#why must i be betrayed by my own body in this way???

[robinsnest2111]

capturing the rolling thunder and bright flashes of light is impossible but this bastard weather is giving me the meanest headache right now ⛈️

[kyseya]

You reap what you sow

Yandere farm brothers x f.reader

—————-

Just your typical luck, your car had suddenly broken down in the middle of nowhere. What will you do now? You can’t stay there, there’s no food or water available. Luckily, you hadn’t run out of recourses just yet but it was very close to being gone.

You stepped out of the car and went around it, staring it down with waves of irritation rolling off you. You tried coming up with a plan. The next stop was miles away and it was nothing but a daydream that you’d be able to make it there on foot.

Right as you were about to give up and let the animals take you, the sound of wheels on gravel caught your attention. Turning around, you saw another car speeding towards you. Yes! You were saved! You waved at the person in the car and luckily enough it stopped. ‘I’m gonna pray it’s not Michael Meyers lost cousin or something.’

The door to the passenger side opened and you spotted a man sitting behind the wheel. He was young, around your age, probably a little older perhaps. He had dark brown hair and equally dark eyes. You instantly noticed a scar below his left eye as you glanced at his face. You had to admit, he was very handsome; in a rugged type of way. You couldn’t help but eye how his plain shirt hugged all the muscles on his body. You mentally slapped yourself, ‘Geez (Y/n), you’re here to ask for help not ogle him like the last piece of cake at the party!’

“Your car broke down?” He asked, looking at the worthless piece of junk that had decided to betray you just minutes ago.

“Yeah, it did.” You scratched the back of your head in slight embarrassment. “I couldn’t trouble you for a ride, could I?” He was quiet for a moment, in which you hastily added, “Not for long! Just so I can get proper help from a mechanic. I won’t be a bother I promise.”

The man nodded. “Alright then, hop in.”

Your eyes lit up at his response. You gladly took a seat beside him and thanked him again for his help. “Thank you so much. You’re literally saving my life.”

He nodded once more. Guess he wasn’t much of a talker. Well not that it mattered much. You’d only stick around until you got to a town and found someone who could fix your vehicle. You didn’t have to be all buddy-buddy with each other. You only had to be happy he didn’t seem to want to kill you and hang your organs like Christmas ornaments. The chance of you meeting again was down to basically zero.

Or that’s what you thought, but life has a funny way of messing with you. It must have a grudge against you or else you wouldn’t be seated in the same position you were previously, only it being about 3 hours later. The drive to the nearest town was long(you definitely wouldn’t have made it by walking) and when you got there, you found out the one mechanic they had was out of town.

You thought you were going to have to spend the night in a bush, but you were pleasantly surprised to have your muscular helper offer a nights stay at his farm. You were grateful(once more) and also confused. Why was he being so nice to you when he didn’t have any reason to? It didn’t make sense. The two of you had just met, plus that you’ve only spoken a number of times and none of the conversations were noteworthy.

It was after you accepted you got to know his name, Weston. It fit him quite well, you thought. He told you there was a spare room you could use. It would be further away from his, to offer you some sort of privacy. He also mentioned there was one other person living on the farm, his younger brother. If he annoyed you, you could just tell him off, Weston said to you.

Your butt was sore from all the sitting, both in your own car but also from this little trip. The sky darkened and the sun had nearly completely disappeared when you finally arrived at the farm. It looked like you imagined. There was a large house which you assumed was the main house. Behind it was a big, red barn. You thought you could hear the faint sounds of animals.

Climbing out of the car, you glanced expectantly at your host, waiting for his initiative. You didn’t want to be rude and march right up to the house. As you were waiting, another figure came into view. He was much like his older brother, with brown hair and eyes to match. He was smiling at the both of you, although you caught a slight suspicion towards you.

“Who’s the new kid?” He asked his sibling, who gave him a rundown of what’s happened. You were a bit annoyed at how he called you ‘kid’, you were very much a grown person. And he’s one to talk, you were sure he was younger than you, even through all that brawn. He wasn’t as tall as Weston but he was no joke either. The younger brother looked at you with sympathy, “Really? Well that’s unfortunate. What’re you gonna do now that the mechanic’s gone- since you need him I’m guessing you don’t exactly know how to fix cars.”

You sighed, “I’m not sure yet. I’ll come up with something tomorrow. I’m too tired from all the driving and thinking.”

“Alright, I get it. I’m Lucas by the way.”

You shook his hand. “(Y/n), and thank you for having me. You’re really saving me here.”

“Haha, well Weston likes to pretend he’s heartless, but he’s really just a giant teddy bear.” Lucas said and smirked as he received a glare from the ‘teddy bear’.

“Come in (Y/n), I’ll show you your room.” Weston led you into the house.

Right as you stepped over the threshold, you felt a slight chill. Something felt wrong. You turned around to see Lucas’ beaming face. He tilted his head in confusion.

“Everything good?” He asked, concern lacing his voice. You’d gotten the impression that he’s a chill guy, but now you started wondering if you’d made the wrong choice.

“N-no, everything’s great!”

There was no turning back now, you thought as you descended deeper into the house.

It was unfortunate that every time you followed one of the brothers into town again, for supplies and other things, the mechanic was never there. Sadly it seemed like his vacation wasn’t over yet which meant no way home for you. However, you didn’t have it so bad. The brothers had been kind enough to let you keep staying with them at their farm.

Honestly it was pretty good there. Sure, it wasn’t what you were used to, but some change of scenery was good for you. Not wanting to appear lazy, you helped them to the best of your ability around the farm. You couldn’t lift heavy things like they could even if you really put your back into it, and you certainly didn’t trust yourself to milk the cows; something you could do was cook! It’d become a routine for them to do their work during the day and you’d make them lunch and then dinner in the evenings. You’d never seen yourself as a homemaker, though this was kind of fun. Maybe it was the heat poking your brain or it was that you genuinely enjoyed their company.

Besides, it was really nice looking out the kitchen window and catching a glimpse of them at work. You weren’t proud, but it did something for you. The way droplets of sweat ran down their backs, not in a gross way though, in an appealing manner. During the instances they took of their shirts, you got a front row seat to see the muscles in action. You now knew Lucas had stone-hard abs and that Weston had a very nice back.

Despite the fun in getting to know both of them individually, there were some things you couldn’t deny making you uncomfortable. For example, there was the curfew. That one had a good explanation; there were wild animals sometimes running around and they didn’t want you to get hurt. That made perfect sense! Though you couldn’t shake off that one time you couldn’t sleep and had gone outside on the porch for some air. You were just relaxing and looking at the bright stars when shouting woke you up more than your insomnia. Lucas had come rushing towards you in panic. He’d frantically asked you what you were doing up. You responded honestly and he slowly calmed down. He said you shouldn’t go out by yourself anymore. If you can’t sleep you can see the stars perfectly from the living room window, or better yet, you can come to one of their rooms instead.

Then there was the room furthest back in the barn. Although it could be excused as well, they told you that’s where they slaughtered the animals. But you could swear you heard something from inside, something that doesn’t sound at all like a cow, a pig or a chicken. Suspicion arose in you, but fear held you in a chokehold and prevented you from investigating. However nice they were to you, there was no way you’d risk pissing them off. Especially since the mechanic still wasn’t back which meant you had no way to escape, if it would be necessary.

Lucas had been right, Weston wasn’t as scary as he seemed in the beginning. Sure, he was a bit rough around the edges but he had sweet moments too. Once during one of your little adventures on the porch, Weston had suddenly appeared by your side, giving you a scare. He apologised and asked why you were out. You were worried he would get angry considering you’d just recently had the ‘no more going out’- conversation with Lucas. To your surprise he chuckled at your nervous demeanor and did not reprimand you. He told you that in his opinion, Lucas was too paranoid for his own good and sometimes didn’t know when to stop. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, though you probably shouldn’t wander off the porch after dark. Better to be safe than sorry, right? Afterwards he declared he’s going to bed before wrapping you in a blanket, you didn’t even notice he had it with him until he turned you into a burrito. He was very sweet in his own way, you realised. From then on you paid more attention to the affection he undoubtedly showed. Sometimes it was hard to see, but it was definitely there.

Lucas on the other hand was more open with his affection; pulling you into hugs, asking about your day, petting your hair. All these thing he did daily. He, too, was incredibly sweet. Sometimes it was hard to comprehend that him and Weston shared DNA. They were so different. The only thing confirming their relation was little things how their eyes lit up the same way or how their smiles were similar(if you were fortunate enough to witness Weston smiling, that is). Lucas also had a protective streak. He constantly worried over your safety and wellbeing. Which was kind of nice, when he wasn’t nagging you about it every five seconds.

You better listen to them. It’s all for your best. Because if you don’t, you might end up walking into the barn, and then you might end up finding the remains of the mechanic you’ve been so desperately looking for. And that wouldn’t be very good now, would it?

[sanjisblackasswife]

𝕊𝕖𝕩 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕞 (Geto and Gojo)

Ft. Geto and Gojo (Separate)

Blk!Fem Reader in Mind

CW: TWT LINKS,Not just SEX, but making love, kissing, touching, oral, established relationships, Gojo is warning of himself, Dom(?)Reader

Bad Summary: My opinion, I try not to include any FANON versions of them either. I want them both bad what can I say.

Gojo

It’s hesitant yet, intense.

A man like Gojo isn’t an easy person to be vulnerable with, but Satoru is different .

He makes light jokes to mask his internal feelings.

“Touchy, huh? You must have wanted me soooo bad.”

However your touches on his arms make his breath Hasen.

He’s a flirt, but somehow you managed to catch him at his quietest when you rub your fingers against his undercut, kissing his earlobe so gently and light he almost thought he had on infinity.

Satoru doesn’t have sex consistently. He can’t even remember the last time he had a moment of pleasure like this, so he’s eager, but catches himself not able to move the way he wants since his body betrays him every-time you land your lips on his.

Sex with Satoru is unbearable in the best way. Probably a night you’ll never forget, due to his ability of being talented in every aspect you can think of. His tongue knows exactly where to land. He has a slight obsession over your little clit as well. Soft and cold pink lips capturing it to suckle. If you mask your own moans for a second you can hear his moans of approval and smacks against your lower lips to taste more of you.

His noises are pornographic. Shameless as he pushes your knees to hit your chest while his huge warm hands to cup under your ass and use his thumbs to spread your lips apart and push his mouth further inside you.

He has an oral fixation only you (and candy) can accommodate so sex with him can be relentless. He doesn’t apologize for it either, regardless of the “M’sorry, baby.” He tend to mutter against your panting mouth once you’ve came twice.

Sex with Satoru is needy and close. Satoru has an additive personality. If he likes something he wears it out completely. He doesn’t know when to quit. Overstimulating himself and you in the process, without a care in the world, because he always gets what he wants. And if you’re what he wants. He’s going to keep you under him until he can’t anymore. It’s all about you for him right now and he needs you to know that while he’s speaking to you in your ear

Sex with Satoru is funny. Once he gets comfortable enough he uses his slick mouth not just to make you cum, but you make you giggle and blush . A few jokes about how much of a mess he made on your new sheets because you tasted too good. How your tits shake so cutely when you’re orgasming. He is just so vulgar.

He praises you. Almost to the point you want to tell him to shut the fuck up but you can’t get yourself to do so because that moment where he moans out your name when you clench down on him, sounds like music to your ears. It’s rasped and dragged out. He is so loud you can barely hear the bed creaking below you both.

His eye contact is intense. Satoru can’t stop himself from looking at you, and he doesn’t wanna creep you out by saying look at me so he keeps his eyes on your mouth and eyes until you realize what he is non verbally asking for while he is on top and inside you.

His slow kisses are what gets you yearning for more. The way how silky slick and smooth his tongue collides with yours, make you whimper every once in a while, and the beautiful noises go straight to his dick (un)fortunately.

Sex with him ends with you both in the bath giggling and smacking on something sweet while he hand feeds you. You feel a few kisses on your forehead and a couple “Felt so good.” Under his breath. Hes stroking your ego without even realizing it.

Sex ends with you holding him. It kind of occurs when he places you on the bed (naked) and fake yawns to lay all over your body, saying he’s your blanket for the night.

You could complain but why would you? He looked finally at peace laid in between you breast.

Geto

Sex with Suguru is memorable and exciting.

He is so careful with his touches, he tends to laugh when you scoff to rush him to move faster, but it’s all apart of his plan to break you down (lovingly ofc)

Foreplay with Suguru isn’t just that night. It’s in the morning when he kisses you slow and caresses your ass against the kitchen counter before he heads out

It’s in the afternoon when he sends you post workout pictures with his pants DANGEROUSLY low to his hips.

It’s that evening when he cooks for you with sweats and his hair down just how you like. Licking his lips as you taste test the food he made on his finger.

Sex with Suguru is full of embarrassment. The man is very big. His cocky smirk looking down at you while he pinches your nipples. Pointing out how hard they’ve gotten after just kissing them.

Sex with Suguru is, overwhelming, his natural scent is intoxicating, his silky hair dragging all over your torso while he licks you down from your neck to your clit makes your spine shiver. He always manages to savor and take his time with you. Fingering you with straight eye contact and words of affirmation of how well you’re behaving for him before he sucks on your pussy.

Suguru knows what he’s doing, he knows what makes you needy, irritable, and even more horny to his liking and silly you, don’t even have a clue(?).

His whole body is so surprisingly soft and yet hard. His chest so squeezable that when you take the chance to actually suck his nipple he lets out the prettiest noise you ever heard. Who knew he was so sensitive there?

Sex with Suguru is messy. The spit, sweat, and cum sprayed all over your both. You don’t even bat an eye after he cums inside you just to go back down on you to taste himself between your legs. All you’re doing is admiring how pretty he is. Cheeks pink, eyes low lidded. You bite your lips when he catches you staring and winks at you while he holds your legs back

Kisses kisses and more kisses. All you need to do in the bed with Suguru is lay back, moan his name, and kiss him. Even if you’re breathless he will be the one to take the wind away from your lungs if needed be.

Sex with Suguru is reassuring.He doesn’t allow you to ever feel anything, but loved and secured that he only and ever wants you. Not just in sex, but his life. His purple eyes stare you lovingly when you cum for him. You’re the most beautiful being in the world and he’ll remind you of it every chance he gets.

Sex with Suguru is so teasing. Allowing all that pressure build up just for him to stop and wonder his attention to another part of your body. About to cum on his finger? Can’t. He wants to suck on your breast. About to cum on his dick? Well now he wants to slow down and give you a kiss knowing he can just do both. Little do you know he’s edging himself more than you.

After sex with Suguru is like a slip of the switch. Brushing ur hair back and telling you to match his breathing style to calm down.

“There you go baby just like that breathe in and out..good girl.”

After Sex with Suguru leads to more pleasure for you. He just can’t quit. He isn’t sorry for it either. Just lay on your belly and let him do what he calls “cleaning you up.

After sex with him is like being turned into a princess. A carry to the toilet while he wipes your face with a cool damp towel. You don’t need to lift a finger and if you don’t tell him no already he’d wipe your ass for you.

After a shared shower He holds you in bed while giving your back a small rub. You feels so safe in his large arms. Hearing his heart beat in your ear was its own white noise that lead you to fall asleep. And you can, because he isn’t going anywhere in the morning.

[msbigredmachine]

Cheat Meal (Roman Reigns)

The OTC is hungry for a whole lot more than just good food.

Pairing: Roman Reigns/Black fem OC

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Based off Roman's TikTok where he complains about his diet😂

Enjoy!

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gif by @romanreigns

He shoves the last tiny piece of broccoli in his mouth and dumps the plate in the sink with a resigned sigh. The ‘breakfast’ will barely register inside his stomach but it’s the price he must pay to be in the shape he’s currently in, the best he’s ever been in. Even if it makes him miserable and slightly cranky until it’s time for his next bland meal in another couple of hours. 

Retreating to his bed at the back of the bus, Roman checks the time as he waits patiently for his wife to return from the diner across the road so they can head on to their next destination. They’re already running behind schedule with a near two-hour drive still to go. More excruciatingly, he’ll have to deal with the smell of greasy, albeit delicious food that he can’t even look at, let alone eat.

Minutes later, the sound of her perennially cheery voice floats through the air, followed by the driver thanking her for her generosity, having bought him his own breakfast. As the bus restarts its journey, the bedroom door slides open, and Roman does a double take. The yoga pants and tank top he swore he saw her exit the bus in has been replaced with one of his old t-shirts. Nothing else. The outline of her nipples betray her lack of brassiere and that fat, juicy ass of hers jiggles with every step she takes as she places a tray full of food on the dressing table, the small bedroom instantly filling with the aroma of a hearty breakfast. 

“Sorry babe, I had to wait a little bit for my milkshake,” Elise explains, piling pancakes onto a porcelain plate. “Have you eaten?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Baby, this is not how you were dressed when you left,” he points out, soaking her in as he sits up against the headboard. 

Elise giggles and settles down on the edge of the bed next to him. One glance at the contents of her plate - buttermilk pancakes smothered in butter and honey, a couple of sausage links and two thick strips of bacon - has Roman salivating. “That diet is really fucking with your head, babe,” she jokes, as he rolls his eyes. “I’ve changed into something comfier. All the better to eat my comfort food with.”

“Why you ain’t eating in the kitchen, then? You just gotta fucking tempt me, huh?” He’s not sure which one he’s talking about anymore; the food or her appearance. She looks good enough to eat every time, but she looks amazing either dressed down or in next to nothing. Like now.

Of course, nothing at all is his absolute favorite.

“Cuz I wanna share it with you. Sorry but I don’t have your discipline. Just a day on that dry ass, rabbit food ass diet of yours would fuck me up,” Elise gripes. “And don’t get me wrong. I’m so proud of you and what you’ve done with your body. You look carved from damn marble. But you’ve lost hella weight and it’s making your big ears stick out." She pouts. "I kinda miss my thick neck Daddy. There was more of him to climb.”

“You still climb me with zero problems. And I can’t eat this stuff. You know that,” he laments.

“You say that while you eye-fuck my bacon.” She picks up her fork, cuts into a pancake and daintily takes a bite before moaning in delight. The warm fluffiness of the pancake, the rich, sweet honey, the smoothness of the butter, all come together in her mouth, textures and flavors melding together as she chews and swallows. "Mmm, this is soooo good," she gushes.

Roman grits his teeth and growls sullenly, “I hate your ass right now.” 

“You’re making me feel bad.” Carefully balancing the plate in her grasp, she shifts around and straddles him, and he hisses at the way her ample backside seats flush on his crotch. Sure enough, she has no underwear on. “Daddy, have breakfast with me. You need to eat more. A couple of bites won’t hurt.”

Roman sighs heavily, smoothing his hands along her thick thighs that complement the rest of her thick body. “You know damn well I can’t say no to you when you call me Daddy.” It’s not a lie either. Three kids in three years and a closet full of Birkins, Louboutins and many other luxuries are proof of this.

Elise muses over her plate and selects one of the large strawberries topping the pancakes. “Let’s start with something sweet.” She offers it to him, seeing him relax upon realizing it’s something relatively healthy. “Eat,” she instructs.

Roman opens his mouth obediently, closing his eyes as the juice bursts on his tongue, some of it dribbling down his bearded chin. Elise grins as he moans in satisfaction, and she makes him eat the rest, his full lips streaked red from the fruit. Cheekily, she places her own lips on his, tasting the flavor for herself, and smiles triumphantly as he makes a surprised sound but deepens the kiss anyway, cupping the back of her neck to hold her against him.

“Oh, it’s like that?” he asks when she pulls away, light panting punctuating the air between them. His eyes sparkle with lust. “Thought you were only feeding me.”

“I’m multitasking.” Kissing him again, she stabs the fork into another piece of pancake, dipping it in honey and feeding it to him. She loves to do this. It’s her favorite form of intimacy. Her love language, if you will. Taking care of him, pampering him. Her gestures never fail to stir his heart, as well as other parts of his anatomy. “My sweet baby. Feel better? You’re not hungry anymore?” she teases him several bites after.

“Nope. Not for pancakes anyway,” he says. The words are cryptic and shrouded in mystery, that’s until his hand slips between her thighs. At her sharp, indrawn breath, he smiles darkly, flattening his palm so that he firmly cups her sex. “There’s another…delicacy…I wanna feast on.” 

Her husband is insatiable for her. Always has been, and she loves it. Feeling desired and wanted by such a beautiful, high-value man like him does wonders for her self-esteem and their marriage. But after one passionate, bed-rocking round earlier this morning and little food fueling him, she would think his energy is depleted. “Baby, you should rest,” she tries to reason, but he’s adjusting her already, forcing her to put her food away on the nightstand.

“I’ll rest after you come in my mouth,” is his curt, yet loaded answer. And just like that, her resolve is reduced to ashes.

He scoots his big self down the bed until she is seated on his face. Elise barely has time to collect herself when his calloused hands scrape her thighs and clutch her hips to hold her in place. Her body jerks as his tongue finds her folds in record time, lapping greedily. Heat instantly washes over her with a wave of nerves and lust as he works her with that unmatched skill that brings her to surrender. In mere seconds, she is lost in the pleasure, her pussy dripping from a mix of her juices and his saliva, all of it slurped up by his talented tongue.

"Fuck, Roman…” she moans, squirming on his face, her body ablaze. He’s so damn good at this shit, it’s damn near unfair. It feels like her whole pussy is in his mouth as he licks and sucks to his heart's desire. He tightens his arms around her thighs, his massive hands prying her open for further onslaught. The warmth of his breath, the prickle of his beard, his moans against her sensitive flesh has her mind spinning, prompting her to rock her hips in rhythm with his circling tongue, grabbing her breasts through her t-shirt for added stimulation. Her entire being hums with anticipation as her orgasm builds and builds. “Ro, I'm...I…oh fuck, Daddy,” she gasps, unable to string a simple sentence together in the state of bliss she’s in.

But of course, her husband knows exactly what she wants. What she needs. To give it to her, he works harder, incorporating his nose and chin, gliding them back and forth along her wetness, buoyed by the quiver of her thighs as he sends her over the edge. The explosion of her body is of seismic proportions, and Elise slaps her hand over her mouth to muffle her scream, bucking, writhing, whining as pleasure consumes her whole.

She’s still reeling as Roman carefully lifts her off his face and drags her back down. His mouth captures hers with a dizzying urgency, exchanging the sweet tanginess of her arousal. They lick and suck hungrily on each other’s tongues, his hand reaching up to curl around her throat making her pussy spasm with need, so much so that her essence begins to smear the center of his gray sweatpants. Roman looks down at her mess with a proud, arrogant smile, and he lifts his hips just enough to pull the stained pants down his legs and kick them off. He strokes his dick, long, thick and hard, for a few seconds before guiding it inside her.

