his boxers, but he can't find it in himself to care, not when that would mean taking his eyes off of your clothed, drooling cunt.

"you wanna know something?" he hears the gentle buzz of a streetlamp igniting outside your window, hears your gentle breaths, you don't answer.

"i can't brainwash you into getting wet, baby, this is all you."

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

#shinso hitoshi x reader #shinsou hitoshi x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinso smut #shinsou smut #shinso x reader #shinsou x reader #「mercury writes」#「shinso <3」

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wild-jackalope · 4 months ago

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Satoru Gojo, your scarily perceptive teacher, takes it upon himself to help his horny student, you, with your over-abundance of cursed energy.

paring :: Teacher!Satoru x Student!Reader, Student!Megumi x Student!Reader (undertones).

warning :: age gap, teacher-student relationship, public sex, virgin reader, corruption kink (kinda), straight penetration, no foreplay, cherry popping, Gojo is cocky, reader is horny af.

note :: reader is 18 and a third year with the other students (Yuji, Megumi, Nobara).

“That much cursed energy isn’t good for you.” Megumi eyed you, a weary frown resting on his face.

“I’m fine.” You grunted. The vast aura of cursed energy angrily whipping around you only seemed to surge more when he continued his lecture.

“You’ll get sick.” He added, a noticeable warning in his tone.

“I’m fine.” You sharply returned.

You had not been fine, in fact, you were tensed beyond belief. Being a Jujustu sorcerer was hard, anyone with a brain could tell you that, but the past weeks had taxed you physically and emotionally to an extent you had never experienced. Mission after mission had lead you to lacking personal and intimate time. Each night you'd black out the moment your head hit your pillow, sometimes still in your sweaty uniform.

Each morning you'd wake up with a noticeable wet spot between your legs, but before you could set your barking pussy to rest, you'd be called up and sent on another mission. The only way you could release the building tension was by taking it out on curse spirits, leading to relatively swift victories. The higher ups seemed to consider your constant wins as a challenge because they continued to throw cursed spirits your way.

This had been going on for a whole month, and now it came to the point in your womanly cycle where you yearned to be fucked the most; Ovulation.

"What's up with you?" Yuji questioned.

"Frustrated?" Nobara grinned. You'd made the mistake of venting to her about your situation during a paired mission. Your body tightened with searing regret.

"Don't pester her. You'll make it worse." Megumi cut, keeping his narrow eyes targeted at your surrounding classmates.

Maybe if Megumi liked you enough to defend you, you could test the waters and see if you could get him under the sheets. Idiot. You palmed your forehead, attempting to smack away the thoughts. Megumi was your friend. You'd just embarrass yourself.

"Woah, look at that aura." Satoru had finally slipped into the classroom, about twenty minutes late to the class. Twenty minutes you could've spent getting yourself off. Stop thinking about it. "Someone's seeming a little moody." He jested, lifting the side of his blindfold to eye your irritated cursed energy.

You huffed a depressing sigh, Satoru's harassing would just frustrated you more, especially considering he was so hot. God you would do anything to be dicked down. Especially by him.

The majority of the class time was spent with your head resting in your folded arms. Each low syllable pronounced by your teacher would make you fantasies about what his moans would sound like and whenever you felt his eyes gaze over you, a tingling shiver meddled with your legs. You were too far gone. Even if you had time to masturbate, would it be enough?

Even after the class had finished, you delayed leaving your chair, hoping to grind your thighs together just a little longer to the thoughts of your teacher.

"Coming?" Megumi asked. You wished.

"She should stay back." Satoru stated, casual smile on his face.

You lifted your head, blinking.

"Bye." Megumi waved, you returned the gesture.

"So you going to tell me the deal with all your cursed energy, or should I just take an educated guess?" His hand landed on the base of your desk, slender pointer finger tapping it.

Unintentionally, your voice left you in the form of a meek whimper. "I'll deal with it, you don't have to worry."

"Educated guess then," He shrugged, finding no satisfaction in your answer. "I know you've been shoved a heavy work load, being asked to defeat cursed spirits every day for.. how many weeks now? Four?" You nodded. "Rough. I dealt with a similar thing back in my youth, the strongest is always busy. Never any time to be alone."

You swallowed the saliva pooling in your mouth. "Uhm, yeah."

"So that's it then? You're just a bit pent up." You flushed at his casual discovery.

"I-I said I'll deal with it. We don't need to be talking—"

"Want me to help?"

That’s what landed you on Satoru’s desk, papers scattered over the floor, with your bottoms hanging off your leg and his pants resting just above his hips. You’d moved from your desk to his with a frazzled fanaticism, not caring to question Satoru’s sexual intentions as he lead you, merely chasing the end of your drowning lust. In that moment, your teacher seemed like the solution to all your problems, so you let in.

His thumb dipped beneath his boxers, leisurely pulling them down to expose the lines of his hips and the beginning of his shaft.

He’d pulled your bottoms off with an intense haste, unfairly compared to how slowly he teased you with the sight of his dick. He watched your wide, glossy eyes gape like a virgin at him.

“Wet dream come true?” He asked, chuckling behind his words.

Your response was a breathy hiccup, filled with astonishment and embarrassment. Did he know you had the hots for him? Well, he must’ve had some clue, because you were currently naked from the waist down on his desk.

“Cute.” He added, finally allowing his cock to spring free and give you the sight you longed for. Your fingers began to ache with how hard you gripped the table, skin blanching and nails digging into the wood with stressed intensity.

The size of him was larger than what you’d imagined, thicker too. His pale skin, littered with blue-ish veins, perfectly blended into a lip-pink tip, already damp with his own pre. The reality that his was the first dick you’d seen in person, and were about to feel inside the chasm of your pussy made your stomach pile with anxious butterflies.

The sudden heat of the moment dampened in your mind, as your virgin inexperience hit you like whiplash. You pressed your lips inwards, biting them. You couldn’t tell him, not now, not while he was slipping between your legs and his hands were rising underneath your uniform.

“So tense.” He murmured, towering posture leaning into your figure as his fingers skimmed the lining of your ribs, then reached the fabric of your bra. “Relax babe, no one’s gonna disturb this.” He kissed your clothed shoulder, then your neck. The softness made you burn and melt into him.

“Gojo—” Your tone was weary, and Satoru cut you off before you could utter any confused regret.

“I’m your teacher, I know what’s best for you. I’ll take care of your problem, yeah? You just sit there and enjoy it.” His lips latched onto yours, sucking away any words you were thinking of speaking from your lips.

One hand returned to his base, taking his cock whilst the other held your body, his thumb rolling over your supported boob in a needy motion.

His cock dipped between your folds, gathering the pooling slick that dripped from your cunt. The connection made you jolt and grab the arm he used to grope you.

“Forgot how quickly younger girls get wet.” He muttered aloud. Your face must’ve churned at the words, because he immediately backtracked. “I don’t go searching to fuck young women, I’ve just had plenty of experience over the years.”

Your face eased, but still you squinted in distrust. He laughed.

“I mean, c’mon, you’re gushing just at the sight of me.” Embarrassed, you averted your eyes and uttered a unintelligible disagreement. Satoru took your flushed face into his hand and brought your attention back to his grin. “Don’t worry, pretty girl, you’re the youngest I’ve had.” Unable to move yourself from his grip, Satoru leaned down and planted a wet kiss to your lips.

He licked over your bottom lip, retreating when you moaned in his mouth. He’d become impatient, needing to feel your wet warmth hugging his dick. He thrusted his cock into your clit, once, twice before planting his tip in the crook of your weeping hole.

“Fuck, Megumi is gonna hate me.” He drawled, a contradictory excitement lacing his tone.

You hadn’t time to question his statement as his cock dived between your folds, slipping into your chasm and stretching the thin skin of your cherry.

“Ah! Fuck.” You huffed, the stretching ache rumbling through your abdomen causing your legs to restrict around him. Your hands shot to his chest, weakly and frantically grabbing at the loose fabric of his uniform. “Gojo—”

“Oh, I know, baby. I know.” A certain weak pity jesting his words. “Fuck, you’re tight. Don’t tell me, am I your first?” His smirk grew at the concept, as did his cock.

You hadn’t given him an answer, only spurs of moaning huffs as you concentrated on dealing with ache of being split open by his lean dick. He retracted his hips sharply, you gasped and hit his chest.

“Tell me, c��mon. Am I your first? Am I?” He sunk in again, then retracted with an agonising speed.

“Gah! Yes, yes— fuck, you are.” You huffed, hitting his abdomen again.

“Fuuuck. Lucky me.” Satoru slowed his hips, returning to sliding inside you with an uninterrupted slowness. “I’ve been so selfish, jus’ wanting to fuck you right away, next time it’ll be all about you. Promise.”

“N-Next time?” You heaved, clawing at his chest.

With a deep drawl, he responded. “You ain’t the only one who has needs, baby.” You could feel the words puff into your neck.

The realisation hit you. Satoru was just as pent up as you were, having no time to hookup or masturbate. His situation was just as bad as yours, likelier worse. As much as he might’ve wanted to seem like a teacher just helping his student get off to alleviate their cursed energy, he craved sex twice as much as you did.

He continued to sink in, sliding against the pleasurable nerves decorating your gummy walls. You whined and Satoru hushed you, halting once his hips pressed into yours. “There you go, perfect fit.” He praised.

“God.” You choked, gasping at the air. You felt him, felt his hot cock press into the parts of you nobody else had, parts your own fingers had barely reached.

“I know. Big, huh? You can take it, I know you can.” His slender hand cupping your breast squeezed in feeble reassurance.

Your teeth clenched and your chest fell with fast puffs. “Perv.” You breathed.

His cock twitched, tapping the roof of your sticky canal. “So rude. Don’t you know you need to respect your elders?” He drew his hips out and you winced.

“Just wait, hmpf, God—” You ripped at his shirt. He’d been pushing you this entire time, eager to fuck you silly.

Satoru brought his hands to his mouth and licked his finger, pressing it to your clit and rubbing the saliva into the nub. The pleasure it brought you fought against the aching and you rested your head against his chest, allowing the sweet feeling to soften your body.

“Good girl. Loosen up for me.” He murmured kindly. The words alone added another wet layer of slick around his cock.

His thrusts started off slow and long, pulling his cock so out that your entrance ring danced around his tip, then sweetly sliding back in until your pubes met. Each time he’d penetrate your deepest part, tip dangerously close to tapping your cervix, you’d whine and moan, making him chant mindless remixes of the phrase ‘I know baby, just take it. It’s okay.’

