#they were Kept from being together by circumstance

[corydora-writes]

Two Lonely Hearts Part Two

Summary: Batman reveals his identity to you and then introduces you to his family on Christmas Day.

Pairing: Batman (Bruce Wayne) x Plus Size Female Reader

Word count: 9,202

Warnings: Just fluff and sappy Christmas things.

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Two hours before Batman confessed his feelings to you

Bruce and Clark stood together in the dimly lit confines of the Watchtower, their silhouettes cast against the deep blue of the expansive night sky beyond the glass walls. They had just wrapped up a grueling two-week mission. Despite their success, Clark couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that something was off with Bruce. 

Clark approached Bruce, his eyes filled with both concern and curiosity. "Bruce," Clark began, his voice gentle yet firm. "Is everything alright? You seem...distracted."

"Everything is fine," Bruce responded.

Clark detected the subtle inflections and micro expressions in Bruce’s voice. He could tell that there was more to it than a simple "fine”. 

"Are you sure?" Clark pressed gently. "You know, you can talk to me if something's bothering you."

“I think I made a mistake,” Bruce finally said, as doubt crept into his mind.

Clark's eyes widened in surprise. It was rare to hear Bruce admit to a mistake. He leaned against the console, giving Bruce his full attention.

"A mistake?" he replied, encouraging Bruce to continue.

“I became too involved with a… woman,” he confessed, a trace of reluctance in his voice as he spoke. The words hung in the air, cloaked in ambiguity.

Clark raised an eyebrow, surprised by the revelation. It wasn't uncommon for Bruce to have women flocking around him, but the mention of him being "too involved" piqued Clark's curiosity even further.

"Too involved," Clark repeated, leaning closer. "Do you mean emotionally involved?"

"Unfortunately," Bruce replied with a sigh, his brow furrowing in disappointment as he glanced away, lost in thought.

Clark's expression softened, his concern turning into a blend of understanding and empathy. 

"I see," he said slowly, choosing his words lightly. "What happened? 

Bruce took a deep breath as he began to explain to Clark the intricacies of his complicated relationship with you. You were not just any woman; you were the skilled director of the Wayne Legacy program, a vital initiative tied to the Wayne family name and its philanthropic efforts. Despite your professional ties, Bruce had kept you at an arm's length, choosing to maintain a certain distance from you in his role as Bruce Wayne. 

But that never worked out as planned. There were circumstances that drew you together in a way he never anticipated. One time, you found yourself in a perilous situation, needing help, and Batman intervened. What was meant to be a single act of heroism turned into a shared evening that unfolded several times, each encounter drawing you closer and deepening your connection. Somehow you seemed to attract danger. 

This unexpected bond eventually transformed into a casual arrangement—one that was purely physical. In fleeting moments, you and Batman shared passionate escapades. 

Meanwhile, Bruce grappled with his feelings for you, having fallen deeply in love, torn from the secrets he kept hidden from you.

As Bruce unfolded the complex tale of his involvement with you, Clark listened intently, his expression a mix of intrigue and understanding. The more Bruce described your relationship, the more the situation twisted itself like a labyrinth into even more complicated depths.

When Bruce finished speaking, Clark let out a breath, processing the information. "Well," he began, choosing his words carefully, "that...certainly is a tangled web you've woven, Bruce."

Clark crossed his arms, leaning against the console, his expression thoughtful.

"I know you're used to keeping your secrets, Batman," Clark added, using Bruce's superhero name to emphasize the point. "But this... this is different, isn't it? You're in love with this woman."

Clark's keen eyes studied Bruce's face, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt. He knew how difficult it was for Bruce to open up, but he also knew how desperately Bruce was grappling with this situation, torn between love and secrecy.

"You know, Bruce," Clark added, taking a step closer, "there's a saying: love and truth go hand-in-hand. How can you truly love someone, fully and completely, if there's this wall of secrecy between you?"

Bruce's gaze narrowed, his expression caught between vulnerability and determination.

"It's not that simple," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

He pushed away from the console, turning to face Clark.

"This is not just a part of my life. It's at the core of who I am," he continued, his voice laced with a mixture of resolve and anguish. "If I reveal that truth to her, it would upend her entire world. How do I trust that she can handle that kind of truth?” 

Clark listened intently. 

Bruce's eyes darkened, the weight of his burden visible in his gaze. "She only knows Batman. Could she love me too, or only Batman?"

Clark absorbed Bruce's words, and a wave of empathy washed over him. He reached out and placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

"I understand your concern," Clark began, his voice gentle yet firm. "But you’re not just Batman. You're also Bruce Wayne—a strong, generous, and compassionate man. Why assume she couldn't see and accept that part of you as well?" Clark drew in a breath, his next words careful and deliberate. "Love requires courage, Bruce. It requires trust. But it also requires that you give the other person the choice to love you, fully and completely, without any secrets in the way. Are you ready to take that risk?"

Bruce held Clark's gaze for a few moments, his expression unreadable. The silence between them spoke louder than words. Clark could see the battle within Bruce, the struggle between his natural tendency to secrets and his desire for a true, honest connection with you.

Finally, Bruce spoke, his voice a whisper of vulnerability. "Maybe you're right, Clark." 

Bruce's admission carried a hint of resigned acceptance as if a small part of him longed to let go, to trust and open up. "But even if she could love me," he added, a tinge of doubt still lingering in his voice, "how can I be sure that she won't be hurt by the truth? How can I protect her from everything that comes with being closely associated with Batman?"

Clark sighed, empathizing with Bruce's concern. "Bruce, you can't control how others react to the truth.  But what you can control is how you share it with her. And more importantly, you can love her unconditionally.  Even if she might need to recover and take time to process the truth, you can support her. And as for protecting her, you won't be alone," Clark added, determination lacing his voice. “I'm here, and the rest of the Justice League will be here too. We protect the ones we love. We'll adapt, we always do."

A hint of gratitude flickered in Bruce's eyes as he looked at Clark, his expression a mixture of uncertainty and hope. "I appreciate your support, Clark. But making the decision to reveal my secrets... it's something I need to grapple with. It's not that I don't trust her; it's that I fear losing her."

"I know," Clark replied, his voice filled with understanding. "It's a huge risk. But you have to give her the chance to love all of you—Bruce Wayne and Batman. If you keep the secret..." Clark paused, his gaze steady on Bruce's. "You run the risk of losing her anyway."

Bruce let out a long sigh, the internal conflict still etched on his face, but there was a glimpse of acceptance in his eyes.  "I suppose you're right. I just..." he trailed off, words failing him for once. Then, with a hint of resignation, he added, "I just need time to figure out how and when to tell her."

Clark let out a soft chuckle, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You know, I spent quite a while talking with Lois about the perfect Christmas gift for you,” he began, a warm smile crossing his face. “It’s a tough dilemma. I mean, what do you give a billionaire who seems to have everything? It took some time, but an idea just hit me.” Clark paused momentarily. “I want to gift you something that you can’t buy or accumulate more of—time. This Christmas, take the day off. Be honest with her; reveal your true feelings. Love her wholeheartedly. I mean it. I’ll take care of everything in Gotham while you focus on what's most important. It’s time you put your heart first.”

Bruce's expression slowly relaxed, a small, grateful smile playing at the corners of his lips. “That... that’s actually not a bad idea," he admitted. "But you know me, Clark," he added, the hint of a challenge in his eyes. "Taking a day off isn't exactly my strong suit, even on Christmas. Gotham…" He trailed off, the weight of his responsibilities hanging in the air.

Clark chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I know. I know. That city is your life in a lot of ways. But, and I never thought I’d say this, it's gonna have to manage without you for a day.” 

He folded his arms, his expression turning stern, yet his eyes held a hint of humor. “I mean it, Bruce. I’m gonna make sure you take the day off, one way or another. You need this, even if it’s against every fiber of your being.”

Bruce's sigh was heavy, but he had to concede that Clark was right. "Fine," he grumbled, a trace of resignation in his voice. "I'll take the day off. But I'm holding you accountable, Clark. Gotham better be standing by the time I get back."

Clark let out a hearty laugh, placing a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “You have my word. Gotham will be standing, and then some." His expression softened as he continued, "Now, let's make this Christmas count. You just focus on enjoying your time with her.”

Bruce nodded slowly, the weight of his responsibilities easing slightly. He couldn’t deny the appeal of spending a day truly focusing on you. 

“Alright, I’ll do it,” he said, a hint of determination in his voice. “Christmas it is. And thank you, Clark. For everything.”

Clark smiled warmly, a feeling of satisfaction washing over him. “Don’t thank me yet. Just make sure you come back with a smile. And a relationship, hopefully. If not, I’m not sure the League can handle your brooding.” Clark laughed. “Anyway, I’m out of here I have exciting news to share with Lois,” Clark said and headed out of the Watchtower.

Christmas Day. Batman unmasked.

"If you could please put on this blindfold, as instructed by Batman, madam," The British man said, his tone respectful yet tinged with an element of secrecy. 

With a flutter of anticipation in your chest, you took the sleek fabric from his hand and carefully wrapped it around your eyes, plunging yourself into darkness. You could feel the thrill of the unknown thrumming through your veins, heightening your senses even as your vision disappeared.

Bruce nodded subtly to Alfred. Without a single word or sound, he extended his hand to help you navigate the car’s low seat. As you emerged, he gently placed an arm around your waist, providing a comforting presence. With his other hand, he clasped your delicate fingers, interlocking them firmly yet tenderly, and began to guide you through the entrance of the intimate, dimly lit Manor. 

Mellow strains of a saxophone filled the home with a soothing rhythm. You shivered at the familiar touch of Batman, and your heart raced with recognition. "It's you, Knight, isn't it?" You asked softly, your voice barely rising above the soothing music.

But Bruce remained silent, his eyes fixed ahead, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he led you deeper into the manor until you reached his study. 

Bruce's heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the weight of the revelation he was about to unveil. The thought of sharing his true identity with you sent a rush of adrenaline coursing through him, igniting a mix of excitement and anxiety. For so long, he had navigated this connection under the shadow of Batman, but today was different. Today, you would finally meet the man behind the mask.

Bruce guided you to stand in front of the grand ornate mirror, its surface gleaming with an almost magical allure, while your world remained shrouded in blissful darkness beneath the blindfold. The air was thick with anticipation as you felt his body heat so close behind you, his presence both commanding and intimate. As you anxiously clutched the fabric of your skirt, your fingers twisted the soft material, a tell-tale sign of your nerves. It was a habit that you fell back on during moments of uncertainty, and Bruce couldn’t help but be drawn to your vulnerability. The air around crackled with anticipation, and he knew that this moment would change everything.

With slow, languid movements, Bruce began to caress your face, tracing the lines of your jaw and the curve of your lips, his touch gentle and reverent. He moved lower, his fingers ghosting over your neck with a feeling that was both tender and intense causing you to shiver in anticipation of his next touch. His other free fingers traced reverently over the swell of your hips and then lower, to the generous fullness of your luscious belly. 

Leaning down, he brought his lips near your ear, his warm breath brushing against your skin as he whispered, “Are you ready, my love?”

That voice. Even without the voice modulator, you knew who that voice belonged to. It was a voice that you would know anywhere, a voice that had been imprinted in your memory and your heart. Your breath hitched in response to the whispered words, your heart racing with anticipation. With a nod, you responded, your voice barely a whisper, "Yes, I'm ready."

The feeling of his lips on your cheek was soft and tender, the warmth of his kiss leaving your skin tingling. As he leaned back, you could feel the silk blindfold being carefully unfastened, its soft weight gradually falling away from your face. The room slowly came into focus, the warm candlelight and the soft strains of jazz filling your senses. Your eyes widened in surprise, your gaze meeting Bruce's in the mirror as you took in the sight before you: the contrast between your own shorter stature and Bruce's towering presence, the way your bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle. You turned around to face him, your eyes searching his with a mix of awe and disbelief. "Bruce...?" You whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you breathed his name, rich with unspoken feelings.

He couldn't help but smile, his gaze lingering on the softness of your expression, the way the light caught the gentle curve of your cheeks and the hint of vulnerability in your eyes. 

"It's me," he said softly, each word dripping with emotion and vulnerability. "I'm the man behind the mask, the man who has foolishly, desperately, and passionately fallen in love with you." A look of tenderness swept through Bruce's expression as he looked down at you, his eyes scanning your face intently. He could see the flicker of conflicting emotions in your gaze, the disbelief and awe mixing together with something else that tugged at his heart.

You reached up, your hand reaching out to touch his face, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw in wonder. "Bruce," you whispered again, your voice even softer this time.

The touch of your fingertips against his skin sent a jolt through Bruce's body, causing his breath to hitch in his chest. He had dreamed of this moment countless times, the moment when he could finally reveal himself to you. But now that it was happening, the reality of it was almost too much to bear. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, savoring the feel of your fingers against his face.

"I’m here," Bruce murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "I’m no longer hiding from you."

Your hand remained on his face, your fingers running gently over his features. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?” 

Bruce let out a deep exhale, his hand coming up to cover yours, holding it against his cheek. He looked into your eyes, his own filled with a mixture of regret and vulnerability.

"I wanted to tell you for so long," he said, his voice strained. “But I was afraid of how you would react, afraid of putting you in danger, afraid of losing you.”

"Bruce," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, “Thank you for trusting me. For giving us a chance…”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Bruce's lips, he grabbed your hand and held it against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart under your palm, the rhythm of its pace a testament to the intensity of his emotions.

"You have no idea how much I've ached for this moment," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of relief and desire. "To be able to stand before you as myself and not a mask. To have a chance at a future with you."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a sudden wave of emotion washing over you. You leaned into him, your body close enough to feel his warmth, your hand still resting against his chest, feeling the steady pulse of his heartbeat. Your eyes searched his, looking for any hint of doubt or uncertainty but you didn’t find any. “So you’re thinking about a future with me?"

Bruce let out a soft chuckle, his free hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. He met your gaze, the look in his eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and affection.

"Of course I am," he said, his voice low and filled with quiet confidence. "I want a future with you. I want to be there for you as both Bruce Wayne and Batman."

You stepped even closer, your body now flush against his, your arms wrapped around his neck. You looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with a mixture of emotions.

Bruce's hands encircled your waist, pulling you even closer, his body molding against yours as if they were made for each other. He marveled at the feeling of you in his arms, the way your curves fit against him, the softness of your skin under his touch. 

"I've imagined this moment countless times," he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion. "Holding you in my arms, being able to call you mine, without the darkness, without the cowl.”

You leaned your head against his sturdy chest, letting yourself succumb to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat, a steady thrum that resonated in the silence between you. The sound was both exhilarating and reassuring, wrapping around you like an embrace. 

Bruce's voice broke the spell of the moment as he quipped, “You’ve taken this surprisingly well. My identity didn’t seem to surprise you.” His tone was teasing, yet there was an undercurrent of curiosity that hinted at his need to understand your reaction. 

“Oh, believe me, I have many questions,” you replied, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern. “one being the ethical implications surrounding our relationship, but we have plenty of time to discuss that.” You took a moment, your gaze piercing, as if searching for answers in his eyes. “And truthfully, my heart has already spoken; I’ve fallen for you, my Dark Knight. And that includes every part of you, Bruce. You’re a man of many layers, a complex tapestry of experiences and emotions, and I adore every thread that makes you who you are. I’ve seen you as my leader, authoritative and steady, yet we’ve shared moments of intimacy and passion. So when I look into your eyes, I don’t just see a man — I see a familiar soul. A man my heart recognizes as its own.”

Bruce's heart soared as you spoke, your words a salve to his soul. He felt seen, known, and understood in a way he had never experienced before. Your confession that you had fallen for him, all of him, both the man and the knight, was like a gift he hadn't dared to hope for.

"Y/N," he said softly, his voice low and gravelly, echoing the profound emotions that surged within him. 

His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, his voice dropping to a ragged whisper. "I feel as if you’ve known me for lifetimes as if we have shared countless pasts together. You somehow manage to bring light in parts of me that I thought had burned out long ago." He looked away momentarily as if he was embarrassed at his vulnerability. 

"Listen to me, love," you whispered, your voice filled with a blend of awe and tenderness, "I see your darkness, your pain, all the shadows that you carry. And I promise to embrace them, as I embrace you, piece by piece."

As Bruce leaned forward, he felt a rush of warmth and anticipation. Your eyes locked for a brief moment, and he could see the spark of connection evident in your gaze. Then, with a soft and gentle motion, he pressed his lips against yours, savoring the sweetness of the moment as time seemed to stand still around you. Your eyes fluttered close, giving in to the dance of lips and tongues, a heated, passionate, and needy connection that consumed you both. His hand cradled the back of your head, holding you close as if he couldn't bear to let you go as if this kiss was the very air he needed to breathe.  

Bruce gently pulled away from the kiss, his eyes locking onto yours with a playful yet meaningful gaze. “Let’s save the best for last, shall we?” he said with a subtle grin, teasingly hinting at the wonderful evening that lay ahead. “Alfred has gone all out this time and prepared a special dinner for us.” His voice carried a mix of anticipation and affection, making it clear that he was eager to savor every moment of your time together.

“Alfred?” You inquired, your brow furrowing as you struggled to recall anyone by that name. 

Bruce smiled at your question, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Alfred,” he repeated, his expression soft yet filled with a sense of nostalgia. “He's more than just the man who helped raise me, he's the man who has been my anchor for as long as I can remember. He's been there through everything, from my childhood as an orphan to the present day as both Bruce Wayne and Batman. And tonight, he wants to introduce himself to you.”

You smiled softly, the corners of your lips curving upward. “Well, I’d be honored to finally meet this mysterious Alfred,” you replied, your voice laced with a hint of playfulness.

Bruce smiled, pleased with your response. He moved his hand to your waist, gently guiding you toward the dining room. "Be warned though, he can be quite the character, but it’s all with good intention."

As you stepped into the expansive dining room, you couldn’t help but notice the elegant setting, the table adorned with fine Christmas decor, candlelight flickering subtly in the corners. Soft music filled the air, adding to the atmosphere of refinement. Then your gaze shifted to an older man, standing near a side table, who turned to face you. You recognized the man as the driver from earlier. 

"Ah, Master Bruce,” the man said, his voice holding a note of familiarity. "And this must be the lovely miss Y/N I've heard so much about."

You felt a sudden wave of nerves wash over you as the man spoke. 

“Y/N, this is Alfred Pennyworth,” Bruce said. 

Alfred approached you, a warm smile on his face as he extended his hand in greeting. ”I can see why Master Bruce is so taken with you. You’re quite lovely, if I may so myself,” he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine kindness. 

You accepted his handshake, a soft smile crossing your face in response to his friendly demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth,” you replied, your voice laced with both politeness and a hint of curiosity. “Please, call me Y/N. None of these formalities are needed.”

Bruce's eyes moved from you to Alfred, a sense of pride in his gaze at how comfortably you two were already interacting. “Alfred, as always, has outdone himself with the spread,” he said, gesturing towards the beautifully laid-out dining table. 

“Indeed, Master Bruce,” Alfred responded, his eyes sparkling with pride and a hint of satisfaction. “I’ve prepared tonight’s meal with the utmost care and attention. I believe it's one of my finer creations.”

Alfred paused. “Before we commence with dinner," Alfred stated, his voice filled with a touch of seriousness, "I have a small request for the both of you."

Bruce turned his gaze towards Alfred, a slight furrow on his brow. He seemed puzzled by the sudden change in tone but also intrigued enough to give his full attention to the matter. “What kind of request?” Bruce inquired, the curiosity evident in his voice.

"If it's not too much trouble," Alfred started, his voice holding a hint of a playful smile, "I'd like a moment alone with Miss Y/N. I have some things I'd like to discuss with her."

Bruce’s eyes widened slightly in mild surprise, the request catching him off guard. He glanced at you, and you were equally taken aback, then back at Alfred. There was some hidden intention behind Alfred's words, and Bruce couldn't deny that it piqued his curiosity.

"Of course, that's not a problem," you replied, your voice steady.

Alfred nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes flickering to Bruce for a brief moment as if silently communicating something. Then he shifted his focus onto you, his expression one of pleasant curiosity. "Follow me, Miss Y/N," he said, gesturing towards a set of double doors nearby.

You glanced at Bruce, offering him a reassuring smile to ease any lingering uncertainty, before standing and following Alfred towards the doors. 

Alfred led you through the doors and into a small, elegant sitting room. It was cozy, yet opulent. The walls were adorned with rich tapestries, and the furniture was arranged to maximize both style and comfort. A small fire crackled faintly in the stone fireplace against the far wall, casting shadows and warm light across the room. 