“Get this dick, baby, c'mon,” he orders, his low, gruff command sending yet another tremble through Elise that he both hears and feels as her breath catches. They moan together as she sinks lower onto him, balancing herself with her hands on his bare, muscular chest. Her hips roll back and forth, grinding on him, keeping him pinned to the sheets while she chases down their collective pleasure. 

He fucking loves it when she’s on top. It allows him a holistic view of the body he's been obsessed with since the day they first met. His big hands roam her front, relieving her of her t-shirt so he can properly idolize her breasts, so plump and pillow-soft as he massages them, gleeful at the way her nipples harden from his touch. He then travels south to grab her ass, enjoying the round, supple cheeks flexing against his palms as she rides him. He grips each one possessively and proceeds to lift her up and down on him, bouncing her on his throbbing erection. 

“Fuuuuck...”

“Nah, you can take it. And not too loud now, we don’t need the driver hearin’ us again, hmm?” Roman taunts, squeezing her left cheek and spanking it hard, earning a yelp from her. His eyes are blown as he studies the expressions on her beautiful face. “My fine ass, sexy ass wife. Climb me like only you can, baby,” he encourages her with soft moans of his own.

Falling forwards, Elise tucks her face into her man’s neck, her breathy kisses warming his skin as she manages to maintain the pace he’s set for her. He’s so deep inside her, nearing her cervix it feels like, the sweet sensations amplified by their chests pressed together, his large hands caressing her with so much love and care and reverence while talking her through it with his deep, husky voice and dirty words. Years together and their lovemaking is still as earth-shattering as their first time, and she appreciates it more than he’ll ever know.

Roman kisses every part of her his mouth can reach, reveling in her increasing moans as he angles his hips, keeping his dick buried in the ocean of her cunt. “Leese, you feel so fuckin’ good…” he groans on her shoulder, licking the butterfly tattoo etched on her skin, “Damn, baby, I could stay inside you like this all day…”

Elise tries to agree with him, but her jaw drops when he bucks up into her without warning, his hands planted on her ass holding her down to take every inch of him. The depth, the intensity and precision of his strokes render her speechless. Her eyes roll back as his lips find her nipples, suckling the swells of her heavy breasts, the wet smacking sounds of his hungry mouth and her gushy pussy sounding around the bedroom. The shit is so good that neither wants it to end, more than content to just remain on the bus and fuck all day long.

"Daddy," she whines, her fingers sliding over the back of his hair, tangling in the long, soft locks as she locks hazy gazes with him. His brows are furrowed, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth; telltale signs that he’s close, just like she is. "Oh baby, I'm gonna come again..." she whimpers.

"Yeah? Is my girl about to nut?" Roman asks, grasping her chin and brushing their lips together. "Gimme that nut, beautiful. Soak Daddy’s dick with your wet ass pussy," he goads her with another kiss, another smack on her backside that makes her ride him harder. Her pupils are dark and dilated with desire, reflecting the passion he’s feeling. He wraps his huge arms around her middle, and pushing up on his heels, he accelerates, fucking her faster, thrusting deeper, until her moans dissolve to broken, breathless cries as she trembles on top of him. Her walls milk his dick greedily and trigger his own release. Roman’s groans and curses fill the room, his body shuddering too as he empties his load, filling her to the brim. 

With a soft whine, Elise melts on her husband’s heaving body, both parties spent but immensely sated. An eternity passes before either move, Elise reaching over Roman’s prone frame to grab a piece of bacon and pop it into his mouth.

“Good? There's more if you want,” she asks, watching him chew on it.

Roman sighs contentedly and rests his head on the pillow. “Mm-hmm. That's another couple added minutes on the treadmill though.”

Elise giggles and snuggles up against her action figure of a husband. “You’ll be fine. And you’re perfect to me already, by the way,” she assures him.

THE END

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[bamfkeeper]

Blue Helpers.

RQ: 'Can I request reader (established relationship with night crawler) where reader is sick and the barmfs get so worried and try to take care of her, along side hurt' - @lillycore

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x GN!reader | warnings: Sick/illness themes

a/n: Doing quick little requests because I've been busy, I'm sorry 💔 I hope you enjoy this little drabble. Unedited. ;; wc: 1.0k

You coughed violently, your body shaking with each forceful expulsion of air.

As the fit subsided, you sank back into your bed, pulling the comforter tightly around you in a desperate attempt to find comfort. The pressure in your sinuses was relentless, a constant ache that seemed to radiate through your entire skull. It had been years since you'd fallen ill like this, and the sudden onset of sickness a few days ago had caught you completely off guard. You thought it was maybe food poisoning, but there was no way food caused you to be this sick.

Since then, you'd been confined to your bed, your body too weak to do much more than sleep fitfully and endure the various symptoms plaguing you. The combination of fever, congestion, and overall malaise left you feeling utterly gross, as if your own body had betrayed you.

Your persistent coughing didn't go unnoticed. The little blue imps were curious and concerned, cautiously making their way into your bedroom. They climbed onto the bed, their large yellow eyes blinking rapidly as they observed your weakened state. Their usual energy subdued with worry as they saw just how weak you were, radiating illness from your body. They stretched out their tiny arms towards you, but maintained a respectful distance, unsure of how to help or what to do. The bamfs huddled together at the foot of the bed, their gazes never leaving you as they tried to make sense of your condition.

It was clear to them that you were unwell - your pale complexion, the sheen of sweat on your brow, and your labored breathing were obvious signs. In their limited understanding, they couldn't comprehend why this illness had rendered you so completely incapacitated, so unlike your usual vibrant self.

One of the bamfs chirped softly, its tiny feet pattering across the bed as it approached you. It nuzzled against your cheek, its velvety body held a comforting warmth that provided a momentary respite from the discomfort of your fever. The gesture brought a weak smile to your face, despite your illness.

"Ach, kleine Schätze...bitte, give them some space," Kurt gently admonished, his voice a soothing murmur as he entered the room carrying a steaming bowl. He placed the bowl on the nightstand and lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress. His golden eyes met yours as he spoke softly, "Liebe...you must be feeling dreadful. Your temperature is quite high."

He reached out, his cool hand brushing against your forehead in a tender gesture. A reassuring smile played on his lips as he continued, "But fear not, I've brought something that should help."

Kurt lifted the bowl, wisps of steam rising from its contents. "I've prepared some Kartoffelsuppe for you," he explained, his voice warm with nostalgia. "It's a special recipe, freshly made and piping hot. My mother used to make this very soup for me whenever I fell ill as a child. It always seemed to work wonders."

You lifted your head weakly, mustering a faint smile despite your exhaustion. "It does smell good..." you murmured, the aroma of the soup tantalizing your senses. With some assistance from Kurt, you managed to sit up a bit more, your body still feeling fragile and unsteady. Kurt adjusted himself to sit closer, carefully holding the spoon out for you, his movements slow and deliberate to ensure your comfort.

As the spoon touched your lips, you savored each small sip. The soup was a symphony of flavors, each taste bud awakening to the rich, comforting blend. The warmth of the liquid spread through your body, contrasting to the chills of your fever. You knew you probably shouldn’t be eating hot soup with a temperature, but the soothing heat of the soup in your belly felt like a balm to your ailing body. You couldn't help but appreciate the deliciousness of the meal, a small pleasure in your current state of discomfort.

"Ugh, it's delicious, Kurt..." You sighed, savoring the food and relieved your stubborn stomach was accepting of the meal instead of instantly making you vomit it all up.

The bamfs huddled around you, their large eyes filled with concern as they observed Kurt feeding you. Their tiny forms pressed close, offering what comfort they could through their presence. Their simple minds grappled with the concept of your weakness as they witnessed Kurt carefully spoon feeding you.

If you were too frail to feed yourself, how could you possibly manage anything else? The sight of you in such a vulnerable state clearly distressed them, their usual playful demeanor gone as they made soft whining sounds against you. Their attachment to you was evident in every worried glance and gentle touch, they had become so needy for you ever since you and Kurt became an item, and they hated seeing you hurt in any way.

After finishing your meal, Kurt excused himself to fetch some medicine, leaving you to rest and recuperate. The bamfs remained gathered around you, their concern evident in their actions. With an eagerness to assist after seeing Kurt giving you food, they took it upon themselves to tend to your needs in his absence.

Their tiny hands struggled but managed to lift the large glass of water, offering it to you for a refreshing sip whenever you tried to reach for it yourself. They replaced the cool, damp cloth on your forehead after the rag had become too warm, splaying it on your forehead perfectly each time. The sweet things even attempted to massage your aching muscles with their small, three-fingered hands.

These loyal little imps refused to leave your side, their presence a constant and unwavering. When Kurt returned, he found you curled up on your side, surrounded by a protective cocoon of blue bamfs. They had nestled themselves against your belly and back, with some even perched atop you. Their warm, sleepy bodies provided a soothing heat, carefully balanced so as not to overheat you in your fragile state.

This living blanket of bamfs offered both physical warmth and emotional comfort, even with the few that had managed to weasel their way under your arm like teddy bears.

Thanks for reading <3

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/adornedwithlight | Photos on Pinterest, Bamfs from Nightcrawler 2014

[transformers-spike]

"Is this why the Autobots are fond of humanity? To indulge their sweet heat cycles? How many human mates has Optimus taken for himself? It seems as though their motives to protect them were never altruistic, much less noble." PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE US A SUB-STORY WHERE THIS TIME IT'S OPTIMUS AND A HUMAN SO IN THEIR HEAT CYCLE PLEASEEEE

Idk am I creating a humans in heat universe for the TF Fandom? I know people like making the bots go through it but I think the humans being affected is so much funnier. Just begging these massive robots to fuck us lmao

How must it feel to burn from the inside out? Betrayed by your own body, rendered unable to function by the fire in your core. You described it as an aching, an insatiable need to appease the hormones overtaking your nerve endings. A mere touch is enough to worsen the ache, it’s what your body dictates in the throes of a heat cycle.

Cybertronians are forged by Primus Himself, their interfaces exist for recreational pleasure and bonding, but your species is biologically programmed to reproduce, like most of the fauna of your planet. It’s a systemic sacrifice, one rendered obsolete by the sentient status of your species. Drugs have been produced to suppress your heats, or at least lessen the effects. Unfortunately, among a dozen varieties of medication, you are either allergic or completely immune to them, leaving you susceptible to your hormonal whims. He is sorry. You must go through so much pain every few months, but you barely show it, brushing off his concerns with a laugh, saying “it is what it is” and moving on as though your body isn’t on a timer. He admires you for it. In spite of your discomfort, you haven’t given up. Once, you told him: “So what if they don’t work on me? I just gotta roll with the punches and hope for the best, it’s been my M.O. since I got the damn thing.” Meeting them for the first time… was turbulent to say the least, but you’re safe and sound, relocated to Jasper, having adjusted to your new life with the help of Agent Fowler. You’ve told them many times you’re infinitely grateful to be in their lives (barring the near death experience at the servos of an Insecticon). For them it’s a pleasure to ease your burden. You’ve eagerly established your consent, although only Arcee is the right size to properly take care of a human. Digits and glossas can only do so much compared to a spike. He tries not to pry, your privacy is yours to divulge at your leisure, but he cannot ignore the charge building up behind his interface when he sees you with the others. Yes, he is an occasional participant, but he will rather cover shifts and allow them some well-deserved respite in your berth. They deserve it. He dares not imagine Arcee’s spike pumping in and out of you, satiating your aching body, filling you to your limit as you beg for more. 

Your scent lingers in the air, caressing his sensors, a gentle hand tugging him along by the servo, pulling him in your direction. They try to keep it to themselves, but his team is beyond a doubt intoxicated by your presence alone. Thankfully, it has (almost) never impeded their judgment during missions; perhaps it has even served as motivation to make it back to base in one piece. He tries to ignore the gleam in his old friend’s optics after quelling your urges, if only for a night. Or Bumblebee's praises coming to you as a slow stream of beeps while he nuzzles your face. Or Bulkhead cradling you to his chassis like a precious artifact as you discuss what late night movies you should watch. Or catching Arcee kissing you over the mezzanine and pulling back with a smile she hasn’t worn since Cliffjumper’s death. You bring them together in your own special way, even if you blush and sheepishly deny it, claiming you should be thanking them instead  Recent discoveries have yielded an impressive increase in energon and brought forth new opportunities. With unparalleled quantities at their disposal, they can now mass displace. The transformation is no small feat, it exhausts their system and rapidly drains their energon level. But he will not forbid Bumblebee from using it to play with the kids as long as it’s not in excess. Nor to join you during heat cycles. Much like Bulkhead. And Wheeljack. And especially Ratchet. Primus forbid, his old friend has every right to enjoy himself to the fullest after all of his back-breaking work. He’s been meaning to pay you a visit, but he hasn’t found the time until now. In the temporary abode you set up in the base, away from the prying eyes of the kids, you prepare yourself for another heat. Some refurbishing was done to meet your needs (in no small thanks to June Darby and agent Fowler’s financial help); the mattress and the mini fridge was a given, but you’ve added a variety of personal belongings and entertainment; a television, a writing desk, a few “bean bags” here and there, and a pile of old magazines to scrapbook. He wonders if you consider this place your home more than your actual house in Jasper. You greet him while downing a bottle of water, holding up your hand to signal for him to wait. Once emptied, you place it next to the mini fridge, among a wide array of bottled water crates. That would explain the groceries June had brought in with Arcee’s help. As a medical professional she’s especially fretful over your condition, doing her best to prevent the risks of heat cycles, bringing you plenty of calorie dense fuel to combat the massive loss of nutrients. He has not forgotten the fear they experienced when they found you shaking from the deficit, having completely overlooked your hunger in a midst of desperation. In this form, he can appreciate the full extent of your body without fear of hurting you, kneading the supple flesh beneath his digits as you giggle and pull him into you. He does not tower over your reclined form as much as he encases you in a careful hug, hearing the rapid thrum of your human spark directly against his audials; he may sense your pulse rate, but experiencing it is a new wonder of its own. You tell him you missed him and you wish he would let himself go and come out to “obliterate your pussy” more often. He nods and apologizes for his absence even as you shush him and insist he enjoy himself as well. He is… the largest Cybertronian you’ve taken, you remark while adjusting to his size.

“Except maybe Wheeljack,” you add cheekily, already bucking into him. Your composure evaporates as he works you up, not to say that he is much better. He steadies himself over you, charge trickling down his interface as your walls clench around him in a vice-grip. You beg him for more, plead that he frag you until you can’t take it anymore, but he has grown used to your requests and knows when your body has reached its limit. You whimper and claw at his back plates, flush against his frame yet dragging him closer as though to merge your human spark to his.

If only he could.

Slow and steady, he frags you through your overloads, each one adding a new surge of spark down his frame until he comes to his end. You are small and shaking, but in this form he can properly hold you against his chassis and comfort you through the afterglow, bringing you another bottle of water and a Clif bar (chosen for the human scaling a mountain with “If you eat this you can kill God” in big bold letters).

You stir and sit up on shaky knees to accept his offerings. Halfway through your meal, you eye him up and down.

“Are you going to stay some more?” you ask with hopefulness, still chewing on the “ultimate nuts and banana power” concoction advertised on the packaging.

“I’m afraid not, Ratchet has been hard at work deciphering Decepticon encryptions, I will be taking on his duties for the night,” he tries to break it gently, expecting crushed expectations, not your bemused expression looking up at him.

“So you’re sending him my way?” You give a chuckle. “Wish we could have spent more time together, but work is work. Just…” you crawl into his lap and hug him as tight as you can, head resting against his chassis. “Please come back tomorrow. Or after tomorrow. I miss seeing you this way. I won’t get between you and… whatever you have going on, but please visit me more often. You have no idea how nice it feels to be around you.” His gaze softens, glowing faintly against your hair. “So I’ve been told,” he says, a smile on his lips. “As long as it lightens your burden.”

[misstycloud]

Helloo i just wanted to say youre doing god's work with the whole yandere omega x reader thing. You really hit an obscure niche (compared to other omegaverse stuff) and im really happy to see someone writing about this kind of trope! That being said, may i ask for a yandere omega who's married to their alpha reader, and how the omega's yandere tendencies still manifest even though they're already married to the alpha reader? Like maybe they're still a little possessive over their alpha or they still stick close to their alpha no matter what? Thank you so much!

Yandere!omega who is living the dream. They have everything they could ever ask for; a walk-in closet with the hundreds of fine garments, multiple boxes with accessories, a lavish room with windows facing the endless garden, and a generous spouse who spoils them rotten every chance they get.

Yandere!omega who can’t help but revel in the glory and the fact that they have it so good compared to their old bullies. The same people who used so mock them for their looks and pathetic-ness, now writhe in envy. It was a satisfying sight, to say the least.

No longer were they that small and weak nerd forced to eat in the bathroom during lunch. That was in the past. It seems that the hard work had payed off and they can finally experience happiness.

Yandere!omega who, despite knowing you’d never betray them, can’t help be feel anxious whenever others gawk at you when you’re out. You’ll be walking down the street and people would turn around to look at you. You’ll sit at a table in a fancy restaurant and all they’d be able to focus on is how the serves gossip about you. Everyone wants you, it seems. Although, it’s not very surprising considering your appearance and status.

Yandere!omega who, deep down, is still insecure. What is they’re not enough? They know that to most- if not all-think that you’re way above them. Still, they managed to capture your heart and have their love reciprocated. Somehow you love them out of everybody. It’s got to count for something. But what if you see pieces of the old them and you decide everything’s over? It can’t happen. They can’t live without you!

Yandere!omega who in turn gives all those people a foul glare. There is no way they can have you. You belong to someone already; them. And they’ll never give you up. Not even if it was by your own will. Didn’t you promise on your wedding day, you’re theirs and they are yours forever? Oh, you can’t just break promises.

Yandere!omega who complains of how your secretary is bullying them and refusing on letting them into the building to bring your lunch(your secretary married themselves). They cry to you that your family is still not accepting of them and want you to break up, so you need to make choices. They tell you that your friends are bad influences and will get you in trouble one day.

Yandere!omega who hates when you spend long hours in the office. Won’t you spend more time with them? Don’t they matter, or is the paperwork more urgent? Wow, they must be soooo important to you then.

Yandere!omega who screams that you obviously don’t love them anymore. Why would you work overtime nearly every day if you weren’t avoiding them like the plague?

“I gave you my heart, soul and body the day we wed. Is it so hard for you to do the same?”

[sollis-occasum]

you think i'm gone 'cause i left - anakin skywalker/darth vader x fem!jedi!reader (part 1 of 3)

summary: After failing to save you from a painful death, Darth Vader remembers his past with you and realizes why he can never completely leave Anakin Skywalker behind.

warnings: angst, no use of y/n, reconstructive surgery, blood, mentions of major character death (or not who knows), darth vader is his own warning

word count: 3.8k

a/n: First of all, I must say that English is not my native language. Also this is my first x reader format fanfiction. I'm pretty sure I made some mistakes but I hope you don't mind guys. I am always open to your suggestions ♡

part 2

Darth Vader, the master of the dark side of the Force, the legendary lord of the Sith, the tyrannical leader who terrorized the galaxy, remembered very well the moment when he swore to dedicate his worthless life to Lord Sidious, his lord and savior.

While his body, burned and torn apart by the lava, was trying to be fixed by the health droids, he was writhing in despair and moaning in a painful voice. The wave of pain spreading from his lungs to the rest of his body with each breath showed him a type of physical pain he had never experienced before, and even the cold metal hands touching his burned skin were insufficient to alleviate his pain.

"He should be unconscious by now," he heard a distant and very deep robotic voice, which he thought belonged to one of the medical droids. Yes, the pain he felt at that moment would be enough to kill another human being and maybe even drive them insane, and God knows that's what Anakin wanted with all his heart as he lay on the operating table screaming. But how could this be possible when he sees your lifeless body over and over again every time he closes his eyes?

In fact, he had calculated all the possibilities down to the smallest detail while making his plan. There was no war he wouldn't fight, no enemy he wouldn't face to create a future that included you. He was ready to turn his back on the entire galaxy just to see you smile one more time. Moreover, Palpatine had made a promise to him. He said that contrary to popular belief, it was possible to resist death and that he knew how to do it, and that he would help Anakin in trying to save you. All he had to do was accompany him to the dark side. Anakin had done everything he was told. He had given up on who he was, accepted the name his new master had given him, brutally executed separatist leaders, and led thousands of clone troopers in attacking the Jedi Temple he once called home. Even killing those little children who looked at him with admiration with the lightsaber they saw as a symbol of peace was not important to him. Of course, he wasn't proud of himself for betraying what he believed in in his past, but he also knew that what he did was a small price to pay to save you. So why didn't what he did work? Why couldn't he prevent the scene he had seen many times in his nightmares from happening?

He gripped the operating table tightly with his mechanical hand and mumbled your name in a voice only he could hear. He kept saying your name over and over again, as if he was drawing strength from you, as if you could come and save him if he said it enough times.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to focus on something other than your pained facial expression and bloodied body. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to rise up and take revenge for what was done to you, he had to find a way to endure the pain he suffered, and what was there in this life that gave him as much strength as you? He tried desperately to remember the moment you first met.

Nearly a month had passed since Qui Gon Jinn's death, and during this time his new master Obi Wan Kenobi had begun training him to become a Jedi. He was grateful for the opportunity given to him and did not want to be ungrateful. However, there were so many moments during his training that he despaired and wanted to return to Tatooine... First of all, Obi Wan Kenobi was not the person he imagined. Yes, it was an undeniable fact that he was a powerful Jedi. He was also smart, very smart. Anakin knew there was a lot of thing he could learn from him. However, it hadn't been long since he had ended his life as a padawan and Obi Wan had obviously not yet fully figured out how to be a good master for his young student. There was no distance or formality between them that there should be between a padawan and a master. They were more like two brothers who fought often. Obi Wan was pushing Anakin very hard to teach him basic things as soon as possible, and Anakin was always managing to drive Obi Wan crazy with his smarty-pants attitude.

He could also sense how the younglings at the temple felt about him as he began to learn how to use the force. Although none of them were directly mistreating him or making a rude remark, Anakin would sometimes catch their gaze. There was displeasure in those looks, obviously his presence disturbed them. A child who appears unexpectedly becomes a padawan without training in the temple and becomes the center of attention of the entire Jedi council... The other younglings must have felt unfair. But one day, he met a young girl who looked at him differently than others: You.