Even at his slowest pace, your mind went hazy with the intensity of sex. Hot, wet, wrong sex. Each time you revisited the reality of your own teacher fucking you, it made your pussy clench around him.

He grunted, taking a calming breath. “‘M gonna pick up the pace, okay?” He was hardly asking for permission, practically tripling his speed before he finished his warning.

You moaned into his chest, hands dragging around his body, wanting to feel him and begging to hold onto something. Satoru placed them on his shoulder, squeezing your wrists in an attempt at comfort, though you could hardly feel anything other than the overwhelming sensation of your gooey insides being massaged.

The curves of his cock flittering past your cloying walls began to feel impossibly familiar, like you were born to be filled with Satoru’s cock. Each drawl made his cock head slide against the spongy part of your g-spot, building you up and up into ecstasy.

The buildup from inside your chasm was intense and ticklish, otherworldly compared to the orgasms you’d rub out alone in bed. You only wished Satoru had perused you sooner.

“I’m gonna cum— oh fuck.”

“I know, baby. I know. Keep taking it.” His nose dipped into your hair, rubbing your side like a cat.

Your climax hit hard and fast, turning your legs to jelly and releasing muscles you hadn’t known were clenched. Your pussy walls cramped and fluttered around Gojo’s cock sucking him in and prompting him to cum inside you. He whined at the intensity.

Satoru Gojo, your teacher, the strongest Jujustu sorcerer, whining as you clenched around his cock. The power trip collided with your electric orgasm, forcing a weak smile to your lips that made your cheeks burn and welled searing tears in your eyes.

He moaned desperately loud, enough to make your heart sink at the idea of it being heard. However the fear was short lived as hot liquid seed pooled in the deep parts of your pussy, thickly coating your walls. You shivered, unable to recongise the foreign feeling of being cummed in. Slower now, he rode the spurts of his orgasm.

“You came inside?” You lazily questioned, unable to reprimand Satoru besides an unsteady slap to his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about that baby, I’ll handle it.” He murmured, upper body now resting against you while his hips slowed to a halt. “Well done.” He cooed, nibbling at your neck.

“You say that like I just defeated a cursed spirit.” You sighed. His lips curl into a smile against your skin and you cringed.

“But you deserve it, pretty girl.”

Peering down at where his cock stilled inside you, you could see the drips of cum froth around his base, dots of pinkish blood swirling with your juices too.

He left you with another curt cheek-kiss, removing himself from your bullied cunt. The feeling of loosing his warm thickness was a discomfort comparable to when he first entered you.

You cursed, the words catching in your throat. Finally able to relax your legs, they attempted to shut however Satoru’s hands grappled the plush of your thigh and pried them open.

“Don’t close your legs, I’ve got to clean you up.”

Akin to a guardian placing a Band-Aid over a sulking child’s scraped knee, Satoru dabbed a tissue to your sloppy cunt, gathering up the mix of blood, cum and slick until you were semi-dry. He pressed a kiss to your clit and you gasped. The sugar-sweet noise begged him to dive between your lips and suck up the mess he made inside you. Next time, he thought, next time he’d leave you ruined.

“The others are still waiting for you, go meet up with them.” He looped your underwear and bottoms through your legs, allowing you to stand and pull them up all the way.

Standing added another pressure to your core and you wobbled. “It hurts.” You uttered into your chest.

“You’ll be fine, a little pain never bothered you out on the field, one of the reason you’re my favourite.” His words tasted like butter and you pressed a frustrated palm to his chest.

“Don’t say stuff like that.” Your reserve was questionable, considering how you two just fucked.

He took your wrist and kissed it. “It’s true.”

A weak scoff left you, and you turned on your heel penguin-walking outside the classroom, Satoru sending you off with a tap to your ass.

“You seem a lot better.” Megumi mused, a quick shine of surprised relief on his face.

“You’re glowing.” Nobara added, an upturn brow and narrow eyes taking in your afterglow.

Strategically, you avoided Nobara’s comment and directed yourself towards Megumi. “Yeah, Gojo managed to actually help for once.” You let out an uneasy chucke, adjusting your blazer.

Just as you were about to suggest grabbing some food, likely sushi, to your classmates, Satoru’s voice called out to you.

Crap, had you forgotten something? You put your underwear on, right?

“This is for you.” He extended a hand, holding a plastic sheet containing one singular pill. Your face and ears immediately flushed, turning a bright pink. You snatched the plan B off him, placing it deep into the crevice of your pocket and turning your back to him.

“Thanks.” You hissed.

“Bye then.” He flirted, giving his other students a wave before backing away.

“What was that?” Yuji asked.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #Jjk smut #Jjk x reader smut #jjk satoru #Satoru Gojo x reader smut #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #gojo smut #Satoru smut #gojo x reader smut #Gojo x student reader

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sonolynn · 7 months ago

Text

Thou Shalt Not Covet.

summary | Aemond loved her first, and it would be Aemond who loved her last.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Fem!Reader

tags | infidelity (cheating), cussing, alludes to smut, mentions of drinking, whores etc (normal Aegon things), typical Targcest, jealous and possive Aemond

w.c | 1.2 k

note(s) | This is my first Aemond fic! I haven't read the books, and have only seen the show so if Aemond is ooc then I'm sorry!

______________________________________________________________

She was his. By the way of his mind she belonged to him. His brother, first to everything and last to nothing, got everything Aemond wished he had. The iron throne, the crown, her. The marriage between her and Aegon was strictly political; there was no love, no affection between the two. If Aemond was honest with himself he liked that, liked how her affection could be saved and harboarded for him only.

Aegon had his spoils. He had bastards, he had whores, he had wine. He did not need her, nor did Aegon particularly want to have her. But Aemond did.

Because of Aegon’s particular disdain for his wife, the times that she was left alone and in the confines of her chambers were more than not. On these nights, Aemond would find himself climbing up the stairs, his hands shaking slightly, and his mind racing as the guards opened the door and let him enter his niece's chambers.

______________________________________________________________

“Uncle.” Her voice rang out over the fire in her chambers, and Aemond felt his heart rate pick up. She held a book in her lap, no doubt trying to wrap her mind around the philosophies written into the texts. Aemond felt himself shiver lightly, the sound of her voice seemingly always doing things to him.

He said her name softly, and he smiled to himself as he walked over to sit next to her. She smiled, her hand wrapping around his and her voice soft.

“How do you fare?” That is how all of their nights began. The light conversation of “how do you fare?” eventually led to her bed.

Aemond’s eyes caressed her skin, his hands worshiping her body as his voice sung praises of her victories over his mind, soul, and body. He would not ravish her like his brother did, no. He would worship and glorify her body before him as if she was a temple, he would exalt her pleasure to the highest of highs before he even thought of his. Aemond treated her like a goddess, and she was reminded of this every time her name fell from his lips and his seed spilled inside of her.

When he would finish he wouldn’t leave her to clean up on her own, or fall asleep. He would kiss her body softly, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back as she came down from her high. He would hold her until she fell asleep in his arms, and in the morning he would wake, admire her body and her face that still shone in the glow of intimacy, before he would dress and leave.

______________________________________________________________

She liked the garden. She, truthfully, adored the garden. It was, she thought, the only place where she would be free from listening to the moans of Aegon’s whores and the drunken laughs that would escape his lips.

She found solace in the way the leaves swayed in the wind, the way the sun shone lightly through the cracks of the trees. But, what she truly waited for was Aemond. Once his duties were done he would come into the garden, and they would walk, and talk with one another for what felt like hours.

On this particular day, the two walked and talked about nothing in particular-just how both of them liked it. But, a pair of seething eyes followed the two as they walked. Angered and betrayed, Alicent turned and walked away.

______________________________________________________________

When Aemond entered his chambers later that night, he was met with the burning gaze of his mother. His face remained stoic, and he slowly started to take off his belt that held his sword.

“Mother. I did not expect you.” He spoke, his face illuminated by the fire as he sat in a chair, getting comfortable. His mother stood, standing in front of him as she glared down into her son's stoic expression.

“You do not hide it well.”

“I do not know what you speak of, mother.”

Alicent gave Aemond a look, seeing straight through his stoic expression and hardened gaze.

“You know what I speak of. You covet what is rightfully your brothers-”

“Rightfully?” At these words, Aemond stood, glaring down at his mother with a complexed expression. “She is not rightfully Aegon’s. She is not rightfully the crowns-”

“She is his by law,” Alicent got right into her son's face, her hand pushing against his chest as she spoke. “By the law of the seven kingdoms she is his! You cannot parade around the castle, promenading as if you are an enthralled teenage boy courting a noble girl! She is married-”

“You do not think I know what she is, mother? You do not think I see the ring she wears, or the name she bears now as a continuous tie to my brother?” The pain etched into the cracks of Aemond’s voice were subtle but not unnoticed. The way he spoke of his brother's wife with so much undignified and raw emotion made it clear to Alicent what he truly felt. Despite herself she sympathized with her son, trying to take his hands in hers as she spoke.

“I understand, Aemond, how you feel. But you cannot go about so shamelessly coveting your brother's wife-the queen!”

Aemond roughy pulled away from his mother, a sharp look hidden behind his amethyst eyes as he spoke.

"Do not speak to me as if my sorrows where your own!" Aemond seethed, pulling back a few paces as he glared at his mother, “Aegon is no husband! He may be my brother-my closest kin but he does not know how to properly care for her as I do. I know her mother, I know her wants, her desires, I know her more than Aegon has ever even tried to comprehend so damn all the gods and fuck Aegon because I would soon rather feed myself to Daemon’s dragon then let a man like Aegon sew his seed into her and ruin the beautiful women that the gods have given to me!”

The words coming out of her son’s mouth shocked Alicent. She never knew him to be so passionate about something-someone-so fiery as, gods be good, his brother’s wife.

“Aemond she was never yours-”

“She was,” his voice dropped and he stepped closer to his mother, breathing down as he glared, “The gods gave her to me, they made her for me! Her body was made to fit with mine, her soul was mine to know! Mother, it was all for me! But you? You are the one who gave her away to my brother. You are the one who took her from me.”

Wishing for no more of this, Aemond turned, feeling himself breaking a little as he went. He knew he would never be hers, that she would never truly be his.

______________________________________________________________

“You are troubled tonight.”

She knew him better than he knew himself. Aemond’s head rested on her lap, her hand gently stroking through his platinum white hair. He breathed out slowly, his thumb idly stroking her knee.

“I am thinking, sweet girl.”

“I know that you are thinking, I just wish to know what it is you are thinking about.”

