#I don’t like deep voices at all more like honeyed ones IF THAT MAKES SENSE

[delirious-donna]

an: I had this thought and it wouldn’t leave me so please enjoy the filth of my brain 😌 short but sweet…

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: suggestive, dirty talk, public setting, reader is very embarrassed by their situation

Frozen in place in the midst of the grocery store, you dared not to move. A slow trickle escaped your body and you firmly clenched your thighs together in the hopes of preventing anything further from leaking out. This was mortifying, this would be the thing that turned you into dust to blow across the wind for the rest of time.

A large hand found the small of your back, warm and familiar, followed by a concerned voice by your ear. “Something wrong, honey?”

You whipped around to him, face growing impossibly warm and sweaty at the immediate imagery of honey dripping from its pot. The slow sensual pour of sticky nectar prickled down your spine, and you wondered if he already knew of your current plight. Kento’s eyebrows rose towards his neat hairline, completely oblivious, despite your worries to the contrary, but he did sense your discomfort.

“Don’t you honey me,” you whisper yelled, poking a sharp finger into the centre of his chest. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“Talk you into… grocery shopping? We both need to eat, sweetheart,” he answered with a poorly disguised chuckle.

Kento turned to examine the fresh produce, squeezing mangoes to find one nearing ripeness, and you damn near dropped to the floor at the sight. His impossibly large hand encased the whole fruit, fingers flexed around the fleshy skin and all you could think of was how that was exactly how he would squeeze and grope at your breasts.

You took a step closer—drip.

“Kento…” you whined pathetically, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt and doing your damnedest not to dance on the spot like a child in need of the nearest bathroom.

With a sigh, he placed the basket hooked over his other hand on the floor and brought you into the shelter of his body. His chin rested on your head whilst your arms encircled his waist, holding him gently and only for a moment before pulling away.

“I’m leaking.”

Kento paused, perplexed. “You’re what?”

This was so embarrassing and he was going to make you spell it out for him. “What did we do before grocery shopping?”

“We showered, you cooked breakfast and I—oh.”

The penny finally dropped and you could kick him for the shit eating grin that spread across his face. You weren’t accustomed to such obvious delight etched over his features and at your expense too!

Before you could think to follow through with kicking his shin or huffing and puffing, he pulled you into his side and lowered his mouth to your ear. The warm fan of his breath sent goosebumps rippling up and down your arms and your pulse quickened.

“Am I right in saying that my seed is leaking out of you?” He asked coolly, as if he was asking you an everyday question like what type of cheese should we buy this week.

You nodded, afraid of your own voice right now.

Kento hummed. “Then I clearly didn’t fuck it deep enough. We’ll have to remedy that. How does it feel? I’ll bet it’s all warm from your hot little pussy.”

“Kento!”

“That’s right, my love. That’s how you screamed my name when I had your ankles by your ears. Mm, my sweet honeypot.”

If you weren’t melting already, you certainly were now. Your body betrayed you wilfully, the walls of your cunt pulsing to push more of the creamy cum into the seat of your underwear. Kento laced his fingers with yours and began to guide you down the aisle, but you walked on stiff legs, so afraid of what might leak down your thigh if you moved normally.

“I’m stuck! What if I make a mess? I can’t stand here all day,” you squeaked much to Kento’s amusement. He was enjoying your predicament far too much, the wicked man that he was.

“Shall I find you a cart to sit inside?”

“You’re not funny mister…”

“Oh, but I’m not laughing, darling. You’ve let my gift escape, which I find rather rude. I intend to finish this shop fast and replace what you’ve lost.”

You blinked, lashes fluttering in rapid succession. The weight of molten heat dropped into the pit of your stomach. He couldn’t be serious.

Gently, he hooked your arm through his and patted your hand. His face was unreadable once more, eyes scanning the produce and placing items into his retrieved basket. So handsome, so calm, yet beneath the mask lay a man capable of ruining you with words alone.

“Come along, dear. I’ve just remembered we’re all out of honey… not that we don’t have ample supply of our own,” he whispered the last part beneath his breath.

“You’ll always be sweeter than honey to me.”

[kavehater]

GUYS WTH DOES A MID ATLANTIC ACCENT SOUND LIKE ?!?!!