With your bright smile that could light up the whole galaxy and your compassionate gaze, you extended your hand to him and introduced yourself, telling him that he could always come to you if he needed anything. They said you were 9 years old like him, but it was so hard for him to believe it.

You were different from all the other children Anakin had met at the temple, with your confident demeanor and room-filling presence. Your surprisingly mature attitude and wisdom gave those who saw you the impression that you never made mistakes and that you always knew what was right, causing them to respect you.

Moreover, you were beautiful, very beautiful. Even your messy hair waving in the wind, your face dripping with sweat, and your loose-fitting uniform couldn't prevent Anakin from seeing this beauty. When his eyes met your beautiful, understanding eyes, he immediately looked away and wanted to run away. There was no doubt that you were the angel the pilots who came to Tatooine were talking about. However, he could not find the courage in his heart to admit this to himself or to tell you. He felt so small, so helpless in front of the being that he wanted to get away from it as soon as possible and think about what this warm feeling that filled his heart that he had never felt before was.

Yes, he wanted to run away from you when your eyes met. But ironically, this was the first time he didn't want to return to Tatooine to his mother.

For the 3 years after you met, you had no communication other than chance encounters at the temple and furtive glances at each other. Even a life form without eyes could easily understand that you wanted to be closer to each other, but you had neither the time nor the courage to do so. You were very busy with your studies. In the future, you wanted to be a female Jedi as respected as Shaak Ti, or even more so, and you were working very hard to achieve your goal. Anakin, on the other hand, began to go on missions given by the council with Obi Wan, and the difficulty of these missions was increasing. You were so close to Anakin, yet he felt like you were hundreds of light years away from him. You were unreachable to him.

Anakin heard that you were accepted as a padawan by Plo Koon when you turned 13. According to rumors in the temple, the Jedi knight from Dorin noticed your great potential and volunteered to train you. Maybe you weren't as good at using a lightsaber as the other padawans, you might not have been as strong or as durable, but you were smart, very smart. Your dangerously high intelligence level, combined with your composure, easily compensated for your other weaknesses, making you a promising Jedi knight candidate. Even the council had high hopes for you. That's why they didn't interfere with Plo Koon's training style and allowed him to take you out early on missions that could be considered at least partially dangerous.

It was thanks to one of these missions that you came together again. The Senate thought that a small newly established weapons factory on one of the republic's planets was making some irregularities and put pressure on the Jedi to resolve this situation. The council assigned you and Plo Koon to inspect this factory.

It didn't sound that difficult, actually. You would make a short journey to reach the planet in question, tour the factory, talk to the engineers, examine some documents and intimidate the managers.

What could go wrong with such a simple task? To be honest, you weren't known for being lucky, and as usual, trouble had found you.

Anakin and Obi-Wan didn't even need to contact Plo Koon to realize that the Senate was right about the factory producing weapons for Mandolorian terrorists. Less than a day after you arrived on the planet, you reached the council and reported that the factory was completely abandoned, saying that you were trapped and surrounded by thousands of droids and asked for help. The council also assigned Obi Wan and Anakin, who had returned from a mission to a nearby planet, to support Plo Koon and you. Anakin still remembered Mace Windu's explanation word by word when he explained the urgency of your situation to his master Obi-Wan. And how those words filled his little heart with fear.

"You must reach the weapons factory as soon as possible, Master Kenobi." Mace Windu said in a stern tone. "Or it might be too late to save them."

Even if these words had not been spoken, the more serious expression than ever on Mace Windu's face would have been more than enough for even the most primitive creature in the galaxy to understand the situation.

As the spaceship they were on made a sudden return to your planet by order of his master, Anakin was wondering why he was so worried about a girl he had only talked to a few times. While he could keep his cool even during missions where his own life was threatened, why did the idea of ​​you in pain make his heart beat faster and his head spin? He was trying to breathe to calm down, but even his breathing was so irregular that Obi Wan felt the need to turn to him and reassure him that everything was okay. How could Anakin explain to his master that he was afraid for you, not himself? Would he understand if he told him?

While the young padawan was in these thoughts, the ship entered the atmosphere with a sudden jolt and landed near the factory. As the deafening noise of explosions and droid weapons filled his ears, he got off the ship and started running without waiting for his master's command. He could hear Obi-Wan calling to him to stop, but he didn't have the time or patience to wait. This was not a scene they were unfamiliar with anyway. When all this nonsense was over, he would happily hear Obi Wan's scolding and humbly accept his punishment, but right now wasn't the right time to think about that. The only thing that mattered at that moment was saving you, and he was going to do it no matter what it took. Because it was his heart, not his brain, that told him to do this, and Anakin was not mature enough to resist his heart. With a swift move, he pulled out his lightsaber and sliced ​​the first droid he encountered in half.

When he heard the sound of your footsteps mixing with the sounds of the battle droids, he realized how close he was to them, but he didn't even slow down for fear of being late for you. He was destroying all the war machines in front of him, clearing the way and moving towards the direction where he sensed your presence.

When he and his master, who finally managed to catch up with him, arrived at the production facility where you were fighting the droids, he started looking around for you, without even bothering to check how Plo Koon was doing. Plo Koon was one of the most powerful Jedi, someone like him could survive without the help of a padawan, but not you. He could feel with all his being that you needed help, but no matter how much he looked around, he couldn't see you.

While Anakin was looking around the burning production facility to find you, he saw two silhouettes in the smoke. One of these silhouettes, the one leaning on the ground and cowering against a wall, belonged to a young girl. The other was the silhouette of an armed droid, as tall as a human but as skinny as a skeleton. Moreover, this droid's gun was pointed at you and was about to be fired. Anakin knew his feelings were not wrong. You were in a difficult situation and needed his help.

He was sure that he wanted to run towards you, save you by smashing that droid into thousands of pieces, and then kick its ugly metal head and throw it to the farthest corner of the galaxy. But he knew he didn't have time for that. So he did something even he didn't expect and threw his lightsaber towards you, hoping you could catch it in time. He knew that this move was madness. What kind of maniac would give up the only weapon he had among thousands of battle droids and leave himself defenseless? Especially if he doesn't know the other person well?

But Anakin had never regretted what he had done, not even for a moment. He saw you pull the thrown lightsaber with force and catch it, then slice the droid in half before he could fire to you. Yes, you were safe, but that safety was only for a brief moment. He had no time to relax, otherwise he knew you would be open to attacks from other droids. Without wasting any time, he followed the green lightsaber shining among the smoke and reached him. You were finally in front of him.

To be honest, your situation wasn't looking so bright. You were seriously injured and your body was covered in blood. Anakin had knelt down next to you and gently held your face between his fingers, afraid of hurting you even more. He could feel the warm drops of blood running down your face, flowing from his fingers to his wrists, but he didn't care about anything other than your safety at that moment. "Are you okay?" he asked, trying to hide how worried he was. Just by looking into your eyes, he could see how much the conflict you were experiencing had worn you out, but you put on a brave and determined expression and nodded, trying not to let the pain you were feeling reflected in your voice, "I'm fine." you muttered. "I'm fine, but I think my legs are stuck and I can't move them."

"Don't be afraid, I'll find a way to get you out of here."

He could see a shattering mass of metal pinning your legs. He took the lightsaber from your hand, carefully opened it, and held it up to the metal plate. "I'll try not to cut off your legs," he said, trying to smile to calm you down, and then added. "At least one of them."

You must have liked Anakin's little joke, too, because your lips turned slightly to the side despite your helpless situation. "Don't worry." you said, laughing. "They will break off on their own anyway, even if you don't cut them."

After receiving a sarcastic approval from you, he began to cut and separate the metal pieces with great patience. He made every move carefully and attentively, afraid of hurting you. When your legs were finally free, he took a deep breath and looked at your face again.

"It's not safe here. We have to get out of here."

"But my master is still fighting." Even though you tried to object, Anakin did not accept it. "He can take care of himself, and the support sent by the council is on the way."

His tone and expression were so determined that you gave up and surrendered to Anakin. You didn't have the strength to resist even if you wanted to. He wrapped his arms tightly around your body, stood up and started walking towards the factory exit. To be honest, you were a little heavier than you looked, and your blood was staining his clothes, but as long as you could rest your head on his chest and he could feel the warmth of your body, nothing else mattered.

Your next meeting was in the infirmary at the Jedi temple. 3 days had passed after your unfortunate duty at the factory and you had just regained your consciousness. During this time, Anakin began to help Jocasta Nu in the archives, upon his master's orders. It could not be said that he was very happy with his situation, but he still considered himself lucky that the punishment for his disobedience during duty was so small. Besides, even though organizing the archives was a tedious task, it kept his mind busy, and he definitely needed it.

Every moment he wasn't busy with something, he was thinking about you and what happened at the factory that day and trying to make sense of what he was feeling. That strange feeling that he thought he had forgotten years ago was back. Why did his heart beat faster and his face turn red every time he thought of you? Were these normal? His master had told him that a Jedi should not become attached to anything, but he should also be compassionate. Anakin could not understand this contrast. He was also afraid of being attached to you. But this was very illogical. Could one person become so attached to another person in such a short time? All these questions confused little Anakin more than ever. Finally, he realized that he could not bear these questions any longer and decided to visit you in the infirmary at the end of the 3rd day. Besides, he also had something that belonged to you, and he had to return it to you as soon as possible.

When he came to you, he saw that you were much more cheerful than he expected. You still looked very weak and you were obviously going to be in the infirmary for a while longer. Still, without letting this demoralize you, you were patiently waiting for your recovery, and in the meantime, you were trying to pass the time by reading the war history texts you took from the archive.

Still, you smiled so widely when you saw Anakin that he was convinced you were glad to see him, too. Trying to suppress the uncomfortable feeling he felt in his stomach, he put on a confident expression and quickly walked over and sat on your bed.

"You look better." he said with the light of hope appearing in his eyes.

You smiled warmly at him. "Thank you, Anakin." you said. "I feel better too."

After a brief hesitation, he pulled a lightsaber from under his cloak and handed it to you, "I think this is yours." he said. "I found it at the factory."

Just seeing the familiar blue color of the lightsaber brought peace to your soul. You happily took the saber from Anakin's hand and began to examine it. "God, thank you so much Anakin. I thought I had lost it."

"My master always tells me that the lightsaber is a Jedi's life and they must protect it at all costs."

Even though you lost your lightsaber for reasons beyond your control, what Anakin said made you a little embarrassed. "Of course, I'm not trying to justify my irresponsibility, but what happened that day was unexpected. I must have dropped it during that chaos."

"To be honest, I've lost my lightsaber too many times."

The confession of the padawan in front of you made you smile a little. Actually, what you should have done was to politely thank Anakin for saving your life, and when the time comes, pay him back at all costs. However, owing your life to him placed such a heavy burden on your shoulders that you felt crushed under this weight, no matter how humble the attitude of the boy in front of you. Before you even thought, the words were coming out of your mouth. "Master Kenobi says that our lightsaber is our life, right? So, according to the master's logic, you entrusted your life to me in the factory, and you also saved mine by finding my lightsaber."

Anakin looked at you in surprise, not knowing what to say at your words. Yes, your reasoning based on his master's words was correct, however, he did not expect you to approach the subject from this perspective. Fortunately, you continued talking without a long pause, and he was spared the trouble of finding an answer to give you.

"I am grateful to you for saving my life, Anakin, and I swear that one day I will repay you. Please give me your lightsaber until that day, and you can take mine."

"So you want us to surrender our lives to each other?" Anakin asked with mixed emotions. Wouldn't this agreement create a commitment between you? Anakin could not comprehend the depth of this devotion.

You nodded decisively in response. "Yes. So we can remember this promise between us for the rest of our lives. These sabers we exchanged will be a symbol of our friendship and trust in each other, and one day I will repay my debt to you. Until then, I want to remember the promise I made to you every time I look at your saber."

Then you added timidly, "If you want too, of course."

Anakin thought for a few seconds, then without a word, he handed you his lightsaber and accepted this pact that would bind your hearts and bodies together forever. Thus, a very special bond was formed between you that will never be broken again. Who knew that this innocent bond established between two children would one day bring disaster to the galaxy...

[aro-culture-is]

Question. Is it allophobic if my sister finds a boy friend and I get pissed because all of a sudden it's about the dude? The dude above us all, choosing the dude above everyone else. Like why is this normal and why am I considered deranged for questioning this weird illogical hierarchy. People say I'm bitter because I can't find a one true significant other, not knowing that I'm not even interested in the slightest.

which is why I ask is it a little too far to be pissed when a family/friend kind of person to you chooses their significant other all the time?

Allophobia does not exist on a cultural level. I am not humoring this term that I've only seen used in bad faith; I will instead address the response to a person you care for suddenly spending more time with others because they entered a new romantic relationship.

To begin with, it is okay to feel how you feel, even if you would rather not feel it for some reason or another. You are allowed to feel angry, upset, betrayed, and all sorts of things for any reason. But you must own this emotion; it is how you feel, and you cannot use this to determine intent or blame.

When you feel upset, it's important to practice letting yourself name your emotion. Look up a feelings wheel if you need some ideas. Acknowledge that yes, you are feeling this way. Then, locate how it feels in your body. Consider areas of tension, temperature, movement or stillness. Just acknowledge it. You don't have to do anything about that if you don't want to. Just think about it.

Then comes the hardest part, personally.

Is that emotion telling you something? Does it tell you that you'd like a more robust social circle to lean on when someone has another part of their life they are focusing their energy on? Could you redirect your energy into something? Is this emotion about that specific situation, or a broader theme in your life? Whatever it is, try to address that, thank your body for telling you this, and let the emotion go. This is a practice; you need to let yourself feel, learn to trust that you will address the root cause, and that you can let it go.

It can be really helpful to contextualize this from the perspective of the other individual. With new romantic partners, the polyamorous community has a term called New Relationship Energy (NRE) and talks about how hard it can be to navigate within a polyam relationship, when their partners gain new partners. People get excited to dive into their new relationship. If you've ever gotten into a new media and absolutely immersed yourself, or a new craft, or anything, it's very similar. New things can be exciting!

I'm very certain that your sister, and the vast majority of people getting into a new relationship and suddenly paying less attention to their loved ones, do not mean to harm you. They may or may not be applying an hierarchy. They're often excited and enjoying the new experiences. You can still feel hurt, and you can talk with them openly about this without blaming them. "I feel upset because we haven't played Animal Crossing together in a month. Could we please commit to a night together? I miss you."

[honeyhae-svt]

🎮On Off On🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: emotional tension, love triangle (we're getting serious), jealousy, angst, possessiveness, unresolved feelings, conflict, intimate situations, mature themes (smut), emotional hurt/comfort smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional! not ideal IRL), rough sex (explicitly described thrusting, intense actions), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (fictional context), consent (implied and verbal), emotional vulnerability (expressed through intimacy), body worship and attention to physical details, breath play (heavy breathing, audible reactions), dirty talk, descriptive sexual acts (explicit descriptions of genital stimulation), post-coital intimacy (gentle moments after sex) wc: 10,994 ♪ playlist ♪ : adore you (harry styles), into you (ariana grande), slow hands (niall horan), you (the 1975) a/n: pls i think i made this shit messier. im gonna die wtf im just warning that its too much drama so read at your own risk (please enjoy tho ! dont let my own words deceive you lmaooo)

06

It started with little things. The way Jeonghan's gaze lingered a moment too long when he thought you weren't paying attention, the way he seemed to show up at your workplace more often—always with some excuse. "I was in the area," or, "I needed your opinion on something."

Today was no different.

You were packing up for the day when Jeonghan strolled in, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his coat. His hair looked freshly styled, loose waves framing his face in a way that made it impossible not to notice how effortlessly good-looking he was.

"You're getting predictable," you teased, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "What's the excuse this time?"

Jeonghan grinned, unfazed. "No excuse. I figured you'd want coffee after work. Am I wrong?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, pretending to consider. "Not wrong, but suspiciously convenient."

He simply held the door open for you, his smile widening. "I'll take that as a yes."

The café was one of those cozy, dimly lit spots with worn leather chairs and the faint scent of cinnamon lingering in the air. You'd been here before with Jeonghan, but today it felt different.

He ordered your usual without asking, then led you to a corner booth, his easy demeanor masking something unspoken.

"So," he said, leaning back in his seat as the two of you waited for your drinks. "How's everything going? Work, life... Wonwoo?"

You froze mid-reach for a napkin, your fingers curling back as you met his gaze. His tone was casual, almost too casual, but there was a glint in his eye—mischievous, probing.

"Wonwoo?" you echoed, feigning innocence. "Why are you bringing him up?"

Jeonghan shrugged, his expression unreadable. "No reason. Just curious."

The barista arrived with your drinks, breaking the moment, but the tension lingered. You stirred your coffee absently, unsure how to respond.

"We've just been hanging out," you said finally, keeping your tone neutral. "It's not a big deal."

"Hmm." Jeonghan's lips quirked upward, though his eyes remained sharp. "It's funny. I don't think I've ever seen him so... animated. He must really enjoy your company."

"Jeonghan," you said, a warning laced in your tone.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "Relax, I'm just teasing. But..." He trailed off, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "I wonder what he'd say if he knew about us."

Your breath caught, the words hitting like a subtle jab and lingering in the air. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jeonghan tilted his head, his expression unreadable yet impossibly confident. "It means I think he'd be curious. Maybe even a little jealous."

You scoffed, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you. "There's no us, Jeonghan. You're just stirring the pot, as usual."

"Am I?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost teasing. "Or are you just trying to convince yourself of that?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you couldn't find the words to reply. He leaned back again, taking a sip of his coffee as if he hadn't just flipped your world upside down.

The conversation shifted after that, easing into safer territory—shared stories, light jokes, and discussions about work. But his earlier words lingered in the back of your mind, their weight impossible to shake.

As you walked out of the café together, the cool evening air biting at your skin, Jeonghan slid his hands into his coat pockets, his gaze fixed ahead.

"By the way," he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. "You've been distracted lately. Is something on your mind?"

You hesitated, your grip tightening on your bag. "Not really. Just... a lot going on."

He nodded, his expression unreadable once again. "Well, whatever it is, don't forget I'm here. You don't have to figure everything out on your own."

There it was again—that maddening ability of his to slip past your defenses without even trying. As much as you wanted to brush him off, the sincerity in his tone made it impossible.

"Thanks," you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeonghan turned to you then, his smile soft and almost wistful. "Anytime."

And just like that, the moment was over. But as you parted ways, his words echoed in your mind, leaving you more confused than ever.

That evening, as you settled into your couch with a blanket and your phone, you couldn't shake Jeonghan's words from earlier. "I wonder what he'd say if he knew about us..." They replayed in your mind, making it harder to focus on anything else.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. It wasn't like Jeonghan to speak so candidly—or maybe it was, but this time it felt different. Intentional. And the worst part was, he wasn't entirely wrong.

Your phone buzzed on the armrest, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Wonwoo.

The notification was simple:

Wonwoo: Hey, you free right now?

A small smile tugged at your lips despite everything. There was something about the way Wonwoo messaged you—straightforward, no games—that felt grounding.

You: yea what's up? Wonwoo: Feel like getting some air? I'm parked outside.

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn't the first time he'd done this—shown up unannounced but with impeccable timing, as if he knew exactly when you needed a distraction.

You: give me five

When you stepped outside, Wonwoo was leaning against his car, hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, the cool night air making his breath visible. His gaze softened when he saw you, and he straightened up, opening the passenger door with a quiet, "Hey."

"Hey," you replied, climbing into the car. "You always this spontaneous?"

He chuckled as he slid into the driver's seat, the sound low and warm. "Only with you."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, but you brushed it off, letting the quiet hum of the car's engine fill the space.

"Where are we going?" you asked after a moment, glancing at him.

"You'll see," was all he said, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

The drive was peaceful, the city lights giving way to quieter streets as he took you somewhere more secluded. When he finally pulled over, you realized he'd brought you to a lookout point overlooking the city.

The view was breathtaking, the skyline glittering like stars on the horizon. Wonwoo turned off the engine but left the music playing softly in the background—a familiar tune you couldn't place but found comforting.

He leaned back, resting his arm along the top of his seat as he turned to you. "You've been quiet."

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. "Just... thinking."

"About Jeonghan?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "What makes you think—"

"You're bad at hiding it," he interrupted, his lips quirking into a faint smile. "And Jeonghan's been... different lately."

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. "I don't even know how to explain it. He's always playing these mind games, making me second-guess everything."

Wonwoo's gaze darkened slightly, his usual calm giving way to something sharper. "That's just how he is. But if he's messing with your head, maybe you should take a step back."

You stared at him, surprised by the edge in his voice. "Why do you care so much?"

He didn't answer right away, his jaw tightening as he looked out at the city. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost hesitant. "Because I don't want to see you get hurt. Not by him. Not by anyone."

The weight of his words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. Then, almost on instinct, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand where it rested on the console.

"Wonwoo..."

He turned to you, his eyes searching yours, and suddenly the space between you felt impossibly small. You didn't know who moved first—maybe it was him, maybe it was you—but before you could think, his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow at first, careful and deliberate, as if testing the waters. But then his hand moved to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek, and something shifted.

You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his hoodie as the kiss deepened, all the confusion and tension of the past few days melting away in the warmth of his touch.

His lips moved with ceratainty, tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. You opened it for him, and that's when your tongues felt like they were tangled.

It was then when he adjusted to lean closer to your seat to kiss you better from different angles, leaving your lips all swollen and red, not because of the lipstick, but because of how he nipped and sucked at your lips like it's the last thing on earth to do.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed.

"This isn't just attraction anymore," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "At least not for me."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the weight of his confession crashing over you. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat.

Because as much as you wanted to deny it, part of you knew he was right.

The night felt quieter than usual as Wonwoo drove you home. The streets were empty, bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, and the silence in the car was heavy, not uncomfortable but laden with unspoken words.

"Thanks for tonight," you said softly, breaking the quiet.

Wonwoo glanced at you briefly, his profile illuminated by the passing lights. "Anytime," he replied, his voice calm but distant, as if there was something on his mind.

When he pulled up in front of your place, neither of you moved to get out right away. The stillness stretched on until you finally turned to him, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"Wonwoo, are you okay?"

He let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Am I that easy to read?"

"Kind of," you teased gently, hoping to lighten the mood.

But he didn't smile. Instead, he turned to face you fully, his dark eyes searching yours. "I'm not good at this... saying how I feel. But tonight, being with you, it just... felt different."

Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his words sinking in. "Different how?"