Alfred led you to a pair of comfortable chairs facing each other near the fireplace. He gestured for you to take a seat, a gentle, yet purposeful look on his face.

Alfred took his seat across from you, the warm glow of the fire casting shadows across his face. He observed you for a silent moment, sizing you up, before addressing you directly.

"Miss Y/N," he started, his voice soft yet carrying an intense undertone, "I’ll be straightforward with you. In my years of knowing Master Bruce, I've observed him go through many relationships. None, however, have seemed to hold his attention and devotion like you."

You tilted your head slightly, absorbing his words. You hadn't expected such a declaration, let alone from someone like Alfred. Your brow furrowed lightly, a mixture of curiosity in your eyes. 

"And why do you think that is?" You asked. 

"That is a valid question," Alfred responded, his eyes studying you carefully. “You've managed to catch his heart, make him open up in a way he's never done before. The change in him is striking." He paused for effect, leaning slightly forward in his chair. "But there's something else that sets you apart from the others."

"And what might that be?" You asked. 

Alfred's gaze intensified as he observed you, weighing his words.

"I do hope it’s not premature of me to say this but, it’s your ability to see beyond the surface. You see him, truly see him, for who he is - as both Bruce Wayne and Batman. You connect with him on a deeper level. There's no pretense, no trying to change him. You simply accept him, flaws and all."

A small smile formed on your lips as you looked back at Alfred. "I see your perception rivals your wisdom, Mr. Pennyworth," you acknowledged a tone of respect in your voice.

A smirk tugged at the corners of Alfred’s mouth at your comment. 

"You've also managed to break his usually cold demeanor. I've never witnessed him smile or laugh as much as I have since he met you. You've brought a lightness to him that has been missing for a while." He paused, studying you, the look on his face becoming more serious. "But I must ask, are you aware of the life you’re stepping into? The dangers that come with his world?"

Your smile faded slightly, a hint of gravity entering your expression. "I am," you replied, knowing full well the implications of Bruce’s double life. "I’m aware of the risks and dangers associated with being with someone like him." You paused for a moment, considering your words carefully before continuing, "But I believe love isn’t about avoiding risks. It’s about finding someone worth taking those risks for."

Alfred nodded a flicker of approval in his eyes. “Wise words, Miss Y/N. Love isn’t for the faint-hearted, and loving someone like Master Bruce requires a level of patience that not many possess." He paused, studying you once again. "But love alone isn’t enough. You must also understand that there are aspects of Master Bruce’s life that will always be outside your reach. His crusade as Batman will always come first, no matter what.. unfortunately. Are you prepared for that?"

You took a deep breath, the weight of Alfred’s words settling in. You had come to terms with this part of Bruce and had accepted it as part of who he was the moment he revealed his identity to you. 

You met Alfred's gaze, your eyes holding confidence and determination. "Yes," you replied, your voice unwavering, "I’m prepared for that. I understand it’s a part of who he is, and it’s a part of what makes him the man I fell in love with."

A satisfied look crossed Alfred’s expression as he observed your response. "You’ve given your answer much thought, it seems," he noted, his tone holding a note of approval. He leaned forward slightly, a new determination in his eyes. "I need to ask you one final thing, Miss Y/N.”

You shifted slightly in your seat, your gaze fixed on Alfred, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation in your eyes. 

"What is it?" 

“Can I trust you with his heart?” Alfred asked.

You felt the question strike a chord within. It wasn’t a simple question, but rather one that held tremendous importance. But you didn’t hesitate. “Yes," you replied, your voice firm and resolute, "You can trust me with his heart."

"I believe you," he said simply, his tone softened. "Your dedication to him, your love and acceptance of him, they’re genuine." He took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing, his voice steady and filled with conviction. "I want you to know that I will make it my priority to ensure he treats you with nothing less than the utmost respect and admiration. You deserve to be cherished, loved, and valued, and I won't stand by and let anyone, not even Master Bruce, treat you otherwise."

You listened to Alfred's words, touched by the depth of loyalty and concern. The thought of someone like Alfred, who knew Bruce so well, standing up for you, made you feel both humbled and protected. 

You offered him a small smile, your eyes filled with gratitude, "I appreciate your pledge, Mr. Pennyworth. I’ve never felt more cared for."

He returned your smile with one of his own, the lines of his face creased with both solemnity and happiness. "Please, call me Alfred," he insisted, his tone a mixture of insistence and warmth. "You're part of this home now, and in my eyes, that means you're part of the family." He paused, the fire cracking in the fireplace the only sound in the room for a moment. "And family looks after their own."

The words "part of the family" hit you with a sudden wave of emotion. Growing up, you had never known what it was like to truly feel like you belonged, not even with your own family. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back, a small, choked laugh escaping your lips to fight the urge to cry. 

"Thank you, Alfred," you managed to say, your voice thick with emotion, "That means more to me than you can ever know."

Alfred's facial expression softened further as he leaned in, reaching out to gently pat your hand. "Family means everything," he murmured. "It’s a bond that binds you together through good times and bad. And you, my dear, have made Bruce a better man. You’ve made this place brighter, warmer already." He leaned back in his chair, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I can’t wait to see what the future holds for the two of you."

Your emotional turmoil heightened with Alfred’s reassurance, your heart swelling with a mixture of joy and melancholy. But this time, you didn’t fight it. You let the tears fall, the emotional release providing a moment of catharsis.

"Thank you, Alfred," you repeated, your voice catching in your throat. Your tears continued to fall as you wiped them away. "For everything."

Alfred reached into a nearby drawer, got a handkerchief, and handed it over to you. He gave you another soft smile, his eyes filled with understanding. 

He waited patiently for you to gather your composure, the room quiet except for the crackling fire. 

After a few moments, your tears began to subside, your emotions slowly returning to equilibrium.

You looked up at Alfred, your eyes red and puffy, a small sheepish smile on your lips. "I'm sorry," you mumbled, "I didn't mean to get so emotional."

Alfred dismissed your apology with a wave of his hand. "No need to apologize, my dear," he said gently. "Raw emotions are nothing to be ashamed of." He leaned forward, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. "What do you say we return to the dining hall," he suggested, "before Master Bruce begins to worry."

You nodded, wiping away the last of your tears. Getting up from your chair, you took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace and determination settle over you. 

Alfred led you back to the dining hall, opening the doors to reveal Bruce waiting patiently at the head of the table. His expression changed from slight concern to relief as soon as he saw you, a soft smile spreading across his face. He stood as you approached. 

"Everything alright?" he asked, his gaze shifting between your tear-stained face and Alfred’s calm demeanor.

"Everything’s fine," you responded, your composure now returning. You could see the flicker of concern in Bruce’s eyes, and you wanted to assure him that there was nothing to worry about.

You took a seat beside him, forcing a small smile. "It was just a heartfelt conversation, that’s all," you added, casting a quick glance at Alfred.

Bruce eyed you for a moment, the concern in his gaze lingering, but he didn't press the matter. Instead, he reached for your hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze, a silent gesture of reassurance.

Alfred took his seat as well, his expression holding a hint of satisfaction, a silent statement that the discussion you had was more than just a heartfelt exchange.

“Y/N," Bruce began, his voice steady yet warm, as he gestured towards you. "I want to introduce you to my sons. They are Damian, Dick, and Jason, and they will be joining us shortly. It’s important to me that you get to meet them." He paused a hint of pride in his expression, knowing how much they all meant to him.

You nodded slowly, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness at the thought of meeting Bruce's sons. It was more than just a social occasion; it represented a significant step in your relationship, a tangible sign that Bruce was ready to share a deeper part of his life with you—a facet that you knew must be important to him.

"I look forward to meeting them," you replied, your voice laced with sincerity and anticipation. You bit your lip, glancing down for a moment as you considered the potential implications of this meeting. “But are you sure about this? What if it feels like too much for them at this point? I mean, is it too soon?  I don’t want to overstep any boundaries."

Before Bruce could respond to your concerns, the door swung open, and Jason Todd strode in, his demeanor confident and lively. “No, trust me. This is way overdue!” he exclaimed, a playful grin spreading across his face. “We’ve heard so much about you, Y/N. It’s about time we finally put a face to the name. We’ve been curious.” His enthusiasm seemed to dissipate some of your worries, making the prospect of meeting the boys feel a little less daunting.

Damian and Dick followed close behind. Damian, the youngest, eyed you with a mixture of caution and curiosity, his stern expression giving way to a subtle interest in his eyes. Dick, on the other hand, greeted you with a charming smile, a warm glimmer of amusement in his gaze. 

"I must say," Dick began, a hint of good humor in his voice, "The mystery surrounding you has been quite the topic of conversation, especially amongst the family gossip circle."

You managed a smile, your nerves still evident but eased by Dick’s lighthearted introduction. You glanced at Bruce, who was watching the scene unfold with a stoic expression, but you could sense a trace of worry in his eyes. With all three of his sons standing there, each with their own distinct personalities, you couldn’t help but find it slightly intimidating.

"I hope the conversations were all good ones," you responded, your gaze flickering towards Damian, who was studying you intently.

Jason laughed, clearly amused, as Dick joined in, both of them finding your comment entertaining.

"If only you knew,” Jason quipped, “Half of it was just speculation, rumors, and wild guesses."

Damian, still serious and unwavering, spoke up, his voice cutting through the banter. "Father hasn't been this... interested in a woman in a long time." 

His words hung in the air, the room momentarily silent as the others chuckled softly at Damian’s bluntness.

You felt yourself blushing slightly at Damian’s straightforward comment, your nervousness returning as all eyes fell on you. You glanced at Bruce again, his expression unreadable, but you could sense a subtle change in the room’s atmosphere. 

"Well, I hope I can at least live up to the mysterious hype," you tried to keep the mood light despite your increasing anxiety.

Dick leaned against the table, a grin still lingering on his face. "Oh, I’m sure you’ll exceed all expectations," he replied, his tone light and friendly. 

Jason added, "Or at least make things a lot more interesting."

You smiled, appreciating their attempts at breaking the tension, but then Damian spoke again. 

"So, Miss Y/N," he began, his scrutinizing gaze never leaving your face, "What exactly are your intentions with my father?"

His question took you by surprise, but before you could reply, Bruce spoke up, his voice calm yet firm. "Damian, that’s enough."

Damian shot a quick, defiant glance at Bruce before shifting his gaze back to you, clearly not satisfied with the answer. 

Jason chuckled at the exchange, his amusement evident. "Classic Damian," he muttered.

"I think what Damian’s trying to say," Dick interjected, his tone softer, "is that you seem to mean a lot to Bruce, and we just want to make sure he's in good hands."

You felt the weight of the question, sensing the protective nature of the boys' concerns. You glanced at Bruce, his expression stoic yet filled with understanding. 

Taking a breath, you met Damian's gaze and, with as much composure as you could muster, responded. "I care deeply for your father," you began, your voice steady, "I'm committed to him, to our relationship." 

You paused, looking around the room, meeting each person's gaze, including Bruce's. Your next words came from a place of genuine care and sincerity. "I want to be a part of making him happy."

Damian's expression remained stern, his eyes locked with yours, though a hint of something almost resembling approval shimmered in his gaze.

"Sounds like we've got our answer," Dick noted, a small smirk on his lips. 

Jason quipped, "As long as you make him laugh more. The brooding has its limits."

You smiled softly at Jason’s remark, the hint of humor in his words making you feel a little more at ease. 

Bruce spoke up, his voice steady and firm. "Let’s just enjoy dinner," he suggested, his tone suggesting that the conversation about you was now closed.

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension easing as everyone took their seats. Bruce sat at the head of the table, with you to his left side. Dick sat beside you, and Jason and Damian took the seats opposite to you. 

The dinner proceeded, the conversation flowing with a mix of casual banter and the occasional playful jab, yet you couldn’t help but feel the lingering presence of the questions Damian had posed.

”Y/N,” Dick snapped you out of your thoughts. “The Manor is lively for the first time in years. It's never decorated for any holiday season. So this is a rare sight.“ Dick observed the decorations as they enjoyed their meal. "Bruce usually isn’t one for festive tidings."

Jason, never one to hold back, quipped, "Yeah, the Bat is allergic to anything resembling joy.” 

Damian rolled his eyes, a scowl on his face. "Don’t trivialize his dedication," he grumbled. 

Alfred interjected thoughtfully, his voice tinged with a soft nostalgia that seemed to echo through the grand halls of Wayne Manor. "It is indeed true, Miss Y/N. The last time this home was adorned in a proper fashion for the season was long ago when the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne were still with us, filling these rooms with their warmth and affection. The whirlwind of responsibilities and escapades has left us little room to indulge in the kind of celebrations that this home truly deserves.”

Curiosity flickered in your eyes as you turned to Bruce, his expression a mix of contemplation and nostalgia. Even Alfred, the ever-observant butler, seemed lost in thought, a faint shadow crossing his face. 

“So, what changed?” You inquired, your voice soft yet probing, as you sought to unravel the mystery behind the contrast of the manor’s festive charm and the weight of the past that seemed to linger in the air.

"Well, your welcoming presence in Master Bruce’s life did, Miss Y/N,” Alfred remarked with heartfelt sincerity.

“But also, Bruce mentioned that your apartment resembles a scene straight out of a holiday disaster film, as if Santa and his elves had a chaotic celebration and left the aftermath everywhere,” Dick added, a teasing smirk on his face.

You chuckled softly at Dick's depiction and smiled at Alfred's response.

Meanwhile, Jason chimed in. "True. Bruce said you literally live inside a snow globe."

Damian, who had been quiet for a moment, suddenly spoke up, a hint of disapproval in his tone. "I fail to understand the appeal. Holidays are overly sentimental and commercialized," he scoffed, "A waste of time and resources."

Jason rolled his eyes at Damian's cynicism. "You just hate anything remotely cheerful and joyful, don’t you, D?"

"I merely appreciate practicality and efficiency," Damian replied with a cool indifference. "Holidays are unnecessary distractions, especially for someone with responsibilities like my father."

"Right, because having a holiday tree and some lights totally takes away from his ability to fight crime," Jason retorted sarcastically.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

Bruce intervened, his voice calm yet authoritative. "Alright, that's enough," he said firmly, casting an amused yet warning glance at his sons. He then turned to you, holding your gaze with a mixture of affection and resolve.

“I wanted you to feel comfortable tonight,” Bruce said.

Your heart warmed at his words. You reached for his hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I already feel at home, Bruce," you replied sincerely, your voice slightly quivering with the weight of your emotions.

The boys, despite their banter earlier, couldn’t help but notice the subtle tenderness between you and Bruce. 

"Seems like Bruce has got it bad," Jason murmured to Dick, a sly smirk on his lips. 

Dick laughed, his eyes flickering between Bruce and you, watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and something that hinted at both protectiveness and genuine happiness.

Damian, ever observant, studied you carefully before shifting his gaze to Bruce. His expression remained guarded, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that could be interpreted as a hint of acceptance. 

Bruce squeezed your hand lightly in response, his touch conveying the depth of his feelings for you.

The warmth of the moment was interrupted by Alfred, who had quietly refilled a few wine glasses, except for Damian. 

"It seems that Christmas has indeed brought us all together," he said sagely, a rare hint of contentment in his usually composed demeanor.

Jason, always first to lighten the mood, picked up his glass and raised it in a toast. "To Christmas, and all the sentimental nonsense that comes with it," he declared, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Dick, following suit, joined in the toast. He smiled warmly, his glass raised high. “And to new beginnings," he added, his gaze flickering towards you and Bruce.

Even Damian, reluctantly, lifted his glass, his expression still slightly guarded. “To the holiday season, may it pass swiftly,” he grumbled before taking a small sip.

Bruce followed suit and raised his glass. His eyes met yours, the depth of his feelings for you evident in his gaze. "To us," he said quietly, "and to new traditions."

The boys' eyes widened slightly at Bruce's words, clearly not expecting such a sentimental toast from the usually reserved man. 

Dick smirked, his eyes darting between the two of you, while Jason elbowed Damian, who rolled his eyes but said nothing further. Alfred smiled softly, clearly pleased and perhaps a little relieved to see Bruce opening himself up in such a way.

You smiled, your heart swelling with a mixture of surprise and joy at Bruce's words. You held his gaze, your own affection for him mirrored in your eyes.

"To us," you repeated, echoing his toast, your voice filled with both tenderness and promise. 

The boys, perhaps silently acknowledging this new chapter, clinked their glasses together, a gesture of support and acceptance. The atmosphere in the room was filled with a subtle sense of hope and change. 

Bruce nodded, taking a sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving yours. The bond between you grew deeper with each shared moment, the holiday cheer seemingly bringing a new level of intimacy and understanding.

Jason started speaking with a warmth in his voice, his excitement palpable. "Since this is our very first time celebrating Christmas together, I thought it would be fun if we all wore matching pajamas, just like what normal families do during the holidays." 

The word "family" lingered in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. Your thoughts raced as you reflected on the significance of that word. Did they truly see you as part of their close-knit group this soon? The idea sent a flutter through your chest, mixing hope with a touch of uncertainty. You glanced around at the others, wondering if they felt the same way, and what it would mean to be included in this new family tradition.

The boys' eyes widened in unison, a mix of surprise and perhaps a slight bit of horror plastered on their faces at Jason's unexpected suggestion. 

Dick, the first to recover, responded. “That’s... different."

Damian was the first to protest, a scowl on his young face. "Absolutely not. I will not be seen in such an absurd and infantile get-up."

“I'm in,” you said excitedly.

Jason, his eyes bright with delight, smiled widely at your enthusiasm. "Looks like we've got one taker," he announced, his gaze flickering to the others. 

Dick smiled, his initial surprise giving way to amusement at your eagerness. "Well, if Y/N is in, count me in too," he proclaimed, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Damian's scowl deepened, his arms crossed defiantly across his chest. "I refuse to participate in this buffoonery," he declared firmly.

Bruce, who had been silently listening to the conversation, cleared his throat and spoke up. "I think it would be nice if everyone joined in," he said, his tone brooking no argument. 

Jason, Dick, and you smiled, knowing that Bruce's word was final. Damian, still reluctant, rolled his eyes but nodded grudgingly. 

Alfred, who had been quietly observing, piped up, ”This shall be fun."

As Jason vanished from the room, no doubt to bring the pajamas, everyone exchanged glances, a mix of resignation and reluctant excitement on their faces. The thought of wearing matching Christmas pajamas was definitely unusual, but the prospect of having a new tradition with you was undeniably appealing. 

Jason came back with a stack of flannel pajamas. 

Everyone eyed the pajamas, each lost in thought. 

Dick spoke with a hint of resignation in his voice. "I guess we're really doing this." 

Damian held up his pajamas, his expression a mixture of disgust and disbelief. "These are hideous."

Your eyes gleamed with excitement. You grabbed your set of pajamas, holding them up against you. "I love flannel," you grinned, already imagining how cute they'd look. 

Bruce accepted his pair, studying them for a moment before speaking. "It’s just for tonight," he reassured, his tone serious yet with a hint of surrender.

They all dispersed to change into their pajamas, each returning to the main room at different times. 

Jason was the first to come back, his pajamas sitting perfectly on his frame. "Not bad," he smirked. "I could get used to this." 

Dick was next, his face a mixture of amusement and resignation. His pajamas fit him nicely, the flannel soft against his skin. "Okay," he said, holding up his hands in defeat, "It’s not as bad as I thought."

Damian was the last to emerge, looking decidedly unhappy in his pajamas. The soft flannel contrasted with his usual no-nonsense attitude, but he managed to maintain his aloof expression. 

As Bruce entered, your gaze traveled over his firm and toned body, your cheeks flushing slightly as your eyes roamed over his torso. You quickly tried to compose yourself before anyone noticed your lingering gaze.

Bruce caught your lingering gaze as it traveled up and down his body. A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, silently amused by your reaction to his casual, albeit still fit, appearance.

Bruce walked towards you and went in for a hug. “You always look stunning,” he whispered in your ear.

You smiled at Bruce's compliment, your heart fluttering. 

"And you look quite handsome yourself," you replied, your voice soft as your arms wrapped around his waist in a gentle embrace.

Jason interrupted the moment. “Anyway, I will choose the flicks for tonight.”

Everyone settled in the large living room, each finding a comfortable spot on the couch. As the movie started playing, you and Bruce sat close together. 

Dick, ever observant, noticed Bruce's arm casually around you, silently marveling at Bruce's open display of affection. 

Damian, seated next to you, remained silent. The sight of Bruce’s open display of affection, so unlike his usual stoic demeanor, seemed to have taken even the usually unruffled Damian by surprise.