[hellishjoel]

chokehold

1.6k / pairing: tattoo artist daddy dom!joel miller x sub f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | notifications blog | ko-fi

chapter summary: Joel teaches you how to face fuck. 

chapter warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, unspecified age gap, established relationship, reader is described to have hair and is able-bodied (but otherwise, unspecified), swearing, dirty talk, smut, lots of pet names (sweetheart, angel, little bunny, etc.), dacryphilia (kink = getting aroused by tears), dom/sub dynamics, innocence kink, praise kink, degradation kink, daddy kink, face fucking/oral (m!receiving), size kink

A/N:  very lightly edited, but I wanted to give a little love to joel and little bunny since the third chapter is taking me some extra time! divider is by @firefly-graphics! and always a thank you to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this over and endless encouragement <3

Joel’s eyes roll to the back of his head, slow and steady, because that’s just the pace you’re taking him. 

Facefucking is still experimental to you. He’s your first partner, and you’re nervous to impress. 

What you don’t know is that Joel would never judge your inexperience. All sexual pleasures involve trust, praise, and a little direction.

Joel stokes your hair affectionately, growing more possessive as he gently guides your mouth up and down his thick length. 

You can feel the power shift as your knees dig into the floor, eyes hesitantly meeting his while you try to take more of his shaft. You want more, you’re willing to push your limits. 

Joel seems to sense your loss of inhibitions, your twinkling eyes meeting his whiskey ones. 

“Want me to use that pretty little mouth of yours?” Joel’s words vibrate through the room. He pulls his cock from your lips, smearing his tip from one corner of your mouth to the other as you catch a breath. His warm pre-cum slips onto your tongue, and all you crave is more. 

Watching you desperately try to get him past your parted lips again is enough to force out a dark, low chuckle. 

“Wanna hear y’say it, baby.” 

Your impatient whine and eager hands on the back of his thighs make you beg, “Please, Joel,” in that wrecked voice that he loves so much. 

Joel presses his hips forward once more, watching his tip slip past your puckered lips and back into the hot heat of your mouth. “Yeah, right where I belong, huh, baby? Right where that cock belongs.” Joel’s hand comes to cradle your face, tracing the bulge of his length against your cheek with a sinister smirk. 

The further he pushes on, your tells start to show. He admires the way your eyelashes flutter, gagging and coughing around him but insistent not to let yourself off. A stray tear slips down your cheek. He collects it with his thumb and brings it past his lips, tasting what you give him. 

“Even your tears taste pretty, sweetheart,” he mutters predatorily, watching as your eyes blow wide, shyly moaning against his length. 

“When it gets to be too much, try to stay on. Swallow around me,” Joel gently nods his head. “Go on.” 

You obey, swallowing around the thick trunk of his cock, throat feeling a little looser now. You’re oh so willing to take on the discomfort just to please him. Anything for Joel, because he’d do anything for you. 

As his hips pick up a lazy pace, Joel encourages you to drop your hands from the safety blanket of his thighs. Like the good girl you are, you ease them to the base of your spine and lay one wrist over the other. He’s tied you up in that position more times than he can count, allowing Joel to take control and use you as he pleases. Such a good fucking girl. 

Tears pool along the top of your cheeks, the sight of glassy eyes igniting a fire deep in his belly. The overflow of saliva trickles out along the corners of your mouth, pooling down to his length and soaking the coarse hair on his balls. 

Joel watches as you shift anxiously on your knees, eyes pleading because somehow you want more. 

“Oh, honey,” he drapes in a degrading tone, stroking your hair away from your wet face and letting you catch a breath as his hips halt. “Need more, don’t’cha, doll?” He drawls, cooing softly as you lay your head against his thigh. Your orbs lazily look to him and nod weakly, still measly sucking on his tip. 

You bravely flick your tongue along his tip’s sensitive slit, toying at the idea of getting a rise out of Joel. 

A hiss is released past his clenched teeth, his whiskey eyes turning wild. And then you do it again. 

Joel’s hips jerk like that of a bucking bull. His hand in your hair turns to a fist, causing you to clench your eyes closed at the scorching prickle along your scalp. Joel scoffs as you fucking moan against him. 

His grin turns wicked, twisted at the thought of you enjoying some rough love. 

“Fuckin’ naughty, aren’t ya, little bunny? Yeah, bein’ a damn brat,” he chastises, watching as you frown around his tip and sucking it insistently. “Think m’gonna have t’finish deep down that pretty throat of yours, make ya choke on it,” he remarks as he repositions your head with a newfound need to punish.

Joel gathers your hair into two sets of pigtails, fisting them between his large palms. He watches you struggle to stay upright and drags you into position. “Keep that cock in your mouth, don’t let it go, sweetheart,” he gripes as you struggle to maintain him. It almost feels like a twisted game the way he nearly slips loose from your heat. 