"The way I look at you... it's not just about attraction anymore," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand reached out, hesitating before brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It's more than that. You make me feel things I wasn't prepared for."

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten. You wanted to say something, but the words escaped you. Instead, you leaned forward, your lips finding his in a kiss that started slow, careful, deliberate.

His hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as the kiss deepened. It felt like all the confusion and tension of the past few days melted away in the warmth of his touch.

When you finally pulled back, breathless yet again, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed.

Your heart pounded, but before you could say anything, he leaned back, his hand dropping to his side. "It's late. You should get some rest."

You nodded, slipping out of the car with a soft "goodnight," though the weight of his confession stayed with you long after the door closed behind you.

The Next Morning

The café was unusually busy, but Jeonghan didn't seem to mind. He sat across from you, coffee in hand, his usual playful smirk firmly in place.

"You've been distracted lately," he said, his tone light but his gaze sharp. "Something—or someone—on your mind?"

You rolled your eyes, playing along with his teasing. "Don't flatter yourself, Hannie."

He laughed, reaching across the table to nudge your arm. "See, that's the fire I like. Don't ever lose that."

The two of you lingered over coffee, chatting about everything and nothing, and by the time you left, he had his arm slung casually around your shoulders, his laughter ringing in your ears.

What you didn't notice was the figure standing across the street, watching the two of you with a mixture of hurt and frustration.

Wonwoo stood frozen, his hands clenched at his sides as he watched Jeonghan lean in close, whispering something in your ear that made you laugh. The way you looked at Jeonghan—so relaxed, so comfortable—felt like a punch to the gut.

By the time he turned away, the image of the two of you was burned into his mind, and the questions he'd been wrestling with all night came rushing back with a vengeance.

It started with a text.

Wonwoo: Busy tonight?

You stared at your phone, the memory of Jeonghan's laughter from earlier still fresh in your mind. Wonwoo's timing felt uncanny, almost as if he could sense when you were thinking about someone else.

You: nope You: why Wonwoo: Come over. I found a new game you'll like.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers hovering over the screen. The invitation felt simple enough, but there was something about the way he asked—direct, no room for excuses—that made your heart skip a beat.

You: whats the game Wonwoo: You'll find out when you get here. Don't keep me waiting.

The last message came with a small but unmistakable sense of urgency, and before you could second-guess yourself, you were grabbing your jacket and heading out the door.

When you arrived at his place, the atmosphere felt different. The usual dim lighting and faint smell of coffee greeted you, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken in the air.

Wonwoo was already setting up the game, his back turned to you as you stepped inside. "I was starting to think you weren't coming," he said without looking up.

"You don't exactly leave much room for saying no," you replied, your tone light but teasing.

He glanced over his shoulder, a small smirk tugging at his lips. "Good. I'd hate to lose my gaming partner to... other distractions."

The way he said it made your stomach flip, but you chose to ignore the implication. "So, what's this game you're so excited about?"

"Sit down, and I'll show you."

It had become a thing between the two of you—gaming sessions at Wonwoo's place, where you'd sit shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, sharing laughter and mild trash talk over the sounds of button-mashing and victories. But tonight felt different. The way his knee brushed against yours when he adjusted his position, the way he leaned a little closer when explaining the controls—it all felt deliberate, as if he was trying to pull you into his orbit.

It had become a thing between the two of you—gaming sessions at Wonwoo's place, where you'd sit shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, sharing laughter and mild trash talk over the sounds of button-mashing and victories.

Tonight was no different, except something felt off. Wonwoo was quieter than usual, his responses shorter, his usual calm demeanor tinged with something heavier.

"Alright, spill it," you said after another round ended, setting your controller down and turning to face him. "What's up with you?"

He didn't look at you immediately, his fingers still hovering over the buttons as if debating whether to start another game. Finally, he sighed and leaned back against the couch, his gaze fixed on the TV screen.

"You're making this really hard for me, you know?" he said, his voice low but steady.

You blinked, confused. "Making what hard?"

"This," he gestured vaguely between the two of you, finally turning to meet your eyes. "Being around you. Pretending I'm okay with... whatever this is."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you were at a loss. "Wonwoo, I—"

"I know," he cut you off gently, running a hand through his hair. "I know you're caught up in something with Jeonghan, and I'm not trying to make this more complicated for you. But I can't keep pretending it doesn't kill me to see you with him."

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, and before you could think, you reached out, your hand resting on his arm. "Wonwoo..."

His eyes softened at your touch, and for a moment, the tension seemed to dissipate. But then he shifted closer, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up to meet your eyes.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn't.

The next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, the kiss slow and searching at first, as if he was giving you a chance to pull away. But when you didn't, when you instead leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, the kiss deepened, becoming hungrier, more urgent.

Wonwoo's hands found your waist, pulling you into his lap as the kiss grew more intense. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hitching as your hands slid under the hem of his hoodie, your fingers grazing the warm skin beneath.

"You're driving me crazy," he muttered against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"Good," you replied, your own voice breathless as you nipped at his bottom lip.

He groaned, his grip on your waist tightening as he guided you against him, the friction making you both gasp. His lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses that had you arching into him, your hands tangling in his hair.

"Wonwoo," you breathed, his name coming out like a prayer as he continued his assault on your senses.

His hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he explored every inch of skin he could reach. "Tell me if I need to stop," he said, his voice strained but sincere.

"Don't stop," you whispered, your own hands tugging at his hoodie, eager to feel more of him.

His hoodie was the first to go, leaving him in just a plain black t-shirt that clung to his frame. You caught yourself staring for a second too long, but Wonwoo didn't seem to mind. His lips were back on yours before you could even form a coherent thought, his hands slipping under your shirt again, this time more purposeful, more confident.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and edged with restraint.

You nodded, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible but resolute.

That was all the confirmation he needed. In one fluid motion, he lifted your shirt over your head, followed by the unclipping of your bra. His eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your breasts. His hands were back on you immediately, roaming over your bare skin with a mix of reverence and hunger.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against your shoulder, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there before trailing down to your collarbone. His hands squeezing one of your breasts, thumbs grazing your sensitive nipples.

Heat pooled from your soaked cunt as he kissed his way lower, his hands firmly gripping your hips as if grounding himself. Your own hands found their way under his shirt, pushing it up and over his head, and the sight of him—flushed, disheveled, and entirely focused on you—made your heart race even faster.

When he leaned back to pull you closer, your legs straddling his hips, you felt every inch of him pressed against you, the friction sparking something primal between you. His lips were on yours again, his kiss deeper, hungrier, as his hands slid down to the waistband of your jeans.

"You can still stop me," he murmured against your lips, his fingers pausing just shy of the button.

Your response was immediate. "I don't want to stop."

His lips curved into a small, satisfied smirk before he made quick work of your jeans, tugging them down just enough to leave you exposed to him. He paused for a moment, his gaze raking over you with an intensity that made you feel both vulnerable and desired.

"You're perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, before his hands were on you again, his touch igniting a fire that consumed every thought, every hesitation.

Wonwoo's hands trailed down your thighs, his touch deliberate and teasing as he mapped out every curve. The heat in his gaze was undeniable, a fire that matched the one building within you. When his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, he paused, his dark eyes flickering to yours.

He slid your underwear down slowly, his lips pressing soft kisses along your inner thigh as he did, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made you tremble beneath him.

When his mouth found your soaked pussy, a gasp tore from your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked you over with an expertise that left you breathless. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to have your hips bucking against him, seeking more.

"Fuck, Wonwoo," you moaned, the sound of his name falling from your lips only spurring him on. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you firmly in place as he pushed you higher against him, his tongue reaching that one spot, your body teetering on the edge of bliss.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with a satisfied smirk. "You taste so good," he murmured, his voice rough with desire.

Before you could respond, he was back over you, his body pressing against yours as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the intimacy of it only heightening your arousal. His hand slid between your legs again, his fingers teasing you, sliding through your slick folds before slowly pushing inside.

A cry escaped your lips, your back arching as he set a slow, torturous rhythm. "You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours as he watched your every reaction. "So perfect."

Your hands roamed his body, desperate to feel every inch of him. When you reached for his waistband, he let out a low chuckle but didn't stop you, his breath hitching as you freed him from his sweats. He was hard and heavy in your hand, and the guttural groan he let out when you stroked him made you feel powerful despite the way he had you unraveling beneath him.

Your palm did well enough, but when you took his cock in your mouth, that's when his precum was leaking out. You bobbed your head and licked the tip of his cock until he finally came in you. 

His hot load leaking from your lips as you swallowed hard.

"I need you," he whispered, his voice rough with restraint as he positioned his cock at your entrance. He paused, his gaze locking with yours. "Tell me if it's too much. I don't ever want to hurt you."

You cupped his face, pulling him into a kiss as you wrapped your legs around his waist. "I trust you," you whispered against his lips. "Take it in."

With a quiet groan, he pushed into you slowly, filling you inch by inch until you were gasping, your nails digging into his shoulders. He stilled once he was fully seated inside you, his breath ragged as he gave you a moment to adjust.

"You feel so fucking good," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "Better than I ever imagined."

You whimpered in response, rolling your hips against him in silent encouragement. He took the hint, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, his movements measured but deep, each stroke drawing a moan from your lips. The way he filled you, stretched you, left you trembling, your body meeting his with every thrust.

"Wonwoo," you gasped, your voice breaking as he picked up the pace, his hands gripping your hips to guide you. He buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he lost himself in you.

His cock was slamming into you real hard as if there was no time to waste. Your moans only encouraging him to move faster to reach his climax and yours.

The room was filled with the sound of your labored breathing, the wet slap of skin against skin, and the occasional groan or whimper as he drove you both closer to the edge. The intensity of it—the way he worshipped your body, the way he whispered your name like a prayer—had you spiraling, the tension coiling in your stomach until it snapped.

You came undone with a cry, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you. He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he spilled into you, his groan muffled against your neck.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the only sound the heavy rhythm of your breathing. Wonwoo finally pulled back, cock dripping with your mixed cum, his lips brushing over your forehead as he gazed down at you with an expression so tender it made your heart ache.

"That wasn't just about lust," he murmured, his voice soft but certain. "Not for me."

Your chest tightened at his words, the weight of them sinking in. You wanted to respond, to tell him everything you were feeling, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, you cupped his face, pulling him into another kiss—slow, lingering, and filled with all the emotions you couldn't yet put into words.

You were almost too smug for your own good, leaning back with a satisfied grin as you glanced at Wonwoo, wearing nothing but his hoodie that was oversized in your frame.

"You got lucky," he grumbled, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Admit it," you teased, leaning toward him, your breath brushing against his ear. "I'm just better than you."

His eyes flickered to yours, a spark of mischief in their depths. "Oh, is that so?"

Before you could react, he reached out, pulling you onto his lap in one swift motion. You gasped in surprise, dropping the controller as his arms locked around your waist, keeping you firmly in place. Wonwoo swore under his breath when he recognizes his scent from your body.

"Still think you're better than me?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You blinked, confused by the sudden change in his energy. "Wonwoo, what are you—"

Before you could finish, his lips were on yours, capturing them in a kiss that was anything but playful. It was deep and hungry, the kind that made your knees weak and your heart race.

The controller clattered to the floor, forgotten as your hands instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands roamed over your body, sliding under the hoodie to grip your waist, his thumbs brushing over your skin in a way that made you gasp against his lips.

"God, you're distracting," he muttered, pulling back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against yours.

"You started it," you shot back breathlessly, your hands clutching at his plain black t-shirt.

"Maybe," he admitted, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "But you're going to finish it."

Before you could respond, he reached for the controller with one hand, the other still firmly on your hip. "Let's see if you can focus now," he challenged, restarting the game.

"Wonwoo, you can't be serious—"

"Oh, I'm dead serious," he cut you off, his voice low and teasing as his free hand trailed down to your thigh, squeezing gently.

"What's the matter? Can't handle a little distraction?" he murmured against your neck, his voice low and teasing.

You bit your lip, trying to focus on the game, but every inch of your body was hyperaware of his touch, the way his fingers traced patterns against your inner thigh, slowly inching higher. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, the sensation intensifying with each teasing touch. It was getting harder to keep your eyes on the screen.

"Wonwoo, I swear—" you started, your breath catching in your throat.

But before you could protest further, his hand slid between your legs and grazed on your soaked cunt, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through you. You gasped, the controller slipping from your hands as your body leaned into his touch. The game was the last thing on your mind now. His fingers were careful, deliberate, and oh so teasing as they brushed against your soaked clit, sending waves of pleasure through you that you couldn't escape.

Wonwoo's teasing turned into something deeper, his desire evident in the way he touched you, his movements becoming more urgent as he lifted you slightly to adjust your position.

"Fuck the game," he muttered against your lips, his patience snapping as he pushed you down onto the couch, his body pressing against yours. "You win."

Your head fell back against the couch, the words tumbling from your lips without thought, every part of you overwhelmed by his touch. You couldn't think straight, couldn't even remember what the game was about as he kissed along your neck, moving lower, his hands never leaving you. His lips, warm and insistent, found your skin, marking it with soft bites and caresses that made you shudder.

"Wonwoo... please..." Your voice was thick with need, and you didn't care that he could hear the desperation in it. You wanted him closer, deeper, as your body arched against his, silently begging for more.

He smiled against your neck, a slow, confident grin that made your pulse spike. "You're so fucking beautiful, you know that?"

You let out a soft laugh, though it was shaky, breathless. "Stop teasing me."

"I'm not teasing," he murmured, his fingers slipping inside you, drawing out a sharp gasp from your lips. "I'm giving you exactly what you need."

His thumb circled your clit in rhythmic, deliberate movements as his lips found yours once again, swallowing your moans. It was slow, methodical, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel the tension building deep in your stomach, the pressure mounting with every stroke of his fingers.

You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss, your body pressing into his as if you were trying to become one. The connection between you felt almost overwhelming, like every touch, every kiss, was laced with raw emotion—desire, yes, but something more.

Something tender.

He pulled away for a moment, his eyes searching yours, intense and unguarded. "Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice soft, filled with genuine concern. It was a question that showed just how much he cared, how much he wanted to make this more than just physical. 

Wonwoo positioned the tip of his cock onto the entrance of your pussy.

You nodded, breathless, and smiled up at him. "I'm more than okay."

And with that, he kissed you again, this time with a gentleness that sent a shiver down your spine, before he shoved his dick in you and began moving faster.

The game continued in the background, forgotten, as you surrendered completely to him. And this time, it was different—it wasn't just about the physical, it was about the intimacy, the way you fit together perfectly in that moment. 

He groaned softly against your skin, his movements becoming more urgent. "Fuck, you feel so good."

Your hands slid down his chest, your nails grazing lightly over his skin as you urged him on. "Don't stop," you whispered, your voice thick with need. "Please don't stop."

He didn't.

The way he continued thrusting in you felt like a bliss. Every hard slam with his balls slapping your already-soaked ass added to the heat of everything. 

The night had been nothing but kisses, gaming, sex, gaming, and sex. 

Wonwoo grabbed one of your legs up to get him a better angle before thrusting real hard into you. His heart pounding like never before. 

And when it finally came—when that wave of pleasure crashed over you both—it was nothing short of overwhelming. You clung to each other, bodies trembling as the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you tangled together, lost in the moment.

As you both slowly came down from the high, Wonwoo kissed your forehead softly, his breath warm against your skin. "You're incredible," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

"And you're a sore loser," you teased, a playful smirk tugging at your lips even as your heart raced.

He laughed lowly, a sound that made your pulse spike, and leaned down to kiss you again. "Maybe. But I think I'm about to make up for it."

Wonwoo brushed your hair back from your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek as his dark, smoldering gaze softened. "You know, I wasn't just talking about the game earlier," he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

Your breath caught at the sudden shift in his tone. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're incredible," he repeated, his fingers tracing along your jawline. "Not just here, not just now. I mean everything about you. You drive me crazy in ways I didn't even know were possible."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. For a moment, you didn't know how to respond, the weight of his words sinking deep into your heart. But instead of fumbling for the right thing to say, you cupped his face, brushing your thumb across his cheekbone as you leaned in.

Your kiss was slow and deliberate, a silent answer to the emotions swirling between you. He responded immediately, his lips moving against yours with a mix of tenderness and hunger, as though he wanted to pour every unspoken word into that kiss.

When you pulled back just enough to rest your foreheads together, you whispered, "You mean just as much to me, Wonwoo. Maybe even more."

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your lips. "That's impossible."

The teasing edge to his voice made you smirk, the playful tension between you rekindling. "Guess we'll have to agree to disagree," you quipped, your fingers gliding down the firm planes of his chest, now bare and warm under your touch.

His lips curved into a wicked grin, his gaze darkening as his hands roamed over your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve. "Still feeling smug, huh? Should I knock you down a peg?"

His hands slid down your sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The sofa creaked beneath you as he shifted his weight, his body pressing more firmly into yours. His fingers trailed lower, tracing lazy circles along your thigh before gripping it and hitching it higher around his waist.

"Smug? No," you teased, your voice breathless. "Just confident."

Wonwoo let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling against your skin. "We'll see about that."

Without warning, he dipped his head, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that stole the air from your lungs. His tongue teased yours, slow and deliberate, his kisses deep and unrelenting as his hand slid between your legs, his fingers skillfully reigniting the fire that hadn't had time to die down.

You gasped against his mouth, your back arching off the couch as he explored you, his touch knowing and intentional. "Wonwoo," you whimpered, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes filled with desire and something deeper, something raw. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned down to kiss you again.

The rhythm of his touch became more insistent, drawing soft moans from you as your fingers dug into his shoulders. He didn't rush—each movement was deliberate, every touch meant to drive you closer to the edge.

"You're driving me crazy," you managed to choke out, your voice trembling with need.

"Good," he muttered, his lips trailing down to your neck, leaving a line of heated kisses as his hand disappeared to adjust himself. "Because you've been driving me insane all night."

Before you could respond, he lined his cock up and pushed into your cunt with one slow, deliberate thrust, your bodies melding together perfectly. Your pussy had already recognized the way his cock seemed to slip in you, it still had you gasping, your nails raking down his back as he buried himself completely, his breath coming out in a shaky groan against your ear.

The pace was slower this time, more intimate, but no less intense. Every thrust was deliberate, his hips rolling into yours as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you. His lips found yours again, silencing your cries as he deepened the kiss, his hands gripping your waist to keep you steady beneath him.

The air between you was thick with heat and unspoken emotions, your bodies moving together as if they'd been made for this—made for each other. His name spilled from your lips in breathless whispers, your hands roaming his back, his chest, desperate to feel more of him.

"Look at me," he demanded softly, his voice strained. When your eyes met his, the intensity in his gaze nearly undid you. "I want to see you. Every part of you."

Your heart ached at the raw vulnerability in his tone, your chest tightening as you reached up to cup his face. "Wonwoo..."

He leaned into your touch, his movements growing more urgent as he chased both your highs, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "I love this," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the sound of your labored breaths. "I love you."

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the world, the room, the lingering tension that had always existed between you. There was only him, and the way he made you feel whole.

Your body tensed beneath him, the pleasure building until it finally crested, leaving you trembling and crying out his name. Wonwoo wasn't far behind, his own release crashing over him as he buried himself deep inside you, his groan vibrating against your skin.

For a moment, the room was silent save for the sound of your heavy breathing, your bodies still tangled together on the sofa. Wonwoo shifted slightly, pulling you closer as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"You win," he muttered, his lips curving into a tired but satisfied smile.

You laughed, the sound light and breathless as you nuzzled into his chest. "Damn right, I do."

He chuckled, his hand trailing lazily down your back. "But you're still wearing my hoodie next time we game," he teased, his voice low and teasing. "You're too distracting without it."

"And you're not?" you shot back, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

"Fair point," he admitted, his grin widening as he pulled you into another kiss, one filled with unspoken promises and endless possibilities.

You and Wonwoo were still wrapped up in the warmth of each other's embrace, your body pressed snugly against his as you both lay tangled on the sofa. The soft glow of the paused game screen flickered across the room, the controllers forgotten on the floor amidst the aftermath of your intimacy.

Wonwoo's fingers traced lazy patterns along your bare back, his lips occasionally brushing against your forehead in quiet affection. You were just beginning to drift into that blissful post-climactic haze when the sharp sound of a knock broke through the quiet.

"Wonwoo," a familiar voice called from the other side of the door. "I'm here for the CD. Open up."

Your heart dropped into your stomach. "Oh my god," you whispered, your eyes wide as you shot up, scrambling to pull the throw blanket over your completely naked body.

Wonwoo cursed under his breath, sitting up as well. "Shit. I forgot he was coming."

"You forgot?" you hissed, grabbing at the nearest piece of clothing—Wonwoo's hoodie—but realizing it wasn't enough to cover you entirely.

"He said he'd stop by today, but I wasn't exactly thinking about it in the moment!" Wonwoo muttered, running a hand through his messy hair, now tousled from your earlier activities.

Another knock came, this time sharper, with Jeonghan's unmistakable impatience seeping through. "I can hear you in there. Don't make me wait, Wonwoo."

Your eyes met Wonwoo's in a silent panic. He quickly threw on his discarded black t-shirt and sweatpants, his movements hurried but calculated as he adjusted himself to look as composed as possible. Meanwhile, you grabbed the throw blanket and curled up at the corner of the couch, doing your best to look casual despite the unmistakable heat still lingering between you.

Wonwoo opened the door, and there stood Jeonghan, looking as effortless as ever in his beige trench coat and sharp gaze. He didn't bother with pleasantries, stepping into the apartment as if he owned the place.

"I told you I needed the CD back today," Jeonghan said, his tone light but edged with something sharper. His eyes flickered briefly to Wonwoo before scanning the room—and stopping dead when they landed on you.

His gaze narrowed slightly as he took in your disheveled appearance, the way the blanket was draped over you, and the faint blush still coloring your cheeks. "Oh," he said, his voice dipping into a dangerous kind of curiosity.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, trying to draw Jeonghan's attention away. "It's, uh, on the shelf. I'll grab it for you."

Jeonghan didn't move, his sharp eyes now pinned on Wonwoo. "Am I interrupting something?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out. Wonwoo, on the other hand, let out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "No, we were just gaming," he lied, but the slight crack in his voice betrayed him.

Jeonghan's brow quirked as he slowly crossed his arms. "Gaming," he repeated, the word dripping with disbelief. His gaze darted back to you, lingering on the blanket and the clear absence of any actual gaming activity.

"It's just a little warm in here," you blurted out, clutching the blanket tighter around yourself.