At this he went silent. He knew no matter what lie he told her that she would always know the truth between the lies. So, instead, he sat up slowly and he gripped her cheek, kissing her softly. As if the words would be lost, and the meaning behind them burned. He made love to her like she was truly his, like she was his wife. As if..she wasn't even able to be coveted.

______________________________________________________________

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #sebastian sallow x you #aemond angst #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond fic #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond

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frost-queen · 6 days ago

Text

🅾🅽🅴 🅼🅾🆁🅴 🅶🅰🅼🅴 // part 1 (Reader x Young-il / player 001)

Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex--awesome--22 @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr , @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedrava-bitch-187, @erikasurfer , @slythetic , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis

Summary: The games are not what you thought they would be. Forced to stay after the first game due to the votes. While groups are being formed, you find yourself welcomed by an interesting player that took your side. [series]

If you closed your eyes, you could still hear the bangs.

Never you thought you’d hear a gunshot so clear in your ears, certainly not so repeatedly. It was a wake-up call that you had made the wrong choice about joining. If you knew what you knew now, you would’ve told yourself to turn back. To burn the card and never call that number. If you could, you would’ve taken the high road.

If only your decision didn’t depend on so many others. The x marked clear on your chest patch. You wanted to leave, but because you were outnumbered you were forced to stay. Sitting silently on one of the beds. Sitting all alone. Most people started to form groups. The O’s gathering around as some X’s strayed around like helpless dogs.

Your mind was silent. Trying hard to not freak out and keep your cool under these circumstances. Most of the blood you had wiped away in the bathroom after Red light, Green light. Some unfortunate people getting shot around you. If it wasn’t for that player 456, you wouldn’t know if you’d still be here.

Hands trembling as you could barely hold the sandwich still. Package open on the top with just a bit popping out. The smallest of bite’s taken from it. You kept staring in front of you. Looking over at the other side where the O’s were forming groups and greeting each other. Celebrating their victory of getting to play one more game.

You thought it was ridiculous, for who even knew if they would survive the next game. Your gaze went to the higher beds, all empty. Till you noticed a small detail. Something black on the wall where on other tiles it wasn’t. Curious about it. Your eyes looking around for more of those.

Even turning your head to look at your side. Seeing the black markings as well. Getting the sudden idea, you got up. Rushed down the platform to reach the ground. Walking backwards to see how you’d get a better look at them.

Tilting your head a bit in the process with a thoughtful expression. Seemingly finding something, you crawled underneath the bed constructions. Crawling closer to the edge. Coming to lay under a row of beds by the wall. Trying to see what was on the walls by looking up.

Squinting one eye shut, you could faintly see something, but not enough to make out what it was. Humming with curiosity. Crawling back underneath from it, you re-appeared in the front once more. Moving more to the centre, turning around to where you’d get a better view.

Your gaze falling on a small group where you recognized player 456 between. Letting your gaze go more up, they seemed to have a better view of getting to see what was on the walls if you could lay down. Lay down and look up to the wall paintings. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Yet it meant walking over to them. Disturbing them and going through their little gathering to crawl to the lowest parts of the bed constructions. Turning once more around, you wanted to make sure there wasn’t a better way. It was then that you heard the short whistle. Making you turn your head to the side.

Seeing player 230 break free from a group and approach you. He walked casually, trying not to attract attention to him yet it did. – “Seniorita, s’cuse me. – he said, one hand in his pocket. His gaze falling on your number. Then on the X sticking to your chest. – “You want to leave seniorita?” – he said sounding so smooth, he thought for sure he could charm you. You simply looked him up and down, puffing once with a roll of your eyes.

He started moving his hands in front of him, rapping some rubbish in front of you. – “I can protect you seniorita.” – he finished with a rapper pose. He came sliding an arm over your shoulder, leaning in. You wanted him off, shrugging your shoulder so he understood the hint.

Player 230 moved his hands up with bouncing shoulders. Almost dancing as if he was having the time of his life. He then pointed at you. – “I like…” – he started finishing with forming a heart with his fingers. – “you.” – adding a wink to it to complete his charm. Another player came joining his side. Player 124 with a clear smile on his lips.

Thanos slapped his hand against his chest, turning his head to him. – “This one’s mine.” – he told Nam-Gyu. Nam-Gyu smiled sheepishly looking back at you. – “Seniorita.” – Thanos said coming to circle around you. – “If you like you can fit right here.” – he stopped opening his arm, pointing at it that you could perfectly fit in his arms.

You felt uneasy, unable to escape them. Like vultures they kept you around. Circling you and not letting you leave. Thanos blew you an air kiss. Pointing at the X on your chest. – “We’ll need to change that.” – he said touching your chest shamelessly.

You hoped someone would step in, but clearly everyone here was selfish enough to not. Till you heard a loud voice come through. – “Ya!” – it made you turn your head with a gasp. Seeing player 390 and 388 step aside. Player 001 making his way through. His expression stern and unreadable. Making you swallow nervously as he was approaching. Silencing the room with just his presence.

It even made some people move back to be sure to be out of his way. Thanos clicked his tongue unamused that he would come and interfere with his flirting. Thanos walked closer to him, coming to stand before you. Arms folded. With one hand he waved player 001 away. Player 001 leaned sideways to look past Thanos to you.

“Are you alright?” – he asked you. Thanos moved his head to block out his vision to you. – “What you think your doing?” – Thanos called out unbothered. Player 001 turned his gaze to Thanos with disgust. Thanos wanted to push him back. Before his hand even touched player 001, it got grabbed. Calling it out in pain as his palm got twisted.

Nam Gyu came joining to back his mate up. – “Ya! You jerk!” – he called out shoving you out the way by your shoulder. Player 001 kicked with his foot at the top of his foot. Just where his foot ended and his leg began. A soft spot. Nam Gyu shouted loud in pain, hopping on one foot. Thanos tried to fight back but player 001 already had him. Twisting his arm more that his whole body squirmed in pain.

Player 001 using little effort to subdue them to pain. Nam Gyu came at him again with more anger. Player 001 simply kicking him back so that he fell to the ground. He then grabbed Thanos by his shoulder, having enough of his foolishness. Giving him a kick in the stomach that he doubled over. Thanos needed but a little push to fall over. Groaning in pain on the floor. Player 001’s stern gaze went up to you, making you gasp slightly frightened.

He held his hand out to you. Your eyes lingering on the O on his chest. He had also chosen to stay in the game. Because of him you weren’t able to leave. He kept holding his hand out, waiting for you to take it. Looking down at Thanos and Nam Gyu squirming in pain, you decided to subdue to your protector.

Letting your hand slide in his. Player 001 closed his hand over yours. Gently tugging at you to follow him. Getting in motion, you stepped over Nam Gyu to let him guide you. He turned around, leading you back to the back of the bed constructions. – “Are you alright?” – player 388 asked with concern. You nodded with a soft hum.

“Wha! Those punks have some nerve.” – player 390 added. You came sitting down beside player 222. She smiled shyly back at you, keeping a protective hand over her stomach. Player 001 walking a platform higher to go sit down there. – “Tha… thank you.” – you said not wanting him to think you were ungrateful.

Feeling his tense gaze stare so firmly through you. It made you feel insecure. Unsure what his intensions would be. Shifting your gaze away from him till your gaze fell on the walls. Almost haven forgotten what you were doing. Player 001 narrowed his eyes on you. Wondering what fascinated you this much behind him.

Your attention got pulled away by player 388 shouting loud that you also had an X on your chest. – “She’s an X’er. She’s one of us!” – he called out cheerfully. Player 456 pulled at your tracksuit to see the X for himself. His eyes then fell on your number 400.

You pulled his hand off you, straightening your tracksuit. You looked around seeing both X’s and O’s sticking to their tracksuits. Exhaling loud, you let your face fall into your palms. – “Player 400.” – a deep voice said, making you look from where the voice was coming from. Your gaze meeting with his.

He moved his hand, letting it draw down his jawline to his neck. Widening your eyes, you understood the hint. Taking your sleeve to rub it against your neck. Looking down at it, you saw the stain of blood on it. It made you immediately roll it up so you didn’t have to look at it.

“Lights out in 30 minutes.” – the emotionless woman’s voice spoke over the intercom. It made you swallow nervously that you had to spend another night here. Your eyes meeting with player 222, seeing the same fear in her eyes. Player 456 took the lead to speak. – “Just one more game and we can vote again for our leave.” – he addressed. – “Gi Hun, I’ll sure vote X now.” – player 390 replied with some shame.

“Me too.” – player 001 answered looking over at Gi Hun. His gaze then lowering on you. Remaining there with such comfort. – “You won’t know that for sure.” – you responded keeping your gaze at player 001. You then hinted at the other O’s across. – “They won’t stop at one more game.” – you knew it was a lying hope to think tomorrow would be the last game.

You knew the O’s would never stop. Too blinded by the money and adrenaline of surviving. You got up with a deep exhale. All was hopeless. – “Player 400.” – player 456 called out, making you stop midtrack. You turned round to him. – “I promise you we can turn the tide.” – he said. How cute it was that he still had hope in this deathtrap. – “I’d like that.”- you responded with a faint smile. You were about to head the last few steps down, till you stopped once more.

Wanting them to know your name. Numbers were so unpersonal and you hated being a number. – “Y/n.” – you told them. Looking over your shoulder you saw Thanos throw you a kiss from afar. Player 001 got up. – “Stay.” – he said luring you in with his eyes. Eyes locking with yours, you couldn’t look away.

Debating for a moment if you should find a bed here with this group from a dead player or return to your own. You felt like being torn between two battles. Stay here or venture out there with Thanos and Nam Gyu to find you more easily. Knowing they wouldn’t stop till they had their clutches on you.

Seemingly finding you an easy prey to manipulate into joining their side. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm your beating heart. Ready to fall out of your chest that you would endure another night here. Player 222 took your hand, tugging on it. Hurling you back to reality. – “If you have room for me.” – you answered taking your decision. Player 222 gestured at a bed beside hers.

You lowered yourself to crawl to the next bed. Player 001 still watching you till everyone left for their beds. Waiting there. Lying there, staring at the bed above. You rolled over to your side, curling up. Shuddering out a breath. Hoping your dreams wouldn’t be haunted by the deaths. Then. Lights out.

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Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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natlovesls2 · 1 year ago

Text

Hand Warmers

Lando x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: swearing, mentions of boobs and touching them, super short, no use of y/n, I'm American (I think that should be a warning 🤷‍♀️ ), images used are not mine as are from pinterest, possible grammatical errors (its late and I have brain rot from little sleep)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 0.6k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: its cold and Landos hands need to be warmed

.ೃ࿐request: Can you do a lando x reader

where reader doesn’t want to let go of his hand but she need to open something with both (or whatever you can think of) and she put his hand on top of her boob and something like that ??