Your mouth was full, jaw aching for a break that was nowhere in sight. Your fingers intertwine to keep them locked at the very base of your spine, whining nonsense against his cock. Soaking wet and dripping onto the hardwood, your pussy clenches around the ghost of what is currently occupying your mouth. 

You wanted to touch yourself so fucking bad. The self-discipline it took to keep your hands together makes your stomach churn. Your pearl twitches with enthusiasm, drenched in your own arousal. 

The muscles in your thighs are tight, your chest heaving and causing your bare breasts to rise and fall at a quickened rate. The overflowing spit that drips down from his balls lands on your chest. Joel can’t seem to stop staring at the gleam. 

Your nose brushes against his thick pubic hair as he buries your face against the base of his stomach, and you sputter up a cough. Lungs squeezing, throat tightening, you will yourself to swallow around him and stay right where you are. I’m yours, Joel. Please, take me, use me. 

“Fuck,’ he growls upon yanking you off his cock, smirking widely as you gasp for lost breaths. “Love that goddamn throat,” Joel mutters before reaching past you and pulling your hands to the front of his thighs, which quickly form a home for you. It’s grounding, to feel him, to feel his blood pumping through his body, and etch mine on the inside of his upper thigh mindlessly. 

“Got me so close, honey,” he starts, and you’re already eagerly nodding. Joel brings his thumb to your throat and slowly circles one spot against the column of your flesh. “Wanna feel myself right here, think you can do that, sweetheart?” 

Your eyes soften at the depth he wishes to go, but you’d do anything for him. You nod shyly and drop your jaw, flattening your tongue just for him. Always for him. 

Joel’s pace is gentle at first, working up a rhythm that has your throat molding perfectly around him. You gag each time he thrusts all the way, knowing when to swallow and when to breathe, Joel has taught you this new erotic art. 

The saliva dripping down to the base of his cock greets your chin repeatedly. You hollow your cheeks around him, and he moans naughty filth. 

“Such a pretty slut for this cock, make me feel so fuckin’ good- god damn,” Joel pauses with his length fully down your tight throat, grinding himself against your mouth as you clench your eyes close and gag. Joel places his thumb on that sacred spot against your neck, and he can feel his tip bulging against the column of your throat. You’re so fucking full of him, and it’s enough to make him spill. 

The hold he has on your hair tightens, scalp prickling as you cry out along his length. Salt bitters your tongue, weakly swallowing back load after load of his warm, thick finish. You swallow around his length and moan lowly, all muffled and messy for him as he crashes harshly through his own concocted orgasm. 

Your nails etch half-moon shapes into the back of his thighs, keeping him there, pushing for him to cross the finish line. And it was all for you. 

Tears of happiness stream down your face as you let him finish painting your throat, releasing with a dramatic pop as you do your best to swallow every last dribble. You’re careful as you give his sensitive tip a few sweet kitten licks. His hands are at the ready in your hair as he hisses harshly, ready to control you if it’s too much overstimulation for your poor old Daddy. 

Sponging kisses down his softening length, you lay your head against his thigh, and he cards his fingers through your hair. A soothing hum leaves your throat, fluttering your eyes closed as his thumb comes along to brush away the stray tears. 

It’s easier to ignore the throbbing between your legs now that Joel has found peace. Your heart pounds in your ears, and you listen only slightly as he begins to coo gentle affirmations for you.

Joel holds your hands and helps you stand, your arms already tiredly linking around his neck as you lay your head on his shoulder. 

“Such a sweet girl,” he whispers, “always make Daddy so happy, you know that?” Your head bobbles loosely. His sweet remarks make your muscles even more pliant in his arms as he easily sweeps you off your feet and moves you to lie across the bed. 

Joel takes all of you in. Sweat glistening along your temple, parted lips lacquered in spit, the extra effort it takes you to swallow, how perky your nipples are, and the slick that’s all but made a mess down your thighs. 

“Shit, she’s so pretty f’me,” Joel whispers as you grin weakly.

“My turn now?” Your wrecked voice squeaks, to which Joel slowly nods, helping you pitch your legs up on the edge of the bed.  

“Your turn now, little bunny.”

[babyleostuff]

their s/o having a nightmare | hip hop unit

𐙚 seungcheol

cheol is a heavy sleeper, an earthquake could be happening and he’d sleep through it, BUT when it comes to you, it’s like he has a sixth sense that notices any shifts in your mood, even if he’s asleep. and knowing him, cheol would be worried sick seeing you so distraught, as your eyes looked frantically around the room, while you tried to reach for him in a frenzy.

something about you being scared and frightened in your sleep, in your most vulnerable state, made his heart ache so badly. his panicked state matching yours wouldn’t help a lot in calming you down, but the weight of his arms around your waist and his lips repeatedly pecking your forehead would be a whole another story. 