Jeonghan's lips curved into a faint smirk, but there was no humor in his expression. "Right. Warm."

Wonwoo returned with the CD, holding it out to Jeonghan. "Here. You can go now."

But Jeonghan didn't take it right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes darting between the two of you. "This is the game you wanted to show her, isn't it?" he asked Wonwoo, his tone casual but laced with meaning.

Wonwoo stiffened, his jaw clenching slightly. "Yeah. It is."

Jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, finally taking the CD from Wonwoo's hand. "Took you long enough," he said, turning the case over in his hands. Then, as if suddenly struck by a thought, he glanced back at you.

"You've got good taste in games," Jeonghan remarked, his gaze lingering just a little too long. "I wonder if that extends to... other things."

The air grew heavier, the tension crackling like static electricity as Jeonghan's words hung in the air. You could feel your pulse racing, your hands gripping the edge of the blanket as Wonwoo's posture shifted, his protective instincts kicking in.

"Jeonghan," Wonwoo said, his voice low and warning.

But Jeonghan just smirked, slipping the CD into his coat pocket. "Relax," he said smoothly. "I'm just making an observation."

With that, he turned on his heel and made his way to the door. But just before stepping out, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Enjoy your game," he said, his eyes locking with yours for a moment longer than necessary. Then he was gone, leaving behind an air of unease that neither you nor Wonwoo could shake.

The door had barely clicked shut behind Jeonghan when you exhaled shakily, the weight of his lingering presence still pressing on you. Wonwoo paced in front of the sofa, his jaw tight, and his hands clenched into fists. You could see the storm brewing inside him—frustration, jealousy, and a simmering anger that he was trying to keep under control.

"I should go with him," you blurted out, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Wonwoo stopped dead in his tracks, his head snapping toward you. "What?"

You adjusted the blanket around you, avoiding his eyes. "I need to explain things to him. He knows, Wonwoo. He's not stupid. If I don't clear this up, it's just going to get worse—for all of us."

Wonwoo's expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "So, what? You're just going to run after him and... what? Smooth it over with some bullshit excuse? Jeonghan doesn't care about explanations. He's probably already twisting this into whatever narrative suits him best."

You stood, the blanket slipping slightly as you moved to grab Wonwoo's hoodie from the floor. "I can handle him. You know I can."

Wonwoo stepped closer, his voice dropping into a low, urgent tone. "This isn't just about handling him. Do you seriously think he's going to let you walk out of there without digging deeper? Without trying to... to turn this into something else?"

You pulled the hoodie over your head, the familiar scent of Wonwoo enveloping you like a second skin. "And what do you suggest I do? Sit here and let him assume whatever he wants? Let him keep showing up, throwing out veiled threats and smirks until we all lose our minds?"

Wonwoo's hands found your arms, his grip firm but not rough. "You stay. With me. Let him stew in his own suspicions—who cares what he thinks?" His voice softened slightly, his eyes searching yours. "I don't want you to go."

Your chest tightened at the vulnerability in his gaze, but you shook your head. "Wonwoo, this isn't just about us. Jeonghan's your friend, your teammate. If we don't handle this carefully, it's going to blow up in all of our faces. Let me do this. For both of us."

He hesitated, his grip faltering as he weighed your words. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, he let go, stepping back. "Fine. But don't let him manipulate you, okay? He's... he's good at that."

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, though your heart was pounding. "I won't."

With that, you slipped on your shoes and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway where Jeonghan was leaning casually against the wall, as if he'd been waiting. His sharp eyes flicked to you, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

"Changed your mind?" he asked, his tone light but his gaze far too calculating for comfort.

"It's late," you said evenly, crossing your arms. "Wonwoo thought it'd be better if I went with you."

Jeonghan's smirk widened as he straightened, pushing off the wall. "Of course he did."

The two of you walked toward the elevator in silence, the air between you thick with unspoken words. It wasn't until you were both inside, the doors sliding shut, that Jeonghan finally broke the quiet.

"So," he said, his voice smooth and deliberate. "How long has this been going on?"

You turned to him, your expression carefully neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. "Come on. Give me some credit. The disheveled look, the way you wouldn't meet my eyes, Wonwoo acting like a deer caught in headlights—do you really think I don't know?"

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag. "It's none of your business, Jeonghan."

He stepped closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the small space. "See, that's where you're wrong. It is my business—because whatever's happening between you two is already affecting him. And if it affects him, it affects me."

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down. "What do you want from me, Jeonghan? An apology? Fine. I'm sorry if this complicates things for you, but it's not your place to judge."

Jeonghan's expression shifted, the smirk fading as something darker flickered in his eyes. "I'm not judging," he said quietly, his voice almost too calm. "I'm warning you. Wonwoo's not the only one who knows how to play games."

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, breaking the tension. Jeonghan stepped out first, turning back to look at you with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Let's see how well you handle this, hmm?"

As you stepped out of the elevator with Jeonghan, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, studying every shift in your expression. The silence stretched as you walked toward the parking lot, your nerves taut with anticipation.

When Jeonghan finally spoke, his voice was as smooth as ever, but there was a sharpness underneath. "You know, I almost didn't come by tonight. Figured I'd give you two more time to... bond."

You stiffened, but kept your voice steady. "You're reading too much into this."

He hummed, unlocking his car with a casual flick of his wrist. "Am I? You're wearing his hoodie. That doesn't exactly scream subtle, does it?"

You glanced down at the fabric, suddenly hyperaware of how it clung to you, still warm with the scent of Wonwoo. "It's just a hoodie, Jeonghan."

He opened the passenger door for you, his smirk returning as he gestured for you to get in. "Right. Just a hoodie."

The ride was quiet at first, the hum of the engine filling the space between you. Jeonghan didn't push, didn't prod—he just let the silence stretch, knowing it would fray your nerves more than words ever could.

Finally, he broke it with a question that felt more like a trap. "Did he tell you about the game?"

You frowned, caught off guard. "What game?"

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head as he turned onto the main road. "The one he's been obsessing over for weeks. The one he wanted to show you."

Your breath hitched. Of course. The CD. You hadn't even realized it was the same one he'd been talking about that night.

Jeonghan noticed your reaction immediately, his smirk widening. "Guess not. Too busy with... other things, I suppose."

You shot him a sharp look. "If you've got something to say, just say it, Jeonghan."

He pulled into a small café, the kind that stayed open late, and parked the car. Turning to you, he leaned against the steering wheel, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "What's your endgame here?"

The question caught you off guard. "What are you talking about?"

He tilted his head, his gaze unrelenting. "With Wonwoo. With me. With whatever this is. You're playing a dangerous game, sweetheart, and I'm not sure you even realize it."

You bristled at his tone, but before you could respond, he got out of the car, motioning for you to follow. Inside the café, the dim lighting and soft hum of conversation provided a strange sense of calm, though the tension between you and Jeonghan remained electric.

Over steaming cups of coffee, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. "You're trying to fix this, aren't you? Trying to keep everyone happy, keep the peace. But you've already made your choice."

You frowned, his words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. "And what choice is that?"

Jeonghan's smile was slow, calculated. "You stayed with him. You didn't run when I walked in. That says a lot."

Your grip tightened on your mug, the heat seeping into your skin. "It's not that simple."

"Isn't it?" he countered, his gaze piercing. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you've already picked a side. You just don't want to admit it."

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the table. Wonwoo's name lit up the screen, and Jeonghan's eyes flicked to it, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

"Speak of the devil," he murmured, leaning back in his chair.

You hesitated, your heart pounding as you reached for the phone. But before you could answer, Jeonghan's hand shot out, his fingers brushing against yours as he slid the phone away.

"Let him wait," he said softly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You stared at him, caught between frustration and something you couldn't quite name. "What are you trying to do, Jeonghan?"

He smiled, slow and deliberate. "Just testing the waters. Seeing how far you'll go to protect him—or yourself."

As the tension in the café thickened, your fingers twitched, itching to pick up the phone, but Jeonghan's grip on it was firm, his fingers brushing against yours just a second too long, sending a jolt of something through you. His eyes locked onto yours, almost daring you to make a move.

"Jeonghan, let me answer," you said, your voice quieter than you meant it to be, the frustration barely masked by the cool facade you were trying to hold up.

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk. "Why? So you can pretend everything's fine with him? That you're not tangled up in this mess already?"

You swallowed, the words stinging more than you wanted to admit. His eyes were practically burning into yours, waiting for a crack, a sign of weakness. And before you could stop yourself, you found yourself speaking before thinking.

"You don't understand," you said, your voice low but steady. "This isn't about choosing sides. It's about—"

"About what?" Jeonghan interrupted, cutting you off smoothly, leaning forward with a gleam in his eyes. "Tell me. Is it about keeping everything under control? Because, trust me, darling, I can see it. You think you have all the power, don't you? But you're just as tangled in this as the rest of us."

His words sliced through the air, and you froze, the weight of them settling like a heavy blanket around you. You didn't know how to respond, how to argue against what he was saying. It was hard not to feel like he was right—like you were walking a tightrope between both of them, trying to balance something you didn't even know you wanted.

Just then, your phone buzzed again—this time, Wonwoo's name lighting up the screen, flashing with urgency. The phone vibrated against the table, the sound loud in the silence. You reached for it without thinking, but Jeonghan's hand was faster.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, stilling you. His grip was gentle but firm, and for a moment, you couldn't move. You looked at him, your pulse quickening at the proximity. The tension between you two felt like it was about to snap.

"Don't answer," Jeonghan whispered, leaning in, his breath hot against your ear. "Let him wonder. Let him feel what it's like to be on the outside for once."

You inhaled sharply, your breath catching in your throat at how close he was. His thumb traced lightly across your skin, sending a wave of heat through your body. And even though you knew you should pull away, there was something magnetic about his touch, something that made you question everything you thought you knew about loyalty and desire.

But before you could fully process the moment, the door to the café swung open, and the sound of footsteps echoed across the room.

Wonwoo.

You felt your heart skip a beat as your gaze shot to him, standing at the entrance, his eyes immediately locking onto yours. His expression was unreadable, his jaw clenched tight, but you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

"Jeonghan," he said, voice low, like a warning. "You're not—"

But Jeonghan wasn't fazed. He didn't even look up, still holding onto your wrist with a gentle but insistent pressure. "I'm just making sure we're all on the same page. Aren't we, sweetheart?" he purred, eyes flicking over to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo's nostrils flared, his gaze flickering to you, his eyes softening just a fraction before hardening again. "Let go of her."

You could feel the tension snap like a live wire, the air between the three of you crackling with something you couldn't quite put into words. Jeonghan's smile didn't falter as he finally released your wrist, but there was something dangerous in the way he looked at Wonwoo.

"Why don't you take a seat, Wonwoo? We were just talking about how much of a mess all of this is. Don't you think it's time you joined the conversation?"

Wonwoo stepped forward, his fists clenched, but you could see the war raging in his mind—between walking away and confronting Jeonghan right there, in front of you. His voice was low, his patience wearing thin. "This isn't your business."

"Isn't it?" Jeonghan said with a cold chuckle. "You're both tangled in something you can't even control. You think this is some kind of game, but it's not. It's real. And now... the question is, which one of you will claim what's already slipping through your fingers?"

Your heart hammered in your chest, caught between the two of them, the world spinning as the air in the café seemed to close in around you. You wanted to scream, to stop this madness, but something inside you told you this was just the beginning of something bigger, something that would tear all of you apart.

With Wonwoo standing there, muscles tense, his eyes burning with something unspoken, and Jeonghan smiling like the puppeteer he was, you realized that no matter what choice you made next, nothing would ever be the same again.

The drive home was silent, save for the hum of the car engine and the occasional shift in the seats. Wonwoo didn't say anything, and neither did you. You were both still processing what had happened—the tension between you, Jeonghan's unexpected arrival, and the fact that everything felt like it was teetering on the edge of something much bigger.

When you arrived home, Wonwoo parked the car in the driveway but didn't immediately turn off the engine. He glanced over at you, his face soft but burdened.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

You nodded, even though you weren't sure if you were. "I'm fine," you muttered, but it was more for his sake than anything.

He reached over, placing a hand on yours, his thumb rubbing gently over your skin. "You don't have to pretend for me, you know."

You felt the weight of his words. The evening had shifted something in you, and you weren't sure where it was leading. "I just... don't know what to do about Jeonghan. Or us." Your voice trailed off, heavy with the unsaid.

Wonwoo sighed, a mixture of frustration and understanding in his eyes. "It's not easy," he admitted. "But I'm here for you. Always."

You leaned against his shoulder, closing your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts. After a long moment, you finally spoke again, your voice small. "I don't want to lose either of you."

Wonwoo didn't answer at first, but when he did, it was with such a quiet certainty that it made your heart race. "You won't. Just... let me figure things out with you."

He walked you to your door, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead before heading back to his car, leaving you standing in the doorway, lost in the silence.

The Next Day at Work:

The office felt colder than usual when you arrived. Your heart sank as soon as you saw Jeonghan. He didn't even acknowledge you. It wasn't like him to ignore you, but there he was, sitting at his desk, completely absorbed in his work.

You walked toward him, hoping to get a word in. "Jeonghan?" you asked quietly, trying to catch his attention.

He didn't look up, and the coldness in his demeanor made your chest tighten. "Busy," he said curtly, not even sparing you a glance.

The sting of his indifference hit harder than you expected. You stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Were you supposed to apologize? Or was it something else? Before you could gather the courage to say anything more, Wonwoo appeared, stepping between you and Jeonghan.

"Hey," Wonwoo said, his voice calm but firm, a protective stance around you. "You should go take a break, Y/N. I'll handle things here."

You blinked, feeling both grateful and conflicted. But as you walked away, you couldn't shake the feeling that everything between the three of you had shifted in ways you couldn't fix overnight.

Later That Day:

You were sitting in the break room when Wonwoo found you, a cup of coffee in hand. He slid into the chair next to you, not saying anything at first. The silence between you felt familiar but different now.

"Jeonghan's... not speaking to me," you said, the words coming out before you could stop them. "I don't know what to do."

Wonwoo leaned in, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "You don't have to fix everything right now," he murmured. "Take it slow. Let him come around, if he does. But I'm here for you."

You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to let the comfort of his presence sink in. Despite the chaos of the situation, there was a small part of you that felt safe in his arms.

The next day at work felt like stepping into a different dimension. Jeonghan’s presence had always been a constant—a mix of charm and sharp remarks that kept you on your toes—but now, it was as if he’d built an invisible wall around himself.

You caught sight of him as soon as you walked into the office. He was leaning against the desk near the window, flipping through some documents, but his eyes didn’t so much as glance in your direction. Normally, he’d throw in a sly comment or even a teasing smirk just to annoy you. Today? Nothing.

You tried not to let it bother you, but as the hours ticked by, his cold shoulder was impossible to ignore. He barely acknowledged your presence during the team meeting, speaking only when necessary and directing his comments to everyone but you. The tension was palpable, and it made concentrating on your tasks a Herculean effort.

By lunchtime, you’d had enough. As he stood by the coffee machine, you approached cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jeonghan,” you began, your voice softer than you intended. “Can we talk?”

He didn’t look up right away. When he finally did, his expression was unreadable, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something distant and closed off. “I’m busy,” he replied curtly, turning his attention back to his coffee cup.

The words stung more than you wanted to admit, but you weren’t about to give up. “Please,” you pressed, stepping closer. “I know something’s wrong. Can we at least clear the air?”

Jeonghan sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he set his cup down. For a moment, it looked like he might relent, but then he shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, his tone clipped. “Just focus on your work.”

His words were like a slap to the face. You blinked, struggling to keep your composure. “If this is about Wonwoo—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted sharply, his gaze finally locking onto yours. His eyes, usually so warm and full of mischief, were cold and piercing now. “Don’t bring him into this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt a lump form in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let yourself break in front of him. “Fine,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “If that’s how you want it.”

The silence between you and Jeonghan was as heavy as the weight in your chest. His hands remained tucked into the pockets of his tailored coat, his jaw tight, his gaze somewhere beyond you. For a second, you thought he’d finally say something, but he only let out a quiet exhale, the faintest fog of breath forming in the cold air.

You took a hesitant step forward. “Jeonghan,” you started, your voice trembling, unsure if it was from the cold or the overwhelming tension. “I don’t—” You bit down on your lip, searching for words that wouldn’t make things worse. “I don’t know what you’re thinking right now, but I just need you to hear me out.”

His gaze flickered to yours, sharp and guarded, but he didn’t speak.

Your stomach churned. “It wasn’t—” You struggled, the words tangling in your throat. “It’s not what you think it is.”

Jeonghan’s laugh was bitter, sharp like the snap of a twig underfoot. “Isn’t it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. The question hung in the air, daring you to answer.

“I—” Your voice faltered, and for the first time, you felt the hot prick of tears welling in your eyes. You blinked them away, refusing to cry now—not here, not in front of him. But the lump in your throat grew heavier.

Jeonghan’s expression hardened. “You’re unbelievable,” he said quietly, his tone devoid of the usual playfulness or charm you associated with him. It stung more than you cared to admit. “Do you even realize what you’re doing?”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Jeonghan, please, you have to believe me. I never wanted to hurt anyone. Especially not you.”

For a moment, his mask slipped. His eyes softened, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the man who used to tease you with sly smiles and effortless charm. But just as quickly, the vulnerability disappeared, replaced by that same cold, distant stare.

“I don’t think it matters what you wanted,” he said finally, his voice low, almost pained. “Because it’s already happened.” He shook his head and took a step back, the distance between you growing in more ways than one. “I need to go.”

“Jeonghan, wait—”

But he was already turning away, the echo of his footsteps fading into the night. You stood there, frozen, the tears you had fought so hard to hold back finally spilling over.

The sound of a door creaking open pulled you out of your daze. You turned to see Wonwoo leaning against the doorframe, his expression unreadable as he took in the scene. He didn’t say anything, just held out a hand, inviting you back inside.

You hesitated for a moment, staring at his outstretched hand. Then, with a deep, shaky breath, you walked back toward him, allowing the warmth of his presence to envelope you as he pulled you inside.

He didn’t ask what happened, didn’t push for answers. Instead, he guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket and sitting beside you. His hand found yours, his fingers lacing through yours as if to remind you that, no matter what, he was here.

The silence was comforting this time, a stark contrast to the tension that had followed Jeonghan’s departure. But even as Wonwoo’s thumb brushed gently over your knuckles, offering a quiet kind of reassurance, you couldn’t shake the lingering ache in your chest.

Because no matter how warm Wonwoo’s touch was, no matter how safe you felt beside him, the rift between you, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo was something that wouldn’t heal easily.

And deep down, you weren’t sure if it ever could.

an: ik its way too dramatic but lmao. you stayed till the end you definitely deserve an award. iloveyou.

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THANK YOU FOR READINGGG MWUAAAHH ! <3

knowing yall enjoyed this ongoing shitshow makes me really happy. all the late nights and used up free times writing this makes me really super extra happyyyy. loveyou guyyssss mwauuuuaaahhhh !

reblog / comment to be added on the taglist.

[maladaptiveobsession]

“Too Little, Too late”

Synopsis: How the DOL LIs react to the player’s suicide

pt. 2

Contains: gn!reader, male!love interests, suicide by pill overdose, death, necrophilia, alcoholism, self-deprecation, dissociation, depression

Words: 1163

A/N: Do not take the content warnings above lightly. The character’s sentiments and the player’s death is described in detail. If you are sensitive to any of these topics, please take care. I had intended to write for some other NPCs as well, but quickly realized I was not in the mental space to continue. I was using my personal experiences as reference, so my personal feelings and the feelings of the characters blended together and I just got overwhelmed.

Alex:

He’s confused and distraught. Why didn’t you confide in him? Was he not enough? He thought you were doing better. What did he miss? What could he have done differently? There’s nothing he wouldn’t have done if it meant keeping you.

He’ll never recover. The farm is neglected, unable to handle the grief. Everything reminds him of you. He blames himself and spends every moment missing you. Alcohol is his only solace and perhaps his demise as well.

Avery:

He’s initially enraged. You repay him by attaching a tragedy to his public image? Above all, he feels betrayed. Anger eventually morphs into bitter acceptance. He tries to pretend otherwise, but he’s affected deeply. He’s not sure how to feel, but it’s wrong all the same. Never before had he grown so fond of any of his arm candy. It was too little, too late by the time he realized he wanted more than a transactional relationship. He continues to attend functions, but his smile is tighter and his eyes are weary. Any attempts to replace you fail miserably. Nobody smiles like you or laughs like you. Nobody is talented enough, smart enough, or obedient enough.

He won’t forget you, but he can’t afford to lose his image, so he grieves in silence. He wonders if things might have been different had he realized how he felt sooner. What might things have been like had he put a ring on your finger? It’s only now in your absence that he understands the joy you brought him. He should have paid better attention to his plaything.

Eden:

Inconsolable is the only way to describe him. Little has brought this man to his knees or made him tear up, but discovering your cold, lifeless body broke him. He’s pissed at you for leaving him. He’s pissed at himself for not noticing the signs; he should have known better than any other. Among the anger, he’s confused. Why didn't you ask for help? There’s nothing he wouldn’t have done for you. What could have been so bad that you would want to kill yourself? Was he so awful? He begins to reflect on his behavior towards you. He knew your initial meeting was unsavory at best, but he had changed since and thought you were healing. He spends every waking moment criticizing his past actions, wondering what might have been had he treated you better.

He considers taking his own life but chooses to live through the anguish as punishment. He tries his best to overcome, but nothing is the same without you. He misses you deeply; the comfort you brought him left so easily. If only he had cherished you more and taken better care of you. If only he had just listened. You should still be cozying up against him on the loveseat, but you’re not and never will be.

Kylar:

Kylar initially denies your death. You’re not dead. You’re just sleeping. As time goes on, he becomes hysterical. You must be ignoring him to get his attention! You’re okay! You’re fine! Nothing is wrong! He’ll defile your body, having convinced himself you’ve entered a deep sleep. The smell will force him into clarity. He knows that smell well; he would recognize the stench of rotting flesh anywhere. He’ll fly into hysteria, falling to his knees and wailing. His darling is gone forever. Why did you do it? Was he not good enough? He must have neglected you or upset you somehow! He should have paid attention. You would be here otherwise. You were unhappy, but he was too selfish to notice! This is all his fault!

Unlike all the rest, Kylar cannot live without you. He takes his own life shortly after, collapsing over your decomposing corpse. If you squint, it’s nearly a romantic sight.