Please if you have the time

*ੈ✩‧₊˚Note: Feel free to let me know if something is wrong or weird. Also feel free to request something

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Lando had been holding your hand hostage the whole day, refusing to let go despite the inconvenience. As the day progressed, his hold on your hand tightened. It was impossible to escape his hold, even as you ate your lunch, having to beg to be let go to use the bathroom. His only excuse was the freezing temperature, claiming that your hands were warmer than his and you had to help him warm up.

⊹˚₊‧─────────‧₊˚⊹˚₊‧─────────‧₊˚⊹

The cold winter weather had taken over your apartment despite having closed the door immediately after waking in. It was more frigid than the average year, and the abundance of layers did nothing to keep you warm as you lay on the couch cuddled with your boyfriend. “I think we should turn the heater on.”

“I don’t want to get up; this is comfortable, plus your hands are warm,” Lando grumbled into the side of your neck, pulling you closer to himself to prevent you from leaving.

“Don’t."

“What? I’m not doing anything. We can warm each other up. I don’t want to let you go,” his hold on your hands tightened, placing a few kisses on your neck, snuggling closer to you.

While Lando had always been clingy, more so during the cold winter days, this was a new extreme. His cold hands firmly gripped your own, a continued desperate attempt to keep you from leaving his side. "I promise to come back once the heater is turned on."

"Promise?"

"Pinky promise," you reassure him, feeling his grip loosen, and finally, you break free. You could feel his eyes on you, closely watching as you walked to the heater and turned it on. He was skeptical about the promise you had made. The way his eyes followed your every move proved that.

"You're taking too long," he complained, voice whiny as he sat up in his spot, grabby hands reaching out in your direction. The slower you walked back to him, the more childlike he became. His pout only increased as he realized you were purposefully taking your time.

"You're being mean," he continued to whine, only stopping when you finally sat next to him again, hands immediately grabbing your own. He briefly let go of your hand to turn on the television, quickly grabbing and kissing them.

"Don't you think you've held my hand enough?"

"No, I think I've held your hand for too little," he says, slightly pouting again, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your lips. This was always his tactic for getting what he wanted. The constant pouting and occasional kisses were well-known to you. It was almost expected from him, especially when things weren't going exactly the way he wanted them to.

"Let go, Lando," you said, refusing to fall victim to his ploy– knowing that if you allowed him to get away with this, he would only use it against you.

"Noooo," he said, voice high and whiny, squeezing your hand tighter, peppering your face with kisses, gently stroking your hands.

"It's getting warmer in here," you struggle against him, letting out a sigh of relief as he finally lets go of your hands. This was a victory in your eyes, though you knew it would be a short-lived victory– Lando being a very persistent person.

"I'm still cold," he says after a few minutes, resting his hand on your waist.

“You’re annoying,” you say, moving his hands under your shirt and placing them on your breasts, shivering at the freezing touch, “You're fucking freezing.”

“Yeah, but I'm definitely getting warmer,” he gently squeezes your boobs, stealing their warmth for himself.

"At my expense," you say, your body beginning to relax as Lando's hands warmed themselves between your breasts and bra.

"You're the one who offered," he continues to softly but firmly massage and squeeze them, "I think these might be the best hand warmers."

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#f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #lando norris x y/n #f1 fic #lando norris x you

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stargirllanaa · 2 months ago

Text

Death Grips - R.C

Dark!Frat!Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Warnings: Dv( physical abuse),NONCON, Mentions of Dv, Cheating, mentions of cheating, abusive relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, frat!rafe, blackmail, emotional abuse, underage drinking, he’s an asshole guys

Summary: inspired by ‘death grips’ by Etta Marcus/ After a messy break up with Rafe Cameron your freshman year of college, he can’t seem to leave you alone. Whether you’re awake or asleep

Series Masterlist

A/n: hey guys I haven’t wrote in so long but I had this idea in my head for so longgg, hope you enjoy cause this is a series!!<3

Part: I

……

It had been four months since you broke up with him, yet he still haunted every aspect of your life through your dreams. You were beyond tired of waking every morning with a pounding heart and a bed drenched in cold sweat from memories plaguing your mind. You always thought the most challenging part of a breakup would be the actual breakup, but it wasn't; no matter how hard you tried, you knew you would never forget the heartache Rafe put you through, and you had come to peace with that, what you weren't prepared for was his looming presence in your life even though he wasn't even physically present, that was the hardest part.

“You all packed up?” your mom asked, snapping you out of thought as she peeked through the crack of your door, only her eyes showing.

You had been so lost in thought that you had almost forgotten you were supposed to be finished packing up for school by now.

“Yeah...” you nodded as you quickly bagged up some remaining things that had sat on your bed.

“Well, almost,” you chuckled as your mom entered your room,folding up clothes to help you finish.

“Listen,” she said softly, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. “I know you're really stressed about going back. "

You sighed as she spoke. Part of you felt guilty for the way things went last semester. You always tried not to blame yourself, but you couldn't help but feel like you put yourself in the situation, so it was your fault.

“But this year is going to be better, okay?” You simply nodded in response as she brought you in for a hug. “Freshman years like a trial run.” she giggled warmly.

You had never been in a serious relationship before Rafe. The two of you had started dating at the beginning of your freshman year.bYou met him in your psych class, which you had been failing horribly. It's not like you were stupid. You could easily understand the material if you tried, but you were lazy and didn't feel like it. You had to guess Rafe was failing too, because when your professor partnered the two of you up for your big midterm, which was 30 percent of your grade, you got 72 percent.

Although getting 72 percent wasn't exactly a grade to be proud of, it was enough to pass, and it seemed like a victory at the time. Rafe had this way of making even the most minor victories feel significant, and it was then that you started to see him in a different light. After the project, you both started spending more time together, studying, hanging out, and gradually, what began as a partnership for class grew into something more.

Your relationship with Rafe had always been complicated, to say the least. He was a junior, part of a frat, and you were just a freshman with like two friends, and everyone knew Rafe. So when you started dating it was cool that everyone started to know you.

Rafe was the worst, something you only fully recognized in hindsight. At first, his attentiveness felt like care, and it was easy for you to fall into his traps because you had never been with anyone else. but it quickly morphed into control. He picked who you could hang out with, what you could wear, and even how you spent your free time. You knew you didn’t like that but it was your norm.

Arguments between the two of you were frequent and intense, His yelling at you to “get away from him” turned into full-fledged pushes across the room. What started as him grabbing your wrist a little roughly turned into him using that exact grip to drag you across the cold floor as you kicked your feet, trying to get away. It was a classic case of an abusive relationship. Ignoring the red flags till they hit you in the face. Literally. The breaking point was when you caught him cheating on you mid-fuck.

It was devastating, not just because of the betrayal, but because it forced you to confront the reality of your relationship with Rafe. The breakup that followed was messy and painful, with Rafe oscillating between begging for forgiveness and blaming you for his actions. Not only were you heartbroken, but the stress of your relationship caused you to fail most of your classes, forcing you to have to retake them the whole summer.

So yeah, you were stressed to go back to school, not even stressed; you were terrified; after you and Rafe broke up at the end of last semester, you didn't leave your dorm for anything other than class, so you really didn't have to see him or interact with him. This year, you couldn't do that; the self-isolation would only worsen things and make you more depressed; you wanted to have experiences, go to parties, and hang out with your friends. The only thing was Rafe was a horrible boyfriend, so he had to be an even worse ex. Even though you wished and hoped that the two of you could just ignore each other and stay cordial, you knew Rafe better than that.

-----------

You sat in your dorm, headphones on, blasting music as you focused on finishing your English paper. Looking up, you glanced at your roommate Mia, waving you down and clearly trying her best to get your attention. Slightly giggling at her efforts, you paused your music, sliding the headphones off your ears.

“Oh my god, finally!” she mocked, sighing before sitting on the foot of her bed with a playful smirk.

“I've been trying to get your attention for 20 minutes!” the curly-haired girl exaggerated as she threw her head back.

“Oh, please! I haven't even been working on this for 20 minutes!” you bantered back, throwing your pillows at her.

“Yeah, right, like I believe that. Everybody knows that all you do is work all day.” Mia giggles playfully, throwing the pillow back at you.

She wasn't wrong. You had told yourself that this semester would be different; you would go out, make friends, and party, yet you were still glued to your dorm a month into it. You tried to push yourself; you really did, but the constant dreams about Rafe didn't help you feel better about potentially running into him.

“That's not true..” you awkwardly laugh as you nervously scratch your neck.

“Yes, it is,” the brunette slowly says, looking around as if missing something.

“No, it's-” you try to get out before being cut off.

“Then prove it.” Mia cuts you off, standing off her bed to walk over to you. “Zeta’s throwing tonight, and I don't wanna go alone.”

When Mia mentioned Zeta,Aka Rafes frat, your heart sank, but you tried to stay calm. The last thing you wanted was to end up at a party where he would almost certainly be, but Mia had no idea how bad things had gotten between you. She knew you and Rafe ended on bad terms, but she didn’t know the full extent of what you’d been through.

"Zeta?" you repeated, trying to mask your anxiety. "Why do you want to go there?"

Mia gave you a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Because Topper's been trying to get with me for weeks now, and he invited me tonight.”

Your stomach churned at the mention of Topper. He and Rafe were close, practically best friends, which meant Rafe would definitely be at the party. The idea of seeing him again, especially in a place that held so many bad memories, made you feel sick. But Mia had no idea how deep your anxiety ran, and to her, this was just about a fun night out and a cute guy.

"Mia, you know Rafe’s going to be there," you said carefully. "I just… I don’t know if I’m ready for that."

Mia’s face softened, and she shifted, leaning forward. "I know things didn’t end well, but you can’t let him keep you from living your life, right? You deserve to have fun, meet new people, and not let some jerk control how you feel."

You bit your lip, staring at the floor. She was right, in a way. You couldn’t hide forever. But the thought of being in the same room as Rafe, of possibly having to interact with him, made your chest tighten with fear. Mia had no idea just how bad things had been between the two of you. To her, Rafe was just a messy breakup, not a nightmare that still haunted your every step.

"I know, it’s just…" you trailed off, unsure of how to explain the weight of it all without giving too much away.

"Look, if it gets weird or if you feel uncomfortable, we’ll leave. I promise. But maybe this is your chance to show him that you’ve moved on, that he doesn’t have power over you anymore."