“s okay, you’re okay baby,” your boyfriend whispered, kissing the top of your head, as he tightened his arms that were wrapped around your waist. you thought you were quiet enough not to wake him, but it seemed that muffling your sobs with the sleeve of his hoodie you were wearing, letting the tears run slowly down your cheeks wasn’t enough to deceive cheol’s protectiveness, even in his sleep. 

“sorry for waking you up,” you murmured, your voice muffled by your hiccups and his shirt, as he cradled your head to his chest. he hushed you immediately, pecking your forehead repeatedly. “do you want to talk about it? need me to get you some water? should i get you an extra blanket? want me to turn on the lights?” he asked, his breath tickling your cheek, as he swayed you back and forth. kkuma, almost as if she could sense something was wrong, yawned and stretched, padding over to where you were sitting in her dad’s arms. 

at some point you had to start calming him down. his worried pout was endearing, but you didn’t want to keep cheol up all night, and you knew there was no way he’d go back to sleep in this state, especially because you were still shaken up by your bad dream.  

“i just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said, running his hand over your back. “just hold me like this, please?” there was no safer place for you than seungcheol’s arms, and not even a nightmare could change that.     

𐙚 wonwoo

wonwoo would wake up while you’d try to sneak out of the bed (he’s not as cuddly in his sleep as cheol or gyu are, but he always has an arm draped over your waist or tummy, so of course he’d immediately notice if you’d try to wiggle your way out of his grip). usually he’d just go back to sleep, thinking you were going to the bathroom or to get a glass of water, but you’d be shaking too much for it to be normal. wonwoo would reach for you, pulling you back to his chest, cradling the back of your head with his hand.

i believe wonwoo would be even more worried than cheol, he’d never show it as much as him, but his heart would break as he’d hold your shaking body in his arms. (i don’t know if you’ve seen that tik tok where he checks up on seungkwan after he hit him on accident or something, AND OMG THE BOBA EYES AND WORRY ON HIS FACE EIUFHEUIRFHE).  

“here, put your hand over my heart,” wonwoo gently grabbed your shaking hand, and placed it on his chest, right over his heart. “you see, that was just a bad dream, honey,” he whispered, his voice deep and soothing, still laced with sleep. “everything’s okay.”   

you nodded, resting your head in the crook of wonwoo’s neck, as you tried to match your erratic breathing with his heartbeat, while he kept petting the back of your head with one hand, and rubbing soothing circles into your hip with the other. surrounded by his arms and familiar warmth, you snuggled further into his embrace, inhaling his comforting scent that always felt like home. 

“what if i read a bit to you?” wonwoo pressed a kiss to your temple, smoothing out your bed-hair. 

“no, won, you have work tomorrow morning,” you whispered, your face still hidden in his neck. “you should go to sleep.” 

without saying anything, wonwoo placed you between his legs, as he fixed the pillows behind him, so he could rest comfortably against the headboard, and grabbed the book he was currently reading from the nightstand. “do you need an extra blanket? or maybe you want me to make you some tea?” 

you smiled, grabbing his hand that was resting against your tummy, and run your thumb over his knuckles - the same ones that were ready to fight with whatever made you so scared in your dream. “no, wonwoo, everything is perfect,” you whispered. “thank you.”

“of course,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

𐙚 mingyu  

gyu can’t physically sleep without you, you’re wrapped securely in his arms through the whole night, whether you like it or not, so he’d immediately know that something was wrong. at first, he’d be a bit confused, sleep still clouding his mind, why he couldn’t feel your body weight on his, and he’d try to reach for you pouting angrily, because how dare you to move away from him.

when he’d find you shaking and struggling to catch your breath, mingyu would be up and alert in an instant, ready to fight whoever and whatever made you so distressed. and mingyu would try to act as composed as he could, even though he’d be a worried mess on the inside. 

“baby,” you heard your boyfriend whine behind you, probably from the lack of your warmth next to him. “where ‘r you,” he sighed, lifting his head up, just to drop it onto his pillow a second later. “come back.” 

you exhaled slowly, trying to calm your breathing, because you knew mingyu - no matter how tired he was, he’d immediately notice that something was wrong. he just came back home from tour and needed a full night of sleep, you couldn’t make him worry. “i’m right here, love. go back to sleep,” you tried your best to sound as normal as you could, and hoped mingyu would be too tired to notice how your voice shook. 