Robin:

Finding you in your bed, cold and stiff with pills spilled haphazardly across your desk, was the worst moment of his life. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t break down and cry. There’s no confusion. There’s no need to ask why; he knows. He’d spent ages wondering how you managed to keep yourself together. How you smiled so brightly in such disturbing circumstances escaped him. It’s only now that he realizes just how much you were suffering, quietly enduring for his sake. He should have seen the signs—the smile that never reached your eyes, the flinching, the lethargy. Things you couldn’t hide that he should have seen but simply didn’t want to acknowledge. It wasn’t a conscious decision by any means, but rather a subconscious attempt to avoid uncomfortable truths in hopes they’d resolve on their own. Had he reached out to you and comforted you, he’s pretty sure you’d still be here. Your blood is on his hands.

Robin will never be the same, and there’s a chance he’ll follow your example. In another timeline, he decides to keep fighting, leaves town, and never looks back. Another version is swallowed up by grief and grows darker and vengeful. Regardless of his path going forward, he lives in your memory. Time heals, but the scar won’t fade.

Sydney:

He is beyond distraught. Why did you do it? Why did you leave him? Was he not enough? He misses you severely. Every waking moment is torment without you. Your loss sends him plunging deeper into the church’s grasp, regardless of purity. If the church is responsible for your passing by any measure, Sydney severes ties completely. Unlike all the rest, Sydney has a loving parent to comfort and guide him through the grief.

Ultimately, Sydney will move on. He carries your memories with him. Your death still haunts him, but he’ll eventually find somebody to start a family with. He’ll convince himself he’s happy, but he can’t help but wonder how things might have been if you were by his side instead.

Whitney:

Numbness engulfs Whitney. Nothing feels real anymore. Is he even real? How can you be gone? He still has the bruises you gave him from your last encounter, so how can you be gone? Anger bites at his mind, but the static sorrow washes it away. Without you, nothing matters. He blames himself. He was a terrible person to you. Of course you would choose death over somebody like him. Even if he was changing for the better, that doesn’t take away what he did to you.

He washes down the grief with liquor. He doesn’t live; he drifts, too tired to even take his own life. He’d spend the rest of his life punishing himself for failing you. With enough time, he might snap out of that fog. Of all the rest, he is the most likely to use this trauma to make much-needed changes around town. He’ll stay single, too afraid of failing yet another person, of being hurt, or of betraying you. Whitney will ultimately be okay, even if every day is a challenge and every memory is overwritten with regret.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Hell's Coming With Me

Summary: There's only one way to stop the war now.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 8.3k

You find yourself in the Red Keep, where Aemond Targaryen, the younger son of King Viserys I, and the younger brother of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, is standing tall and imposing. His face hardened with anger as he spots you. "You dare to come here after what you've done? After you betrayed my family?" He snarls, his dragon-like features becoming more pronounced as his rage builds. "I should kill you where you stand for your treachery! But instead…" Aemond's eyes gleam dangerously, "…you will earn your keep by telling me everything that has transpired since we last met. And if you lie or withhold information, so help me, I'll have your tongue. Now speak!" Your gaze does not falter at Aemond's threats. Instead, you lift your chin and meet his blazing eyes with an icy composure. As he demands answers, you respond with a voice laced with cold conviction. You stare back into Aemond's eye with your unwavering gaze, you do not back down nor shame away from his threat. "Do not think I fear you or your threats, kinslayer. I will speak, but only if you promise to listen and hear my words without blind rage and anger. A skill you don't seem to have mastered yet. You speak of betrayal, Aemond as if your own actions have not been those of a turncoat. But very well, I will indulge your curiosity. Since our last meeting, I have done what I must, to protect my claim and my loved ones."

His nostrils flare as he takes in your defiant stance, the audacity of your words stoking the fire of his anger. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain of holding himself back from leaping across the room to strangle the life out of this woman who dared to call him a kinslayer. "Your words are bold, but they're empty," he growls, his teeth grinding together in frustration. "You've betrayed us all for your own selfish ambitions. But know this, I won't let you get away with it. I'm going to make you pay for what you've done." Aemond's gaze darkens, his eyes reflecting the fury burning within him. He steps closer, looming over you as he continues to threaten you, promising retribution for your perceived betrayal. Your eyes blaze with defiance as you match Aemond's gaze. You refuse to be intimidated by his towering figure or his threats. Your voice remains calm and firm as you meet his gaze with unwavering determination. "You speak of ambition, Aemond, but it was you and your family who were willing to put my family and me in danger in order to secure the throne. Are you so blind to your own actions that you cannot see? You speak of betrayal, yet it was you who turned on us first." Your words cut through the air like a knife.

The corner of Aemond's mouth twitches as he fights to maintain control, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. The sheer audacity of your accusations sends a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins, fueling the flames of his wrath. "I didn't betray anyone!" he roars, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "It was you who started this war. You and your scheming mother!" Aemond lunges forward, grabbing hold of your arm in a vice-like grip. His other hand balls into a fist, ready to strike. As Aemond grabs your arm, your instincts kick in, and with a swift movement, you twist your body out of his grip. Your heart races with a mixture of fear and determination, you take a step back, your eyes fixed on Aemond's menacing form, ready to defend yourself. "So it all comes down to this again, Aemond? You resorting to violence when you can't win an argument. Is this the kind of ruler you aspire to be - one who can't handle dissent or differing opinions? This is why I will make a better Queen than you ever will be."

Rhaenyra and Alicent burst into the room, their eyes widening in shock as they see Aemond attempting to strike you. Rhaenyra immediately steps forward, placing herself between you and Aemond. "Stop this nonsense at once, Aemond," Rhaenyra demands firmly, her eyes locked on her half-brother. His other hand uncurls from its fist, but only to point an accusing finger at his sister. "Don't interfere, Rhaenyra," he spits out, his voice dripping with venom. "This is none of your concern anymore. You chose sides long ago." He turns his attention back to you, ignoring Rhaenyra and his mother completely. "Admit it. Admit that you're working with them. That you're just another one of their puppets." Aemond's eyes flash dangerously as he waits for your response, completely oblivious to the tension building in the room. Despite the precarious situation, you hold your head up high, your gaze locked on Aemond's intense stare. You refuse to back down, your voice steady and determined. "I serve no one's agenda but my own, Aemond. Unlike you, I don't blindly follow the whims of my parents and the council. I am my own person, with my own ambitions and desires. I do not answer to them, and I sure as hell don't answer to you either."

Rhaenyra and Alicent glance at each other, a silent understanding passing between them as they step closer to you and Aemond. With a mixture of frustration and resignation, Rhaenyra speaks calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. "It was decided that both of you will marry," she says, her voice firm yet measured. "It is not a matter of discussion or choice. You will both be tied together by matrimony." Aemond's eyes narrow suspiciously as he looks at Rhaenyra, then his mother, and finally back to you. Stepping back slightly as he contemplates Rhaenyra's words. "So that's your plan, is it?" he sneers, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Force me into marriage with this traitor?" He glares at you, suspicion evident in his gaze. "Why should I trust any of you? You've all lied and schemed to get what you want. Don't think I'm going to fall for your tricks now." Aemond crosses his arms over his chest, his posture rigid with hostility.

Alicent places a hand on her son's shoulder, her touch gentle but firm. She meets Aemond's gaze with a calm yet authoritative expression. "This is not about trust, Aemond," Alicent replies quietly, her voice tinged with a hint of exhaustion. "This is about family. This marriage will strengthen our alliance and ensure the stability of our house. It's our duty to the realm, and to our families, to make this sacrifice." Rhaenyra nods in agreement with Alicent, her expression softening for a moment as she adds her own thoughts. "This marriage is not just a political union, Aemond. It's an opportunity for us all to put aside our differences and come together as a family. The war has caused enough suffering and division. We can end it now, by making this sacrifice." She looks between you two, her eyes pleading for understanding. Aemond's gaze flickers between Alicent and Rhaenyra, his face unreadable. After a moment of silence, he gives a curt nod, conceding defeat for now. "Fine," he grumbles, his tone begrudging. "I'll do it…for the sake of the realm." But despite his outward acceptance, there's a simmering resentment in his eyes. He may have agreed to the marriage, but he certainly hasn't forgotten - or forgiven - any of the wrongdoings committed against him.

As the wedding day draws near, the mood within the castle is a strange combination of excitement and anticipation. The halls buzz with talks of the royal wedding, which will unite two powerful families in an unlikely union. The bride and groom-to-be, you and Aemond, have spent weeks getting ready for the special event. The castle has been adorned with colorful banners and fresh flowers. The air is filled with the scent of blossoming roses, and the distant sound of minstrels practicing their instruments fills the air. As the months pass, preparations for the royal wedding begin in earnest. The Red Keep buzzes with activity as servants and courtiers scurry back and forth, ensuring that everything is in place for the grand event. You, meanwhile, find yourself caught up in the whirlwind of preparations, torn between the anticipation of your upcoming nuptials and the weight of the responsibilities that will come with your new role. As the day of the wedding approaches, Aemond can't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. There's excitement, yes, but also unease. He knows this union isn't one born of love or even mutual respect. It's a political necessity, a pragmatic solution to a complicated problem.

Despite his reservations, he does his best to play the part of the dutiful groom-to-be. He attends countless meetings and rehearsals, tolerating the endless discussions about seating arrangements and flower arrangements. But beneath his composed exterior, a storm of feelings brews, churning up memories of past betrayals and present uncertainties. Aemond stands outside the Septon's Hall, staring off into the distance as he prepares to enter the room where his fate - and yours - will be sealed. Despite his outward appearance of calm indifference, inside he is seething with rage and disgust. He had never wanted this, never wanted you, and yet here he was, about to become your husband. With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door and steps inside, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. There you stood, looking more beautiful than ever in your white silk gown, your hair coiffed into intricate braids adorned with fresh flowers. For a moment, he almost forgets why he hates you. But then he remembers your betrayal and the hatred resurfaces.

You stood in a simple yet elegant white dress, the fabric flowing around your figure like water. A small crown of flowers rests atop your head, their vibrant colors adding a touch of warmth to your cool demeanor. As Aemond enters the room, your eyes meet him, and a mixture of emotions flickers across your face. Despite the tension between you, there is a sense of resignation in your eyes, a feeling that you have reluctantly accepted your fate. But your gaze remains steady as you stand tall, facing him without an ounce of fear. As the ceremony begins, Aemond can't help but feel a mixture of revulsion and resignation. He repeats the traditional vows in a flat, monotone voice, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of hatred and resentment towards you. Your voice, on the other hand, is soft and clear, your words spoken with earnestness and determination. When it's time to say the seven sacred pledges, Aemond glares at you with venom in his eyes, his lips curling into a sneer. But you hold your gaze, refusing to show any sign of weakness or hesitation.

As the vows are exchanged, Aemond's heart feels like lead in his chest. Each word that leaves his lips tastes like ash in his mouth. But he forces himself to continue, knowing that this is what must be done. His gaze remains fixed on you, watching as you speak your vows with sincerity and conviction. The sight makes him sick to his stomach. Yet, he knows that he too must give his all, if only to save face in front of all loved ones. So, he swallows down his hatred and bitterness, replacing it with a mask of compliance. And when the final vow is made, he feels nothing but relief. Aemond grits his teeth as he utters the final vow, his voice barely above a whisper. The very thought of being bound to you in this way fills him with loathing. As the High Septon declares them wed, Aemond can't suppress the bitter laugh that escapes his throat. 'So this is how it ends,' he thinks to himself, a twisted sense of irony tainting his dark humor. You stood next to Aemond, your palms sweating and your heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, you force yourself to hold your head high and maintain a façade of composure. Inside, however, your mind is racing with thoughts and feelings that you can't quite untangle. As the high Septon declares you both man and wife, you gaze up at Aemond, your eyes searching for any hint of warmth or affection, but all you find is his cold, indifferent gaze.

After the ceremony, the reception begins. Aemond finds himself in the crowded ballroom, surrounded by nobles and courtiers congratulating him on his new union. He forces a fake smile onto his face, nodding stiffly in response to their well-wishes. All the while, his eyes dart around the room, searching for you. He needs to get away from all these people, to find a moment of peace before he has to pretend for the rest of the night. Meanwhile, you were stuck talking to a group of ladies-in-waiting, exchanging hollow pleasantries, and discussing the latest court gossip. However, you can't help but feel suffocated by the small talk and false smiles. After making your excuses, you slip away from the group and disappear into the crowd. Aemond watches as you slip away from the group, a grim smile playing on his lips. He knew exactly where you'd go; after all, it was one of the few places he avoided himself. Quietly, he makes his way through the crowd, heading towards the same secluded garden where he knew he would find you alone. When he reaches the arched trellis covered in vines of climbing roses, he stops, his gaze trained on your silhouette bathed in moonlight. "Well, look who decided to join me," he drawls, crossing his arms over his chest.

You turned at the sound of his voice, your eyes meeting his piercing gaze. A jolt of surprise courses through you, but you quickly regain your composure and straighten your shoulders, refusing to show any hint of emotion. "I didn't come here for you," you reply coolly, your voice steady and determined. "I came here because I needed a moment of peace from all the insufferable chatter in there." Aemond narrows his eyes, studying you closely. He can see the tension in your body, the stubborn resolve in your eyes. But he also notices something else, something softer beneath the surface. "You're doing a good job pretending you don't care," he says, his tone laced with sarcasm. "But don't fool yourself. You might hate me too, but we are married now…and we will have to learn to live with each other….."Run all you like, my lady. But you are mine now, and there's no escape."

You bite your lip hard, the sharpness of his words cutting deep. You wanted to retort, to spit back a scathing response, but the weight of his words sinks in. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I am not yours," you retort, your voice firm and resolute. "And I never will be. We might be married, but our hearts and minds will always remain our own. I will tolerate you because I have to, but do not mistake tolerance for affection." Aemond laughs a harsh, bitter sound that echoes through the quiet garden. His eyes flash dangerously as he steps closer to you, his tall frame looming over yours. "Oh, how delightful," he spits out, his voice dripping with scorn. "You expect me to believe that you've consented to this marriage solely for the sake of the realm? That you don't feel even a shred of fear or dread at the prospect of sharing my bed?" His gaze drops down to your lips, lingering there for a moment before he continues, "Do you think I'm so easily fooled?" You stiffen, goosebumps pricking at your skin as he draws closer. You refuse to let him see your fear, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and defiance. "Is it not enough that I've agreed to tie myself to you for the sake of our families? Do you expect me to be giddy with excitement at the prospect of bearing your children?" You hold his gaze firmly, refusing to back down. "I am not your property, Aemond. And I never will be."

Aemond grinds his teeth together, a muscle ticking in his jaw. The sight of you standing defiantly before him only serves to fuel his anger. 'How dare you speak to him in such a manner? Who did you think you were?' "Do not presume to dictate the terms of our relationship," he growls, stepping even closer until you are mere inches apart. "We are wed now, whether you like it or not. And if you refuse to cooperate, I assure you, things will be far more unpleasant for you." His hands clench into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white under the strain. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to be intimidated. "I am not a child, Aemond. I may be forced to suffer your touch and endure your company, but do not mistake that for submission or acceptance. I will never be your faithful little wife."

Aemond's eyes narrow, his face contorting into a snarl. The raw hatred in his gaze is palpable, his fury barely contained. "So be it," he seethes, taking another step forward until you are practically touching. "If you insist on playing the defiant maiden, then know that I will make your life a living hell. Your days of freedom are numbered." Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. His words send a shiver down your spine, the venom in his voice making your stomach churn. "Is that a threat? Or a promise?" You ask, your voice trembling slightly. "Because I assure you, Aemond, that I will not be cowed by your petty threats. I am not some damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued. I am a dragonrider, and I am not afraid of you." Aemond's expression hardens, his icy lilac eye reflecting the cold, unyielding stone of the castle walls. He studies your face, taking in every flinch, every tremble, every flicker of fear in your eyes. "So be it," he finally murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "We shall see who breaks first."

The days pass with a tedious routine. Aemond and you have an unspoken agreement: you keep out of each other's way, each avoiding the other whenever possible. Aemond spends his days training and strategizing, while you engross yourself in your books or spend time with your friends. The only moments you do speak to each other are brief and polite, both of you keeping up appearances in public but keeping a respectful distance in private. Aemond strides into the Great Hall, his boots clicking against the marble floor. He scans the room, his gaze landing on you seated at the high table. Your beauty catches him off guard, and a sudden rush of heat surges through him. It's been weeks since the wedding day and yet he still finds himself unable to shake the image of you from his mind. He approaches you, his strides confident and purposeful. His hand gently grasps your wrist, pulling you close. "Tonight, you're to accompany me to the feast," he whispers into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

You stiffen at his touch, your skin hot under his fingers. "I assume that's not a request," you mutter through gritted teeth, your voice laced with irritation. You glance up at him, your expression impassive, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his touch affects you. A smirk tugs at the corner of Aemond's mouth, his eyes gleaming with amusement. He pulls away, crossing his arms over his chest. "Correct," he replies, his voice low and firm. "It would be wise for you to remember that." You scoff, rolling your eyes at his arrogant demeanor. "Of course, My Lord," you reply, your tone dripping with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Because heaven forbid I refuse to be at your beck and call." You let out an audible sigh, your patience already wearing thin. "Very well," you respond, your tone laced with resignation. You adjust the loose braid over your shoulder and meet his gaze with a defiant lift of your chin. "But don't expect me to pretend to be happy about it."

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. Despite your protests, he can't help but find your spirit alluring. You were unlike any woman he'd ever met, and he found himself strangely drawn to you. "As long as you understand that I won't tolerate any more of your insolence," he warns, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Tonight, you will behave like the royal you are, or face the consequences." You raise an eyebrow at his warning, your expression defiant as ever. "In case you've forgotten, I'm not some common wench to be ordered around," you retort, your voice laced with sarcasm. "And I will not bow to your every command like some mindless sycophant. So, if you expect me to behave like a 'royal,' you can forget it." Aemond's lips curl into a frown, his eyes narrowing dangerously. He steps closer, invading your personal space. His voice drops to a whisper, his words carrying the weight of a deadly threat. "You forget yourself," he growls, his eyes burning with a cold, fiery intensity. "You are my wife now, and I will not tolerate any further insubordination. You will learn to respect me, or you will regret it."

You hold his gaze, your own eyes flashing with defiance and fear. You try to mask the flicker of anxiety that flits through your expression, refusing to let him see how his nearness affects you. "Is that a threat, Your Grace?" you reply, your voice steady, though your heart hammers in your chest. You lift your chin defiantly, refusing to back down. "Because let me assure you, the only thing I regret is agreeing to this miserable union." Aemond's eyes darken, his jaw tightening as he fights to maintain control. His voice lowers even further, becoming a chilling whisper. "It most certainly is a threat," he seethes, his grip tightening around your wrist. "And one you would be wise to heed, my dear wife." His eyes flicker towards the nearest window, the moonlight casting eerie shadows across his face. He leans in closer, his hot breath washing over you. "I hope you're prepared for what comes next because once I'm done with you, there'll be no turning back."

The Great Hall is packed from wall to wall with guests celebrating yet another lavish feast. Servants weave through the crowd, bearing trays of food and wine. You sit beside Aemond, dressed in a deep red gown, your hair loose and free, flowing down your back. You remain silent, your eyes scanning the room blankly as you sip your wine. Aemond observes you quietly, taking in the way you hold yourself and the defiant expression on your face. Aemond watches you from the corner of his eye, studying your reactions. His gaze lingers on your delicate profile, the soft curve of your cheek, the fullness of your lips. He can feel the tension between you, a palpable energy that hums beneath the surface. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours, causing you to jump slightly. He withdraws his hand quickly, not wanting to draw attention to the interaction. "Are you enjoying the feast?" he asks casually, trying to engage you in conversation. Your eyes flicker to his hand, then back up to his face. Your heart skips a beat at the brief contact, but you immediately push the feeling away, replacing it with your usual defiant expression. "As much as I can, considering I'd rather be anywhere else," you reply, your voice cold and distant as you take another sip of your wine.

Aemond watches you closely, his gaze intense and probing. He feels a pang of frustration at your aloofness, your refusal to bend to his will. He knows he must tread carefully. "Regardless, I am glad you decided to join me tonight," he says, his voice holding a hint of sincerity. "You look… lovely." Your eyes narrow at his compliment, your guard immediately going up at the unexpected compliment. You glance down at yourself, then back up at him, your expression skeptical. "Spare me the sweet talk, Aemond," you respond with a roll of your eyes. You take another sip of your wine, your gaze fixed on the crowded hall. "We both know this is nothing more than a forced performance for the sake of appearances." Aemond clenches his jaw, his gaze hardening. He can't deny your accusation; the marriage is indeed a political arrangement. But despite that, he can't shake off the desire to make you his. "If that is how you wish to perceive our situation, so be it," he replies, his voice icy and controlled. "However, do not mistake my efforts to keep you safe and respected as mere pretense."

You meet his gaze, your eyes narrowing slightly at his words. "Keeping me safe and respected?" you repeat, your voice filled with disbelief. You set your wine goblet down on the table with a thud, your hand trembling slightly. "You dare to speak of safety and respect after everything you've done to me? You've forced me into this marriage, held me captive in this castle, and now you expect me to believe you're some kind of benevolent protector?" Aemond grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He knows he should have anticipated this reaction, but your words still sting. Aemond stares at you, his eyes darkening with anger. The room seems to close in around him, the laughter and chatter of the guests fading into insignificance. He had thought he could maintain a semblance of civility, but your constant defiance was pushing him to his limits. "Do not test my patience," he warns, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I may have agreed to protect you, but I am not without my own needs. And I warn you, if you continue to resist me, you might just find yourself facing the true extent of my power." He pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "In time, perhaps you might come to understand that I am not the monster you believe me to be."

Your heart hammers in your chest, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts as you stare back at him. Fear dances across your face, but it is quickly replaced by defiance. "And what would that take Your Grace?" you retort, your voice trembling slightly despite your attempt to remain strong. "For me to see beyond your cruel and controlling demeanor? For me to accept your rule without question, to submit to you and bow down before you like some mindless puppet?" Aemond's nostrils flare, his eyes blazing with fury. He clenches his fists, the knuckles whitening under the strain. He wants to lash out, to show you who is truly in charge here. But he knows he must maintain some level of restraint, at least for now. "I did not ask for your opinion, nor do I require your acceptance," he snarls, his voice echoing menacingly throughout the room. "But know this. If you continue to defy me, I will ensure that you come to understand exactly who holds the power in this castle." You swallow heavily, your own temper flaring as you straighten up in your seat to look him directly in the eye. "And what, pray tell, would you have me do? Shall I follow you like a docile little lamb, fawning over your every command? You may hold the power in these halls, Aemond Targaryen, but you will not break me. I will not be your puppet, nor your obedient little wife."