Her words hit you, and for a moment, you considered it. Maybe going to the party was a chance to reclaim something, to face Rafe without fear, and show him—and yourself—that he no longer had a hold on you. But a part of you still hesitated, the fear gnawing at your resolve.

"Okay," you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll go. But if things get too much, we leave, no questions asked."

Mia’s face lit up, and she pulled you into a hug. "Yes! Don’t worry, we’ll have fun. We’ll stick together, and it’ll be fine. I promise.”

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach as Mia rushed over to her closet to pick out outfits. You hoped she was right, that tonight could be a fresh start, but deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that being so close to Rafe again would stir up things you weren’t ready to confront.

--------------

The bass from the music thudded through the ground as you and Mia walked up to the Zeta house. Even from outside, you could hear the chaotic hum of voices and laughter mixed with the pounding beat of whatever random early 2000s white boy song was blasting through the speakers. Your nerves tightened with every step, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Mia seemed unfazed, practically glowing with excitement. She gave you a quick, encouraging smile as she adjusted her skirt. “Okay, we’re just going to have fun, remember? Topper’s probably already inside, and we don’t have to stay long if it gets too crazy.”

You nodded, though your heart was racing faster than you’d like to admit.

The front door was wide open, people streaming in and out like they were at some exclusive club. Mia grabbed your hand, pulling you inside with a grin.

The moment you stepped through the door, the atmosphere swallowed you. The smell of beer and sweat mixed with the sharp scent of alcohol. The dim blue lights illuminated the crowd of bodies packed together. It was overwhelming, and for a second, you considered turning around and leaving before anyone noticed you were there.

You thought you pregamed good, but apparently not good enough. The minute you looked around, you felt too sober to be there. Mia was already scanning the room, probably looking for Topper, as you tried your hardest not to scan the room and end up making any unnecessary eye contact with you-know-who.

“Oh, he's right there,” Mia yells over the loud music, reaching for your hand.

You tried your best to down the alcohol from the water bottle you and Mia had brought, the bitter taste burning your throat as she pulled you toward Topper. You knew the only way you'd make it through the night was if you drunk enough. Topper knew you, and you knew him—and you were almost sure he’d mention your presence to Rafe if he hadn’t already. This whole situation felt like a setup, a trap you’d willingly walked into.

When you finally reached Topper, you stood awkwardly behind Mia as she and Topper made small talk. You tried your hardest not to look at him; even though he wasn't Rafe, he was still a huge reminder of him, but every time you found yourself accidentally looking at him, he was already looking at you. You found it very strange, even looking at Mia a few times to see if she noticed. It sent a shiver down your spine; you already felt anxious about being here, but how he looked at you made it seem like he knew something you didn't.

Not long after Mia had been chatting with Topper, she turned toward you drunkenly with a big, mischievous smirk.

"Hey," she slurred slightly, leaning in close to you as if sharing a secret. “Topper wants to show me his room upstairs. You cool waiting for me here?" Her voice was filled with a mix of giddiness and anticipation.

Your stomach dropped a little, but you forced a smile, trying not to let your anxiety show. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone in a place like this, especially with the looming threat of Rafe showing up at any moment. But Mia was your friend, and she deserved to have fun.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, your voice sounding steadier than you felt. “I’ll just hang out on the couch or something.”

Mia’s grin widened, and she gave you a quick, sloppy hug. “You’re the best! I won’t be long, I swear.”

Before you could respond, she grabbed Topper’s hand and dragged him toward the stairs. You watched them disappear into the crowd, your pulse quickening as you realized you were alone in a house full of people you didn’t want to see.

You looked around, searching for a spot to sit. The couch in the corner seemed the safest option, so you headed that way, trying to ignore the unease creeping up your spine. Sitting down, you took another swig from your water bottle, hoping the alcohol would kick in soon and numb the nerves threatening to take over.

And it did; about 20 minutes later, you felt on top of the world. You had made it off your spot on the couch, made a whole new group of friends for the night, and started dancing like no one was watching, but someone was, and you started to feel it. The party's energy had begun to lift your spirits, and you felt freer than you had in a long time.

But then, in a split second, that sense of freedom evaporated.

It was as if you could sense him before you even saw him. That familiar tension gripped you as your eyes instinctively scanned the room, and there he was—Rafe, leaning casually against the far wall. His eyes were already on you, a predatory gleam in them, and your heart sank. You wanted to leave immediately. You looked down at your phone, immediately texting Mia that the two of you had to go. Your new friends even looked at you, concerned at the change in your demeanor, asking you what was wrong, and in your drunken state, you told them.

“My fucking ex is here, and he's staring at me!” you stressed to the group of girls over the blaring music.

“Girl, that's amazing! This is your chance to make him jealous!” one of the girls slurs with a glowing smile as she takes your hand. her comment earning nods and smiles of agreement from the rest of the group.

“No, you don't get it. He’s like crazy!” you whined as you looked down at your phone, waiting for a response from Mia. “and my roommate hooking up with his best friend.”

Sure, if Rafe was a regular ex, you would see him at a party and maybe be happy for a petty chance of revenge, but he wasn't a regular ex. You didn't even wanna interact with him yet intentionally piss him off, but you obviously couldn't just leave your friend, so you had to just try your best to ignore him, and you tried, but he made it pretty fucking hard.

He wasn’t alone. Surrounded by his friends, Rafe looked every bit the confident, cocky guy you had once fallen for, except now, that same confidence felt menacing. The smile tugging at his lips was more of a smirk that sent a chill down your spine.

He knew you had noticed him.

And as soon as he caught your eye, he kicked his act into high gear.

Rafe started laughing louder, nudging the guys around him like he was the life of the party. Every gesture felt exaggerated, every movement too calculated. He wanted to make sure you saw him and felt his presence as much as possible.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at that. It was sad that he was acting like this. I mean, how immature was he. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much seeing him affected you, so you turned away, trying to refocus on dancing and getting back into the moment. But it was too late. The room felt smaller and more claustrophobic, and no matter how much you tried to immerse yourself in the music again, you could still feel his eyes on you.

And unable to resist, you glanced back.

Rafe had taken it a step further now. One of the girls nearby had found her way beside him, blonde, tall, and obviously intoxicated. She pressed herself against him, laughing as she draped her arms around his neck. Rafe barely acknowledged her, his attention still fixed on you. It was deliberate.

Your stomach churned.

And then, as if to solidify his little performance, Rafe pulled the girl closer, gripping her waist. The girl giggled, clearly enjoying the attention, oblivious that she was being used as a pawn in Rafe’s sick game.

You tried to look away, but the weight of his gaze held you in place.

Then, without breaking eye contact, he leaned in and kissed her—slow, deliberate, and intense. His hands roamed her body as she melted into the kiss, all while Rafe's piercing eyes remained locked on yours.

It felt like a punch to the gut. The room seemed to spin, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe. He was doing it on purpose. Every touch, every movement, every second of that kiss was for you, to hurt you, to remind you of the control he used to have and still has over you.

And it was working.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Your heavy eye contact with Rafe was broken as you turned around to face Mia with teary eyes. You didn't say anything, but she clearly saw what was upsetting you from a mile away.

“Oh my god, he's fucking disgusting.” she gasped, looking directly at Rafe with disgust painting her face. “Let's go right now.”

On the walk back to your dorm, Mia went on and on about how what he did should confirm the breakup was the right choice and how he just did it to try and make you jealous, and you knew that. You didn't need her to tell you, but that didn't make you feel better. He had caused you enough pain, so much pain, so why was he still going? When would it be enough?

“How was Topper?” you questioned curiously, honestly hoping selfishly that he did something that would make her never wanna see him again.

“Horrible.” she cringed, mock gagging, waiting for your reaction.

Really?” you chuckled, trying not to beam from ear to ear.

“No, the dick was average, but he's hot,” she giggled, looking up as she reminisced on the hook-up. “But why were you so happy?” she full-on laughed, crossing her arms over her chest

--------------

“Have you seen Rafe?” you asked around the party, looking around every corner for signs of your boyfriend.

You were supposed to go back home for the weekend for a doctor's appointment, but your doctor actually canceled the appointment, so you stayed on campus instead. You had tried to call Rafe multiple times to let him know you were still at school, but he hadn't answered. You believed it was because the two of you had gotten into a fight that morning, and Rafe was known to give the silent treatment, so you thought you might as well just find him yourself if he wanted to play that game.

You navigated through the crowds of people, your heart racing as you called out to a few acquaintances, hoping one of them had seen Rafe. He had been so distant lately, and the tension between you from earlier that morning hung like a thick fog.

“Have you seen Rafe?” you asked one of his friends, who shrugged and waved you off, lost in a conversation. You sighed, the knot in your stomach tightening. The last thing you wanted was to spend the night worrying about where he was, especially after you fought.

“Maybe he’s in the back,” another friend suggested, nodding toward a dimly lit hallway. You nodded, grateful for any lead, and made your way in that direction, your pulse quickening with every step.

As you reached the end of the hall, the music faded slightly, replaced by the muffled sound of voices. The door was somewhat cracked. You could hear muffled moaning, grunting, and clapping. You gasped, hand clamping over your mouth hard. You didn't wanna believe it, you couldn't, but there was only one way to know. Hesitating momentarily, you leaned in closer, peeking through the small crack of the door. Your heart sank as you recognized Rafe’s frame as he fucked some blonde bitch from the back, and if seeing what could be his frame didn't confirm it was him, the “fuck Rafe that feels so good.” did.

You felt as if the world around you had come to a standstill. You knew your relationship with Rafe was far from healthy. Anyone could see that, but you never expected him to do it. To betray you in such a hurtful way. Your mind started to race. Had he cheated before? Was it the whole time? Did everyone know but you? How could someone treat you like shit every single day yet be the one to cheat on you? It wasn't fair, and to be honest, you felt embarrassed.

You turned and rushed away from the door, tears welling in your eyes and blurring your vision. You needed to escape this suffocating atmosphere. As you moved back into the main party area, you tried to shake off the weight of what you had just witnessed, but it clung to you like a heavy blanket.

You stumbled into a group of your friends, busy dancing and laughing, oblivious to your turmoil. One of them, noticing your teary face, hugged you. “Hey, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. But deep down, you were anything but fine. You felt hollow, betrayed by someone you trusted more than anyone else.

As you moved to the crowd's edge, hoping to catch your breath, you couldn’t shake the image of Rafe with that girl. How could he do this to you?

You grabbed your phone, fingers trembling as you dialed his number, your heart racing at the thought of confronting him. But it went straight to voicemail.

------

“y/n!” You woke up to Mia shaking you awake, your heart beating out of your chest, and your sheets dripping in sweat. “God, are you ok?” she chuckled with a worried undertone.