“no,” he murmured, his voice muffled by his pillow. “come back here,” he reached out and made grabby hands at you with his eyes still closed. if you weren’t so shaken up because of your dream, you’d take a photo of him (which would probably become your new wallpaper), and smother his puffy cheeks in kisses. “wait a second,” he said, finally opening his eyes, sensing that something was wrong, when you didn’t snuggle back against him. 

a couple of minutes later you were all wrapped up in at least three blankets (to protect you from the monsters, mingyu’s words) and your boyfriend’s arms that securely held you against his chest. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” he mumbled, bumping his nose against yours. “you’re safe now, my baby.” 

𐙚 vernon 

when he sleeps, he sleeps like a log (vernon needs his beauty sleep), so you’d be a bit hesitant to wake him up. you knew he rarely got a full eight hours of sleep, so you didn’t want to disturb him just because of your nightmare, but at the same time you needed some comfort. you’d cuddle up to him, throwing one of your arms over his tummy, which would wake him up a bit, alarmed by the weight on his body (it wasn’t often that you cuddled while sleeping, so his sleep clouded mind noticed something was wrong).

thanks to him being so relaxed and composed, vernon would be excellent at calming you down, plus he always gets a bit clingier when seeing you so upset, so you’d fall asleep again in no time.

“ratatouille is so much better than cars, though,” vernon whispered, his lips tickling your temple, as he placed occasional pecks there. “i could watch that movie over and over again and never get bored of it.”

you giggled quietly as you listened to your boyfriend rant about something he definitely shouldn’t be talking about in the middle of the night on a random wednesday. it was all of you fault, and although vernon was quick to shut your apologies down, you still fell bad for waking him up when you knew he needed to sleep. plus, you were a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

“nightmares suck, and there is no shame in feeling scared. i’m happy you woke me up,” he said, holding your head in his hands, so you wouldn’t escape his gaze. 

vernon knew exactly how to calm you down, he noticed early in your relationship how you became putty in his arms whenever he talked about movies. it wasn’t your fault he looked so adorable ranting about something he loved os much. rubbing your cheeks to get the dried tears off of them, you snuggled further into your boyfriend’s side, waiting for what unpopular opinion he’d state next.

“are you sure you’re okay, babe? you don’t need me to grab a glass of water for you or anything?” 

“i’m okay, seriously. just… just keep talking.” 

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[neuvistar]

OUR SWEET DOVE.

— featuring ┊ jing yuan x fem!reader x blade (poly!jingren comeback !)

— warnings / content warnings ┊ all consensual. not proofread, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected s3x, oral (m!receiving, most specifically bladie <3), s!ze k!nk again if u squint hard enough, reader implied 2 be a lil smaller than them <3, she/her prns used once(?), petnames used, bladie referred 2 as “yingxing” like once or twice idk, overall suggestive content. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

— a/n ┊ poly jingren thirsts make a comeback! >:) i might turn this into a series called like whqt.. babymaking marathon LMFAO like separate hsr, genshin, + jjk characters to celebrate 2000+ but i’ll think abt it! wrote this during ovulation too guys this is NOT good.. anyways i don’t have a specific theme for this, it’s just.. them.. being them! ur on ur way to heaven AND motherhood !! (jokes.. unless..) god bless ur hips and waist ! goooodddd blessss you! <3 reblogs n feedback r appreciated <3

you were sure that time itself seemed to have stopped. how many times have you came, two times? three? four? you couldn’t even count anymore.. your mind and your thoughts were a mere blur to you, your lips locked with jing yuan’s in a moment of love as your breath grew more and more shallow by the second. your mind was blank, only filled with one thought.. blade and jing yuan’s soft caresses all over your body. your body moving in perfect harmony and rhythm with jing yuan’s as he attacked your mouth with his own.. tongue tangled with yours while blade kept one of your wrists pinned down to the pillow, his lips working on the flesh of your stomach as his arm kept your legs spread all nice for them. he was good with his fingers.. you can’t deny that. you can’t deny the pleasure that flows through your body when he thrusts his fingers deep inside your now-soaked cunt, it was a sight to see for both of them.. blade couldn’t help but let a smirk sneak through his lips as he curled his fingers, gazing up to see a reaction out of you. your hands clutched the general’s shoulder tighter, eyebrows furrowing at the mere curl of blade’s fingers in your walls, you weren’t complaining.. it felt nice.