Aemond's eyes flash dangerously, his temper barely contained. He rises abruptly from his seat, towering over you. His hand tightens into a fist, the veins in his neck pulsating with the force of his rage. "You are treading on very thin ice," he growls, his voice low and threatening. "Your defiance will only lead to your downfall." Aemond's face twists into a scowl, his eyes burning with barely restrained rage. He can hardly believe your audacity, your blatant disrespect for his authority. But he reminds himself that you are young, inexperienced, and easily manipulated. "You are correct," he seethes, his voice dripping with venom. "I will not break you. Instead, I shall teach you your place, and remind you that disobedience comes with consequences." With that, he turns on his heel and strides away from the table, leaving you alone amidst the crowd of feasting guests. You watch him go, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. Your heart races in your chest, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through you. "Arrogant bastard," you mutter under your breath, gripping your hands tightly in your lap. "And an overly dramatic one, too." You sit quietly for a few moments, trying to calm your racing heart. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for your goblet of wine. You take a large mouthful, swallowing it down quickly and wishing it was something stronger.

Aemond stalks away from the table, his long strides carrying him swiftly toward the entrance of the great hall. His blood boils with anger, his heart pounding in his chest. He can still feel the heat of your defiant gaze seared into his skin, and it only fuels his fury further. Reaching the entrance, he steps outside onto the balcony overlooking the castle grounds. The cool night air does little to soothe his raging emotions, but he stands there nonetheless, staring out into the darkness, lost in his thoughts. You having regained your composure, decide to slip away from the festivities and seek solace in the gardens. You quietly make your exit from the feast, the noise and laughter fading as you venture into the quiet of the gardens. The cool night air and the stillness bring a sense of peace, helping to calm your rattled nerves. You walk along the cobblestone path, your footsteps cushioned by the grass, your thoughts consumed by the events of the evening. The image of Aemond, his expression twisted with anger and rage, lingers in your mind, causing your stomach to churn uncomfortably.

Aemond remains on the balcony, his thoughts consumed by the encounter with you. His initial intention was to let you stew in your anger, to teach you a lesson about crossing him. But as he stood there, alone in the night, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. He knew he had been harsh, perhaps too harsh. But damn it all, you tested his patience like no other. He had never met anyone quite like you - stubborn, headstrong, and defiant. Yet, he found himself inexplicably drawn to you. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and turned back towards the great hall, ready to return and face whatever challenges awaited him. You had found a quiet spot in the gardens, away from the noise and hustle of the castle. You sat on a stone bench, the chill of the night air nipping at your skin. Your heart had finally slowed to a normal rhythm, and the anger and fear faded into a dull throb. You looked up at the sky, the stars sparkling like diamonds in the inky blackness. A feeling of peace washes over you, the garden providing a peaceful escape from the tumultuous emotions of the evening.

Aemond reenters the great hall, and his earlier anger somewhat subsides. He moves through the crowd with a practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and maintaining the facade of a gracious host. Despite his efforts, his mind keeps wandering back to you, and the defiance in your eyes. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he finds himself making his way towards the gardens. He has no clear plan or purpose, merely a desire to see you again, to gauge your reaction to the earlier confrontation. You continue to sit in the garden, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. The quiet ambiance of the gardens helps to soothe your frayed nerves, the sounds of crickets and soft rustling leaves providing calming background music. As you sit there, deep in thought, you sense someone approaching. Your heart rate quickens, wondering if it's Aemond. You turn to look, your eyes widening slightly as you see him walking towards you. Aemond walks into the gardens, his movements silent and stealthy. As he approaches the bench where you sit, he stops suddenly, taken aback by your beauty. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on your face, accentuating the delicate curves of your features. "Forgive me for disturbing your solitude," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could not help but notice your absence from the feast. It seemed…unusual." He takes a step closer, his gaze fixed on you.

Your heart skips a beat as he approaches, his voice breaking the quiet serenity of the garden. You turn your gaze up to him, his presence so close that you can nearly feel the heat radiating from his body. Your guard goes up immediately, your shoulders tensing involuntarily. You force yourself to stay calm, to not let him see how his presence affects you. "I needed some time away from the noise and commotion of the feast," you replied, your voice betraying none of the emotions swirling inside you. Aemond studies you closely, taking note of the subtle changes in your demeanor. There is a certain tension in the air between you, a palpable energy that he finds both intriguing and intoxicating. "It seems we share a similar sentiment," he murmurs, stepping closer until you're mere inches apart. "The noise of the feast can become tiresome after a while." He gazes deeply into your eyes, his own dark and intense. You can feel the intensity of his gaze, the proximity of your bodies causing a shiver to run down your spine. You tilt your head up to look at him, refusing to back down despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. Your pulse quickens under his scrutiny, but you force yourself to remain calm and composed. "Yes, it can be quite overwhelming," you agree, your voice steady despite the fluttering of your heart. "Sometimes, a little solitude is necessary to clear one's head."

Aemond notices the flicker of defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. He admires your strength, your refusal to bow down to his authority. It was refreshing, unlike most of the women he encountered who were either fawning or fearful. "You are unlike any woman I have ever met," he admits, his voice low and gruff. "Your spirit is fierce, your determination unyielding." His gaze drops to your lips, then returns to meet your eyes. Your breath catches in your chest as he speaks, his words sending a jolt of electricity through you. You feel a surge of pride at his praise, but quickly stomp it down, reminding yourself not to give him the satisfaction of knowing how his words affect you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. You can feel the heat of his gaze as he looks at your lips, but stubbornly refuses to allow it to show on your face. You keep your expression neutral, despite the rapid thrumming of your heart. "Is that a compliment or a complaint?"

Aemond smirks, amused by your feistiness. He leans in even closer, his face just inches from yours. The heat emanating from his body is almost unbearable, yet you don't move away. "A compliment, always a compliment," he whispers, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "It would do you well to remember that." You resist the urge to close the gap between you two, your body betraying your will. The sound of his voice, so close to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly parched. Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself, forcing your voice to remain steady as you respond. "And what if I choose not to remember?" A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you. It excites him and stirs something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. Your heart pounds in your chest, the sound echoing loudly in your ears. Your body is hyper-aware of his proximity, the heat from his body seeping into your own. Despite your best efforts to remain calm and collected, you can't help but shiver involuntarily at his words. Taking a deep breath, you lift your chin defiantly, holding his gaze unflinchingly. "Oh, I dare you to try."

Aemond chuckles softly, finding amusement in your daring challenge. His eyes gleam with an unholy light, a predator recognizing another predator. This was more fun than he had anticipated, more thrilling than anything he'd experienced in a long time. "Very well, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "Consider yourself reminded." Your heart races, your pulse thrumming in your veins. Your body is a jumble of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, intrigue. You bite your lip, your mind warring between the desire to push him away and the inexplicable attraction you feel towards him. "And what exactly are you going to remind me of, Your Grace?" you say, your voice coming out a little too breathless to sound as defiant as you would like. A devilish smile curls the corners of Aemond's lips as he hears the slight hitch in your voice. He steps even closer, his body almost touching yours. He can smell your scent, sweet and alluring. It sends a wave of desire coursing through him. "That you belong to me," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "That every inch of you is mine to claim."

Your breath hitched in your chest, your heartbeat quickening at his words. The intensity in his eyes and the possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. But despite the powerful attraction you feel towards him, you're also intensely irritated by his blatant disregard for your autonomy. "I don't belong to anyone," you say, your voice trembling slightly, despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "And you don't own me." Aemond scoffs, his eyes flashing with irritation at your defiance. Yet, there is a spark of admiration in his gaze as well. He respects your spirit, your unwillingness to bend to his will without a fight. "Do you really believe that my lady?" he asks, his voice a soft rumble. "You may think you're strong enough to resist me, but I assure you, resistance is futile." Your frustration mounts, your temper flaring at his arrogant confidence. The fact that he sees you as a mere object to be claimed, despite your protests, drives you to snap. "You're such an arrogant prick," you hissed, your voice laced with anger and frustration. "You think just because you're the Prince, you have the right to possess anything and anyone you desire, regardless of their desires or feelings."

Aemond narrows his eyes at your harsh words, a dark scowl crossing his face. He doesn't like being challenged, especially not by someone he considers beneath him. But he also can't deny the thrill that runs through him when you stand up to him, the spark of defiance in your eyes igniting a fire within him. "Watch your tongue, my lady," he growls, his voice a low, threatening rumble. "Or I might just decide to teach you a lesson you'll never forget." Your eyes flash defiantly, the anger coursing through your veins making you bold. You step closer to him, your bodies almost touching now. "You think threats will make me submit to you? You think I'll bow down and give in because of your status and authority?" you hiss, your voice trembling with rage. "I'll sooner die than submit to someone like you." A flicker of surprise crosses Aemond's face at your boldness. Most people cower under his intense gaze and commanding presence, but you seemed unaffected. If anything, you appeared more determined, more defiant. "Well then," he says, his voice low and deadly, "perhaps we should see just how far you're willing to go." Your heart races, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You stand your ground, refusing to back down despite the danger in his voice. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you challenge, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your insides. "I'm not afraid of you."

Aemond studies you closely, his eyes scanning your face, taking in your defiant expression. There's a certain allure to your bravery, your refusal to bow down to him. It's intoxicating, and it makes him want to explore further. "So be it," he murmurs, his voice a low purr. "Let the games begin." A shiver runs through your body at the sound of his words. You can feel the danger in the air, the electricity between you crackling with tension. But you refuse to back down, no matter how your heart may be pounding in your chest. "You won't win," you retort, your voice a defiant whisper. "I won't let you." A wicked grin spreads across Aemond's face, his smirk revealing a hint of danger. He enjoys this game, the dance of power and dominance between you both. It excites him and makes him feel something within him that he hadn't felt before. "If you choose not to remember, my lady, I will simply have to remind you," he purrs, his tone laced with a dangerous promise. You clench your fists, your heart racing with adrenaline and fear. you are caught in a storm of emotions, the tension between you thick enough to be cut with a knife. Aemond's predatory gleam makes you shiver, but you refuse to let him see your fear. "Maybe it's time for you to learn the meaning of losing," you replied, your voice surprisingly defiant despite the tremors that were coursing through you.

Aemond's laughter echoes around the air, a chilling sound that sends a shudder down your spine. His eyes, full of untamed lust and dominance, never leave you. "Oh, I don't lose, my lady," he drawls, his voice filled with arrogance and confidence. "Remember that." Aemond's hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard body. He lets out a low growl, his other hand tangling in your hair as he pulls your head back, exposing your neck. His teeth graze against your skin, teasing you, the sensation causing a shiver to run down your spine. "Just remember, my lady," he whispers into your ear, his voice dripping with dominance, "you started this game." A gasp escapes your lips as his hand encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him. His grip on your hair is firm but not painful. The way his teeth graze your neck, just barely touching your skin, makes your heart race with a mixture of fear and excitement. You swallow hard, your body responding to his touch despite your determination to resist him. You try to calm your rapid breathing, but it's difficult with him so close to you. "I don't lose either," you whisper fiercely.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest, vibrating against your body. He tightens his hold on you, pulling you even closer until there's no space left between you. "Oh, I believe you, my lady," he murmurs into your ear, his voice a seductive purr. "But we shall see who truly comes out on top." Your breath hitches in your throat as he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, and you fight the urge to lean into him, a combination of fear and anticipation. "Bring it on, Your Grace," you retort, your voice shaking slightly. "You might be powerful now, but you haven't seen my strength." Aemond's laughter echoes around them, a dark, menacing sound that sends chills down your spine. He tightens his grip on you, pulling you closer still. His other hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking over your jawline. "Oh, I've seen your strength, my lady," he murmurs, his voice a seductive purr. "And I can't wait to break you."

Your breath caught in your throat as his hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. The feeling of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, making your heart pound in your chest. You looked up at him, defiance burning in your eyes. "And I can't wait to watch you try," your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. Aemond's eyes flash with a dangerous light, his grip on you tightening. He leans in, his lips hovering just inches away from yours, his hot breath mingling with yours. "Don't mistake my kindness for weakness, my lady," he warns, his voice a husky whisper. "Because when I'm done with you, you'll be begging for mercy." You stare up at him, a mix of fear and anticipation. You can feel his hot breath on your face, the intensity of his gaze making your stomach flip. "Save your threats, Your Grace," you say. "They won't scare me." Aemond's hand slides down from your cheek, tracing a path along your neck before moving lower. His fingers dipped beneath the neckline of your dress, his touch scorching against your skin. His other hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back further to expose your neck.

Aemond's lips crash down onto yours, his hand cradling the side of your face. His tongue invades your mouth, tasting you, asserting his dominance. His other hand travels down your body, tracing along the curve of your hip before squeezing your ass firmly. He breaks the kiss only to trail hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. His hands continue their exploration, pushing under your dress to find bare skin. Caught off guard by his sudden assertiveness, you stiffen in his arms. But as his tongue explores your mouth, you find yourself melting into him, returning his kiss with a passion you didn't know you had. His touch on your body ignites a fire within you, and you can't help but press yourself closer to him. Despite your growing desire for him, you know you can't give in completely. You pull away from his kiss, panting heavily, your body trembling with need. Aemond's eyes darken with desire as he watches you, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath you take. He trails his fingers up your thigh, inching dangerously close to your center. "Running away so soon, my lady?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips. "I thought you were braver than that." You bite your lip, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape your lips. You know you should pull away, and put an end to this madness, but your body betrays you, yearning for his touch. "I'm not running," you admit, your voice shaky. "Just… reminding myself of who's actually in charge here." You spoke before taking a deep breath and sat him down on the bench which didn't do much for the height difference other than how much closer you were face to face now.

A low chuckle rumbles from Aemond's chest as he watches you, his eyes filled with a predatory hunger. He slides closer to you on the bench, his body almost touching yours. "Oh, I think it's quite clear who's in charge here, my lady," he purrs, his hand moving to rest on your thigh under your dress, his fingers slowly edging towards your panties. You swallow hard as you feel his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through the fabric of your panties. Your heart pounds in your chest, a mix of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins. "Well then, Your Grace," you say, forcing a smirk onto your face, "I suppose it's time we find out just how submissive you can be…" A devilish grin spreads across Aemond's face as he hears your words. He leans in, pressing his hard cock against your entrance. With one powerful thrust, he buries himself inside you. "That I did, my lady…" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "And now you're going to get exactly what you deserve…"

Feeling Aemond thrust into you, you let out a sharp gasp. The sensation of being filled by him is overwhelming, both painful and pleasurable at the same time. You arch your back, your nails digging into the fabric of the bench as you try to adjust to his size. "Aemond…" you manage to whimper, "it hurts…" Aemond grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your tight walls clenching against his invading cock. He withdraws slowly, only to thrust back in deeper, filling you completely. "It's supposed to hurt, my lady," he groans, "that's how you know it's real…" Feeling Aemond's thrusts, you can't help but let out a series of soft moans. As much as you hate to admit it, there's a part of you that's starting to enjoy this. You look up at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of tears and desire. "Please… slow down…" she begs, her voice shaking. Aemond grins down at you, his thrusts slowing slightly as he relishes in the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock. He leans down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continues to fuck you senselessly.

"Don't worry, my lady," he murmurs against your lips, "we've only just begun…"

[neo-nomatrix]

The Head of Aphrodite

Aphrodite!Gojo x Ares!reader

word count: 1072

summary: You, goddess of war, go into battle with your beloved, god of love.

banners by: @cafekitsune and @saradika

warnings: idk historical inaccuracies? i tried to follow some parts of the iliad. i was originally gonna do this with aphrodite!reader and ares!gojo (or toji) but this happened. coercion by gojo. uhh gods fight mortals??? idk i needed an excuse to put them into battle and realized that it doesn’t make sense in the middle of writing

You betrayed your own mother for your beloved.

Since the beginning your mother and you had sided with the Greeks during the Trojan war. Your mother despised the Trojans. After Paris, the prince of Troy, had said Gojo was more beautiful than her. Although you agreed, she was still your mother. Yet, you were only in love with one. Gojo Satoru, God of beauty and love, the most gorgeous being through the living and the dead.

“Please, my love,” Satoru begged from beneath you.

He often did this, groveling at your feet at any chance he could get. You’re sat on your throne, a beautiful creation made of leather, metal, and skulls. It’s a drastic difference from your dark demeanor to Satorus constant beam of light following him. Your skin is adorned in your armor, face resting on your hand in boredom. His white tunic slips off his shoulder as you look down at him, revealing a chest chiseled by Pygmalion. His skin glowing radiance. He caresses your bare legs in his arms, kissing up your calves and thighs. Whispering sweet nothings to you, in hopes of convincing you.

“My loyalty is supposed to lie with the Greeks, you know this, my love,” you say back.

“No. Your loyalty lies with me,” Satoru says back, his eyes turning suddenly dark before shifting back to his mesmerizing blue ones.

“My mother would-“ you begin before Satoru cuts you off.

“To hell with Hera! She only wants you on the side of the Greeks because the Trojans worship me instead of her. You really believe she is worth more than me? Your lover?” He begs, voice almost whimpering in despair.

“What do they have to offer me?” You ask.

“Brutality. The Trojans are men of war! They will not rest until the battle is done, they are true soldiers,” The God says, knowing you would take a liking to a barbaric nature.

“You’ll be fighting by my side, my goddess,” He continued.

“Joining the Trojans would be joining the losing side. I only win,” you argue with him.

“why must you be so difficult?” Satoru thinks to himself.

“You would rather fight against me? Is that how you see me, my dearest?” He says, knowing it will push your buttons.

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it,” you say, irritated by him.

“But you did! You would rather fight with me, your lover, the god who is the reason for all your pleasure, because it means you would win a war that doesn’t even matter to us!” He reasons.

“Satoru, you started the war! You are insufferable, i’m beginning to actually want to fight against you,” Your fuse is about to blow.

“Oh, sweet girl,” Satoru muses at you.

He begins to make his way up your body from his pathetic position. Slowly touching your body, from your ankles up to your face. He presses soft, pleasuring kisses, to every part of your body he can reach. He easily finds the sweet spots on your neck and teases at them.

“Join me, my goddess. My all powerful being, creator of destruction and war,” he whispers against your skin.

“Fine,” you mumble back.

It’s not your proudest moment. A goddess who has put men on their knees due to a simple look. A goddess who has won, and started, hundreds of wars. The goddess that has been broken down so easily. A small bit of begging and touching makes you crumble. Gojo knows he has won. He smiles against your lips.

“I knew I would win.”

You’re drenched in the blood of mortals. You know none of it is yours because no warrior has yet to even come close to you with their blade. You are the Goddess of the war. Subsequently, many did not take a liking to you. Most did not worship you, and you don’t mind. You relish in slaughter and bloodlust, why would a few (thousand) mortals hating you make a difference? If it really mattered to you, you could just kill them too.

Satoru looks ethereal on the battlefield. The god of beauty really doesn’t take a day off. When you spot him he’s wiping off blood from his face, bodies surrounding him. He pulls out his grand sword from the body of a soldier, face turning into disgust when he sees the gruesome scene around him.

In contrast to you, many worshiped Satoru Gojo. They adored him. He was charming, handsome, kind, handsome, funny, and was handsome on the list? Satoru Gojo is a sight even among Gods. The mere thought of him to mortals was enough to send someone into shock.

It was no surprise when you heard a soldier talk about taking his head as some sort of trophy. Even if not surprising it still enrages you. The thought of disgusting mortals even thinking of taking your lovers head made you want to wipe out every living being on the planet.

You create a path to these said men. The aura surrounding you smelling of death. Your sword gripped in your hand. You wish for them to suffer. Your steps hold so much power the ground shakes beneath you, causing the men to fall. You begin stabbing into their chests, piercing their stomachs through the armor. Until you take one by the hair, and in one swift stroke their head comes off their body. Face going limp, stuck in an expression of fear.

Unbeknownst to you, Gojo was watching you. He was taken aback by you. The sheer power you held with you. Your muscles gleaming in the smoky air, sweat and blood decorating them. He has never seen something so attractive in his life. If he were to describe true beauty, he would say you.

You turn to him with an angry smile on your face. The once living head turned into a skull at your command. Simply another death to add to your collection.

Still seething you approach Gojo. Looking him in the eye. A dark presence follows you while your lover is surrounded by a light one. His head pounds in adoration for you. He has never felt like this in his entire life. You throw your sword into the ground, eager to touch Satoru. You calloused hands wrap around his biceps. You stare at Satoru in the eyes, his hand wrapped around your waist.

“No one touches what’s mine.”

[herstuf]

Agatha Theories I’ve had so far

Agatha has no control over her powers. Or at least didn’t. When her mother said “you were born evil” I’m wondering if when she was a baby if her mother tried to use magic on her and as a baby Agatha started draining her magic… could be where the ideas behind her mothers hatred but also the “I can be good” came from. “I can be good” is such a child of an abusive home thing to say…

Unsure if I still like this one but- Billy is in Nicholas Scratch’s body. In the comics the twins are reincarnated beings… interesting if Billy is in Nicholas’s body

Rio is Mistress Death and when Agatha went down the road before she was in search of a way to stop her own magic from draining others in order to protect her son… only for the road to take Nicholas in exchange for the dark hold and Rio, as Mistress Death, HAD to help him cross over, even when Agatha begged her not to

Rio hates ghosts because they’re the spirits of people who wouldn’t or couldn’t pass on, even with her help. She must be actively bothered by that as it’s her Job to help souls pass on, and ghosts probably refuse to

Agatha hasn’t actually killed as many people as the rumours say. It’s just easy to blame her for, and to act like when other witches have sought her out and attacked her that it was her fault. Her comment about “and people wonder why I don’t have female friends” has LAYERS to it.

Similarly- Agatha told Lilia that she can’t take power unless someone attacks her first… what an odd thing to tell someone if you actually want to do that. Like why give yourself away like that SO easily… unless she really doesn’t want to TAKE people’s magic who aren’t hurting her. Despite how she later tried to trick the coven into blasting her… she hasn’t actually done it since. And she was horrified at first when Alice starting blasting her. Why warn them if not as a caution not to attack her, if she actually wanted to take from them?