“Y-yeah... Yeah, I'm fine.” You yawned, looking at your roommate with a mixture of confusion and anxiety. That was the third time you had that dream since the party. You didn't realize how much seeing Rafe kiss that girl really affected you until you went to sleep the next day.

“Well, it's 9:30; breakfast closes in 30 minutes,” Mia informed you, staring at you, waiting for a response or some form of movement to show your getting up. “That means let's go.”

Every time you had a nightmare, it made you lose your appetite the following day, reminding you of how you felt during that time. In fact, it made you lose the urge to do anything, and the nightmares did come more often than not. So when you made your way to the dining hall, you only planned to get a small bowl of cereal and maybe some fruit.

You and Mia sat down next to each other, opting to eat there. You had faced your fear of going to the dining hall multiple times, never seeing Rafe there, and everything went smoothly until it didn't.

“Oh my god, Toppers here.” Mia gasped, eyes sparkling with excitement as she made eye contact with him and waved.

You looked up, confused as to why he was even at the dining hall when you knew his frat had better food than the campus could ever provide, let alone why he was there ten minutes left before it closed, but it clicked when you saw Rafe right behind him with an empty plate in hand. Part of you felt like they were there to antagonize you, but at the same time, you felt that thought was semi-narcassistic because why would they go through all the effort. But it was Rafe, and this was all a game to him; it was fun to him.

As Topper approached, Rafe lingered just a bit behind, his blue eyes scanning the room with that familiar cocky smirk plastered across his face.

“Hey, ladies,” Topper said, his tone light and teasing. He leaned against the table, completely at ease.

“Hey, Top.” Mia chirped, seemingly oblivious to the tension hanging in the air.

Rafe finally stepped forward, his casual demeanor masking the intensity beneath.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, shooting you a sideways glance.

You hesitated but finally nodded, wanting to keep the peace for Mia’s sake. “Yeah, sure.”

He slid into the seat beside you, and for a moment, the conversation flowed easily. Rafe leaned back, looking relaxed as he chatted with Mia and Topper. You tried to focus on your cereal, but his presence loomed over you, reminding you of everything you wanted to forget.

“So, what’s everyone up to later?” Rafe asked, his gaze flickering between you and Mia. “Got any fun plans? Or is it just another boring day in paradise?”

You rolled your eyes slightly, hoping to brush off the comment. “Just studying,” you replied, trying to keep your voice light.

“Like always?” Rafe smirked, leaning closer, his tone teasing but laced with something sharper. “You know, I thought you’d be over us by now. Seems like you still care way too much.”

The comment hit you like a punch in the gut, and honestly, it was weird to you that he even noticed you'd been glued to your dorm. It just showed you that he was still hung up on you. Your heart raced, anger bubbling to the surface. “Wow, really? You think it’s about you?” you snapped, the words slipping out before you could think twice.

Rafe shrugged that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. “I mean, it’s not like I’m the one who’s still depressed about it,” he replied, his tone smooth dripping with amusement at the fact he was getting to you.

“Unbelievable,” you said, standing up abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor before You gathered your breakfast—cereal, fruit, and all—and headed toward the trash. You tossed it all into the bin. “Enjoy your breakfast,” you called over your shoulder, the disbelief mixed with fury driving you forward as you stormed out.

-----------------------------

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Wanna see more? Check out my fic ‘i don’t smoke’

#dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #dark rafe x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe Cameron Noncon

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awakenedevildays · 4 months ago

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「naps and forgetfulness」 Stiles Stilinski x F!reader

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°��•━━━

The door clicks shut as you walk into Stiles bedroom. Thanks to your luck Sheriff Stilinski was just getting out of the house when you arrived at his porch and quickly let you in before going to work.

You spot Stiles immediately: he is curled up in his bed with his lips parted slightly and his breathing soft, he is wearing the grey sweatpants you love paired with a plain t-shirt and hair slightly messier than usual.

Despite the fact that you're slight mad at him for forgetting to come pick you up after work, the sight can't help but make you giggle lovingly at his expression and let your purse fall on the floor silently before changing into one of his shirts and boxers.

Stiles continues to remain asleep, unaware of your presence in the room and it doesn't really surprise you, he is a very heavy sleeper, after all, and it’d take a lot more than just a small giggle to wake him up.

His body shifts on the blankets, rolling over onto his belly and you take advantage of his change of position to climb on his bed and body to leave a trail of kisses up his back until the nape of his neck. His skin is soft to the touch, and as your lips leave gentle kisses on his skin, his muscles visibly shudders until you can feel him starting to stir, even if his eyes are still closed.

"mh?" he mumbles with frowning eyebrows.

"excuse me sir? I think you're in the wrong bed, and house" you whisper in his ear after nibbling it softly with your teeth.

His body stiffens when your teeth graze over his ear, but he sighs at the sound of your voice as a soft smile appears on his lips. "Baby, what are you doin here?" he mumbles sleepily but he's not displeased to see (hear) you, on the contrary, he loves when you unexpectedly come at his house to see him.

He moves to turn around on his back and you lift your hips just enough for him to do it without difficulty, only to sit back on his hips when he's done moving.

"I wanted to see if everything was okay, but it seems I was worried for nothing" you say with a bit of sarcasm in your voice that Stiles catches immediately, he opens his eyes to look at you groggily.

"oh no, what did I do?" he asks, resting his hands on your hips to squeeze them lightly, his face already looks guilty and your heart melts.

"you were supposed to come pick me up at work so that we could spend the night at my house which, as you may remember, is empty because my parents are away, watch a movie, have sex and sleep together so that we could have gone to school together tomorrow morning, does something ring in that pretty head of yours?" you explain with a victorious smile on your face.

"oh, fuck. baby I'm sorry, I swear I didn't forget I fell asleep after coming back home and forgot to set the alarm, I'm so sorry" he says covering his face in embarrassment. “Are you mad at me?”

"No, I've come to terms with it, my friends had warned me, after all" you sigh while resting your hands on his belly and he looks at you confused, you barely manage to hide a smile "that you would get tired of me and keep me around just for sex, like all boys do, after all-"

"ok that's it, you've said enough bullshits already." he says grinning and pulls you by your hands to lay your body over his and wrap his arms around you to keep you there, a squeal leaves your lips between laughters. After all, he knows you're only joking.

"you're stuck here now, forever" he says laughing as his hands start moving up and down your back, he's strong enough to keep you pressed against his chest but even if he wasn't, you would never dream of moving, ever.

"I don't mind" you admit hiding your face in his neck to kiss it lovingly and he sighs, closing his sleepy eyes as if your lips on his neck are trying to lull him back to sleep.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't want you to take the bus to come here" he apologizes again.

"I didn't take the bus, Logan drove me here" you answer and you feel a sense of satisfaction at your words when you hear your boyfriend groan.

"fucking Logan" you giggle "with his- fucking Mercedes and his- fucking crush on you" he keeps on rambling.

"oh come on! he was being nice" you say to lighten his thoughts.

"yeah right, of course he's always fucking nice, he's got a massive crush on you, I bet you love his car more than mine" he mumbles with a displeased expression on his face.

"don't be ridiculous, I love your Jeep" you tell him between giggles and Stiles rolls you two over so that you're on your back and him splayed on top of you and between your legs, now it's his turn to hide his face in your neck.

"and you love me right? more than- and better than Logan right?" he mumbles nuzzling his nose against your neck, and his arms wrap around your body to keep you still, you're definitely not going anywhere anytime soon.

"I don't know, before making such a statement I should ask him if he would ever forget to come pick m- OW!" a harsh bite on your neck interrupts you.

"don't even joke about it" he says against your skin after kissing the still sore spot and slowly moving up your neck until they're next to your ear. "and for the record, you're stuck with me baby" he whispers.

"I'm happy to hear that, now give me a real kiss" you demand.

"yes, ma'am." he mutters before propping himself on one of his elbows to move better his other hand from your hip to your chin, your head now tilted so that he can kiss you properly. His lips move against yours as his body presses yours further against the mattress.

His tongue slides over your bottom lip and you feel him smiling before his tongue slips inside your mouth, all you can taste and feel is him, and as his tongue teases yours you let your hand tangle into his messy hair and tug at it lightly.

His hands move up, taking your shirt with it until it's bunched over your bra before slowly breaking the kiss to remove the piece of fabric.

"what do you think you're doing?" you ask, taking his wrist in your fingers to stop him and it takes a second for Stiles to understand what you just asked, his lust-filled eyes looks at you unfocused. His dilated pupils roam down the length of your body until he reaches your chest and the black bra you're wearing, but almost as if he just realized he's doing something wrong he shakes his head.

"I- I'm sorry, I thought uhm- I thought we were going to have sex" his words drift off while his fingers, still wrapped around the fabric of 'your' shirt, twitch in excitement and anticipation.

"oh!" you laugh "no, no. we're not going to have sex baby" you tell him with a satisfied smile on your face.

"w-we're not?" your boyfriend asks and he can't help but look disappointed when you push him by his shoulder until he falls on his back next to you so that you're able to get up from his bed, he was looking forward to that.

"No, we're not" you confirm and he looks at you in disbelief, eyes and mouth wide open in shock as he props his body on his elbows again to look at you better.

"is it because I didn't come to pick you up from work?" he asks but he already knows the answer.

"You're so smart, love-" you compliment him, walking towards the bed to kiss his lips "now come on, let's go to my house."

"right now?" he asks and there's still disappointment in his voice, but he doesn't protest further as he gets up to start looking for his car keys.

"Yeah! I still want to spend the night with you at mine's" you say as a matter of fact and Stiles hurries to grab his hoodie from where it laid on his desk.

"And- and we're just gonna- watch a movie and call it a day or…?" he asks, his voice is doubtful, and it's clear he's still waiting for a chance to change your mind.

"That depends, are you going to pay for dinner?"

"Like I always do"

"And are you going to forget about me again?"

"Never again, I'll die before it happens a second time"

"Mh… we'll see" you only say walking out of his room and down the stairs with him following you like a kicked puppy.

"Baby, come on! I said I'm sor- are you wearing my boxers? are you trying to kill me?!"

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it seems like I also write for Stiles now, lol, enjoy! 💞

Not proofread, I'll correct it in the next days.

Do not copy or repost.