you were a mere cocoon of love.. all thoughts, senses and senses, forgotten for you only focused on the present. you only focused on the three of you in this very moment.. how slowly your tongue danced with jing yuan’s, how fast blade was plunging his fingers in your pussy, it was too much to handle but you couldn’t complain no matter how hard you wanted to. no matter how hard you wanted to scold both of them, you were always silenced by the general’s lips. “spread your legs more, dove. he can’t fuck you with his fingers any faster if you keep closing them now, can he?” jing yuan broke the heated kiss between you both as he cooed inside your ear, his voice deep and filled with honey.. you were sure that they were filled with lust as well.

your back arched as you came all over blade’s digits from jing yuan’s lewd words. blade swiftly pulled his fingers from your insides, moving them in a scissoring motion as he stroked his cock, glancing over at jing yuan who pressed chaste kisses along your neck. “i think she’s ready enough, look how much she came.” the dark haired man hummed, slapping your cunt harshly as he earned a sharp gasp from your lips. “y—yingxing!”

“mm.. you sure did come a lot, dovey. it’s a shame we’ll be making you come a lot more today.” with a deep groan, jing yuan slammed his hard cock inside your soaked hole as a soft soft moan left your lips in an instant, he gripped your thighs to keep your legs from moving any further. “oho.. would you look at that.. your cunt’s already sucking me in. you’re a naughty girl aren’t you?” he taunted you further.. before you could even say anything, your words were silenced by blade’s cock. “come on.. you know how to suck right, pretty? go on. suck. suck it like you mean it.” you wasted no time as you allowed your tongue to swirl itself around his dick using one hand to stroke the areas you couldn’t reach, the warm feeling of your hot mouth around him was enough to drive blade absolutely feral.. oh how much he loved those sweet facial expressions of yours, how much he loved it whenever you tried your best not to gag.. how much he loved how easily his cock can twitch and slide itself inside your pretty little mouth. “that’s it.. f-fuck! keep.. sucking me off like that..”

your mouth moves against blade’s cock, taking him in so good and so well just as he wanted you to.. the male savoured the moment like you were a sweet treat, using your mouth to pleasure himself as he presses himself closer to your lips to thrust the rest of his length further down your throat, his fingers running through your hair. another other hand moves towards the side to wrap you in a tight embrace, jing yuan’s body shifting towards yours as the heat from your skin mixed with his.. his hips repeatedly slamming themselves against yours as some of your cum formed a ring around his cock. you felt so sticky already and they weren’t the ones cumming inside of you, your cheeks heated up at the mere thought of both of them filling you to the brim once more.

jing yuan stared down at your smaller frame beneath him, swallowing the single lump in his throat as his cock twitched inside of your gummy walls by the sight of you gagging on blade’s length. you were.. so small compared to the both of them.. it was enough to even turn him on! jing yuan shook his head, increasing his pace as he held your thighs down to your stomach to see more of your glistening and wet cunt. if only you knew just how much you were making him crave you further from how small you were, taking him and blade’s dicks like it was nothing. jing yuan’s thoughts began to wonder, how much can you take until he and blade break you? how much more can you handle? it was a question worth answering, his nails digging into your skin as he was determined to breed you and fill you up, maybe get you pregnant.. he wanted to see how much more you can handle.. how much more you can take until you can’t anymore. “if only you could see what i was seeing, lovely. y’know, you’ll make me cum faster with all your lewd facial expressions alone.. such a good girl. taking yingxing’s cock and mine so well now, are you?”

sweat was almost trickling along your forehead, your entire body was drenched in sweat.. catching sight of blade’s satisfied smirk on his face, his dark yet long wavy black hair was scattered all over the place, but he couldn't care any less at this point.. he gathered all your loose hair as he used them to keep your head still. blade kept a firm grip on your hair, thrusting his cock further into your mouth. honestly.. you weren’t even sure if your jaw would be alright the next morning.

your felt your legs shake. your own heart begin to flutter. your body trembled in your husbands’ holds, jing yuan continued to nibble on your skin as he lightly wrapped it around his fingers, moving them up and down your thigh. his kisses that danced along your tits were soft and tender, your heart raced and your breath grew heavy at the pleasure they both provided for you at that very moment. blade reached down to cup one of your breasts as his large hand engulfed it whole, twisting your hardened nipple to force a whine out of you. “pretty tits you have here, [name]. look at them, aren’t they pretty?” he glanced over to the white haired male as he replied with a nod, “indeed.” you squirmed under blade’s touch, a whine was the only thing that passed from your lips as your head tilted to the side, pulling away from his cock. your moans grew, an indication you were close.. you felt blade grabbing onto one of your hands as he made you stroke his dick at a fast pace. jing yuan bit his lip at the sight, watching his cock slide between your legs so smoothly, picking up the pace of his thrusts, slowly losing himself in your cunt. “it’d be a miracle if you gave us a baby or two, sweetest. do you think you can handle that?”