Episode 5 the were all possessed- I saw someone else talk about this in much more depth than I can do justice and found it interesting. Also interesting that the exit from that trial was the first exit “up” instead of “down,” as in down down the witches road…

Lilia was either royal or elevated (very wealthy/lady/lord style) in medieval or before times. Based on the snippets we’ve gotten from her I picture her as a bit of a Cassandra character. She was likely betrayed either by family or coven, or perhaps by her own visions, at some point. She started to distrust or be scared of her magic and that’s why it has faded.

Also love the theory that she predicts death.. with the “Alice don’t” and then later saying it when Alice blasts Agatha. Theories that she predicted the black plague, and that all the slips she has are moments where she gets closer to predicting deaths… so interesting to think about

My favourite- Alice isn’t really dead. Because I don’t want her to be. :)

[sku11s1asher]

Kinktober Day 1: Edging

lyney x top male reader

notes: guess who’s doing kinktober?? me!! pretend i posted this earlier since i couldn’t find a list until last sec, oops. ignore the fact that this is short and totatllyyy not rushed.. i don’t even know the characters i wanna do so PLEASE DM OR SPAM MY INBOX WITH CHARACTERS YOU WANNA SEE!! if a day doesn’t get posted on time, i promise ill post it eventually trust

cw: edging (obv), one slap on his thigh, sharp ass nails, crying, im a sucker for lyney sorry guys

It must be a wonderful feeling to have Lyney, the great magician of Fontaine, the future successor to Arlechino, right under your fingertips, literally. Such a strong man, reduced to a whimpering and begging mess, all because of a little touching. He looked so beautiful though, his makeup ruined, back arched, cock leaking, body on full display, just for you.

A needy whine left his lips, “Please, I- I can’t!” Your eyes flickered up, tilting your head at him, “You can’t what? Use your big boy words, baby.” He could barely open his eyes to look at you, everything was too much. His arm went over his face when your hand slowly started moving again, it took everything in him to not buck his hips. He needed to cum so badly, why are you being such an asshole?

You leaned down to kiss his stomach before taking your hand off his cock. You’ve only been edging him for 15 minutes, it’s pathetic how quickly he became a mess. After staring at him for a few moments longer, you finally grabbed the lube, opening it, and pouring it over his dick, watching as it slowly dripped down towards his hole.

—

Maybe it was too much, he was squeezing around your fingers so tightly, thighs squeezing around you. Every sound that came from his mouth was almost laughable, barely audible words, moans, and whimpers. It’s like you took away his tongue.

“Calm down,” you said to him, your free hand giving his thigh a light slap. Your finger kept rubbing against his prostate, sometimes purposely missing it. “How can I calm down?” He hissed out, eyes starting to fill with tears. All you could do was let out a chuckle, no matter how angry he pretended to be, his body always betrayed him.

Once you finally decided to stick another finger inside of him, a fat glob of pre cum dripped from his tip. You could tell that he was trying his hardest to not cum, the way his breathing started to increase, how his face slightly changed, the slight grind against your fingers. Of course, you paused your movements, just long enough for him to lose the high before you started to get him open.

—

“Fuck,” as soon as you were even an inch inside of him, he was trying to pull all of you inside. “Lyney,” your voice warned, the grip on his waist tightening. All you got in response was a loud moan and nails going deeper into your back. When you, finally, got inside of him, it felt like heaven. Hell, it sounded like heaven.

“You wanna cum?” You asked into his ear, head falling into his neck, biting it as you thrust. “Yes, yes, please!” He begged, one of his hands going on your head, pulling you closer. Though, his other hand tried going to his dick, which didn’t slide with you. As soon as you felt his hand go between your stomachs, you stopped moving altogether.

“No, no, no, ‘m sorry-“ he quickly pleaded, you could feel his tears, what a baby. “If try to you touch yourself, I’ll stop again,” You warned, slowly going back to thrusting into him. He didn’t even last a minute, hole immediately squeezing you tighter, nails scratching your back, finally coming. You didn’t stop for a second, trying to reach your own high as he continued to moan like a cheap whore.

[raysrays]

Fatal Attraction Chapter Five (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

*i said there probably wouldn’t be smut…but I lied lol. Just a warning this one’s more rough.

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the "Cryptid Rengoku" character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four,

Y/N Perspective.

I woke to the warmth of Kyojuro’s fur, his soft purrs reverberating in my ears as he slept. He was curled around me, his tail snugly wrapped around my waist, his clawed hands holding me close.

It felt like I was melting into his embrace.

But I couldn’t put this off any longer I had to talk to him about the journey. Time was slipping away, and I only had a few days to convince him to let me go.

I tried to slip out of his grasp, but he stirred, his tail tightening around my waist.

His red eyes snapped open, glowing with a stern intensity.

“Where are you going?” His voice was deeper now, as he was waking up.

I knew I had to tread carefully, Kyojuro could be incredibly stubborn. If I stayed calm, I might have a chance to sway him.

Gently, I stroked the fur between his ears, and he responded with a deep purr.

“I need to talk to you about something,” I said softly.

His ears perked slightly.

“What is it, my mate?” He opened his eyes fully, the red glow locking onto mine.

I took a deep breath, knowing this probably wouldn’t be an easy conversation.

“Tamayo wants to take me on a journey, to go northeast to continue hunting.”

I felt his claws dig slightly into my skin, a pinch of pain shooting through me.

“She thinks I could be of some use.”

His growls grew louder, the purrs vanishing. His expression darkened.

“You are not leaving me again.”

I swallowed hard, realizing this wasn’t going as I’d hoped. “Kyojuro, I understand why you don’t want me to go—”

His voice rose, cutting me off. “We had an agreement! You asked me to meet you halfway, and I did. Now you’re breaking our rules and changing your mind!”

His tail remained tightly coiled around me, his claws digging into my skin. His fur bristled, sharp teeth bared.

“The answer is no. You will not go anywhere. My decision is final.” He snarled, his clicking growing louder.

I knew he was angry, but he still held me close. Maybe there was still a chance to reason with him.

“I know I belong to you, Kyojuro. I would never betray that.”

His growl subsided slightly at my words, but his tail stayed tight around my waist, his claws still gripping my skin.

“Please, just hear me out. Surely we can find a way that works for both of us.”

Finally, his tail loosened its grip, and he released his hold on my skin. But I was still pressed against his chest, the tension between us palpable.

I knew I had to keep trying, to find a way that worked for both of us.

“I’m your mate, Kyojuro. I belong to you, but I can help too. I’m not weak—I can be useful to you.”

I saw the conflict in his eyes, a battle between his possessive instincts and the truth of my words.

He leaned in closer, his hot breath grazing my neck.

“You’ll stay with me and help in other ways,” he murmured.

His purrs resumed, low and soothing, and I knew I’d lost this round. But I wasn’t giving up—I’d find another way to convince him to let me go on this journey.

His claws trailed over my skin, gentle now, as he leaned down to kiss me. His purrs vibrated through my body as his hands roamed over me.

I’d let him have this victory, for now. But I’d find another way to sway him. For the moment, I’d wait.

But I needed to understand why. I knew Kyojuro was possessive, as most creatures like him were. It must be hard for him to think of his mate leaving. But I felt there was more to it.

I remembered how furious he’d been when I returned from the northern Territory of Sanemi Shinazugawa, smelling like him. It was the angriest I’d ever seen him.

Do the Hashira hate each other?

I knew they ruled different sectors of the region, but… is there tension between the nine strongest monsters?

It was a puzzle I hadn’t managed to piece together yet.

I reached up to stroke the fur on his face, his purrs growing louder at my touch. He nuzzled into my palm, and I wrapped my arm around his neck, holding him close.

“Is it because you’re worried about me, Kyojuro?” I asked softly. “Or is there another reason you don’t want me to go?”

His purrs stopped abruptly. He pulled back, his eyes narrowing.

A hint of curiosity flashed in his gaze.

“What are you implying, my little human?”

I kept my tone gentle, hoping to reassure him. “I’m just trying to understand. If we can see eye to eye, maybe we can find a solution.”

He looked away, his claws scraping the ground. Tension rippled through his shoulders, his tail twitching restlessly.

I scooted closer, running my hand over his chest.

He glanced down at me, his expression unreadable.

“Do you not realize? You’re my mate now. We’re bonded. Our scents are intertwined. If you step into another Hashira’s territory, they’ll smell me on you.”

He let the words sink in.

“And what would happen then?” I asked quietly.

His tail wrapped around my leg, drawing me closer.

“They’d try to harm the humans that strive to aid and support the opposing hashira. They’d see you as a threat.”

His seriousness, his worry, was palpable.

“Is that really how it works?” I asked, unease creeping into my voice.

Kyojuro nodded, his ear twitching. “While I may be on good terms with some, that’s not the case for everyone. That’s just how we operate.”

My stomach tightened, my heart racing.

He saw my expression change and leaned in closer, his voice softening.

“Do not worry, love. I won’t let anyone harm you. That’s why you can’t leave me.”

I reached up to touch his face, his fur soft beneath my fingers. He leaned into my touch, purring gently.

I knew he wanted to protect me, but I also knew I had to keep trying and stand my ground. I needed to convince him to let me go on this journey, no matter the risks.

I met his eyes, determined. “I understand that you want to protect me, Kyojuro. I appreciate that. But part of our agreement was that you’ll let me continue to work with Tamayo.”

He looked at me, surprise mingling with annoyance, but I pressed on.

“I’ll do what’s right, what I owe her. I promise to be careful, and I’ll return to you as soon as I can. Please, don’t make me choose between you and what’s right.”

I saw the conflict in his eyes again, the battle between his possessive instincts and his understanding of what I needed.

He leaned in closer, his purrs vibrating through me. His voice was deep and husky.

“I’ll think about it, my mate. But don’t expect me to say yes easily.”

Close enough, we are finally heading in the right direction.

——————-

I sat with Tamayo and Yushiro in the small meeting room at the base, reviewing the plans for our journey northeast.

It would just be the three of us, which I knew would make Kyojuro even less pleased. I needed to explain everything to him before we left.

But for now, I focused on the maps and routes spread out before me.

“Are we going to run into any problems here?” Yushiro asked, pointing to a cluster of water on the map.

Tamayo nodded. “If I’m right, this is the territory of the kraken hybrid, Giyu Tomioka. He’s a Hashira, but he’s not as violent or aggressive as Shinazugawa. If we encounter him, he should be manageable.”

Yushiro frowned. “Kraken hybrid? Won’t he just hide underwater until we’re gone?”

“No,” Tamayo replied, her tone assured. “If we arrive, he’ll likely be on the defensive. These creatures rarely hide from threats—they’d rather confront and scare them off. Even if he’s not as aggressive, he’ll still show himself.”

Yushiro crossed his arms, looking less than satisfied.

“What if he doesn’t show?” I asked, my voice cutting through the tension.

Tamayo met my gaze, a certainty in her eyes that was almost unsettling. “Oh, he will.”

Something about her confidence unnerved me. I knew Tamayo had been hunting monsters for years, but to my knowledge, she’d never captured one. So why was she so certain this time?

“There’s been too much activity in the woods lately,” she continued calmly. “Too many things that don’t add up. I know something’s happening out there.”

Kyojuro. She’s talking about Kyojuro.

A wave of paranoia washed over me. What if she finds out? What if she already knows? I can’t let her discover him. I won’t let them hurt him.

I have to warn him—he needs to stay away from this part of the woods.

Tamayo’s voice pulled me back to the present. “We need to be prepared for anything. We don’t know what we’ll find out there, and we can’t underestimate the power of these monsters.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of determination. I’d make sure Kyojuro was safe. I wouldn’t let anything happen to him. I’d protect him, no matter what.

“We leave in two days,” Tamayo said briskly, signaling the end of the meeting. “Be ready.”

I rose from my seat, my heart pounding.

I needed to get to Kyojuro as soon as possible. I needed to warn him.

And then, I had to convince him to let me go on this journey.

I needed to get Tamayo away from here, to distract her from what was happening around us. Traveling would be a good diversion. If her focus was on a different monster, she’d lose interest in Kyojuro.

I’m going, no matter what. I won’t let Tamayo down, despite Kyojuro’s fears. I’m doing this for him too—to protect him from Tamayo’s suspicion.

I’ll keep him safe, just as he’s always promised to do for me. That’s what mates… what lovers do.

I just hope Kyojuro will see it the same way.

—————

To be honest, this constant back and forth between the base and the den is wearing thin. I dread pushing through the forest at night, but I suppose it gives me time to think about what I’m going to say.

Once I finally approached the den, something felt off. It was completely dark. Had Kyojuro gone to sleep already? He usually kept a fire lit until we were ready to rest.

A sense of unease began to creep in as I drew closer. My pulse quickened. Why does this feel so wrong? I hesitated at the entrance, peering into the pitch-black den, the faint moonlight barely penetrating the darkness.

Then, I heard it—a low growl, followed by the familiar clicking I’d come to recognize.

“Kyojuro?” I called out, my voice trembling slightly.

Silence. The air grew unnervingly still. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart and the sound of my own breath.

Just as I opened my mouth to call out again, a sudden gust of wind swept past me, and those glowing red eyes were suddenly inches from my face, piercing straight into my soul.

I thought my heart was going to give out right then and there.

His gaze locked onto mine, and I could see his sharp teeth gleaming in a predatory smile as the moonlight faintly illuminated his face. The clicking grew louder.

“There you are…” he purred, his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I struggled to breathe; he was terrifying me—badly.

“K-Kyojuro? What are you doing? Is something wrong?—”

Before I could finish, his tail coiled around my wrists, pinning my hands above my head.

He lifted me off the ground effortlessly, suspending me by my wrists as he pulled me closer to the nest, keeping me in the air to meet his eyes.

“My mate still wishes to escape from me, I see…” he growled, amusement lacing his voice.

“Escape? No, it’s not like that!” I try to defend myself, my voice trembling.

He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it.

“You really think you can hide your true intentions from me?” His long tongue trails up my neck, and despite the fear, I can’t stop the blush that creeps over my face.

What is he doing?

“Oh, I’ve given your words from this morning plenty of thought,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I think it’s safe to say I’ll try to compromise with you.”

“You will?” I ask, genuinely curious, hope flickering in my chest.

His grip on my wrists suddenly loosens, and I drop to the floor of the nest, staring up at him.

He looks down at me, still smiling, his eyes glowing with that same eerie light. But something feels different now—more intense, more dangerous.

“Since you insist on leaving me to venture into the territories of others, I’ve decided there’s only one way I’ll feel ‘comfortable’ letting you go,” he growled deeply. “I’m going to completely submerge you in my scent and thoroughly mark you as mine.”

My eyes widened as I instinctively tried to back away, still looking up at him.

“But… you said if the Hashira could smell me on you, they’d want to hurt me—that they’d see me as a threat,” I stammered, trying to make sense of his words despite the fear gnawing at me.

He stepped closer, matching my retreat with his advance.

“Yes, I did say that. And it’s true. But you’re not just any human—you’re my mate,” he continued, his tone dark and possessive. “For one Hashira to kill another’s mate could mean battle, war… all kinds of problems. So if you want to leave, you’ll have to go through the process.”

He leaned in closer, his eyes flashing a menacing red. “And you won’t complain.”

His voice dropped into a low, dangerous purr, and my heart fluttered with a mix of fear and something I didn’t want to name.

The clicking grew louder, reverberating through the ground beneath me. The very air seemed to hum with the force of his presence.

I was trapped, and he knew it. There was no escape.

My voice barely emerged, trembling. “You’re going to… mark me?”

His purr deepened, the clicking intensifying.

“Oh, yes,” he murmured, his voice thick with possessiveness. “By the time I’m done, you’ll reek of me and only me.”

I felt consumed by him, completely overwhelmed. I was trapped beneath him, unable to move.

But I didn’t want to escape. I wanted to stay with him, to feel him fill me.

He leaned back, his glowing red eyes meeting my gaze. “Strip,” he growled, his eyes flashing with desire.

I hesitated, my heart pounding. But something in his gaze told me he wouldn’t let me say no.

I reached down, my hands trembled slightly as I removed my clothes. His eyes watched my every movement, his purrs growing louder.

Once I removed all my clothing he leaned in, and before I could react, he pounced, pinning me down on the nest.

His tail coiled around my legs, his claws sinking into my skin as he pressed his weight over me, holding me in place.

My heart raced, pounding in my ears. Was I scared? Absolutely. But I couldn’t deny the thrill that surged through me. This was Kyojuro—the creature who claimed me, body and soul.

He was my mate, my lover. And I was his, completely.

“I won’t let anyone else touch you, little human,” he murmured in my ear, his hot breath making my skin tingle. “Not while you wear my scent.”

As his claws dug deeper into my skin, I gasped as his teeth nipped at the side of my neck.

A shiver ran through me. And as I looked up into those glowing red eyes, I knew there was no going back now.

Whether I liked it or not. Whether I understood it or not.

Kyojuro Rengoku was mine, and I was his. Nothing would ever change that. Nothing could ever take him from me.

His teeth sank deeper into my neck, a sharp pain flaring to life as he bit me. I whimpered, struggling against him.

But he held me firm, his claws plunged

Into my arms, his tail wrapping tighter around me. His purr rumbled through my body, and the clicking grew louder, echoing in my ears.

He leaned back, releasing his hold on my neck. Blood trickled down my skin, but I couldn’t see it clearly in the darkness of the den.

He looked down at me, his expression fierce and feral.

“I need to mark you all over,” he growled, his eyes flashing with desire. “I need you to smell like me, so all know you’re mine.”

He lowered his mouth to my collarbone, his teeth sinking in. I cried out, struggling against him.

But he was relentless, biting and marking me all over my body. His tail tightened around my legs. It hurt, but I liked it.

I was trapped, helpless beneath him. And yet, I didn’t want to fight him.

He leaned up, meeting my gaze. “I hope my mate is prepared for me.” he growled, his eyes blazing with possessiveness. “Any monster that dare come into contact with you will know exactly who owns you.”

I felt my body respond, heat flooding between my legs. His scent, his purrs, his bites—it all combined to drive me crazy with lust.

I let out a light gasp as he flips me onto my stomach, grabbing my hips and positioning my ass out.

He leaned in, I could feel him leaning against my back. He was being rough, aggressive, demanding. He nipped at my nape, his purrs and clicks vibrating through my body.

I felt consumed by him, completely overwhelmed. He was everywhere, filling my senses.

I felt his cock harden against me, his purrs growing louder.

I shouldn’t be wanting this, I shouldn’t be okay with this monster man handling me and marking up my body. But I want him so badly.

He leaned in closer, his nose skimming my neck. “Mine,” he growled, his scent filling my senses.

His tail coiled around my legs, forcing them apart. His claws dug into my hips, holding me in place.

I felt his cock press against my entrance from behind, hard and thick. He leaned in closer, his purrs rumbling through my body.

“Be a good mate, and take all of it,” he growled, his voice thick with possession.

He finally thrust into me, his cock filling me completely. I cried out, my body stretching around him.

He let out an animalistic growl, his tail tightening around my legs so bright I knew it would leave bruises.

He leaned in closer, his mouth meeting my neck. He bit me again on the other side this time, his teeth sinking deep.

I moaned, arching up against him. His cock filled me perfectly, hitting all the right spots.

he growled, i could feel him nipping at my shoulders covering my back in spots as he fucked me. “My good mate knows how to take it, so perfect.” He praises me.

His praises only edge me on, making my eyes roll back slightly. God, it hurts so good.

His cock thrust into me faster now, the knot pushing against the entrance of my cunt.

I just know it’s going to make me feel so full.

He leaned in closer, he gets closer to my ear and whispers. “If Giyu Tomioka touches you, I’ll ensure you never have the strength to walk ever again.” He growls.

My eyes go wide once I feel his knot finally push inside me. I felt a wave of pleasure wash over me as it rubbed against my g-spot.

I moaned, and whimpered loudly. I couldn’t contain it.

His cock began to pulse inside me, his knot swelling to its full size. I felt a rush of pleasure, my body clenching around him.

I cried out, my body shaking with pleasure. His growls and clicks filled the air and rumbled through my body, as I came around him.

He leaned back, as he pistons into me at a rapid rate. My mind going blank.

His purrs grew louder, his scent overwhelming me. His cock pulsed inside me, filling me with his seed.

I moaned, and cried out as I felt him completely unload into me. My stomach starting to feel warm and uncomfortably full.

He kept me in this position his clawed hand on the center of my back keeping me arched in place until he emptied everything out it side of me.

I feel fucked out of my mind once again by him.

His cum filled me to the point I can feel it drip down my thighs. His purrs grow quiet as he slowly pulls out of me.

He then flips me onto my back and settles on top of me, to look at me.

I might not have been able to see very well due to the poor lighting, but I could see those glowing eyes and that wicked smile as he looked down at me like I was nothing but his prey.

He grabbed my face with one of his hands, he purrs seemingly satisfied, as he leaned in. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson, little human.”

His claws traced over my arms, his purr growing softer. He leaned in to my ear, whispering, “If you’re going to continue to go against my wishes, I’m not going to be so gentle with you.”

He nuzzled me and kisses me with such gentleness, despite his rough behavior earlier.

“You’re mine, and I’m going to be damned if anyone ever tries to take that from me,” he whispered.

I nodded my head, my voice coming out weak and soft. “Yes, Kyojuro.” I whisper as he continues to purr.

He pulls back from me, his purrs growing softer. His tail slowly releases its hold on me, allowing my legs to close back up. He runs his hand down my thigh and my ass, his claws tracing over the sensitive skin. He nuzzles me, his purrs soft.

His purrs slowly died down, I felt him lay next to me, he pulls me close to him.

He’s crazy, but he makes me feel content, and protected despite everything. But now I’m completely exhausted from everything that happened tonight.

He leaned in nuzzled against my hair, his purrs and clicks finally dying down.

I fell asleep in his arms. Knowing that no matter what I was safe. And that soon I’d be traveling, and he’d be here, waiting for me to come back. But this time, I won’t be sick because I actually got his permission.

I’d be heading into the heart of the woods, and hopefully, I’d return in one piece.

Are all the Hashira this insane? I was always lead to believe Kyojuro Rengoku was one of the more tame ones, a kind gentle monster. I guess in some ways they got it right…

That’s the last thought that goes through my head before I fall asleep, surrounded by Kyojuro’s purrs. And his strong arms wrapped around me, protecting me. And his fur and body keeping me warm. His scent covering my entire body, claiming me as his.

I knew that no matter what happened on the journey with Tamayo, I was safe and cared for in his arms. And nothing can ever change that.

And so with that, I drifted off to sleep, with him next to me, my mate. My protector.

I think I’m genuinely starting to fall in love with him… Am I crazy?

Tags: @emmenic726 @i0love0tea @fandomenbylover