As the movie flickered across the screen, casting a soft glow in the dimly lit room, an air of drowsiness began to settle over the group. Dick sprawled comfortably on the plush carpet, his head resting against the cool surface, while Jason sank deep into the cushions of the recliner, his eyelids growing heavy with each passing minute. Across from him, Alfred sat in his own recliner, a classic movie poster gently illuminated behind him, dozing off with a serene expression etched on his face. Meanwhile, Bruce, you, and Damian nestled together on the loveseat sofa, your bodies cozy against one another, the gentle warmth of their comfort lulling you all into a state of relaxation as you watched the film. The combination of the riveting narrative and the peaceful atmosphere made it increasingly difficult for anyone to stay awake.

Bruce's eyelids grew heavier as the movie progressed. His arm, wrapped around you, instinctively drew you closer, pulling you into a comfortable position against his chest in the cozy loveseat. 

Jason was the first to surrender to the drowsiness. He let out a long yawn and closed his eyes, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

You shifted slightly on the sofa as you felt a warm weight settle against your arm. Glancing to your side, you discovered that Damian had dozed off, leaning comfortably against you. His brow was relaxed, and a hint of a smile played on his lips as if he was lost in a pleasant dream. 

With a soft sigh, you reached for the cozy blanket draped over the back of the sofa that Alfred had placed and gently unfolded it. You carefully draped it over him, wanting to ensure he stayed warm through the night. Your fingers brushed against his cheek as you tucked the fabric around him, feeling the softness of his skin against your hand.

Leaning in closer, you whispered tenderly, “Goodnight, Damian,” your voice barely above a whisper, filled with affection. The room was quiet, save for the soothing sound of everyone’s breaths, and in that moment, all felt right in the world.

Bruce's heart swelled as he watched you tend to Damian, tucking him in with gentle affection. Your tenderness towards Damian, despite his thorny demeanor, warmed his heart fiercely. 

Bruce, too, was slowly succumbing to the drowsiness that filled the room. He fought against it for a moment, not wanting to miss a single second of this unexpected moment of tranquility.

Bruce kissed the top of your head and stroked your hair, cherishing every touch, every sigh, every moment he could spend with you in his arms, until finally, you drifted off to sleep. The warmth and comfort of the room, coupled with his fatigue, were starting to overpower him.

As he gave in to the pull of sleep, he smiled faintly, his voice barely audible. "Good night, princess, and Merry Christmas."

[victimeyez]

Wonderland - Xmas Special

A part of Professional//Victim

Tommy is treated to cuddles and holiday cheer, and he focuses on enjoying himself in spite of his circumstances.

CW: Captive whumpee, shock collar mention, handcuffs and binding, injured whumpee, intimate whumper, "willing" whumpee, some gentle smut, crymaxing, hidden in plain sight

~

Tommy wasn’t exactly in the holiday spirit. 

Another Christmas here, in the basement, trying to sleep the rest of his life away. But he was bored and restless, even more than usual, after being bed bound for a week. His last client had smashed his legs up pretty bad, and pins were holding his ankle together. He had a chain lead again, locking his collar to the metal bolt in the center of his room. As if he was going anywhere - he couldn’t even make it to the bathroom on his own, much less attempt an escape. Tommy was pretty sure it was just to agitate him, to help him feel trapped, not that he needed a reminder. To his chagrin, it was working - he was going stir crazy with nothing to do but wallow. 

He was scrolling through channels on his little TV, trying yet again to find some programming that wasn’t doing some lame-ass Christmas special, when he heard the basement door open above him. Moments later, Caius unlocked his door. 

“Let's get you dressed, we’re going out.”

Tommy gawked. “Uh…out?”

“Yeah, out,” Caius said, leaning in to unlock his collar. 

“Family trip!”

~

Caius had to carry him very gingerly, helping him in and out of the car. At their destination, Michelle helped Caius unfold his wheelchair. The sun had already set, but there were lights glowing over the hill past the parking lot. 

Tommy couldn’t help his quiet whimper when Caius handcuffed his wrists to the wheelchair arms. 

“Hush,” Caius cooed, and he fell quiet. He got covered in a big blanket that covered his locked wrists and his lap. A big soft scarf covered his collar, and other than the bondage, he was actually pretty comfy. 

They were at a park that had been dressed and decorated with magical light displays. Candycane arches, glittery icicle strands, and Christmas trees of every size and shape. Though it was cold, he was kept warm bundled up. There were lots of families roaming around, ones that weren’t made up of a group of three men and their captive. A few kids had strayed off the lighted path to pelt each other with snowballs, and Caius and Tommy paused to watch for a moment. A younger child packed a little snowball and approached them, wandering up to Tommy’s side. 

“Why are you in a wheelchair?” He asked curiously. Tommy managed a smile for him. 

“Because I didn’t eat all my vegetables.”

“Oh,” the child answered. “I like carrots.”

“That’s pretty cool. Snowmen like them too.” 

The kid seemed to think about that for a moment, and then a smile grew on his face and he laughed. 

“You’re funny.” He dropped the snowball on Tommy’s lap and ran away. 

Caius picked it up, dusting the extra snow from Tommy’s blanket. He offered the snowball to a little girl walking over to join the frolic. Her mother accompanying her smiled and told her to say thank you as she accepted it shyly, rushing off to go to the other children. 

“That was nice of you, Tommy. You’re good with kids.” Caius wheeled him back onto the path to catch up to Rory and Michelle, who had successfully waited out the line for hot chocolate. Michelle handed an extra one to Cauis, and Rory went to hand one to Tommy. 

“Oh - uh, thank you, but um… my hands…” 

“Here,” Caius handed his cocoa back to Michelle to reach under the blanket and unlock one of his hands, freeing Tommy to take it. He was surprised, but accepted it gratefully. It was steaming hot, with whipped cream melting on top and a candy cane hooked over the side. Tommy sipped at it carefully, not wanting to burn himself but worried about spilling when Caius moved his chair.

He’d barely thought about his legs at all, so eager to soak up all the new sights and sounds. The most stimulation he usually got was a visit to a client’s house. Being stuck in the basement all the time was, above all else, torturously boring. Even the cold air in his nose was such a welcome change of pace, he sniffled gladly. And Caius was pretty strict with his diet, hot chocolate was a real treat he only received a few times a year. Tommy had always had a sweet tooth, and his constant sugar cravings were rarely satiated. He loved fruit, which he was often provided, but he could kill for chocolate. 

“This is really good, thank you guys,” Tommy told them. It was hard to act grateful for being allowed pleasures by the people who deprived him of them in the first place, but he didn’t want to push it. It was his attempt at positive reinforcement. The urge to attempt an escape was still there, and it was so strange to be out in public with them. So close to real life, but like watching it through a one sided mirror, imprisoned behind the glass. He could see them, but they couldn’t see him, not really. It used to distress him more, but his disastrous last escape attempt had left him largely subdued. His legs couldn’t carry him anywhere, his wrist was cuffed to the chair, and Caius would shock him unconscious if he so much as let out a suspicious peep.

It was actually nice, in a way, not to struggle. To just be able to enjoy this for what it was. Caius fixed his blanket over him, and when he caught a look at Tommy’s face, he chuckled. 

“You’ve got a whipped cream mustache there, Tiger.” He pulled a pack of tissues from his pocket, but before he helped, snapped a picture with his phone. Tommy blushed when Caius dabbed at his mouth, fussing over him like a mother would, but his free hand was occupied with his hot chocolate. When Caius stood back up, Rory put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You two are cute,” he told them, and his voice was unexpectedly soft and earnest. 

“I’m happy for you, man.” 

 Caius turned to Rory and they shared a fond look, some unspoken message passing between them. 

“Thank you,” Caius answered, just as soft, and then they both broke into grins. Rory threw an arm around him and squeezed, leaning in to plant a kiss to his cheek. The atmosphere was light, and Tommy refused to ruin it by overthinking it. Caius and Rory could go at each other’s throats sometimes, and it was easy to forget that they were friends who had started a business together. And above Tommy’s head, they lived together companionably most of the time. 

“Unbelievable. I’m French and I get no kisses?” Michelle complained. Caius and Rory immediately crowded him, sandwiching him between them and making exaggerated smooching sounds as they kissed his cheeks on either side. Michelle scowled, but he was smiling, and Tommy found himself smiling and laughing, too. Strange life. But it was nice. 

Snow started to fall again, the white flakes illuminated as soon as they entered the halo around each colored light. Tommy blinked them from his eyelashes as they started to walk again, making their way into a glimmering tunnel of lighted arches. All of it was beautiful, every glittering garland and string. Even the trees were wrapped in strands of twinkling bulbs that made the surrounding ornaments glow back. 

When they were all getting cold and the park was closing soon, they made their way back to the car. Caius sat in the back with him and didn’t cuff him, just held his hand to warm it up. He was warm, and in of his soft moods, gently doting as the night was coming to a close. Tommy didn’t know how it happened, but at some point he found himself fully curled up in Caius’s lap. He could hear his heartbeat, nestled up to his chest. Caius was being so gentle, rubbing Tommy’s back. It was just so nice to be held, so he lingered in the moment. He watched the world pass outside until the car and Caius’s gentling was lulling him to sleep. His legs were cradled to them from being jostled on the bumps, and he’d been given a pill to keep the pain away.

When Caius carried him in again, he was surprised to be brought up the stairs instead of down to the basement. He was set down with a groan, and Caius stretched his back, catching his breath. He stripped and changed while Tommy settled gratefully against his soft sheets. The bed was so plushy, and he couldn’t feel a metal frame or even a stray spring against his back. 

Caius helped him out of his clothes, offering silky pajamas from his own closet. The shorts were long, the shirt baggy, but they felt wonderful. Hands returned to his chest even once he was dressed, stroking gently. They moved to his arms, lightly squeezing and massaging, then petted his stomach. Tommy had been blinking back sleep but his eyes fluttered now, letting out soft sighs and moans of pleasure just to be touched. God, it had been so long since he’d just been touched without any intent to hurt. Now, Caius’s hands all over him felt divine, and he couldn’t help his purrs. 

A hand made its way between his legs, rubbing him encouragingly. He flushed when he realized it all was affecting him, and it only took a little bit before he was panting.

“Do you want me to make you feel good, baby?” Caius murmured. Tommy nodded shakily. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes, Caius, please, please make me feel good,” Tommy pleaded breathily, his cheeks heated by how embarrassingly fast he was reduced to begging.

Caius’s ministrations were slow, but not to torture, only to please at a lazy sort of pace. When Tommy’s legs started to shake, he gave a harsh gasp as pain flared in his thighs suddenly, his injuries protesting. 

“Aw…poor thing. Just try to relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Caius could tell he was close, and paused to push Tommy’s borrowed pants down below his hips. Bared, Tommy covered his face with his hands in shame, watching through his fingers as Caius stroked him in earnest. 

Suddenly, it was all too much. Earlier, he had been chained by the throat in the basement, mourning the death of his freedom again. Now, he was in Caius’s bed, in his arms, feeling good. It was whiplash, it was just too much. The nice evening, the fresh air, the physical contact of getting to snuggle in the car and being touched, all of it felt suddenly overwhelming, and he hiccuped out a sob as tears rolled over. He wiped at them frantically, as if Caius might not notice. But he did, of course, and hesitated, even though Tommy’s cock was throbbing in his hand. 

“Are you alright?”

Tommy nodded quickly, clasping his hands over his mouth. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

That made him really sob, and he was fully crying. He didn’t feel sad, he actually felt nice for a change, but that was just it. Feeling this good felt like it should be wrong, and an abstract sense of guilt formed a little knot in his stomach. Caius stopped and pulled him close into his chest, petting his hair back and kissing the tears from his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t even know - hic - why I’m crying, I’m happy!”

“Poor thing…maybe it’s just been a little too much excitement for tonight. Do you want to stop and go to sleep?” Caius dabbed at his eyes and let him blow his nose. Tommy collected himself for a minute, enough that his chest would stop heaving at least. 

“No, I want to - I want to keep going, please. I want to feel good. Please?”

Caius pressed his forehead to Tommy’s, touching his chest gently before slipping his hand back down to touch him again.It felt unbearably intimate, being stroked like that with their noses nearly touching, Caius shushing him softly as he panted with pleasure. 

“That’s it, you’re alright.”

Tommy was close, trembling in Caius’s arms as they lay there curled up together. He whined softly, starting to tense. 

“Caius, Caius, Caius - wait - “

“It’s okay angel, it’s okay, I’m here.”

Tommy came with a sob, as Caius pressed soft kisses to his face to soothe him. When he was done, he struggled to catch his breath.

“Thank you,” Tommy managed, and he was grateful. Caius kissed his forehead.

 “Of course.”

Once they were cleaned up and ready for bed, Caius turned the lights out and pulled Tommy close again. He couldn’t move much with his legs healing, so he was held exactly as Caius positioned him. With some post-nut clarity, he felt a little foolish. 

Why are you letting this happen? Even begging for it, disgusting. 

Shut up. Let me have this. 

For once, the other part of him didn’t argue. Tommy fell into the best sleep he’d had in ages, and by some tiny christmas miracle, he dreamt of playing in the snow. 

~

Taglist:

@suspicious-whumping-egg  @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday @defire @jumpywhumpywriter

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @knivestothroats

@watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

Thank you all so much for reading!!! Merry holidays, or whatever you might be up to.

[tuesdayisfordancing]

I am conceptually quite into hanahaki but I think there’s been like three actual hanahaki fics ever that I liked.

[cherry-hulu]

— Side 2 Side

Synopsis: "I know, I know baby I know," Mingyu whispers having your hair hair bunched up in a ponytail with his hands as he fucks you doggy style... In front of 10k viewers putting your fucked out face on display.

Warnings: Friend?KMG x Camgirl!Reader, sex on cam, REALLY FILFTHY, sex toys, gag ball, buttplug, tail buttplug, handcuffs, tit fucking, thigh fucking, oral (f and m receiving & giving), double penetration, edging, foodplay, squirting, overstimulation, reader passes out towards the end

The upper half of your face was concealed with a mask while the other exposee your drooling mouth still covered in cum with a gag ball hanging from your neck covered in your own saliva. Mingyu would've kept it in you somebody hadn't donated a wopping $5000 asking to see your face on full display acting like a speaker with your constant noise.

Being an anonymous streamer on an adult website was tantalizing, you showed only your body and never your face. Due to this, you've created a double persona: in the eye of the public and of those around you, you were a charming and modest girl smiling ever so kind and helpful in all ways.

But once you put on your mask, everything they know of gets thrown away. Wearing lude lingeries, playing with yourself, using toys not commonly bought in malls, roleplaying, unleashing sounds that would baffle anybody who knew of you in real life.

You keep your other persona extremely well kept, locked and hidden. Even going as far as reserving a whole seperate room for your activities, assuring yourself that no one would suspect you. That was until one of your friends found out.

Mingyu invited you over to his apartment to apparently 'watch' something. According to him: he's been obsessing over it the second he found it so much so that he's been anticipating it's next release. Unassumingly, you came over.

As Mingyu pulls up the website on his laptop, horror started to paint your face, and by the time he'd click on your account, you'd already felt like fainting. Looking up ftom his laptop, he stares at you with his eyebrows raised, a smile with one end raised upwards.

Apparently he'd been watching you since your first few streams. He had his suspicions but he let it pass thinking it was impossible, but it only took one story from you recounting your day to confirm his suspicions.

You pleaded for him to not tell anyone, saying you'd do anything for him not to. Of course, he took the offer. He wanted to fuck you —as expected— on cam. Not expected.

And yet here you are, going dumb on his cock, face revealed for the public to see despite of the circumstances that led to this situation.

A stream prior to this one, you mentioned of a competition in which you'd randomly pick out a subscriber to have a taste of you just so you'd have an excuse to introduce Mingyu.

The two of you immediately jumped into action courtesy of Mingyu's hardening cock. You looked up at hin from your chair as you pulled down his pants. Spitting and licking in his cock before taking him in an immediate deep throat.

Mingyu groans throwing his head back panting at your actions. You were skilled as fuck. Who knew you had this in you? Turns out there were still many more of you that Mingyu didn't know of despite your years of friendship.

Donations and tips kept coming in with specific requests which you would apply comply to.

Tit fucking? Sure. Engulfing Mingyu's dick in your boobs, bouncing up and down with a dildo in your pussy. You would spit, lick, and sometimes even suck the tip of his mouth making him cum all over your tits, face and mask as you cream around the plastic dildo in you.

Thigh fucking? Why not. Standing in front of Mingyu and trapping his dick between your thighs rubbing it against your clit, mixing your existing cum and his together creating squelching sounds mixed with your moans.

Double penetration? Okay. Mingyu's dick switching from your cunt to your ass hole as he fucks you. Slapping your butt in the process further intensifying the feeling of the dildo in your ass. Your moans were loud and lewd, even more than before. "Needy slut, can't be satisfied with one," He groans behind you

Tail buttplug? Alright. A collar wrapped around your neck, the plug inserted inside of you as you lick Mingyu's dick clean of any cum, only allowed to suck the tip. Each movement of your body makes you want to moan because of the feeling of his cum inside your ass.

Edging? We've been doing it. Out of all things requested for you to do. You've only came once and Mingyu twice. His stamina was admirable.

Foodplay? Yeah, a recharge of energy would be nice. Whipped cream sprayed all over your body as Mingyu licks you clean, savouring the taste of the cream, cum, and your sweat. You do the same for him licking all over his abs and dick. "Tastes so good baby."

Handcuffs? Roger. Your face in front of the camera, a gag ball in your mouth, tears in your eyes as Mingyu pounds relentlessly behind you. His pace changing from quick to extremely slow, but also very deep hitting your g-spot every damn time.

Choking? That's already done.. but we can do it with cum! Leaks of Mingyu's cum drips from the sides of your mouth as he eats you out and fingers you from the bag. Your eyes rolling back, pleas muffled by the gag.

Even after fulfilling all those requests. Mingyu still wasn't done, he still has alot left in him. So now as he fucks you behind, he forces your head up with a ponytail bunched up in his hands, your sounds starting to weaken until you were just a hole for him to use.

Not long after you squirted all over him covering everything in your juices, a ring of cream forming around his dick as he cums soon after. But he doesn't stop, overstimulating you until your shaking and withering in his hands, small whimpers coming out your mojth.

It is only until you pass out that he stops. Safe to say the secret isn't gonna come out any time soon.

[maelancoli]

Adding Tension After the Ship Happens

i feel a lot of slow burn ships lose steam after the characters finally get together, whether it's just from sleeping together or them actually engaging in a relationship, so here are some ideas for how to maintain steam.

their problems are not solved now that they've crossed the thresh hold

first things first, the plot itself i'm sure has other details than just their relationship. even the most fluffy of fluff has other things going on than kisses and giggles. don't abandon these details once the relationship truly begins. and if there was any kind of unresolved tension point or previously mentioned ex/trauma/insecurity/fear bring it back! bring things back around that might put a strain on a new, tender relationship. this can either make them have problems or be a way to develop their bonds and *show* it in action. any of these foreshadowing/resurrected points can be added in edits if you didn't start out with them or with retconning if you're writing rp/fanfic. all the writers do it. we see it in tv everyday it's ok if u gotta pull a rabbit from a hat.

their relationship will not be suddenly smooth and solid as if they have been married 20 years

okay they kissed/fucked/agreed to be together. now what? what circumstances kept them from getting there sooner? are those circumstances still present and how will they deal with it as a team? you also don't have to have characters officially together once they've done something physical. there is still discussion to be had and boundaries/expectations to establish. those conversations could be interesting to explore. and, even more-so, this is the perfect point for plot to happen and keep them from being able to have those conversations when they should. you can add angst, you can add miscommunication, you can add anything that tickles your fancy. especially a perfect time to have an ex return to cause some tension and uncertainty if they haven't made it official. they don't know what they are yet and that uncertainty is a delicious point to write it and really give the characters a hard time

utilize the main plot's tension

again, if you're writing more than just a contemporary fluffy romance, the romance should enrich the main plot. the romance as a subplot should be a component which merges with the main storyline and does not take away from it. if you don't want to milk the will-they-won't-they anymore than you already have it's time to build the relationship up in the midst of OUTSIDE conflict. let them disagree about how to resolve problems. let them butt heads. let them be scared and do and say stupid shit because they're scared. let them be worried or angry or frustrated and have to figure out how to balance their newfound vulnerability with who they are and were before that point. let them hurt each other a little so they can come back together stronger.

utilize the characters around them

if it is a plot which is mainly romance filled, then think about the tension from the lives around them. think about their loved ones and how their own issues could influence the plot points the characters have to face together. this could be a time for them to be introduced to loved ones. you could throw in a group trip with silly mishaps and shenanigans. you could even have loved ones try to break them up or doubt the love interest. navigating new relationships while also dealing with friends and family can be a source of plot and tension in and of itself. this can be a point to let love interests reassure each other and prove their salt. it can help them grow closer. it can be the heroic moment for one of them to stick up for the other or prove they're there for them no matter what.

overall if you're struggling with what to do after the slow burn feels like it's sizzling out it's time to zoom out. make sure you are not losing the whole picture of their environment or steamrolling past the real development of new relationships.