“a baby or two? why stop at that? if it were up to me, i’d fill her up with a dozen.” blade scoffed, his breath hitching as he grew close.. your thumb teasing his tip. jing yuan playfully rolled his eyes at blade’s bold claim, running his fingers through his hair as he placed his hand over your stomach. “mm.. we’ll see what she thinks. how about five, princess? is five good enough for you?” he rubbed your stomach gently, subconsciously feeling his cock thrusting in and out of you.. his lips curving into a sly smirk. “right here, beautiful. just imagine, your belly filled up.. all swollen and full of five little baby birds,”

“can you handle that, our sweet dove?”

[gay-dorito-dust]

I'm here with a Wuthering Waves request.

Could I request Jiyan with a s/o who likes talking about how pretty and handsome he is?

‘Look at you,’ you said softly as you held his face within your hands, fingertips caressing his skin as though it was made out of porcelain, while your gaze was transfixed on the many shades that made up his gorgeous eyes that always seemed to be set in a glare or deep thought. ‘Beautiful.’

Jiyan thought that after a while he would’ve gotten use to your honeyed words of sincerity and soft touches, however the general has found himself melting under your adoring gaze more times then he’d like to admit. With him being General it didn’t leave much room for you two to spend much time together, so when you do spend some time together Jiyan tries his hardest to make every second count as reconciliation for how often he’s away performing his duties.

You on the other hand didn’t mind it, sure it got lonely now and then but you’d always remind yourself that when your beloved general does come home from the battlefield, you got the opportunity to show just how much you appreciated him. You knew what you were getting into when you accepted his affections and became his partner, and as his partner it was your duty to take his mind off of his duties and bring about a sense of normality to his life.

‘Is there a reason you’re complimenting me?’ Jiyan asked, righting his hardest to not close his eyes upon feeling your fingertips caress his jaw in a way made every thought escape his head until all he could think of was how careful you were being with him.

‘I’m merely telling the truth my dear general, you are indeed a handsome man to gaze upon.’ You replied smiling warmly at him.

‘Is that why I always catch you looking at me as often as you do when I’m training?’ Jiyan raises his brow knowingly as you could only feel your cheeks flush at being caught but your couldn’t help it, you loved seeing your partner train as you got to watch him in his element and fall even more in love with him then you already had.

‘Guilty as charged,’ you chuckled as you pressed a kiss to his nose, ‘though I will not be made ashamed in watching my beloved general look ethereal and heavenly even when he’s working up a sweat.’ You added shamelessly.

Jiyan tightened his hold on your waist and pulled you in close. ‘You truly are a troublesome one aren’t you my love.’

‘Am I worth the trouble General?’ You asked him, looking deeply into those captivating eyes that you longed to look into their seemingly endless depths of pure gold forever.

‘You are indeed worth it and much more, it is I that should be asking you that question.’ Jiyan said as he recalled the important dates that he had missed due to his duties as general, he knew you didn’t resent him one bit for it, but that didn’t mean he himself had forgiven for missing out on the most important days of your life together.

You furrowed your brows as you saw a look of guilt and remorse cast over his face and you immeditly moved into action by planting kisses all over his face as you whispered sweet nothings to him. ‘You are anything but trouble my sweet, handsome Jiyan. The man with the prettiest golden eyes and the most beautiful blue hair that consumes my every waking thought to the point it maddens me.’ You pull away just to rest your forehead against his.

‘You may hold resentment towards yourself but I don’t, I miss you it’s true but my love for you is unending, I love you when you’re with me and I love you when you’re away fighting to protect our home. You are the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes upon and I will say that until I have lost my voice completely.’ You steal a kiss from his lips. ‘You are worth every bit of me even if you may not think so but you are and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you because if I don’t, then may my heart be forever incomplete without you. So please don’t doubt yourself because I don’t doubt who my heart chooses to love wholeheartedly.’ You finished.

Jiyan only pulled you in tightly against his chest as he burrowed his head into your shoulder to hide away his burning cheeks, the words he wanted to say had died upon his tongue when you bore your heart out to him, his eyes sealed shut as he took you in your entirety and engraved it to his memory for when he had to leave once more for the battlefield; hoping that your scent would cling to him so that he’d have something of you to keep him going when stuck in the front lines.