#madsstiles💌#stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski drabble #stiles x reader #stiles stilinski #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x you #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf

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jkbabiey · 11 months ago

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ᴍɪɴᴇ • ᴊ. ᴊᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴ

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: ~4.6𝘒 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘧𝘸𝘣2𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘴, 𝘶𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘱𝘪𝘷, 𝘖𝘊 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦 '𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭'

it didn't surprise you when jaehyun's name popped up on your screen.

you two weren't speaking. hadn't spoken at all in the last three weeks due to a less-than-kind exchange of words at the last frat party you had gone to.

that frat party happened in the frat house in which jaehyun lived. you were no stranger to these parties. were no stranger to the smoke, the music, and the lights. you attended most of these parties, your goal being only one - to see him.

and you always did. his eyes always caught yours the minute you stepped inside his house. even among everyone else's gaze, his was always the first one that you noticed.

you and jaehyun had met at uni. you still remember the repetitive sound of his fingers tapping the table next to yours, while you tried to focus on the physiology paper you had to turn in until the next day. jaehyun was incredibly annoying, not stopping even when you politely asked him to, which resulted in you picking up your stuff and leaving the library and jaehyun with a victorious smile on his face. just to find him at the frat party your friend had dragged you to, sporting that same smile.

just to end up in his room. naked and screaming his name.

you always ended up in jaehyun's room. since then frat parties had become a constant in your life - you never stayed in them for too long because jaehyun always managed to drag you away quick enough.

the deal between you two was fairly simple - you slept together. nothing more and nothing less.

there really wasn't anything more to it other than sex. and you never expected more, seeing as the first thing you learned about jaehyun was how unruly he was - the complete opposite of you, the straight-A princess (as he liked to call you).

but you two were used to each other at this point - no one seemed to satisfy jaehyun the way you knew how to and because of that he liked to keep you around.

no one did it for you the way jaehyun could. not only when it came to sex, but in everything else too. you genuinely had a good time whenever you were with him, despite him taking every chance to get on your nerves. you two just got along.

but still, three weeks ago, at one of the frat parties you used to attend, you ended up in mark's room.

you would've never chosen mark over jaehyun. especially because the sole reason you were coming to these parties was to see jaehyun.

but not to see jaehyun's mouth working against a random blonde girl you had never even seen before. they were sitting on a couch, smoke all around them and she was straddling his hips, sitting on his lap. jaehyun's arms were rolled around the girl's waist, pulling her closer. meanwhile, you stood with your back pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the room, head tilted back while mark, who stood by your side, talked your ear off about this awesome new shot mixture he had made up with johnny, trying to talk you into trying it out.

it didn't take long to say yes to that shot (and to the countless shots mark and johnny offered after the first one) after that sight.

after that, you went dancing with mark behind you, absolutely inebriated, and no longer than five minutes after you started making out in the middle of the living room. it didn't shock you a whole lot when you woke up the morning after in a room you weren't familiar with, soft snores coming from beside you that didn't really sound like jaehyun's.

you were light on your feet as you picked up your tight black dress from the floor, squeezing yourself into it, grabbed your heels and walked barefoot out of mark's room, closing the door behind you softly, successfully not waking him up. your way down the stairs was a challenge as the wood squeaked with every step you took. you reached the end of the stairs, thinking you had succeded as no one seemed to have woken up, letting out a soft sigh and running a hand through your messy curls.

"had fun last night?" you heard from the kitchen, just a few steps away. you couldn't see who was inside the kitchen but you could recognize his voice anywhere. you took light steps towards the kitchen door, stopping when jaehyun came to view. you leaned to the side, resting your left hip on the wooden doorframe.

jaehyun looked like he had just stumbled out of bed. he was in the kitchen with a mug full of coffee in his hand, wearing an oversized black t-shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. his hair was messy, and his glasses were on. "yeah," you answered, your voice still heavy with sleep.

"was he any good?" jaehyun asked, and your brows immediately furrowed at his question. he chuckled at your reaction and pressured you, raising his brows in question. his voice had a playful light-hearted tone, but you knew him well enough to sense the hint of aggressiveness underlying it. "was he?"

"yes, he was good," you said and watched jaehyun's head tilt slightly in indifference. "better than you,” you added at that, loud and clear, letting your tongue quickly wet your lips in excitement.

jaehyun had always been the cool, calm, and collected guy who was never bothered by anything. and it stressed you out.

how could you be so indifferent to him?

but one thing jaehyun was, was competitive. both you and jaehyun knew that. jaehyun had a competitive side to him that few people dared to cross. but you... you did it all the time. because it was the only way to get a reaction out of him.

he raised his eyebrows in surprise and let out a giggle - you amused him.

“oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

“well… it doesn’t really take a lot to satisfy you, so i won’t really trust your judgment,” he said, placing his cup of coffee on the marble countertop. he walked to the fridge taking out a box of washed strawberries. he extended the box towards you as if asking if you wanted some, and you let out an ironic chuckle at that.

“and even tho it doesn’t take a lot to satisfy me you’re still at the bottom of the list,” you fought back and jaehyun smiled your way, resting his forearms on the countertop, taking a red strawberry to his lips and biting into it.

“hum,” he hummed as he chewed, wet lips and eyes still fixed on yours, absolutely unbothered, as if your comments didn't faze him in the slightest. “it’s long, that list of yours, isn’t it?”

your breath was quick and heavy in anger, your hands fisted and your jaw clenched. jaehyun knew how to get to you. he knew how to hit you where it stung and he never, ever, hesitated in doing it. never afraid of hurting you.

“i’m leaving,” you muttered, immediately turning your back to him and walking to the door.

“not saying bye to mark?” you heard him ask in a slightly louder voice, followed by a mocking chuckle.

“fucking asshole,” you said back, hoping he’d still hear you, which he did given by the amused laugh he let out after your comment.

three weeks had passed and now here you stood, in the middle of your skincare routine with jaehyun’s name plastered on your screen as he called you at 11:30PM. you didn’t even bother picking up, knowing he’d find another way to contact you.

jaehyun: stop ignoring me

jaehyun: saw your ig

by that, he meant the instagram story you had posted, which was not that special - just you, lying down on your silky pillow, makeup and hair done.

jaehyun: cmon pick up babe

by the time he called you for a second time you had a random vinyl playing, your favorite pink little pajama set thrown on, your curls down, your skin glowing, and your lips glossed. jaehyun was coming over.

you picked up. “can i come over?” was the first thing he said.

“why would i let you come over?”

“we both know you miss me,” he said immediately to which you let out a snort. “you don't? be honest y/n” he asked and you could already hear the teasing smile in his voice.

“are you sure it’s not the other way around?”

“as in me missing you?”

you hummed and he stayed quiet for a while “nope, you just looked cute in your story.”

“yeah right. you can go find some other cute girl then,” you said.

"no one's as cute as you-" and you hung up on him.

ten minutes later your doorbell rang and you knew it was him. you opened the door, greeting jaehyun with an annoyed expression. “i told you not to come over.”

“you still mad at me?” he asked, as his eyes ran over your figure. bare legs and perky nipples on display for him - small and delicate, just the way he likes you.

“was never mad. i don’t get mad at you jaehyun, you’re not that important,” you deadpanned, left brow raised.

“yeah, right,” he hummed and took a few steps forward, coming closer to you and closing the door behind him. he didn’t say a word, just staring down at you as you crossed your arms in front of your chest defensively, while starring back at him.

jaehyund sighed when a minute passed, and you did not look away. a teasing smirk grew on his lips, as he buried his hands in the pockets of his grey sweatpants. “why did you sleep with mark when I was right there?” he said, phrasing the question as if he had been waiting for you to answer it for the past three weeks - almost tiredly, letting out a short breath at the end of it.

“he was also right there,” you shrugged, settled on not telling him that what had really worked you up that night had been his interest in that other girl.

he rolled his eyes in annoyance, and you almost squealed at the sight of jaehyun losing his temper. “c’mon y/n, don’t make me lose my patience with you.”

“maybe that’s what I want,” you teased, raising your head, nearing your face to his to look into his eyes, almost daring him to do something. “you get so fucking boring after a few weeks, jaehyun.” you whispered against jaehyun’s mouth, watching as his tongue poked the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “that whole calm and collected thing you have going on,” you gestured with your hands before placing your pointing finger against the center of his chest. “it gets fucking tedious. that’s why I slept with mark. at least I can see some actual desire in his face.”

jaehyun’s anger was almost pouring out of his eyes. you could see that if he could just pick you up and throw you out the window, he absolutely would. instead, he grabbed your jaw in a tight grip, pulling your face even closer to his. “you don't think I desire you, that’s it?” he asked, an almost sadistic grin growing on his face.

when you slowly nodded your head against his grip, his hands moved to tightly grab both your shoulders, throwing your body against the wall across from him. “gonna show you just how much I want you, then."

and then, his lips were on yours, relentlessly working against them. his tongue parted your lips, invading your mouth as you moaned against him. his hand tightly gripped your ass, signaling for you to jump to his lap, which you did. your legs immediately wrapping around jaehyun's waist, with his hand still squeezing your ass. he pressed your body against the wall, rutting his hips against your clothed core, his mouth still fast and almost aggressive against yours.

you couldn’t keep up. you could never keep up with jaehyun.

“what was it about him that you liked so much, hum?” he asked, heavy breath and ironic tone of voice, while still humping his hips against yours in quick motions, almost desperately. “did he cry? he looks like he’d cry.”

“he could cry and still be better than you,” you moaned and jaehyun laughed at how your body’s reactions to him were so opposite to what your mouth was saying. “feels like I’m fucking a corpse with you,” he let out a burst of genuine laughter at that, and you couldn’t help the affectionate smile that grew on your lips at the sound.

“that’s taking it a bit too far isn’t it, princess?” he asked, and you looked down at him.

“is it tho?” he rolled his eyes, moving one of his arms to your waist to carry you to your bedroom. he had been in your flat so many times that he knew where everything was - even his spot on your bed was already defined (he slept closer to the door).

jaehyun laid your body down under his and stopped to awe at your figure, your face all flushed, long curls perfectly laid out on your mattress. lotioned skin shining under the yellow light of your bedroom, body pliable to his touch when he moved a hand to your knees to spread your legs further. he could feel his heartbeat quicken every time he looked at you.

“you’re so annoying,” he muttered, under his breath, his hands moving to take your tight pink tank top off your body, over your head, your tits coming right into his vision. “god, can’t believe you let mark touch these,” he breathed out, more to himself than to you, as he reached down, pressing his nose against your skin. "always smell so good, baby," he whispered when you rolled your arms around his neck. he moved down to mouth one of your tits, his tongue rolling around your hard nipple, his fingers massaging the other one.