[z4rph1m]

Platonic Yan!batfam X dazai!reader X yandere dc

Tw: implication of sex (between reader & Chuuya), past mentions of self harm,

Forgotten child

Pro. Ch.1 Ch.2 (you are here) Ch.3

Nakahara Chuuya

Your former lover of the dark.

Why did the two of you broke up? He forgot, or maybe he just doesn’t want to remember.

He knew that the moment the two of you were in a relationship, it was unhealthy and toxic.

Maybe it’s the way you would ignore him the whole day but the moment you’re within his arms you’re a touch starve, hopelessly in love mess.

Or maybe the way he would be angry at you and try to guilt trip you into doing whatever he wants or the way you would purposely annoy him so that he would try and hurt you (he tried ask you to stop doing that)

But why exactly did the two of you stay together?

It’s simple, you two completed eachother perfectly.

Especially how fitting your abilities names are to describe the two of you.

You made him act like a human, he gave you a reason to live on.

“Are you the most beautiful human to me or to me, you’re the most beautiful human”

You stare at the empty space of your bed in longing, feeling as if there was something missing in your life.

The love marks surrounding your body, the lipstick mark on your bandages and the soft touches lingers around you.

Oh how you miss him.

You knew well that being with him was a terrible idea, especially with how aware you are to how much of a terrible person you are.

You know well you’re only using him to have the willingness to live yet the more you are with him, the more you crave for his touch.

That’s the reason why you broke up with him.

You hated how it felt, how it didn’t felt real to you. You wanted to save him the tears and pain, breaking off was maybe your only choice.

You remember well on how soft his kisses are on your scars, lips and all over your body.

Or how beautiful yours and his voice sounded together.

Maybe, just maybe under different circumstances the two of you could be together.

As much as you two stayed friends, the benefits can’t really be pass on.

“I can’t feel love, I will give you the love that you lack your whole life”

The more time Bruce walk through the hallway to your room, the more sense of guilt cover him.

Wilting flowers, spiders in cobwebs, empty vases and dust covering the paintings.

The side of the mansion that’s long been abandoned.

God how long did he let you live like this?

How long did he left you to live within the chilly and ghostly halls of the manor?

On the way to your room, the two passed by Dick and Tim, who seemingly curious on where they’re going.

“Hey Alfred, Bruce, where you’re going?” Dick in all his glory, having his usual smile while Tim with his eye bags and energy drink in his hand.

“We’re on our way to Master [N] room, which is just at the corner of this hallway”

There was a deafening silence, but at the same time it was accompanied by a presence of a lonely child.

The presence of a child that was useless to the family.

The silence kept on going until Tim voice spoke out.

“Are you sure you’re in the right way Alfred? The corner of the hallway looks as if it’s haunted”

“Yes Master Tim, they’ve been assign to that room after all”

Damian stare at the picture that’s laying at your table.

A picture of you and your mother.

Maybe it’s the only picture of you and her but it explains everything about your relationship with her.

You malnourished, eyes hold emptiness yet smiled so awkwardly at the camera, having just an oversized t-shirt and a shorts on, bandages free, happily in your mother arms.

Thats probably the only picture of you smiling.

Out of all the pictures that he sees in the album, the one where you’re under the care of Alfred, not his father.

You’re smiling with your mother, where you live a miserable and pitiful life.

What was it that was different or missing from this family that made you never smiled at least once?

In the past, he use to sneak into your room whenever it’s one of those days where you don’t come home.

Interested on why you look so….. depressing and On deathbed-like.

Yet as time goes by, he was interested in you by you’re nature.

Seeing your photos, art and diary (or at least what’s left of it).

He wanted to know more about you yet his pride and jealousy got in the way.

He wanted your attention yet he rejected the idea of even having a conversation with you.

Everything was fine until one day he sees the room clean and smell of fresheners.

That’s when he realized what he did.

He was too late- no, he can fix it.

He will get his older sibling back, he must.

God whoever this “Q” is will be the top of his list for taking what’s his.

He hold onto your childhood doll before tensing his body when the sound of creaking fills the room.

“Father, Alfred, Tim, Dick, what are you doing here?”

Inspired by @-acid-ixx Again & again series and @-marcyvamp1re-blog silly little bat

[stars-obsession-pit]

The Flying Graysons generally stuck to simpler tricks in the smaller towns. Less people to impress, so they didn’t need to go as far. But for some reason, when they went to the town of Amity Park, Dick felt an urge to show off.

Well, not for just any reason. For one very specific reason; a certain cute boy in the crowd.

But then the troupe moved on, as it always did. Outside of his daydreams, he didn’t really dare to hope he’d get to see the boy again. Especially once his parents died, circumstances nearly pushed it from his mind.

But then, during his detective training, an idea struck him. Even if he couldn’t see the boy in person, he could still keep track of him remotely.

It turner out to be remarkably easy, especially once he learned Danny’s name. So he kept it up. Watching him, taking notes on everything about him, fantasizing about actually being together for real. He never told anyone else. They wouldn’t understand. Checking in on Danny was always a highlight of his days. His own little reward. He wouldn’t let anyone take his Danny away from him.

Though there were some stumbles along the way. Times he’d almost been caught. And when some sort of lab accident had hospitalized Danny, he’d nearly ran off to Amity on his own to comfort him (never mind that he’d have to explain who he even was and how he’d known about it). But he persisted. And as time passed, he only became more and more infatuated with the other boy. Oh how he wished they could be together.

And then Danny showed up in Gotham. Dick couldn’t find anything definitively explaining why, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Finally, he could put all his copious notes to use and sweep his love off his feet.

[withwritersblock]

What's It To You

~What's It To You by Clay Walker~ Author's Note: requested! I love writing proposals Summary: Quinn and Y/N are the last of their friends to get engaged Warnings: none? Word count: 2,622

It was the end of wedding season. Quinn and Y/N had attended five weddings over the summer. Today, her roommate from college was getting married. Vivian and Y/N were roommates for every year that they were in school together. They were quite close but Y/N moved to Vancouver after school. 

It would’ve been difficult to include Y/N in the bridal party so she is only going as a guest. Which Y/N didn’t mind, she was still going to be seeing one of her closest friends getting married. She stood in front of the floor length mirror, admiring the pastel blue dress on her frame. It was floor length and fitted. She ran her hands along her stomach, her hips as she took in a shaky breath.

The original dress she had brought with her, somehow ripped on the flight from Vancouver to Michigan. This was her backup dress, but it was a backup for a reason. She saw Quinn walk into the room, adjusting the collar of his white undershirt. He smiled widely once he saw her. 

“Oh, wow,” he mumbled out, his cheeks pinking up slightly at the sight of her. Every ounce of insecurity she felt in that moment dissipated as she tilted her head to the side as she watched him walk up behind her. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her slowly towards him. He rested his head onto her shoulder, meeting her gaze through the mirror. 

“You look handsome,” she whispered. He smiled softly as he pressed his lips to her shoulder for a moment before he spun her to face him. She rested her hands onto his shoulders as he kept his hands on her waist. 

“Thank you, pretty girl,” he whispered before he leaned towards her, kissing her delicately. “We have to get going to the ceremony,” he whispered against her lips. She nodded slightly as she leaned towards him, kissing him one more time before she slipped from his grasp to take a hold of her phone and small wallet. Both of which fit in her dress pockets, she was ecstatic.

It was twenty minutes later and the ceremony was going to begin in a few moments. Quinn and Y/N sat on the bride’s side, despite them both knowing Vivian and Michael. Quinn looped his arm around the small of her back, resting his hand onto her waist. They were sitting on the end, excitedly whispering towards one another as Michael began walking down the aisle. He had a wide grin on his face as he wiped a small tear that fell onto his cheek.

Michael stood at the end of the aisle, waiting for his bride to meet him. Quinn leaned towards Y/N, pressing his lips to the side of her head for a moment.

“What was that for?” she asked softly. He smiled, shaking his head slightly as the wedding song began to play. The doors behind them swung open as the bridal party started to walk down the aisle. 

Each one of the groomsman fist bumped Michael as they walked past him towards their designated spots beside him. Y/N felt her eyes tear up as she watched Vivian walk down the aisle with both her mom and dad beside her. Michael dropped his head as he brought his hands towards his face, wiping the tears that were falling. The tears of joy.

She was fighting her own tears, once she met Y/N’s gaze, her smile widened. Vivian shifted her gaze back towards Michael, her smile was still wide as she was fighting the tears forming in her eyes. Y/N titled her head against Quinn’s shoulder. 

The priest began the ceremony. Vivian and Michael were looking towards one another with so much love, it was hard to not envy them. They’ve been together for two years less than Y/N and Quinn, and they were probably equally in love. 

Obviously their circumstances were crazily different with Quinn being in the NHL. Y/N didn’t mind until wedding season became more and more weddings. It started out being one or two a summer but this year they reached five weddings. It was hard not to be jealous with all of the love and in the air. She wanted to have that feeling. 

Quinn has always been good at keeping surprises secret. Especially surprises for Y/N. He knew she had no idea. She was clueless. Y/N and Quinn were visiting his family at the lakehouse after the wedding. He has a whole plan for his proposal, he was just waiting until the perfect time to do it. It would be tomorrow night. 

After another twenty minutes, Vivian and Michael kissed, tying the knot. They excitedly held hands as they began walking out of the wedding ceremony hand in hand. The wedding reception venue was on the same lot which had many of the guests instantly started walking towards that. 

Y/N dabbed her finger against the corner of her eye as she took a deep breath. “God, I miss her,” she mumbled as she met Quinn’s gaze. He pouted slightly, guilt flowed through his body as he is the reason she moved to Vancouver.

“I know, my love,” he whispered as he leaned towards her, kissing her delicately. “We’re in Michigan for a few weeks, after her honeymoon we can visit her again,” he whispered into her ear before he pressed his lips to her cheek.

“Okay,” she mumbled sadly. She rested her hand onto his cheek for a few seconds before she stood up, Quinn followed in pursuit as they both began walking out of the ceremony venue towards the reception venue. He rested his hand on the small of her back as they walked down the aisle together. 

Once they were in the reception venue it seemed to create an instant emotion switch. The music was loud and the dance floor was already full to the brim with the guests. Even Vivian’s older family members were dancing together. Y/N eyes widened when she saw her other roommate, Hannah, from the opposite end of the venue. Hannah took a hold of her new husband’s hand and began jogging across the venue to greet Y/N.

“Y/N! Oh my goodness, look at this place!” she said excitedly as she hugged Y/N. Hannah’s husband, Kyle, nodded politely towards Quinn. 

“I know, it’s insane,” she mumbled as she pulled away. Hannah was smiling widely as she greeted Quinn. Hannah glanced down towards Y/N’s hand, noticing no ring.

She frowned, “Quinn how is it you and Y/N have been together the longest and have yet to get engaged,” she said mostly teasing. Quinn chuckled nervously as he met Y/N’s gaze, he saw her smile falter slightly. 

“It’s just been a busy year, Hannah, you know with the whole Captain stuff. But soon,” he mumbled. He’s been saying soon for almost two years now, but this time he really meant it.

“Right, soon,” she teased as she took a hold of Y/N’s arm and dragged her towards the bar. Quinn and Kyle have only briefly hungout a few times in college but only with Y/N and Hannah. 

“I’m gonna-” Quinn mumbled awkwardly as he pointed behind him.

“Yeah, me too,” Kyle expressed as the pair followed after their partners towards the open bar. They didn’t speak as they reached the bar to see Hannah and Y/N catching up. 

It has probably been eight months since the last time they saw each other in person. “Is the goal to stay in Vancouver?” Hannah asked as she brought her glass towards her lips, struggling to get the straw in her mouth. 

“We want to, yeah. We don’t want to buy a house or anything until he gets a longer contract,” Y/N explained as she smiled towards the bartender as she took the glass from them. Her eyes lit up as she saw Quinn. He leaned towards her, kissing her cheek. She hummed as she reached her hand out, gliding it from his shoulder down his arm. “He was just named Captain though, so we shall see,” she mumbled. He smiled shyly. 

“What if you get traded?” Kyle asked Quinn directly. Quinn shrugged, a small grin on his lips.

“I guess it really depends on where I’m playing at the end of my career,” Quinn mumbled.

The bartender switched his attention back towards the small group, getting the boys orders before he started making the drinks. 

“I would like to stay in Vancouver, but that’s not really up to me,” Quinn explained.

Later in the night, they were tipsy and officially on the dance floor. It took some convincing but Quinn was dancing happily with Y/N. 

“Alright, the bride and groom ask that all the couples go to the dance floor for this next slow dance,” the DJ let out into the microphone. Quinn smiled towards Y/N as he excitedly pulled her towards him. He looped his arms around her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

They began to play a slow song that neither Quinn or Y/N recognized but they were still happy to get this moment together. 

“What song should we do for our first dance?” he asked, scanning her features. She squinted her eyes slightly, her lips slowly curled up into a small grin.

“I don’t know, we both suck at dancing so we’re going to have to do a basic slow dance. But I don’t want Zach Bryan,” she explained. He nodded slowly. “I know you love him-”

“His songs don’t really match our vibe,” he muttered as he slowly pulled her towards him, making them only a few inches apart. 

“I haven’t really thought about it,” she mumbled, tilting her head to the side. Scanning his features, “Kind of have to be engaged to start thinking about those details,” she offered. He smiled a toothy grin for only a moment before he leaned towards her kissing her urgently. 

“Soon, my love,” he whispered against her lips.

“Soon like another two years soon or soon like you’re proposing today. Which I’d advise you not do because you know how much I hate it when other couples do that,” she explained. He chuckled nervously. 

“Soon like soon like it’ll happen soon,” he said jokingly. She rolled her eyes playfully as she rested her head onto his shoulder, he tilted his head against hers. As they continued swaying, they remained silent. 

“Soon like I should always have my nails done?” she questioned, half joking half seriously. 

“I would say yes but baby you always have your nails done,” he joked. 

“That’s because you’ve said soon for two years, I wanted to be ready,” she teased.

“And you will be,” he let out, knowing that her white nails she had on would look beautiful with the ring he was planning on proposing with tomorrow night. She took in a long dramatic breath. “You’re going to look so beautiful, I think I’ll cry more than Michael,” he whispered. She rolled her eyes as she lifted her head, meeting his gaze. 

“I love you, Quinn Hughes,” she mumbled. He smiled softly as he leaned towards her, kissing her softly.

~A Day Later~

Y/N had been distracted all afternoon. Everyone in the Hughes family was involved in the proposal one way or another. Ellen and Y/N were at the local shops all afternoon, shopping and spending time together. Ellen has loved Y/N ever since the first time Quinn brought her home. It wasn’t suspicious to Y/N when Ellen asked if she wanted to go, it was normal for them to do that at least three times before they both head home. 

Jim was getting the food essentials ready for after the proposal for the small party they were having. Jack was on occupy friends and family until it was proposal time. Y/N and Quinn’s closest friends were in town to celebrate and Y/N’s family made the drive up from Illinois to watch it as well. Everyone arrived around five o’clock and Jack was on host duty. 

Luke and Quinn were the ones setting up the whole plan. Luke was wandering the small dock tossing red flower petals everywhere. Quinn was placing small candles around the edges of the dock. 

“Dammit,” he muttered as he burned himself with the lighter. “Stupid,” he let out as he placed the last lit candle onto the edge of the dock. The sun was starting to set but the candles created a nice orange glow over the lake and the dock.

“You know she’s going to say yes, right? You have nothing to worry about,” Luke tried to calm him down, his assistance fell short. Luke dropped the last petal onto the dock, smiling to himself. 

“What if something goes wrong? Like what if she falls into the lake?!” he asked panickly. Luke laughed, he saw Quinn’s death glare and quickly wiped the smile off of his face.

“She’s not going to fall into the lake,” Luke said flatly. Quinn took a shaky breath as he felt his watch vibrate. He glanced down seeing a text from his mom saying they were pulling into the driveway. Quinn’s eyes widened.

“Okay, go! They’re here!” Quinn whispered loudly towards Luke. Luke nodded dramatically as he cautiously jogged off of the dock towards the house. There was a photography hidden, Quinn had no idea where she was but he knew the photos were going to look fantastic.

It took a few more minutes before Y/N began walking the path towards the back of the lake house. “Quinn?” she called out. She lifted her gaze from the grass, seeing the set up Quinn created. Her eyes widened as her lips began to quiver. He smiled widely towards her, it was still a distance and he started walking down the dock to meet her.

“What is this?” she asked softly as she finally met up with him a few feet before the dock. He smiled towards her as he rested his hand onto the small of her back. He guided her down the rose petal covered dock, the softly lit candles. It was stunning.

“I’m not really good with speeches, but-”

“Quinn,” she asked softly, her eyes filling with tears. He chuckled nervously.

“I have been in love with you since the moment I laid my eyes on you,” he expressed, taking a hold of her hands, “I remember the smile you gave me, I never wanted you to stop smiling. I told you that I was moving to Vancouver, only after six months of dating and you cheered me on. You believed in me more than I ever could. I realized that having you by my side made me a better man. You taught me how to love and how to be loved,” he explained, looking deeply into her eyes. 

He slowly got down on one knee, pulling the ring box from his jean pocket. He clicked it open, smiling softly. “Will you marry me?” he asked. She nodded dramatically, unable to speak any words. He stood up, shutting the ring box to keep it safe. He engulfed her in a tight hug. She let out a soft giggled as he lifted her up from the ground. 

“I love you,” she whispered into his ear before she pulled back, meeting his gaze. His eyes were teary as he scanned her features. He leaned towards her kissing her urgently as the crowd from inside excitedly walked out of the house to greet the newly engaged couple.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Five w/ apocalypse reader— 'the end of the world is the most unfortunate circumstance to develop an obsessive trauma bond.'

Yandere Five had been but a barely pubescent teen when he so wisely chose to manipulate time to win an argument with his dismissive parental figure. It was jarring in the beginning. Everything he had ever known had been stripped from him. There was nothing left but debris and blood.

He always had his powers to aid him, yet for the first time they failed. He realized that his reliance on them is what caused this problem in the first place.

How could he be so idiotic?

Fastrack, six years or so, he tended to lose track due to the harsh winter blocking what was left of the sun and the overarching smog always present. Where was he going with this? Oh, yes. It made it difficult to calendar because of the extenuating circumstances.

It had to be about February when he met you. The snow had settled over more monotonous ruins of what was probably a rural town. Most of the sun rays were blocked by smog and strange cloud formations manipulated by the effects of it all. Still, he could see you, leaning against what still stood of a brick building, devoring a stale-looking twinkie.

"This one's interesting, huh, Dolores?" Think we're gonna have to shoot em'?"

Yandere Five ends up sticking by your side to culminate resources and find your true reasoning for being here. That's totally the justification, yeah. It isn't as if he is incredibly touch starved and on the edge of losing what little sanity he had. He just needs to figure you out. That he does, a little too well.

Yandere Five becomes overbearing. You can't tell if you are being questioned by your future murderer or stalker. He demands you answer all his questions promptly and with the utmost truth. He doesn't fluff them and act nicely or reply with basic human empathy. He simply loses his edge after he learns one more thing about you.

Are you allowed to do the same to him in return?

Absolutely not.

You learning about him is on a need to know basis. So if he feels that you need to know it, you will.

Take him by his word. You have to.

Yandere Five isn't the largest fan of physical affection, or physical anything in fact. It takes years in the apocalypse for him to willingly be touched by you. That's at least how he tries to appear. His expressions are always so blank and dismissive. A sarcastic quip is always on the tip of his sharp tongue.

Yet after only a few months of traveling together, he is more than eager to feel your skin under his.

He doesn't want to be near you, no, but you injured yourself by being foolish. He warned you against it, and still you continued. So now he is using some of the minimal medical supplies you both have so he can patch you up. If both of you were back pre-apocalypse, then he would definitely install a tracker inside your arm. For protection, obviously.

He doesn't want to be touched, no, but you're shivering. Losing the only other seemingly living human being, besides Delores, in the apocalypse would leave him at a great disadvantage.

He doesn't want intimacy with you, no. He has just to cuddle you to protect you and keep the nightmares away. He has to kiss your irresistible lips to keep your morale up. He has to let his thoughts about you to linger about in private, unexplored places so he may relieve himself to release relaxing and happy hormones. It's simple as that.

Deep down, he knows the true reason is that he has become utterly smitten with you. He has just chosen to do his best to gaslight himself, even though statistics state it only makes those feelings worse. Perhaps he wants that. Maybe he just wants one person in this fucked-up world that is his and his wholly and unequivocally.

Yandere Five even gets rid of his beloved Delores for you. He was growing paranoid about her. She kept teasing him about how lovesick he was. She was talking about starting to fall in love with you too. The final straw is when she said she wanted a threesome with you. In the dead of night, he disposed of her, a bullet in her head.

Strangely enough you dropped the subject after asking once. It puzzled him. Did you truly dislike Delores that much to be so nonchalant about her disappearance? Did you know what he did? Of course you didn't. You obviously hated Delores and are glad she is gone.

Good.

He likes it this way.

No more distractions, just you two.

Yandere Five doesn't want to figure out the equation to get back to his pre-apoctalyptic life. He writes down a bunch of meaningful numbers in chalk. They aren't coordinations for returning to the academy. They're calculations about your possible romantic relationship, sexual aspects, how submissive you are, and more.

He has detailed a four letter plan in his private journal.

S ubmissivness — how complacent are you? are you gullible to his tactic? how strong is your moral code? would you go along with him knowing how truly infatuated he is with your very existence?

I nterest — how are you feeling? what are your reactions? he needs to know every single thing about you. he needs to know all of your likes just as importantly as your dislikes.

N eutrality — how will his actions affect you and everything else around you? what is the path that will keep you closest to him while also making him seem like the one in charge? this is how we will know if he has gone too far.

S way — how close are others getting to you? are they looking to befriend you? are their true intentions more sinister? he has to analyze every expression and every movement of those who make any contact with you.

You call it his diary. It is not a diary! Diaries are for feelings; journals are filled with statistics. Besides, you won't ever find the location of his actual diary. He writes it in southern Sumerian anyway. You don't have a chance at deciphering it.

Yandere Five meets the Handler while you are snoozing away after a particularly hard day of labor. He can't believe the promise this strange woman puts before him. He works for this Commission for five years, and after that, he's good as done. He gets you in whatever place he wishes for the rest of your lives.

It's a bunch of bullshit as far as he's concerned. Miracles usually don't come with strings attached. Then again, does he really have a choice? He doesn't want to see you suffer anymore than you already have.

So he takes this once in a lifetime 'golden' opportunity.

Let's just hope this one doesn't bite him in the ass.

Yandere Five tells you that he has a way to get you out of here. The both of you just have to spend a little time away from each other. His body psychically aches while way from you, and it isn't just because he's a crotchety old man. The both of you weren't going to be young forever.

He doesn't necessarily hate the job until he learns that killing you is part of keeping the time continuum in check. He doesn't wait a day after learning that information. He takes your hand and escapes somewhere in the past.

Of course his calculations were rushed and were off in the worst possible way. Of course he ends up in the middle of his father's funeral, both of you stuck in your thirteen-year-old bodies. Of course Kalus has to make a sex joke about it.

Damn it! He wants to scream at the top of his lungs.

He needs you! He had you all to himself, and then other people just had to fuck it up.

It's okay. It's okay.

He'll figure out a way to stop all of this and keep you forever.

Forever. What a pleasant thought.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Tag list: @sh-tposter2021 @casmosmoon @hoesindifferentshows @daffodildelight @stuckinaoaktree @this-is-music @good-so @farleyis @starksdaughter20

Part 1

It has been a couple of days since your confession and Hobie was conflicted on whether he should rip the preverbal bandaid off and tell you of his secret identity, and possibly putting you at risk for potentially dangerous circumstances in the future, or keep you in the dark for a little while longer until he felt brave enough with himself and his situation to come forward; After all personal relationships -whether platonic or romantic- and Spider-Man never went well together. It was a sacrifice placed upon the shoulders of all variations who were chosen to dawn the mask of Spider-Man.

For if the legacy of being Spider-Man was a death sentence to those who are close, Hobie doesn’t want you death to be treated as his ‘canon event’ or whatever hand fisted bullshit excuse Miguel was trying to ram down everyone’s throats in order to justify in allowing a loved one of theirs to die. Hobie refuses that being the case and due to his righteous mistrust of Miguel, he kept your name out of his mouth unless it was within the presence of the few he could trust; Miles, Pavitr and Gwen.

‘So they have a crush on you.’ Pavitr began.

‘Yeah.’

‘And you have a crush on them.’ Miles jumped in.

‘Ain’t no point in hiding it.’ Hobie cooly replied because why should he bother hiding the obvious.

‘So…what’re you going to do about it?’ Gwen finishes and Hobie only shrugs in response, ‘dunno.’

Pavitr made an face of exaggerated shock and looks over at Miles and Gwen, who were already expecting this reaction from him as they exchanged looks with him, before looking back at Hobie. ‘Dunno, the person you like has expressed that they like you too-‘ ‘-it wasn’t me they were talking to Pav, it was Spider-Man, clear difference. No need to rom-com it.’ Pavitr waved his comment away and continues on his tangent, ‘they like you, you like them and your response to all that is; Dunno?!’ Hobie -again- shrugs. He really didn’t know what to do, yes the feelings between you two were mutual but that didn’t mean he was going to risk your safety over them; no matter how deeply he feels them to the point where the mere idea of you being put at risk because of him acting out of his selfishness in having you, made him physically hurt.

Hobie would rather enact upon his selfishness in a way that meant letting you go and moving on to someone who wasn’t going to be putting your life in constant danger, whilst also getting to shamelessly cling onto some part of you in the process; even if that meant just being your friend, even though he already knew that wasn’t what you wanted. ‘What do you want me to do Pavitr?’ Hobie began, ‘Go up to them and be like ‘remember the talk you had with Spider-Man up on the roof? Yeah that was me and no I’m not having a laugh because I like you too.’ He made a face at this, ‘nah I’d rather them call me a nonce for the rest of my life, well that is if they still want me in their life afterwards for lying to them this entire time.’ He murmurs the last part to himself mostly and it was silent for a while as he, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles sat on what has been said.

The later three shared a look between them as Hobie looked at a picture of the two of you that he kept within the pockets of his vest, smiling softly to himself as the echos of your laughter ran in his head like a melody he could set his soul adrift to on his most sleepless of nights. It was obvious to Gwen, Pavitr and Miles that Hobie held you close to his chest, right where his heart is; Gwen in particular was aware of how much of an impact you had on Hobie from the times she spent at his place and it was obvious as to where it was that you touched as Hobie made it apparent to keep it that way. You’ve made a home for yourself within Hobie’s heart and she knew that he’d fight to keep you in his life.

‘Hobie,’ he lifted his eyes to meet theirs, ‘would you rather be afraid to tell them who you are for the rest of your life, or tell them while you still have the chance because from what you���ve already told us about y/n, they wouldn’t hate you or call you a nonce, whatever that is.’ Miles mumbled under his breath as Hobie raised his brows, ‘has it crossed your mind at all that you might just overthinking all this? Not to say the fear ain’t real, what I’m trying to get at is this; you should pursue what makes you happiest, regardless of the fears you may have because in the end isn’t it better to have love and lost then to have never have loved at all?’

Hobie mulled on Miles’ advice once he got back to his reality before finding himself standing on that very same rooftop where his conflict began, looking down as he clutched his mask between both hands in contempt, so much so that he didn’t even hear your voice call out to him until you were right next to him. ‘Hobie? Everything alright?’ He had told you prior to meet up on the rooftop of some abandoned apartment complex that you were more then camisole with at this point, but the way he said it made you feel as though there was something eating away at your best friend and you weren’t about to let him go through anything alone without you.

Upon realising how close you were to him, Hobie was slick enough to hide his mask behind his back when he addressed you, stuffing it into his back pocket so that you wouldn’t get overly curious as to his hand placement but then again you were always as observant as him when he noticed the way your eyes lingered, like you already knew what this was about; to which Hobie wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for it would make this situation a lot easier for you to process what you already knew. ‘Yeah, everything’s cool, why is it that you think somethings up?’ The raise of your brows only told Hobie that you weren’t buying it, ‘oh I think there is but it looks to me that you need a little prompting.’ and without missing a beat your hand was halfway to reaching for his back pocket when he caught your wrist, holding it there as he looked at you incredulously. ‘The hell was that for knobhead.’

You shrugged, ‘like I said, you needed prompting otherwise you wouldn’t be defending whatever’s in your back pocket so adamantly as you are now.’ You were smart, Hobie had to give you that as he lets go of your wrist and decides to quit the unnecessary prolonging and pulled out the mask from his back pocket, chucking it into your awaiting hands as he then sat himself near to the edge with his back facing you so he couldn’t see the look upon your face when you say, ‘so this is what you were hiding from me…I knew Spider-Man felt too familiar and now I know why.’ He heard your footsteps get closer before stopping all together as you sat yourself next to him.

You were both silent but it was a silence loud enough to dampen out anything else in that moment and Hobie didn’t know where this silence would lead to, and neither did you as you were now realising that you had confessed your feelings to your best friend without knowing it; which was already enough to take in but for that friend to also be spider-man was a whole other thing to unpack. Where you mad that he didn’t tell you? No, not even in the slightest but you were more worried then you could ever be mad, after all you just found out your crush and best friend was spider-man for fuck sakes so of course you’d be more worried for his well being. ‘Here,’ you tell him, holding out his mask for him to take, ‘you can have it back.’ Hobie did as you asked and took his mask back, but before it was fully in his grasp you yanked it away from his reach, causing him to look at you.

‘Give it.’ He tells you straightforwardly but you stood your ground as you pressed a finger to your cheek, ‘not until you tell me something first; did you know I had a crush on you prior.’ Hobie shrugs. ‘No, honestly it wasn’t until but you admitted that you liked me that somethings started to make sense.’ You hummed, content with his answer but you weren’t through quite yet. ‘Do you…feel the same.’ You once again asked but this time your voice wasn’t as steady and strong, it was fearful and hesitant; something Hobie never wants you to be when near him.

‘Of course I do, I thought I made it obvious when I personally dealt with those who chatted shit about you behind you back, I thought it was obvious that when I let you into my heart, that there would be no way that I was letting you go but with this,’ he gestured to the mask in your outstretched hand, ‘made it all the more harder for me to do that without putting you in danger; I was hiding this other life from you to protect you but you were always too observant for your own good but it’s one of the many things I love about you.’ Hobie admits, happy he finally got it off of his chest. After hearing all that, you gave him back his mask and rested your head against his shoulder, murmuring, ‘your such a hassle.’

Hobie smiled for what felt like the first time in a long while throughout this whole situation and slugged his arm over your shoulder before resting his head on top of yours, ‘yeah but I’m your hassle.’ He says before pressing a kiss to your head, feeling you as you snuggle into his side, smiling to yourself, ‘how unfortunate.’ You say half heartedly as Hobie joins in, ‘yeah, poor you.’

[dksfml]

picture perfect - lhs

pairing: ex!heeseung x midnight rain!reader genre: angst, exes meeting again in a different circumstance, heeseung is getting married, the one that got away word count: 2.5k summary: what's worse than interviewing your ex-fiancé for his wedding while tormented by the life you could have had? especially when you couldn't stop glancing on the ring on his finger.

My boy was a montage A slow-motion, love potion Jumping off things in the ocean I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

“When did you realize that she was the one? That it was love?”

The room was colder than you expected, or maybe it was the weight of the moment that made you shiver. Five years had passed since you left Heeseung behind, but here you were, standing across from him again. He stood in a pristine tuxedo, tailored to perfection, like the life he now led—polished, flawless, but distant. Heeseung, heir to a powerful conglomerate, and you, the broadcast journalist in a media uniform tasked with interviewing him for what was being called the "wedding of the century."

It had been an impossible love, one you knew couldn’t last. But that didn’t stop you from falling hard for him.

Back in college, it felt like the stars had aligned just for you two. You met by chance in a quiet library, studying late at night. You were flipping through notes, while he sat across from you, struggling to stay awake after hours of classes and business meetings for his family’s company. He caught your eye when he nearly fell asleep, knocking a stack of books to the floor.

“You alright there?” you had teased, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Heeseung rubbed his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, just tired. Guess business majors don’t get to sleep, huh?”

That small interaction turned into late-night study sessions and shared meals at the local café, hiding from the world that seemed to have already decided your places. The more you learned about him, the more the quiet, gentle side of him drew you in—the side that wasn’t always front and center in the media’s image of him.

“Let’s keep this just between us,” Heeseung had said once, eyes soft as the two of you sat together in a dimly lit restaurant far off campus, tucked into a corner where no one would recognize him. “The world outside… it’s too complicated.”

You agreed, understanding the stakes. His family had expectations, and you were just an ordinary student. Yet, it didn’t stop the stolen glances in class or the secret hand-holding when no one was watching.

Those were some of the happiest moments of your life. No matter how fleeting, they felt like something real, something lasting.

And then there was that night—your last trip together before everything changed. The two of you had gone to a secluded beach, the sound of waves crashing against the shore the only witness to your love. Underneath a sky full of stars, Heeseung pulled out a ring, his hands trembling slightly as he looked at you, eyes wide with hope.

“I know it’s crazy… but marry me,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. “I want you to be the person I come home to. The one who knows me when the rest of the world only sees… him.”

You had said yes without hesitation. How could you not? In that moment, it felt like everything was falling into place. You had both once pictured yourselves at opposite ends of the aisle—him in a crisp, white tuxedo, and you in the wedding dress of your dreams. It was this memory of him that still kept you awake at night.

But reality didn’t wait long to rear its ugly head. Graduation came, and with it, responsibilities neither of you could ignore. You got your dream job as a news presenter, but it meant constant travel. Heeseung, meanwhile, was tied to his family’s legacy, the weight of it pressing down on him, anchoring him to a life you couldn’t share.

"I can’t leave everything behind," he had told you one night, frustration evident in his voice. "This is who I am."

"I know," you replied quietly, staring down at the engagement ring on your finger, feeling its weight more than ever. "And I’m not asking you to. But I… I need to be someone too. I can’t just be… your shadow."

Heeseung had pleaded with you to stay, to make it work somehow, but deep down, you both knew it wasn’t possible. The worlds you came from were too far apart, the demands on you both too great.

When you took off the ring that night in his car, your hands trembling, the look in his eyes broke you. Heeseung had always been composed, even under pressure, but that night, he cried. You watched as his tears fell, and the ache in your chest felt unbearable.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, voice barely holding steady as you placed the ring in his palm. "I love you, but I can’t… I can’t do this."

Heeseung had tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. All he could do was watch as you opened the car door and walked away.

Now, five years later, that past stood between you like an invisible wall.

The soft murmur of crew members adjusting lights and setting up cameras filled the studio, but all you could hear was the steady, rhythmic pounding of your heart. Heeseung sat in front of you, the gleam of his dark wedding tuxedo catching the artificial light. His hand rested on his knee, the gold band on his ring finger gleaming—a silent reminder of everything that had changed.

You cleared your throat, shuffling your notes, attempting to shake off the unease settling over you. This was supposed to be just another interview—routine, professional. But the tension in the air was palpable, an invisible thread tugging at memories you thought you’d buried.

"Mr. Lee?," you asked again, your voice steady, eyes fixed on the paper in front of you to avoid the intensity of his gaze. "A lot of people are curious about your relationship with Ms. Choi. When did you realize that she was the one? That it was love?"

Heeseung shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes flickering to yours before looking down at his hands. For a moment, he hesitated, and you found yourself unconsciously glancing at his left hand again—the wedding band glinting under the lights. The sight of it made your stomach twist.

"When did I know…" Heeseung trailed off, his voice quiet, reflective. He took a deep breath before answering, his eyes still focused on his hand. "I think love can be complicated. Sometimes, it’s not about a single moment, but a series of small ones. You come to realize what's expected of you, and you grow into it, bit by bit."

It was a carefully worded response—safe, diplomatic. He wasn’t answering the question. Not really. And that tugged at something deep inside you, pulling at threads you didn’t want to unravel.

You nodded, trying to move forward, but your thoughts were slipping. "But… when did it feel like more than just expectation? When did it feel like love?"

The words fell from your lips before you could stop them. Too personal. Too revealing. Heeseung’s eyes snapped to yours, surprised at the sudden shift, the edge in your voice. For a second, the air between you thickened, the unspoken past rising to the surface.

"When did it feel like love?" Heeseung repeated slowly, his eyes lingering on your face, as if searching for something. His voice softened. "There was a time I thought I knew… what love felt like."

You blinked, the space between his words loaded with meaning. There was an implicit sadness in the way he spoke, a crack in the façade he’d been holding up for so long.

You felt yourself sinking deeper into the moment, losing grip on the professional veneer you had worked so hard to maintain. Your gaze dropped to his left hand again, to the gold ring encircling his finger. It felt suffocating, knowing it symbolized a future you once imagined would be yours.

Your own fingers absentmindedly brushed against your ring finger, where once a promise had been worn but was now bare. Heeseung’s eyes followed the movement, his gaze lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but he closed them again.

The camera’s blinking red light reminded you where you were. You cleared your throat, refocusing on the script, but your mind was still spiraling.

You hesitated before asking the next question, feeling the weight of it before the words even left your mouth. It wasn’t on the script—it wasn’t the kind of thing you were supposed to ask in an interview like this. But it was the question you had to ask, the one lingering at the back of your mind since you stepped into the room.

You swallowed, feeling your pulse in your throat. "Are you happy?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Heeseung’s gaze lingered on you, and for the briefest moment, his polished composure cracked. His eyes softened, as if searching for something in yours.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly to the ring on his finger again—gleaming and perfect, a stark contrast to your own bare hand. The ring you had taken off five years ago.

"I... I have everything I’m supposed to want," he began, voice quiet, almost too quiet for the room. His answer was measured, careful, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you. "I’ve built a life, a career... I’m where I’m supposed to be."

But then his eyes met yours again, and for a heartbeat, something vulnerable passed between you. "But happiness?" He let the question hang in the air, not answering it fully, but leaving the meaning clear. His gaze lingered a second longer, unspoken words filling the silence.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your emotions in check as the weight of what wasn’t said between you pressed down. His answer, or lack of one, told you everything.

You glanced down at your next question, but your voice betrayed you, trailing off as you asked, "Do you… ever think about the life you could have had? If things had been different?"

Heeseung’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression unreadable. The question hadn’t been on the script. You hadn’t even realized you’d said it until it was too late. A deafening silence filled the room, every crew member, every camera operator feeling the tension brewing between you both.

His jaw clenched slightly, and for a moment, it looked like he wasn’t going to answer. But then, his voice came, soft, barely above a whisper, yet laced with emotion. "Sometimes… I think about the life I could have had. The life I almost had."

The way he said it made your breath hitch. You weren’t sure if anyone else in the room could hear it, but to you, it felt like the only thing that mattered. His words hung in the air, filling the space between you with a weight too heavy to ignore.

You tried to regain control, but you were slipping further, your thoughts clouded by the memories you had worked so hard to forget. "Do you have any regrets about the past?” you asked, the question intended more for your own sake than for the magazine.

Heeseung's expression softened, and for the first time throughout the interview, his voice wavered. ‘Regret... it's complicated. There are times when you make choices because you believe they’re what’s best for everyone. Yet there are nights when you can’t help but think… what if?’"

His words hit you like a wave, washing over you with the force of all the unspoken feelings between you. What if. Two simple words, yet they carried the weight of everything you had left behind.

Your breath hitched, and you glanced down at your notes, trying to steer the interview back to safer ground. But the damage was done. You couldn’t hide from the truth anymore.

You felt your eyes well up, memories flooding back of the days when Heeseung had been your world. The secret rendezvous, the promises whispered under moonlit skies, the proposal on the beach—the life you almost had. You swallowed hard, pushing the memories down.

"Two weeks until the wedding," you said, your voice hollow, desperate to pull the conversation back to the present. "Are you… ready?"

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at you, really looked at you, as if seeing past the years, past the distance, and straight into the heart of the girl he had once loved. His lips parted, but the answer you expected didn’t come.

"Are you?" he asked quietly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline.

Your breath caught in your throat. The room felt too small, the walls too close. You blinked, shaking your head slightly as if that could shake off the weight of the moment.

The tension between you was unbearable now. You could feel every unsaid word, every lingering regret, every what-if stretching between you, filling the space with a heaviness you could no longer ignore.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Lee," you said, your voice tight, trying to wrap up the interview before you completely unraveled.