“jaehyun,” you cried and thrust your hips up against his abdomen, as your hands ran through his back, gripping his sweatshirt, signaling him to take it off.

he pulled away from you to take it off and you almost moaned at the sight of his bare torso. he let you run your hands through his skin, your nails scraping against his nipples, to which he hissed and then surged forward to latch his lips to yours again in a messy kiss.

his kisses ran a hot wet path from your neck to the valley between your tits, across your abdomen and then reaching your tight pink pajama shorts. the cotton material was so thin and tight that he could see you weren’t wearing panties underneath it. he let out a loud moan at that, resting his forehead against your pelvis, closing his eyes in restraint trying not to rip the material off your body and fuck you senselessly. he opted to stick out his tongue and lick the whole expanse of your pussy through the pink material.

“oh god,” you gasped, your hands immediately finding purchase in his hair. “d-don’t stop,” you cried as jaehyun messily licked against your already-soaked shorts.

it didn’t take him long to grow tired of the last piece of clothing in your body and get rid of it, throwing it somewhere in your room. he leaned back, to appreciate the sight of your body, completely naked, laid out, and waiting for his touch. you were glowing. “so perfect,” he whispered, and you almost came at that. you extended your leg to his hip, trying to pull him closer again. and jaehyun got back to his previous position with his head between your legs, pressing a quick kiss to your exposed clit, making you breathily curse out his name.

as soon as jaehyun's tongue made contact with your pussy your legs shook against his head. you let out a drawn-out moan and his hands grabbed tightly at your thighs keeping them spread open. you were reduced to a series of gasps and cries of jaehyun’s name as he hummed sounds of pleasure, and repeatedly fucked you open with his tongue, going in and out of your hole, to then run up your pussy and circle your clit in quick motions. “jae, i’m gonna c-“

“you can come, baby, come for me,” he muttered against your pussy, feeling the muscles of your pussy clenching and unclenching repeatedly, his hips already rutting against your bed in search of relief at the sight of your body withering before him. the vibrations of his voice against your pussy were enough to send you over the edge. you threw your head back, your legs shacking against jaehyun’s head, making him let out repeated whimpers. his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration as his tongue lapped at your pussy, relentlessly working against your clit. your fingers pulled at his hair, and you cried out loud moans.

if it wasn't for your feet on his shoulder pulling him away, you’re not sure he would ever have stopped the motions of his tongue against you. when he did pull away, with the bottom half of his face covered in your juices, you smiled at him, hazy with lust, and he let out an amused chuckle at your fucked out expression. “mark could never eat you out like that,” he whispered against your lips, his face hovering over yours when his hips settled between your open legs.

he reached down, aligning his tip with your pussy, and immediately thrusted forward, not giving you any time to process the high you had only came down from.

“ah- jaehyun, what the fuck,” you cursed at the sharp pain of his thick girth filling you up in the way that only jaehyun knew how to. you had never felt anyone as big as jaehyun, someone who fit inside you like jaehyun did, satisfying all your needs. "fucking asshole," you hissed.

“stop whining like a fucking bitch and take what I give you,” he groaned through his teeth. “so fucking tight baby,” he said, moving in and out of you in quick motions, causing loud desperate cries to leave your mouth. “hasn’t he been fucking you loose, hum?” he asked as his pace got exponentially faster. “you need to learn that this is my pussy, you hear me?” he growled against your ear when you turned your face away from him, eyes scrunched and furrowed eyebrows. “you’re mine, only I can touch you like this,” he continued, and you let out a loud cry of his name. “say it, say it baby,” he growled again.

"jae, slow down- oh my god-" you gasped when he decided to do the exact opposite, his thrust getting harder.

when you didn’t say what he wanted you to, his hand reached your neck, applying enough pressure on it to cut your breathing short. “fucking say it,” he said and you moaned at the feeling of his hand on your neck. he laughed when your pussy clenched harder. “you like it when i choke you? fucking slut,” he said, chocking you even harder. “my slut-“

“yours,” you screamed. “only yours jaehyun,” you cried as the tears in your eyes ran down your cheeks. he rammed your pussy as you cried, letting out loud desperate moans. he grabbed your jaw, bringing your parted lips to his in a messy kiss, his muscle immediately intruding your mouth. drool was rolling down the side of your mouth, as his tongue and yours fought for dominance.

it was a mess. everything was a mess. you. jaehyun. the sound of jaehyun’s hips slamming the back of your tights. your blanket, covered in the juices of your previous orgasm.

it was when jaehyun let out again breathy whimper against your mouth that you knew he was close. he reached down, rubbing quick harsh circles against you clit. “can i come inside?” he asked against your mouth and you nodded fervently, muttering followed please’s against his lips. “gonna fill you up baby,” he moaned. “that’s all you’re good for isn’t it? just need someone to fuck you dumb don’t you? you don’t even care who it is,” he groaned and you cried, shaking your head in denial, to which jaehyun let out a smile of victory.

“no one fucks me like you do, jaehyun,” you cried and pulled him closer to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“my baby,” he moaned, his tone suddenly softer than ever. “not mark’s. just mine.”

and with that, you came around his dick. your legs shaking violently against his hips, you threw your head against the bed, arching your back, pulling your chest flushed against jaehyun’s. and at the feeling of your velvety walls pulsing tightly around him, jaehyun’s pace inside you became almost animalistic until white spurts of his cum were filling you up.

he fucked his cum into you until there was nothing left, making you moan in overstimulation. “jae, s’too much,” you whimpered, and he stopped his motions, collapsing on top of your body, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

you ran the tips of your fingers through his spine as he peppered gentle pecks against the skin of your neck. his dick was still inside you when he asked, with his voice still raspy. “why did you sleep with mark?”

you sighed, noting the almost unnoticeable hint of disappointment behind his words. “you were busy.”

“what?” he asked, pulling his face away from your neck to look you in the eye, his brows furrowed. he hissed at the feeling of your sticky center against his. “what do you mean?” he asked while reaching down to get off you, laying by your side and throwing one arm on top of your waist with his palm against your tummy, staring at the side of your face.

“the blonde girl,” you mumbled, mindlessly playing with his fingers resting on your tummy.

he thought back to the party, remembering the blonde girl chasing around him through the party as he searched around the house for you, just for johnny to tell him that you had gone up to mark’s room. then, he thought back to when she was grinding on him as he kissed her mouth. “oh, you saw that?”

“yeah.”

“nothing really happened. we just kissed, then i found out you were in mark’s room and just went up to sulk in my own room,” he explained and you couldn’t help the little chuckle that left your lips at that.

“ i only went to mark's room because you were grinding on someone else! also, how do you say nothing happened and then say you ‘just kissed’” you mimicked. “I literally saw her on your lap. only I get to be on your lap during parties,” you mumbled as jaehyun watched you helplessly ramble from beside.

“we never said we were exclusive, y/n,” he said and you looked to the side, raised eyebrows, and parted lips, watching a teasing smirk grow on his lips.

“I thought it was explicit,” you whispered and jaehyun bit his bottom lip, enjoying your reaction to his teasing remark. "I mean, I wasn't sleeping with anyone else- and I'm not, it was really just that one time with mark, and just because I was angry and drunk." you stopped your rambling, feeling jaehyun's eyes on you and stopped playing with his fingers, building up the courage for your next question. "are you sleeping with other people?"

“I’m not,” he whispered, sighing dreamily and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"you're being weirdly affectionate," you said, laughing at his reaction.

"you literally asked for it. I don't want to be a corpse," he answered making you let out an amused chuckle. "about the blonde girl," he said and you looked at him, your eyes boring into his. "I'm sorry I kissed her. the truth is that the night before, johnny hadn't shut up about how I was so in love with you and you didn't feel the same," your eyes widened in shock, and jaehyun laughed. "I freaked the fuck out and decided to sleep with someone else that night. but when i was about to take her up to my room, i basically just chickened out and went looking for you. and that's when i found out you had gone up with mark."

he explained, honesty overflowing in his voice, his eyes still fixed on yours. you sighed and looked back at the ceiling of your room. “I'm sorry, princess,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his hands starting to lovingly stroke the skin of your waist.

“are you in love with me?” you asked after a few minutes of silence and his hand stopped it's motions.

"I don't know," he answered. "probably."

you looked over at him. his hair was messy over his forehead, his eyes looked at you, hesitant, and with his bottom lip tucked under his teeth. you rolled around, laying on your side with your chest now pressed to his, and pulled his face closer with one hand behind his neck to gently press your lips together, your lips molding to his in a soft, slow kiss. his arms rolled around your waist as he hummed against your mouth and pulled your body on top of his.

"and what are you gonna do about that?" you asked when your lips parted.

"I don't know, I've never done this before," he whispered against your lips.

it was a known fact to you that jaehyun had never dated before. all his associations with other women were resumed to one-night-stands or one-month-long flings (and that was pushing it). so it was no shock that jaehyun really was clueless about what to do when it came to actual relationships. "you should probably take me on a proper date," you said between chuckles.

"aren't we a bit past that?" he asked, smirking. "I mean, I literally just fucked you," he laughed when you rested your forehead against his chest in faked disappointment. "will you make me the happiest man alive and go out with me?" he said when you moved to rest your chin against the center of his chest.

"oh my god, you're not proposing, jaehyun," you complained and jaehyun burst out laughing again. "try again."

"just let me take you on a date," he said, closing his eyes in annoyance, and you chuckled. "please?" he added, slowly opening his eyes to look down at you. at that, you reached up to press repeated pecks against his lips, unable to control the affection you felt towards the boy. it was endearing how clueless he was.

"how 'bout breakfast tomorrow?" you whispered against his lips and he nodded. "no fucking until then. we can't rush things," you warned and jaehyun laughed loudly, surprised you would even propose that knowing you two had had sex countless times before.

also, he was sleeping over. "you can't be serious," he deadpanned.

"I am! there are rules when it comes to dating, jaehyun!"

jaehyun ended up fucking you twice in the shower and, once again, in bed, before you went to sleep. in the morning, while you were getting ready to go out for breakfast, he fucked you against the wall of your bedroom and then again, with you bent over the bathroom counter. after that, as he was driving you two to the brunch place he had chosen, you argued about how he couldn't keep it in his pants. you argued, really, because he spent the whole ride mocking you. then, he fingered you under the table during brunch and had the guts to blame you for wearing a skirt.

nothing with jaehyun was according to the norm. he didn't believe in rules and he wouldn't ever do anything the way he was told to. you weren't ever sure of anything when it came to jaehyun and it infuriated you, but later that night, about 12 hours after your first date, jaehyun asked you to be his girlfriend, and you couldn't do anything except let out a burst of laughter and mutter an infatuated 'yes'.

and you couldn't be more certain of your answer.

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