But as you stood to leave, Heeseung’s voice stopped you.

"Y/N…"

He adjusted his cufflinks, and the air between you grew heavier. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “Do you ever think about… that time?”

You looked at him, surprised he had asked. The cameras aren’t rolling anymore. “All the time,” you admitted, the truth slipping out before you could stop it.

Heeseung nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah… me too.”

You paused, not daring to turn around, your heart in your throat.

"If I had another chance…" His voice was barely a whisper now, but it sliced through the room like a knife. "I would risk everything."

Your hand hovered on the door handle, but you couldn’t move. His words clung to you, wrapping themselves around your heart like a vice. You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

But you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t.

Instead, you stepped out of the studio, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you, knowing that you’d leave this room just as you had left him five years ago—heartbroken and haunted by what could have been.

About an hour after the interview, you found yourself standing at the back of the studio, watching as Heeseung and his fiancée posed for their couple shots. He looked effortlessly handsome in his pristine black tuxedo, while she glimmered in a flowing gown, radiant and picture-perfect.

“Smile a little wider, Heeseung!” the photographer urged, and your heart ached as you watched him comply, his smile lighting up the scene in a way that had once been reserved for you.

You swallowed hard, the memories flooding back—late-night laughter, whispered secrets, and the way he’d promised you the world. A crew member nudged you, breaking your reverie. “They really are the perfect couple,” he said.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice thick with unshed tears.

As you turned away, the sight of them—the life you had once envisioned—felt like a dagger to your heart. It was time to leave, to step back into your own reality, but a lingering question haunted you: What if things had been different?

[nobodyknowsimalesbian777]

My Girl - Sevika (Arcane)

NSFW tags - literally porn, sub!Sevika, dom!reader, pussy-eatting (s!receiving), very light fingering (s!receiving), strap usage (s!receiving), choking, strap refered to as dick, no use of y/n (ever), dirtyyyyy talk, pet names (baby, my girl, slut) 18+

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

nobody would expect sevika to submit to anyone, she was known to be headstrong, and loyal

and loyal to you, she was. so when you brought up the idea of using the strap on her, she saw no other choice then letting you try.

she teased you endlessly when you asked, telling you that she never got especially loud or submissive.

fortunately for you, she was very wrong.

sevika had eased you down between her legs, resting her metal arm on her thigh while you pulled down her boxers

her breath was shaky as you spread her pretty pussy, swiping your thumb across her clit

a soft groan escaped her as you gazed up at her sharp features, under most circumstances, people would be terrified to be under a woman like her

you, however, were thrilled

you reveled in her features contorting as you gently worked around her entrance, sliding the tip of your middle finger in and pulling it out

holding eye contact, you brought the finger up to your mouth and set it on your tounge, sucking it with a soft pop

sevika was already unraveling. being this vulnerable was making her head spin, and her legs open

she wrapped her fingers into your hair, pulling your face down to her core

your eyebrows knit together as you worked your tounge up and down sevikas slit, maintaining eye contact with the woman above you

it didn't take long for sevikas legs to start shaking, throwing her head back and muttering obscenities like "give me that fuckin' mouth", "right there, baby" and your personal favorite, "i want your dick"

you couldn't help but slow to a stop when you heard that, not expecting a request that needy from sevika

not that you were complaining at all

without a second thought, you reached over and grabbed the hot pink strap from your shared bedside table

sevikas eyes widened with anticipation, as she muttered something about not being scared

you murmered to the woman below you while you worked your strap up and down her soaked pussy,

she placed her heavy hand on the back of your neck, taking deep breaths and bringing your lips down to hers

the dominance she lacked in her current position was made up for with the way she was kissing you,

her hand kept your lips pressed to hers while she worked her tounge into your mouth

you couldn't even help the soft moans you let out as you started lining the strap up with her hole

"ready?" you cocked your head at sevika, watching her determined nod

how cute she was to think you didn't intend on ruining her.

you slowly pressed the tip of the strap into her, watching her throw her head back and grip the back of your neck hard enough to bruise

the deeper you pushed in, the less you recognized the stubborn woman you were so used to

sevikas mouth had found purchase in your neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh to stiffle her own moans

your hips met her thighs as you bottomed out, watching her face for any sign of discomfort

sevika looked down at the way she was taking your dick, her eyebrows knitting together at the sight

of course, you took this moment to bring your hips back and slam them back into her, eliciting a guttural sound from the woman below you

you watched as her jaw slacked, the pleasure lowering her inhibitions

you could swear you had never seen a more beautiful sight then sevika writhing around under you, begging you to go faster

"fuck, thats my girl. just like that" her rough voice echoed in your ears, urging you to fuck her as fast as you could manage

the room was filled with lewd sounds of skin slapping, and sevikas groans

you swear you felt her pussy tighten around you, you just knew she was close.

sevikas metal arm wrapped around you, the cool metal pressing you closer as she rotated her hips into you, chasing her own high

the rough back of the strap bumping perfectly against your clit, combined with sevikas impending orgasm was nearly enough to send you over the edge

her wrapping her hand around your throat while she told you to fuck her like a slut? that was more then enough.

you felt yourself unravel as you doubled over onto sevika, listening to her work herself through her orgasm on your strap

sevika pulled you up, laying you next to her while you both caught your breath. you could feel her wrap her metal arm around your waist as she murmered thank you's

the air smelt of sex, you were both exhausted, and you could feel sevikas legs shaking under you, but as you cleaned her up, you both knew it would be happening again

[aestheticpebbles]

Servus Dei

Pairing: Priest!AU Aegon II Targaryen x reader

Warnings: NSFW/18+ ONLY! MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED, MDNI!, swearing, violence, murder, smut, religious/catholicism imagery/mentions/themes, priest+nun power dynamic abuse, dirty talking, light dubcon if you squint, fluff if you squint harder, use of alcohol, porn with plot, fingering, overstimulation, choking, oral (f receiving), p in v intercourse.

Summary: Father Aegon arrived at your convent, but things become alarming once you realize he isn’t the priest he appears to be.

Word Count: 8.1k

A/N: fic below the cut! not religious at all so please correct me if I messed anything up! also, not proofread… but enjoy! inspo from his cunty hair serving from s1.ep.8.

1548. Somewhere outside of Florence, Italy.

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Amen.“

The rosary beads clenched tightly laced around your slender fingers nearly gave way to a pinching sensation between your knuckles as you prayed under your breath, reciting ‘Our Father’ as you do every morning upon dressing into your white habits and joining the nuns and sisters at the first morning service of your convent.

However, you weren’t sent here upon your own bidding, rather than fulfilling the wish of your parents after they sought to nip your rebellious streak of your late teenage years in the bud after you expressed during a drunken fit that you instead wished to dance and drink until you dropped before marrying off to some Lord.

You knew your parents did this to reduce any scandalous likelihood of you, an unwed daughter of a newer-money noble family, boring a bastard, but you still did not forgive them for your new life of chastity and divine mercy worship. Yawn.

You were still considered to be relatively new to the convent as you were just beginning your second year of working towards your devotion to God and being tested on your postulancy, so you still wore white robes and veils rather than black. You felt as though you had done well in your studies of the faith thus far considering the circumstances in which you were brought here upon.

“Good morning sister,” Sister Hilda, another white-robed sister about a year older than you, smiled once the first service ended and you found a place next to her side while making your way to the dining hall for breakfast.

The sun’s morning rays that began to peek over the horizon illuminated the dining hall with a dim, blue hue as the world awakened. You both made yourselves plates of bread and cheeses before sitting down together. Talk was kept small and hushed between the two of you while discussing various scriptures and chores needed to be done.

“I heard the new priest is arriving this morning,” Sister Hilda suddenly whispered under her breath, my eyes flickering up to meet her gaze upon the sudden topic of a conversation that could be considered borderline gossip and would serve much to the dismay of any superiors if anyone would overhear the two white-robed and veiled young women conversing over such a topic.

Instead of scolding Sister Hilda once your gazes met, you proved your nature of still wearing the white fabrics rather than blacks by leaning in as well about an inch or so, quickly looking around to see if anyone was lingering nearby to eavesdrop before responding to her.

“Is that so?” Your eyebrow cocked up in surprise. There had been talks of a new priest that had recently left from an abbey outside of London, and was continuing his preach of faith now here with us at our nunnery as our current priest was, well, he was old, “have you…?”

“Within the hour, I heard,” Sister Hilda’s eyes lit up with excitement, proving her own nature as she still struggled with her own inner turmoil with such activities. You found the vow of celibacy at first to be something that you wouldn’t have to think twice about while you devoted yourself, but as time went on, you found yourself seeking repentance and trying to pray away the gnawing feeling you felt bubbling within sometimes that made you doubt your own worth in the eyes of the faith.

You nodded once, acknowledging her words carefully with a playful side smirk. Though gossip was highly discouraged, word still had many opportunities to be carried by the wind throughout the dormitories of your convent.

“Il suo nome?” Your voice dropped down low once more after a few moments, switching from English to Italian just to be safe when you asked Hilda ‘his name?’, but she only shrugged in response, unsure of the answer either.

After breakfast, like usual, you found yourself in the library as you were one of the few sisters who, thanks to your upbringing in a decently noble family, had been taught Latin. You often found means of completing your daily chores by aiding in the translation of Holy passages and texts.

Today, you had been handed a scripture to be translated by an older nun who always wore a signature grouch, so there wasn’t much to be said when you were given the dusty book made of animal skin and thick, waxy lacing that secured the spine.

A relic of the sort lost to at least 300 years, resurfaced once more only to become your problem to deal with when you immediately find yourself scowling under your veil at the faded ink on the ancient pages. You stood up and found yourself a dictionary in Latin just in case whoever wrote that damn pitiful book didn’t know what they were saying, much to the older nun’s dismay but you didn’t care as you sat back down with a murmured ‘God help me’ under your breath.

Dipping your feather quill into a small jar of black ink, you began your day’s work of translating the pages that were practically threatening to fall apart as you delicately turned over each one.

It possibly would have felt odd for another white-veiled sister like yourself to have been tasked with translating such an eerie text of those who wore multiple, yet all beautiful faces and how to ward them off, but like it was just another day, it was just another book of Latin words that you were tasked to translate into fresh ink of English literature between your obligatory meetings for daily prayers and masses with the others, and you’ve read worse.

Your legs were itching to stand after sitting down for an extended period of time, nearly a static-like burn radiating deep as you leaned back in your chair from your upright posture, slouching your shoulder forward for a grace moment with an exhale before standing upright once more properly in case the Abbess, Mother Esther, walked by.

Afternoon sunlight beams shone through a nearby window that you now stood in front of trying to warm yourself up from the cooler temperature of the library, your muscles easing against the windowsill as your wrists and fingers had ached for a little while as well.

Being on the 2nd floor of the building meant having a lovely view of the convent’s architectural layout and the courtyard within the open holdfast of about an acre or so. A few young black locust trees littered the acre, creating enjoyable spots for shaded rest you occasionally found yourself under, almost smiling to yourself when thinking about better times than translating 300+ year old scriptures from Latin to English about an ill-satiable apparition—it’s biblical name, Agneo, one who shapeshifts and requires to feeds from the sins of its prey. A book of complete lunacy that was a blessing in disguise as it gave you something to do.

However, the momentary bliss of recounting suddenly soured once you realized you were about to miss the 4th prayer service mass of the day when you looked down from the window and saw a huddle of those remaining outside waiting to file along inside in orderly fashion across the courtyard of your convent.

It was no use to try to rush out and attempt to make it, so you hesitantly let out a tense sigh and leaned against the window still, your eyes moving to ground below until you saw mainly atop skulls of Mother Esther dressed in her finest– and in tow, a man that nearly made your lips part upon the sight of his features after the involuntary oath of celibacy you took on.

Broad shouldered, his face even from above was sharp-featured, straight nosed, and platinum blond hair as could be neatly combed and parted down the middle. He is, undeniably, the most beautiful man you have ever laid your wretched eyes on, and the sight made your legs press together as you watched the two of them below you.

Once seeing him, you were desperate to see Sister Hilda to willingly break your vows of what your new lifestyle meant to share the gossip of sin, to gossip silly words that meant plenty well beneath the surface that meant for yourself at least to have plenty of reason to seek confession and repentance from His mercy in the foreseeable future.

During your brief moment of pure sin, or what sin at least means to you at the time, you let out a small gasp and moved away from the glass realizing the neat head of hair was slowly tilting upwards in an almost premeditated manner, and from the 2nd floor, his ice blue eyes burned scorching hot daggers like the gates of hell straight into your soul for the mere seconds that you held his sudden eye contact.

As if he knew you were standing there above him and Mother Esther, as if he knew you had been leaning against the edge of the windowsill with your legs crossed and your thighs pressed together at the perfect angle while you watched them when you were supposed to be in the 4th prayer service.

Your heart was pounding in a mixture of adrenaline, anticipation, and … excitement. A certain feeling you haven’t felt since before being sent here. Desire.

Despite shifting away from your original stance next to the window, your vision couldn’t move away any further out of sight from him as the two of you kept your eyes locked.

Within that brief moment that felt like eternity and despite the temptation that threatened to fester within your neglected core now reigniting, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as your instincts inside your mind began screaming ‘flight’ but your feet were cemented in place while looking down into his cold, dead eyes.

Behind the decrepit Mother Esther’s back, the new priest held his eye contact with you with a stone-like expression of almost disgust until the corners of his lips tugged and curled upright into a smirk. One side of his lips tugged higher than the other side and it made your blood run cold despite the heat pooling between your legs.

You exhaled once his head turned to meet Mother Esther’s as she turned back around to him to point out the library, and the two of them continued on and you were finally able to move from the frozen stance you held.

You had managed to avoid the new priest, his name quickly learned by you through Sister Hilda to be Father Aegon—until you found yourself kneeling before him at the altar rails while he wore the same disgustedly amused expression while placing the communion bread into your cupped palms sitting upright.

“Amen,” you murmured softly, placing the wafer into your mouth as he extended his other hand and brought the cup of wine in front of you as you swallowed thickly.

“The blood of Christ, shed for you,” Father Aegon nearly purred, the sound of his voice speaking directly to you for the first time was intimidating enough, let alone the manner in which it rolled off of his tongue was enough to catch you off guard and leave you stunned at such a vocal display during a Holy service.

Your lips had parted a few centimeters due to your shock and your bottom lip quivered as you barely choked out another ‘amen’ in response while he pressed the rim of the chalice against the pillowed flesh.

Maybe it was the way he spoke, or the way he wears devilish tight-lipped smiles like he knows he's fluffing up another chicken house with unpreened, unruffled hens who live among cobwebs, or maybe it’s the way you can feel him staring straight down into your soul as you took a sip of the wine while holding eye contact with him up through your eyelashes.

After drinking the same wine since the day you first arrived and you had returned to your seat, you realized on your tongue that the aftertaste of the once bitter representation of the Blood of Christ was now sweet. Too sweet.

The type of sweet that makes the feeling of temptation to yearn for more not sound half bad even though you still found shame while you prayed in your seat until the end of the communion, even more so in the hours that followed when nobody else seemed to comment on the wine. As if the taste was unchanged to the rest.

You actually managed well to avoid Father Aegon as he settled in and slowly took over hosting more and more masses and prayers over the next fortnight, though it was absolute agony that was slowly chipping away at your sanity.

No matter the distance between the two of you, an unnerving fear always found you when in his presence and even more so if it was without your knowledge on a passing occasion or he could see you but you couldn’t see him. Since the day he arrived, you felt like you were no longer alone at any moment, always holding your breath to turn a corner like an accidental dance of cat and mouse for no real reason.

You’d be shunned if you dared speak the reason of your maintained distance being temptation, even if you were going such lengths avoiding him to resist such.

Father Aegon’s piercing gaze alone sent chills down your spine, enough to rattle the assembled vertebrae within the confines of your habits just like the one that coursed through you while you browsed the shelves of the library looking for works regarding astronomy to keep you company in the late hours after the Midnight Mass.

You didn’t need to see him to know he was likely stalking nearby, whispering with that strangely enticing demeanor he holds himself up with, and the way his perfectly plump lips were always cocked in some purse of amusement to offset the dark purple, sunken look to his eyes as if he hadn’t slept in days, weeks.

Your own eyes had begun to mirror Father Aegon’s sullen look as well during your descent into the madness occurring within your mind when you started to lose sleep because of him sinking his claws into you even in your dreams filled with imagery of sin beyond your comprehension. The more time you spent trying to avoid him, the more he encroached upon every aspect of your life and you hadn’t so much but exchange momentary glances and proper greetings spoken hushed on your part.

After all, anyone would find holding eye contact difficult with one whom they have carnal, perverse dreams about, waking up panting in the middle of the night covered in sweat and an agonizing pool between your legs. Even after waking up you could still feel his touch on your skin.

Though what terrified you the most was the eventual visible appearance that left residual memory fragments from the vivid dreams, as if they themselves were distant memories, real memories, from the past. Gripping bruises protected by layers were littered around your wrists, arms, thighs, breasts, small bite marks and scratches even as well. Some even would remain red, or pink as if they had just occurred moments or hours prior, but that couldn’t be possible.

You’ve been alone all these nights… right?

“What could possibly interest you at such an hour, sister?” The voice of the dreaded priest you desperately sought to avoid drew out from behind you, causing your shoulders to roll back into a stiffened posture to play off the chill that threatened to visibly shake you. You closed your eyes for a moment while goosebumps broke out across your skin hidden beneath the white fabrics before quickly reaching up to grasp the book you intended to grab and pulled it close to your chest before turning around to face him.

“Astronomy, Father,” you answered without nearly half a spine, mentally cursing yourself at your inability to hold yourself with dignity when subject to his commanding gaze.

Father Aegon never failed to not wear his smug grin that seemed to compliment the sullen orbs that were half-lidded in what could only be described by a blind person as being a seductive manner. When you finished answering him and his smirk grew, you didn’t miss his tongue swiping across his pillowy bottom lip— both stained red… and the smell that belonged to that of alcohol.

You swallowed thickly once putting the puzzle pieces in place and your fingers gripped the corners of the book tighter and the edges dug into the creases of your fingers creating a pleasant stinging sensation to help stay grounded. The priest, he who is supposed to live and serve to proclaim the word of God, stood here before you with sweet wine coating his wicked tongue with practiced precision.

Father Aegon had sin written all over his cruelly beautiful face. Certainly not to be trusted at any given second.

Father Aegon’s smug half-smirk was still etched on his mouth that sent another chill down your spine when his irises unmistakably fell from holding your gaze down to your own lips with those lazily-hooded blue eyes swirling with emotions beyond your somewhat innocent comprehension.

Father Aegon was absolutely terrifying to be around, but although your fear didn’t directly come from him, your own body produces enough cortisol and epinephrine for an entire herd of corralled sheep waiting to be slaughtered by just being around him. Afraid of the fact that if he touched you right now, you know you wouldn’t be able to stop. Afraid of the fact that you know he may know how you truly feel deep down by just looking at you with those eyes that appear to be hiding an inferno from within himself.

“Copernicus…” Father Aegon suddenly murmured with a cock of his eyebrow as if he had posed the single word as a question rather than the affirmative tone he used when referencing the Polish astronomer whose works had caught your interest when accessible, “you like him, Sister?”

“He’s an accomplished astronomer and a fine mathematician,” you responded carefully, unsure of the waters of the moment and feeling the bile threatening to rise and expel which prompted you to kindly dismiss yourself wishing to depart to rest for the evening until he suddenly reached out as you turned to walk. His taut grip around your dainty wrist in comparison to his large hand was daunting and was an unexpected rush of surprise-horror when you were practically yanked back where you stood before him.

“Hm,” Father Aegon hummed in amusement, a flash of something eerie glazing over his lazily hooded eyes while his strong grip on your wrist loosened slightly, but not without his calloused thumbpad grazing gently across the delicate skin of the underside of your wrist, “why don’t you come by my office tomorrow evening? I have a piece that would interest you… brought it with me from when I met him briefly at Oxford.”

Your own eyebrow cocked at his words, nearly-half bewildered that a man like him went from such a prestigious place like the Oxford society to… priesthood in Florence where he, in the middle of the night, now was intoxicated and having you cornered like a rat subject to his mercy while his thumb caressed your wrist like a coveted lover.

Your eyes flickered down to the tight grip he held on your arm and you dared to pull once more, and much to your surprise he let go. Looking back up at him, he was amused with a strange sense of triumph like he could already foresee the internal turmoil you would be rolling in all day tomorrow until you would eventually cave in within yourself to give in and seek him out for the sake of knowledge.

Wasn’t that the sin of Eve? Coaxed by the snake, the devil, to taste the forbidden apple of knowledge?

Father Aegon wouldn’t taste half as sweet as an apple, but a part of you knew deep down that with dealing with a man like him and his caliber comes with knowing the venom from his fanged canines would likely sting twice as bad in the days to come if you did not seek him out.

So like the loyal hound you were, there weren’t many inhibitions that stopped your fingers from clasping the golden ring hanging from a matching golden lion’s head mounted on the wooden door and knocking twice. You knew you had no business being here at this hour. You had stopped by this very office twice today, once before dinner, and again afterwards but left both times with only pursed lips and heightened anxiety. Evening. Evening. Evening.

“Sister…” Father Aegon grinned upon seeing the sweet lamb standing there outside of his door waiting so patiently for him like the good girl that he knew she is even if she couldn’t muster any words to properly greet him. He stepped out of your way with an outstretched palm directed towards an empty chair sitting on the other side of his desk, the open hand gesturing to you to sit, “please, come in.”

Shame and humility fueled the pace that drove your footsteps from the corridor and into his working office in a scurry, the fuel most delectable for sin to fester within and grow necrotic while Father Aegon shut the door behind you. You couldn’t miss the sound of the lock turning over as you focused on your breathing pattern and your fumbling fingertips toying with one another as you sat down and silently pulled your chair in under yourself.

It wasn’t the locking of the door that made your eyes widen, but watching him pick up a golden, jeweled chalice that sat on the edge of his desk with matching rings adorning his thick digits, taking a hearty swig while sauntering behind you and over to a large bookshelf on the left wall that likely carried prized works both owned by the convent and his finest pieces.

You kept your head straight for the most part, only tilting it slightly to be able to keep an eye on him in the corner of your peripheral and through the thin white veil head covering, watching his ringed finger reach up to one of the shelves while the other hand held the chalice. The way he moved so freely was almost sensual in a way, his fingertip grazing the spines of the prized collection of knowledge as he searched using the dim orange glow emanating from the roaring hearth that danced as the flames waved.

“Tell me, sweet girl, what is it about the stars that calls to you… draws your attention so?” Father Aegon suddenly broke the silence that only hosted the soft crackling of the embers causing your head to angle slightly more in his direction. You swallowed thickly again, inhaling through your nose while watching his index finger curl around a medium-sized book and gently tug it free from the confines of the neat shelf.

“One can’t help but wonder who they are,” you answered shakily, referring to the stars themselves, the subconscious anxious habit of your fingertips toying with one another going full blast in your lap that had sparked back to life hearing the previous words of endearment he must addressed you with as if he was toying with you too, “what are they… what are they made of?”

Father Aegon nodded slowly with another hum of acknowledgment as he turned on his heel with his chin cockily angled, walking back over to where you sat on the other side of his desk and stepped next to your chair. He held out the book for you to take and you did after a moment of hesitation, taking the book delicately from him as your eyes danced over the intricate stitching and adhesives carefully applied that held the valuable text together.

He stood over you for a moment with one hand on the back of your chair, the other bringing the rim to his lips for another swig before he let go, much to your approval as you let out an exhale you didn’t realize you were holding, and stepped away to sit down in his own chair on the other side of the desk while you admired and he purred out, “the book… Copernicus’ heliocentric theories. One of the first copies given to me from Nicolaus himself. I’ll let you borrow it for the evening...”

You couldn’t hide the spark of interest that illuminated behind your eyes at the topic that you had been wishing to learn more about as the theories were still considered recent developments. A small smile crept onto your face but you quickly pursed your lips together to swallow your pride and triumph– something that didn’t pass by Aegon, but the suggestive tone towards the end of his final words didn’t pass by you either.

“Thank you Father,” you murmured softly, your thumbs grazing over the pressed letters of the title embossed and sealed by gold leaflets, “you are very gracious.”

Father Aegon only chuckled darkly, something you hadn’t heard yet until now and it was scarier to experience first hand than his empty, soul-piercing glare.

He took another sip of his wine before setting the chalice down on the desktop and leaning forward on his forearms with intertwined fingers and an unmistakable gleam in his wicked eyes, “I’ll tell you what Sister. I have heard nothing but good remarks regarding your performance… I’ll let you have it if you promise to take good care of it.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and your forehead scrunched in confusion, lips parting in shock but quickly stammering out a response to his words while gently placing the book down on the desk with a forced smile. A part of joining sisterhood was an oath of poverty despite your aversion to the lifestyle but your conditioning was taking over your frazzled mindset, and a book of that value had no business being in your possession good marks or not.

“Father I-I apologize, I can’t accept such a gift, you honor me but-I,” your tongue and lips failed to coordinate without an exasperated stutter while your brain misfired, only making Father Aegon’s lips curl further upwards in a devious smile.

“Call it a favor then,” Father Aegon replied with a low purr, his half-lidded eyes missing any trace of the blue pigment against the orange hue of the fire and the darkness of the world as he stood up, slowly stalking back around to where he stood behind your chair again.

“A…favor?” Your eyebrows dropped from the cocked expression of shock into one of weary alert as you tried to read him as best as you could, holding eye contact with him until he eventually always won with the inferno that reflected in his black holes for dilated irises while he walked to your most vulnerable side.

“A favor,” Father Aegon sluggishly murmured in response, his teeth baring in his amused grin when you flinched feeling the topside of the joints of his fingers reach up from behind you and brush against your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered under his delicate brushing touch against your cheek, unable to comprehend a single thought in regard to how to react to such inappropriate behavior and gestures being exchanged, but after involuntary celibacy and conditioned shame, it only drove you further mad yearning for the touch of a skilled lover after being denied such pleasures for so long.

It wasn’t until his index finger pressed against the underside of your chin to lift your head up and his thumb curling up to press against your bottom lip that you were violently dragged back to reality. Looking up at him while fidgeting with your fingers absentmindedly in your lap, he smiled deviously as if he was a child with free reign in a candy shop.

He stepped in front of you to enter the small space available between you sitting in the chair and his desk, leaning against the edge as he twisted and reached back to grab the chalice he’d left behind, turning back to you. Your heart pounded in your chest watching him extend his hand, guiding the rim to your lips and raising the cup for gravity to let the rich, deep red juice funnel into your mouth as if you were kneeling at the altar and had already received your tasteless communion wafer.

Eyes widening, you realized he wasn’t relenting until you finished off the remnants of the chalice when he kept tilting the cup’s stem and you having to swallow in faster lapses than expected to keep up with his antics causing you to choke softly.

You pursed your lips shut tightly with a bemused expression on your face between his actions and the sweet red wine, unable to save the small bead that gathered and trickled down from your lip to your chin, but Aegon was there to spare your white habits from any stains with a brush of his thumb collecting the alcoholic nectar and bringing it to his own lips to suck clean off.

“Tell me… why are you really here?” Father Aegon slurred out between tipsy snickers after releasing his thumb with a sickly sweet suckle like he knew exactly the effect he had on you and the reactions you were willing to give back with a little shove.

“My parents wished not for scandal,” you blurted out, almost like not caring how sloppy you spoke for the sake of your own honorable presentation.

“So, you liked to get around. You liked to have fun… you were a whore?” Father Aegon’s grin was wicked and curled up with a sense of malice as he gently caressed your cheek while you shared details about yourself to him. You knew he found some sort of satisfaction with your words by the way his teeth clenched like he was thinking hard through the intoxicated haze of his own mind.

“Um-,” your eyebrows furrowed again, a streak of anger shooting through you causing you to flinch again away from his hand, pulling out of his grasp on your chin as you stood up, not willing to explain to him that laying with two men that you had possibly seen as prospective husbands doesn’t make a young lady… a whore, “I apologize Father this is highly inappropriate. I should go.”

Your abrupt reaction to his words seemed to replace the playful gleam in his eyes with one that teetered on the edge of malice and danger, one that made your blood run cold. Panic flared through you when he dropped the golden chalice without care, and grabbing your wrist with one hand, yanking you back down to sit again.

“We are not done talking, Sister,” Father Aegon snarled out, a sinister gleam in his eyes while he stood up straight, letting go of your wrist only to take a hold of your chin once more, your lips slightly smushed between his fingers, “I haven’t given you permission to dismiss yourself.”

“I-I am sorry, Father,” you sputtered out, unsure of how to respond to him and his firm, calculated grip that always reminded you he was one step ahead at any given point. Aegon only hummed in amusement, his moist tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip as he turned your head in his grip from side to side, studying the details of your face against the orange glow from the inferno of the fireplace.

“Let me see you show it…Prove it,” Father Aegon’s eyes lit up in deranged excitement while yours glossed over in confused horror, sitting frozen in shock while he kept his grip on your chin with one hand, the other reaching up seemly to lovingly caress your cheek only to fist a palm full of your white veil, forcefully undressing your dreadful headdress and revealing one of your secrets you hid from your other Sisters. Instead of cutting your hair short like the rest, you kept yours braided and secured beneath your headdress, the same one Aegon pulled off without hesitation that made your jaw drop in disbelief.

“I don’t understa-,” you cried out in a sudden frustration, angered that he was abusing the power dynamic he knew he held, then still having enough fuel inside him when daring to lay a hand on you in such an inappropriate manner and revealing your hair.

If your Sisters found out you hid your hair, you could suffer greatly socially, and Aegon just paved his way straight over without any second thoughts. Your words though were cut off when his fingers clutched your braids and yanked you back to your feet.

“Understand this, doll. I see the way you look at me, how you scurry away from me like a mouse, there’s nowhere you can hide from me,” Father Aegon taunted, his dilated pupils laced with delirium and sin as he maniacally giggled, “I know everything.”

Any protests or shrill shrieks that could have escaped your mouth would be forced to be made straight into Father Aegon’s mouth that nearly swallowed your face whole when his lips came colliding down on yours in a pre-established sloppy, yet demanding kiss.

You wished to want the will to release a frightful scream against his lips, to cry out in disgust, to thrash around violently in his concrete hold on you while he forced his tongue into your mouth after letting go of your chin and dropping down to your hip.

His grip quickly moved from squeezing your hip around to your backside, grabbing a fistful of your buttock and his other hand still holding and tugging on your hair to elicit a gasp while your palms were outstretched when pressing back against his firm chest, but you did none of those things as your mind began buzzing softly, signaling the beginning the swirling descent into a tipsy haze from the amount of alcohol he had you consume in one sitting.

In fact, you did the opposite once the taste of him resonated with you when you found yourself sucking back on his tongue instead of screaming and crying about your dignity, your outstretched palms bundling up the fabric of his neat, black collar between your fingers like a deserted whore needy for more. Because that’s exactly what you felt like, and the realization made you sick when you suddenly were spun around in his groping embrace to be lifted onto the desktop.

Father Aegon wasted no time shoving his knee between your legs and parting them to situate himself between your legs without breaking the heated exchange between your lips that caused soft groans to escape from the both of you.

His hand that held your buttock again wasted no time reaching under your skirts, hiking the fabric up while he held your whimpering skull in place by your hair as he kissed down your jawline, panting heavily in your ear when he traced up your inner thigh.

He smiled wickedly against the shell of your ear while you managed to let out a stifled moan feeling his fingertips slither their way past your small clothes dampened by your arousal, massaging agonizingly slow circles against your clothed clit, sending ripples of electricity through your body. a soft, humiliating ‘there she is’ was murmured into the cartilage that echoed down to your eardrum once your lips parted with your surrender and giving into his touch, your cheeks shamefully burning red hot.

“For someone who took a vow of chastity, your cunt weeps like a virgin,” Father Aegon nibbled softly on your earlobe while your face contorted in pent-up pleasure and your mind swirled. In truth, you hadn’t truly consumed that much alcohol, but the effect he had on your mind caused the effect to feel 10-fold from the scent of his musk and the wine on his lips, his wretched tongue and damned touch assaulting all of your senses out of nowhere.

Your fingers clutching onto his black button up gripped on for dear life feeling his fingers begin to variate their course from rubbing circles to teasing your slit before dropping down, his middle finger breaching fully past your entrance coaxing a shrill gasp from your throat that his lips were licking and placing open-mouthed kissing down. One of your hands jumped from his shirt to his bicep, wincing from the sudden scissoring penetration as he got to work establishing a pace.

“Fuck, your pussy is so tight,” Aegon murmured quietly through a groan against your skin, your entrance clamping down almost painfully around the 2nd digit he teased your tight hole with for a moment before adding it in, his middle and ring finger moving in and out of you in overwhelming patterns that made you look at the back of your skull doubled with the feeling of his free hand suddenly groping your breast through your robes, pinching and rolling your clothed nipple between his fingertips, “this pussy ever been fucked?”

Your eyes rolled back straight and snapped wide open at the vulgarity of his words, your lips parted further in sheer shock that those words could at all even be used together in a sentence, but your body was still betraying you as you ground your hips against his hand that was fucking you mercilessly. How this man became a priest was beyond you at this point, barely choking out a ‘yes’, his gaze darkening as if that wasn’t what he wanted to hear and he let go of your breast, reaching up behind the nape of your neck again.

Aegon’s hand found a hold your braided hair and twisted once more, a pained cry leaving your lips and your eyes screwing shut in another wince while his own lips were curled upwards. His eyes bright with a sinister intent, his other hand still pumping his two fingers in and out and you panted with a heaving chest.

“My name, sweet girl, say it right,” Aegon purred with an underlying, dangerous tone of voice that hid the true intentions that he was only giving you one chance to say it right despite multiple answers being applicable to stroke his ego while his fingers repetitively curling a ‘come hither’ motion within you.

“Yes sir,” you finally cried out, his chest emanating a grunt of acceptance meanwhile your spine arching as the coil deep within you threatened to build up. As if Aegon could read you like the back of his hand, he let go of your hair and reached around you as he swiped everything, including the prized book, clear from off of his desk.

He withdrew his fingers from your weeping cunt much to your dismay, only to be rendered speechless when he used both of his hands to grab and move you by your hips to the side of the desk, using one to shove your back down to lay on the surface and the other to hastily hiked up the skirt of your habits as his head dipped down, his lips kissing and his teeth nipping up your inner thighs.

You prayed that nobody was walking by Father Aegon’s office as they’d receive earfuls of lewd cries that fumbled from your throat in wails after he practically dove headfirst, your legs on his shoulders and his hands holding you in place by your thighs as his lips and tongue got to work swirling and sucking on your clit.

His platinum silver curls that were neatly parted down the middle, combed and slicked back behind his ears was disheveled within seconds as you reached down and carded through his hair, crying out in pleasure and awe at his ability to seem like he already knew every inch of you by heart.

“O-Oh my,” you squeaked out, your jaw agape as you tried to grind your hips against his face as he groaned delicious vibrations against your core, his tongue in place of his fingers greedily drawing your essence from your walls in filthy slurps that had you sobbing praises in a pleading mantra as you writhed in place.

“That’s it, good girl,” Aegon praised between quiet growls, kitten-licking your tented and overstimulated bud leaving you whining and yearning for more. The coil had begun to wind up tightly in your lower belly creating a burning sensation that threatened to snap like a taut rubber band.

“I’m gonna’ come,” you cried out softly and he chuckled darkly, nipping your sensitive flesh before suckling harshly that elicited a sharp yelp from your throat that quickly morphed into a wail of surprise as you flew headfirst into your first orgasm in almost two years. Aegon feasted and slurped every drop that expelled from your contracting cunt like a starved man, groaning in delight when your evidence of ecstasy from his touch spilled from your aching core and into his greedy mouth that caused your toes to curl painfully.

Father Aegon quickly stood up, not bothering to wipe his fingers and chin that were still glistening with the residue of your orgasm causing a deep blush to form on your flushed cheeks as you slowly came back to reality from the sound of his belt unbuckling.

Aegon hastily reached into his pants and pulled his throbbing cock free from the confines of his black dress trousers, watching his beautifully plump lips parting when he slapped the angrily flushed head against your weeping cunt a few times. His vile actions were so bewildering you were rendered speechless once more, unable to formulate words when looking up at him with bleary eyes as he fondled your folds for a few seconds, gathering your slick and smearing it across his tip and down his thick shaft waiting impatiently to fuck you in half.

“This is wrong. I-We shouldn’t do this. I don’t want this. God for-,” you managed to blurt out in soft whimpers, lying to yourself to try to hold onto the last shred of dignity you had while shaking your head only earning a sadistic smile in response from Father Aegon as he cut you off.

“You don’t want this? You weren’t the same girl watching me, pressing her thighs together as she hid in the library? Stupid girl, you’re so desperate and touch-starved, I could smell your cunt from outside. Your False God isn’t here. He can’t save you,” Aegon cooed softly, shutting you up immediately as you were left staring at him like he sprouted three-heads. You wouldn’t be surprised at this lint though. A priest using the words ‘False God’— how ironic.

Despite his cruel words, his tone of voice was almost sickly sweet if his hand wasn’t guiding the head of his cock back to your entrance and you braced yourself with a shrill gasp while he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours while he giggled maniacally under his breath sending chills of fear down your spine.

Father Aegon whispered in a taunting sneer as he continued to threaten you in a gravelly voice under his breath, the stench of wine still lingering on his tongue mixed with your release, “oh, pretty girl, the only God here is me,” and with that, he pistoned his hips forward.

A sharp hissing cry fell from your lips feeling the tip of his cock parting your neglected walls, splitting you from the inside out as your jaw hung agape and his eyes were wide– almost deliriously so as his own jaw hung agape too as if he was breathing out the energy of the cries carried out by your exhales while it seemed as though your body was losing energy as the seconds passed on. Like his hand, his hips made work establishing a steady pace as he fucked you open for him, drawing raw shrieks from your diaphram that forced him to clamp his hand down over your mouth.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aegon snarled against the back of his hand as your eyes rolled back, his lips kissing the corner of your parted lips when he finally let go of your mouth after the initial burn within your core dissolved and your sobs died down. His plump lips continued to kiss down your jaw, suckling and nibbling up and down your neck as you moaned and cried out shamelessly.

His words were absolutely vile and defiling and he knew it only spurred your innocent heart further, his hand that was pressed against your mouth dropping back down to grope your breast as he fucked you deeply, “God your cunt was made for my cock. Fuck it’s so fuckin’ tight– you like it when I talk to you like that? You like being fucked like some needy slut? ‘Course you do. What would your Sisters think if they found out what their whore pupil was doing in here?”

“I can’t, I can’t,” you suddenly started blabbering out in response despite your own legs hiking up around his hips to draw him in closer, your hands reaching up and gripping onto whatever you could while you rocked back and forth to his merciless motions.

“Yes you can,” Aegon panted breathlessly against your skin, his tongue swiping across your collarbone as he grunted over and over in his own world of desire, the lewd sound of skin slapping and your cunt squelching was foul in harmony with the considerably romantic blazing of the fireplace while he kissed his way back up your neck and caught your lips in another fiery, sloppy kiss between grunts and moans and cries of pleasure.

He murmured against your lips and his free hand not holding you down against the desktop in place by your breast being kneaded between his fingers, reaching between the two of you with his other hand and rubbing furious circles on your overstimulated clit, “say my fuckin’ name. give it all to me.”

“Aeg- I’m,” you cried out against his lips trying to obey his command to use his name while feeling the coil quickly wind tight once more as he effortlessly fucked you apart. As you came, stars littered your blacked out vision as you trembled and writhed, your spine arching pathetically trying to gather as much friction as possible while you shook in pleasure. Aegon moaned lowly feeling your walls contract and squeeze his cock as he continued without stopping, fucking you straight through the waves of ecstasy that left you feeling as though you had to piss everywhere, but that wasn’t what it was.

You could not have cared any less about any repercussions of your undoing with this man tonight— until he pulled out, flipped you around and bent you over the desk, plunging back inside of your cunt from a new angle causing a mewl to rip through you, and even more so when your walls fluttered down and you practically squirted back, coating both his legs and yours from your newfound experience of being overstimulated.

But as Aegon was turning you around, you suddenly had the perfect view of Father Aegon in the reflection of a mirror that had been hanging on the wall behind you, now seeing him in a full display in a reflection for the first time and took in the image that could have fueled your nightmares for the rest of eternity.

His shadow was cast up against the ceiling from the flames of the hearth illuminated, except two massive wings stood above Aegon and joined his body’s shadow as you mewled out incomprehensible words of confusion through the haze of pleasure that wracked your mind.

“Aegon,” your voice cracked, your eyes flickering to the mirror hanging on the wall dead ahead of the two of you, finally seeing Father Aegon for who he was finally through another lense and the sight alone made a scream of fear tear through you, but once more his hand came clasping down on your mouth and another sharp cursed reprimand dripping in poison was hurled at you from behind. The reflection of the man that had you bent over like a plaything, pistoning his thick cock roughly in and out of your aching cunt in the reflection of the mirror was unlike any creature you’d ever laid eyes on before.

In the reflection, while your face was streaked with tears and flushed in terror, his face looked nothing like what you saw with your own eyes, his reflection having beady black eyes, almost paper white skin, teeth long and sharp like fanged razors and his hands with long, clawed digits. You couldn’t miss the tall, pointed and curly black horns and the almost impressive black feathered wings that slowly rose and outstretched in the air after you said his name.

You couldn’t pull your eyes from the mirror even after he said your name, his hand eventually let go of your mouth and roughly grabbed your jaw, holding your head steady. Tears flowed hot from your eyes as you tried to thrash in his hold but it was no use as he chuckled wickedly above you, his pupils blown wide but it was no comparison to the dark, gaping holes you saw in the reflection of the mirror.

Father Aegon was no Father, no priest at all, learning within seconds that life was in fact cruel like that. Was there truly a God now realizing you had the entire situation practically spelt out for you when you translated that ancient scripture in the library, but you were too naive to realize the foreshadowing. The name of the shapeshifting apparatus isnt Agneo. It’s fucking Aegon.

This revelation truly meant only one thing: Aegon was a demon, and you, by saying his name, sealed off the deal and selling him your soul, his hand angling your chin up and to the side to press his lips down on yours, his tongue working your mouth apart once more, grunting against your lips when his pace faltered.

You felt your womb grow heavy while he panted and mewled, his wretched seed spurting from the head of his cock as his hips twitched between stilled moments, painting your walls as he moaned into the crook of your neck. You thought it’d be the end of the night, your mind too frazzled to even comprehend what to do next as your blurry eyes cracked open from being scrunched shut.

But Aegon’s nightmarish reflection remained the same, his smile sinister and evil as his snakelike tongue sharp and black as could be trailed up the side of your cheek as his hand kept its tight grip on your chin to hold you steady while he collected your salty tears on his tastebuds.

“Aegon…Please don’t hurt me,” you whispered pathetically, trying to claw at his taloned grip on your face and it almost struck a chord within his despicable body as he chuckled darkly, placing a soft kiss on your trembling cheekbone.

“I think it’s too late for that, sweet girl, you taste too divine,” Aegon purred softly, your doe eyes wide with horror watching in the reflection of his other hand reaching up, his clawed talon delicately moving a stray lock of hair from your face. He actually admired you, pleading through tears and drool and all, but the moment had to end at some point as his clawed hand caressed your temple and he murmured softly against the apple of your cheek.

“Just know this though, so far, I think you were my favorite. I might actually miss you,” Aegon kissed your pillowed flesh for the last time after vocalizing his odd apology that almost felt genuinely sentimental before his talons dug into your chin and your temple to hold you steady as you cried out in protest, then silenced for eternity after his wrists rolled and snapped your neck.

His deflating cock was still buried to the hilt within you as you dropped lifelessly against the desk, and the demon removed himself from his latest victim with a triumphant smile. He hastily readjusted himself and your skirt to cover your modesty, not that you were alive anyway to care, as he sat back down in his seat.

Father Aegon kicked up and crossed his legs on the desk while pouring himself another chalice of wine, continuing to admire your lifeless expression of shock while your pupils slowly dilated, and the blood that slowly dribbled out of your nostrils and out from your lips onto the desk. The blood dripped down onto the floor while your lost soul descended to the pits of Hell with that same sinister smirk he wore the first time he laid his eyes on you.

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

Innocence (pt. 2)

Remus Lupin x f!reader

warnings: smut, protected p in v, oral (female receiving), fingering, loss of virginity, making out, underage smoking, underage drinking, slight innocence/ corruption kink, lmk if i missed any :)

summary: remus’s obsession with your purity ring gets worse, even after he finally gets it off your finger…

word count: 3.6k

a/n: ok so for anyone wondering when i wrote this i was thinking of the remus drawn by likeafunerall because omggg they draw him so good. let me know what you guys think ofc sorry if it’s not as good as the first part, i sorta rushed to get this out smh. but i’m so in love with remus hahaha

~~~

“Remus we shouldn’t be doing this...”

“Then tell me to stop.”

“I... fuck.”

Remus couldn’t help the smirk that took over his face. He finally had you in a spot he’d fantasized about countless times, he wasn’t going to let it go so easily. It was simple really. You were pressed against a wall, and he was on his knees in front of you. He wished he could see the look on your face, you must’ve been blushing hard, your soft eyes squeezed shut as you tried to deny yourself the pleasure your body craved. Unfortunately, your skirt was over his head and prevented him from seeing your pretty face as he ate you out.

It had been a few weeks since the first time you let him touch you, and it would be an understatement to say he enjoyed it. He was obsessed with it. He was obsessed with you. With every encounter the two of you shared it was like a part of your innocence was taken away and given to him. You were still far more innocent than anyone else in the year, without a doubt. But ever so slowly you were losing that innocence, and it drove Remus mad.

What else drove him mad was just how needy you became. You’d seek him out almost daily for some sort of touch. Whether it was for you, for him, or both of you, you wanted it. And you wanted it badly. Though the two of you agreed to keep what went on a secret from the rest of your friends, you sometimes were not the best at subtle hints. You would whisper to him how much you needed him and that was it. Who was he to deny you anyway? A lot changed in a short time, except for one thing.

The ring.

That stupid gold band remained on your finger through all of it. However, Remus would never say anything about it. He would never pressure you to go further, no matter how much he wished to. Because, despite the circumstances that brought the two of you together, he really did care about you. You were funny, sweet, and incredibly kind. What was there not to like? Your beauty spoke for itself, as did your inexperience. He would wait for you however long, or if you decided you never wanted to go all the way he wouldn’t care. You had more control over him than you knew.

“Rem...”

Your voice brought him back to reality. He hadn’t realized how through his thoughts he kept going. You were practically dripping; your arousal covered his chin. Without a second thought, he wet two of his fingers and gently thrust them inside you, only adding to the shakiness of your legs.

When you were done, he was quick to pull his head from under your skirt and look up at you. As he imagined, your face was bright red. But instead of your eyes being shut as they typically were, you looked down at him. There was a wildness in your eyes that he hadn’t seen before, like a mixture of confidence and something else he couldn’t name. It entranced him.

“You’re mad,” you mumbled as you began to fix your skirt and panties.

Remus chuckled. “Yeah, a bit.” He stood, not looking away from you for even a second. “But a lot for you.”

You smiled and looked away, your shyness returning. “Sure. So do you want to go back first or shall I?”

“You can, I have to go to the library anyway,” he answered. He also had to wait a few minutes for his boner to go away, but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

“Alright.” You ran your fingers through your hair and smoothened your uniform. “Do I look normal?”

“You look beautiful,” he said. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “You are beautiful.”

You were clearly flustered at his compliment, it was adorable. “Um thank you, I’ll um see you later then yeah?”

“Yeah, see you later,” he replied.

You gave him one last smile before exiting the closet, checking both ways before doing so. Remus leaned against the wall and sighed. He really was starting to like you, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing. Relationships were never of much interest to him, he always thought they took too much effort and time away from things that actually mattered. You already consumed most of his thoughts, and you took up a decent amount of his time. For once, he didn’t know what to make of the situation. Except for one thing.

The closer the two of you got, the closer he was to getting that ring off your finger.

A smile formed on his lips.

~~~

One afternoon as the two of you sat in History of Magic together listening to Professor Binns’s long lecture about one of the Giant wars, Remus decided to test your limits.

You shared a desk in the back, Lily and Mary were in front of you. Remus glanced around the room to make sure no one was paying attention. As he expected, half the class was almost asleep, and the other half was doodling on their notes or whispering with their partners. He then looked at you. Your head was perched up on your hand, your eyes fighting to stay open. It made his chest fill with excitement.

Casually, as if he were doing nothing wrong, he placed one of his hands on your knee. Instantly your eyes opened and turned to him. He pretended not to notice, though he watched your posture change from his peripheral vision. He kept his head forward as he began to slowly creep his hand up your thigh. He moved his hand under your skirt, the feeling of your warm skin a familiar comfort.

“Remus,” you whispered his name like a warning.

As his fingertips brushed against your panties, he turned to you and lifted a finger to his lips, silently telling you to be quiet. Much to his surprise, you didn’t push him away. You only nodded your head and pretended to turn your attention back to the lecture. He slipped his fingers under your panties and found you were already wet.

Dirty girl, he thought as he began to touch you.

~~~

The fateful day came not too long after that day. Truthfully, though he had been trying to build up to it for at least a month or two, he didn’t expect it. When you first told him about what the ring symbolized, you were set on following the rules. Other guys had tried to fuck you before, he knew that, and you told him about that. So, what was different about him? Was it because the two of you had been friends since first year? Or was it because he was simply the first boy who truly tried? You were more of a mystery than he expected.

On the special day or night, Remus snuck you up to his dorm. It was during the celebration of Gryffindor winning the quidditch cup which meant no one would be in the dorm until very late, if ever. The two of you had a few drinks, but not enough to make either of you drunk. He had even convinced you to take a hit from his cigarette. Though you coughed terribly, he still thought you looked very attractive. The air that night felt different, even to him, perhaps that’s why you finally decided you wanted to go all the way.

“Did you see Sirius?” You laughed after the two of you entered the dorm. “He was starting to pour body shots.”

“He’s celebrating, let him live,” he replied with a smile.

You fell back onto his bed, and your laughter continued. He made sure to cast an extra locking spell on the door before he moved to the bed and laid down next to you. You instantly turned on your side, propped yourself up on your elbow, and stared down at him, that wild look back in your eyes.

“What’s your game then Lupin,” you said.

He looked at you confused. “What do you mean?”

“With me. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were eleven, we’ve hung around the same people, but we were never that close. Then suddenly like two months ago, you offered to have sex with me. What’s the reason?” You looked away for a few seconds. “I just... I don’t understand where it came from that’s all.”

Remus Lupin was never one who typically got stumped on a question, but at that moment he was. What was he supposed to say exactly? That he had always wondered why you wore that ring and when he found out what it was for, he wanted to see if he could get it from you? That he had become obsessed with your innocence? Neither would work, he knew that. So, he settled on the third option.

“I dunno, honestly. Why did you take me up on the offer? Or well, part of the offer.”

Once he said the words aloud, he realized how awful they sounded. He observed your face, waiting for a frown to form to indicate that you were upset. But it never came. You only gently smiled and shrugged.

“I dunno either.” You placed your hand on his chest, your left one. He watched you drag your fingers up and down his body, the ring like a painful reminder of what hadn’t happened. “But I think... I think I’m ready to take you up on the full offer.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I know I said I didn’t plan on doing that and I’m completely contradicting myself, and I’m going against my family and my religion but I... As you said, people do it all the time and it’s normal. If you don’t want to, I understand,” you answered. Even through the dark, he could see your blush. Merlin how he loved it.

“Why would I not want to? I should be asking you that,” he replied, trying his best to keep a neutral face despite how excited he was.

“It can be intimidating, right? To be someone's first. I don’t want you to think it has to be some special big thing because it’s not. In my head, I used to think it was supposed to be all that but after starting this with you I sorta realized I don’t care for special I just you know... want it to be with you. And don’t feel pressured or anything, I’m not going to ask to be your girlfriend or any of that. I- sorry, I’m saying too much again, aren’t I?”

Remus gave you a gentle smile and took your hand in his. “No, you’re not saying too much. Actually, you’re saying about the right amount. If that’s all what you truly feel, then I’d be more than happy to oblige. But I need to know, you’re positive. What we’ve been doing is wonderful and I enjoy it very much, but if that’s all you want, we can keep it that way. I know it was special to you to wait for marriage and if that’s not the case anymore great, but I need to know you’re sure of it.”

“I am sure, I promise. I’ve been wanting to for a while, but I wanted to be sure and now I am, do you want to?” You asked shyly.

“Very much,” he said with a laugh.

“Then um... we should... right?”

“You want to right now?”

You bit down on your lip for a few seconds and nodded. “Yeah... unless you want to wait.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” he replied.

He was quick to kiss you. He was quick to climb over you. He was quick to undress you. But he took his time pleasing you. Despite what you said, he wanted it to be at least a bit special. So, he took his time, making you finish at least twice with his tongue and fingers before even beginning to move on to the other part.

As he slipped a rubber on, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. If you knew the only reason, he started all of this was some sort of challenge, would you have still let him do what he was about to do? Probably not. He had feelings for you then, of course. But it would be a lie to say he did the entire time. His eyes searched your face. You were so sweet, so delicate, so innocent. And he was about to take it away.

“You’re still sure?” He asked as he moved between your legs again. His question had a far deeper meaning than you would ever know.

“Yes,” you answered, your breath still heavy from your last orgasm. “I want you.”

He positioned himself so his tip was touching your entrance. “Alright, but if it’s too much tell me.”

“I will.”

He connected your lips and ever so slowly began to push himself inside you. Even though you were very wet, you were still very tight. Remus’s breath caught in his throat as he entered you. You felt better than any girl he’d ever been with, and he was sure of it. Despite just how good it felt, he paused halfway to make sure you were still all right. Your face was scrunched up, a telltale sign that you were in pain, but you told him to keep going. Still, he double-checked before continuing.

After checking once more when he was fully in, he truly began to shag you. From the moans and whispers that left your lips, he knew you enjoyed it. It made him glad; he didn’t want you to be in pain. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dragged one of your hands down his back, your nails reassuring him just how much you were enjoying it. He laced his hand through your other one and held it against the mattress, the cold feeling of your ring making his lips turn up into a smirk.

What good was it doing then?

“Rem,” you whimpered. “God Rem.”

He looked down at you and noticed you had tears in your eyes. “Do you... want me to slow down?”

“No, please don’t, please don’t,” you replied. “It’s so good.”

“Anything for you love,” he whispered, his breathing hard.

He rested his forehead on yours and continued as long as he could, which wasn’t as long as he would’ve wanted. How was he supposed to last long though? You were so warm, so soft, and extremely tight. The second you began pulsating around him, it was over. He came so hard he lost control of himself, his body collapsed on yours. For a few seconds he swore he couldn’t breathe, his eyes were squeezed shut. But he composed himself as best as he could and moved off you to throw the condom away.

When it was done, he laid back down next to you and pulled his sheets over your naked bodies. The realization hit him. You were no longer a virgin, and he was the reason. A sense of pride filled his chest, but along with that was a feeling of compassion. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“Aside from sore, nothing. It’s so strange, I always thought it would be a monumental moment in my life but it’s not. I’m still the same,” you answered.

He nodded. “I’m glad. So, you don’t feel any regret or anything?”

“No, do you?”

“Of course not, why would I ever regret shagging you?” He laughed.

You softly chuckled and looked up at him, your face red. “Sorry, that was stupid.”

“The sex or what I said?”

“What you said,” you replied. You turned your head and lifted your hands, a strange look on your face. “I suppose it’s time to take this off.”

“Oh, right,” he said, pretending to not care.

You pulled the ring off your finger and turned back to him, a smile on your face. “This belongs to you now, though I think I should take it home with me once summer comes. You know, so my parents don’t freak out.”

Remus took the ring from you, an indescribable feeling forming inside him. After everything, it was finally his. He’d imagined this moment many times, but never did he imagine just how victorious it would feel. The ring belonged to him now, his eyes shifted, and so did you. He placed it on his nightstand and smiled.

“I’m honored, thank you.”

You pressed yourself closer to him. “Out of every boy here Remus you’re the only one who deserves it, thank you.”

He placed a kiss on your head before falling back on the mattress, his eyes finding the ring once again.

He won.

~~~

The next day, despite still having agreed to keep things secret and unofficial, Remus did something that said the opposite of your relationship. He got ready for the day like normal, except for two aspects. One, he had to hold Sirius’s hair back as he threw up in the toilet from his hangover. And two, he wore a chain over his shirt and tie. It wasn’t just a chain though. No. It was a chain that had your ring dangling on it. He wore it like a prize, one for everyone to see.

He made his way down to the great hall for breakfast with a swing in his step and a small smile on his lips despite Sirius’s nagging to go back to bed. When he entered the great hall, he kept a straight face. Even when he caught your wide eyes, even when he heard Mary and Lily’s loud gasps, and even when James started to question him.

“You shagged y/n?” He questioned. “I didn’t even know the two of you were close. When did this happen?”

Remus only shrugged. “I dunno what you mean.”

It wasn’t until later in the day during History of Magic that he finally got a chance to speak to you. He felt a bit off as it was noticeable how uncomfortable you were sitting next to him. Lily and Mary gave him odd looks, almost as if they were disappointed in him. He didn’t care for their opinions though, yours was the only one that mattered.

“Hey,” he said after a minute or two. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you replied, not turning your head in his direction.

“Are you still sore?” He asked, his voice quieter. He glanced around the room, a few pairs of eyes were on the two of you, but none that had any real value. Still, he found it strange they were looking.

“Yeah, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you answered.

He didn’t exactly know what to say. “Great.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence filled the air, Remus didn’t know what to make of it. You were acting differently. Were you regretting what happened? He didn’t think you did, at least, you hadn’t made any specific indicators that you did. Suddenly, his eyes fell to the chain around his neck and the realization hit him. You were uncomfortable because of the ring being on display. He felt terrible. Without another thought on it, he tucked the chain under his shirt, the cold temperature of it comforting in a way against his warm chest. Then, he looked back at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his words genuine.

You bit down on your lip, your eyes still locked on the front of the classroom. “I- I don’t know what you’d have to be sorry for.”

“The ring I... I should’ve asked first before wearing it like this. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry for springing it on you like I did, really y/n I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable,” he explained.

“It’s fine.” You shifted. “But now... not everyone knows. And I... I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. You can tell me how you feel y/n, I would never tell anyone or judge you.” And it was true, he never would. He cared about you, more than he initially thought.

You finally turned your head to look at him. Your expression spoke for itself. You were hurt. It made something in his chest twist. “I suppose that I liked this being just... ours.”

“It still can be.”

“Can it? I mean, it feels like everyone knows now. Lily and Mary know, I assume James, Sirius, and Peter do as well. I hate the attention.” You fumbled with your fingers. “Did you... tell them anything?”

“No, nothing,” he answered. “Have you?”

“I just told Lily and Mary that nothing happened and that it was a coincidence. But... I don’t think they believe me,” you mumbled in a tone they couldn’t possibly have heard.

He licked his lips and sighed. “Then we’ll just both deny it, they can’t prove anything. I’ll keep the ring hidden and we don’t have to keep doing anything.”

Your face changed. “Oh. You don’t... you don’t want to anymore?”

“No, I do, but I thought you didn’t want to. Do you still want to?” There was hope in his voice. He assumed you wanted to be done, based on your body language at least. But the way you looked at him then spoke otherwise.

“I mean... yeah if that’s okay,” you said shyly, your cheeks turning red.

Ah, right again.

He couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. “So, we will, it’s settled.”

“It is.”

Victory was a good feeling. You were finally his. His to taint, his to please, his to use. He touched a hand to his chest and felt the ring through the fabric of his shirt. It felt good. Very good. And who knows, perhaps one day you'd be his girlfriend.

He looked down at you.

You probably would be his girlfriend.

He smiled again.

~~~

@misacc08 @whotfskai

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

“But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading <3

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[thejhambs]

MDZS, in many ways, is a story that is inevitable. The characters, by just being who they are, are propelling the narrative along, it's a story that would have played out in many different ways, in many different times, and if the characters are the same characters, they would have inevitably reached the point where they end up in the same situation.

Lan Wangji would always need to learn to appreciate Wei Wuxian's morality before they end up together. He would always have needed to learn to appreciate the different ways of expressing morality, that wasn't tied to his own sect rules. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian would always have had a falling out due to their differing moral values.

SVSSS is not the same story. The plot in SVSSS is forced, it makes absolutely no sense. If Binghe and Shen Qingqiu were in any other circumstance, they would have fallen in love almost immediately, and just lived in domestic bliss. SVSSS, in many ways, is the juicest and most convoluted story of how SQQ and Binghe could have gotten together.

SQQ had absolutely no reason to throw Binghe into the abyss, and if he weren't under the threat of death from the author self insert, he simply wouldn't have done that. If Binghe weren't fated to kill the character that SQQ possessed, SQQ wouldn't have kept running away from him.

If Binghe weren't fated to have multiple wives, SQQ would have trusted him immediately. But, this is the entire point of SVSSS. The inherent cruelty of the narrative that is creating problems for absolutely no reason, except to tell a good story.