He just wanted to have some aspect of you with him as his own personal morale boost when he was feeling at a loss, but wouldn’t allow for the soldiers to see that side of him, for if the general is shown at a loss, then the soldiers are quick to loose hope, he has to be strong for them like a good general should from his troupes and be a human second. ‘My heart has always belonged to you my dear,’ he began, ‘I didn’t see it fit that I’d receive your honeyed words due to my frequent absences, but with your unconditional love i am sure to see myself the way you see me one day; if you’ll continue to help me.’ He finishes, tightening his hold on you.

You smiled brightly as you stole kiss from his lips. ‘Forever and always my pretty General.’

[mykoreanlove]

say please? 🥺

“Open your legs baby, come on.” You shook your head in disagreement. Your boyfriend’s piercing eyes didn’t leave yours, not even for a second, as he was cowered in front of you, begging on his knees like the good boy that he was. His long fingers softly glided over your shins up to your thighs, but you still denied him access. “Baby, just do it.”

A soft energy surrounded him as he was trying to seduce you. Eun Woo had multiple sides to him, but he knew that you liked his whiny, pleading characteristics the most. Seeing him in such a state of contrast ignited a fire within you, one that would burn you with deep desire.

His appearance exuded an aura of danger, his well-defined physique and tousled hair presenting a captivating, heartthrob allure. Yet underneath this exterior, he radiated warmth and kindness, embodying qualities of compassion and love. “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?” His deep voice was hushed, yet sweet as honey. His eyes were glistening, painfully needy of his one true love. “Open your legs for me. Come on, princess.” You shook your head once more. Eagerly. Eun Woo chuckled in frustration, deciding on taking another route. “So, you don’t want my lips on the insides of your thighs? Pampering you with kisses? Soft, sweet kisses? The ones that are moist? Is that it?” You felt your thighs tingling, immediately responding to his words, screaming at you. “Now open your legs for me, honey.” He noticed you squeezing your thighs together in response and smirked internally, knowing that his tactics were paying off. Eun Woo got up on his knees and propped his arms on both of your sides, leaning in for a kiss but stopping right before touching your lips. His scent was intoxicating. His breath was too sweet. Everything in you fought hard to not give in. “You know that I can make you feel really good, don’t you, baby? The kind that has you high for days? Hooked even?” He watched you cautiously, all his focus was on you. You heard him whisper sultrily once more. “Open your legs for me, darling.” Eun Woo’s eyes darted down to your throat, only for a millisecond, catching you gulping hardly. He knew what he was doing to you, just as you knew what your resistance to him did. But now he was getting impatient. He turned his head to the side and graced your ear with his soft lips. “Let me taste you, baby girl. I really want to fucking taste you. Slide my tongue into your wet pussy. You are wet for me, aren’t you, baby?” He noticed your chest heaving heavily, going all in now. “Let me tell you what I want to do to you, y/n. You are going to open your legs for me, and I will dive head-first into your precious cunt. And I will drink you up like juice. I’m going to circle on your clit, poking and sucking until you’re jelly for me. Let me make that cherry pop, baby girl.” A soft moan escaped your lips, his words definitely painted a picture for you. “Open your legs for me, now.” You felt the heat in your body, but you decided to make him wait a little longer, you needed him agitated for a bit longer. Eun Woo clicked his tongue impatiently; the annoyance was written all over his face. “After I made your cherry pop, I’ll be sliding my tongue into your hole, baby girl. Sliding in and out, in and out while your delicious juices will be drooping all over me. Let me lick your folds. Let me lick you clean. Please just let me tongue-fuck you. Please.” His voice was almost breaking, his need for you too unbearable. Eun Woo turned around to face you again while breathing deeply. He noticed your dilated pupils and flared nostrils; he could even sense your pussy’s heat from up here. Fuck, you both needed each other badly, so he tried one last time. “Open your legs for me, baby. Please?”

[melancholyhigh]

pls more dbf! Leon I can’t get enough of this man omfhhdhd

who has the choice like smarty does?

ft. dbf!leon x fem!reader

synopsis. you decide to bake a cake for your dad which leads to leon telling you what his favourite flavour is.

content. 1.8k words. fluff, smut. age gap, domesticity, baking, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, protected p in v, kitchen sex.

note. i hope you guys enjoy this one. i just want to be old man leon's pretty wife <33

masterlist. part one. part two. part three. i love feedback & requests :))

Since your dad left for his mission, you often found yourself in Leon’s apartment, bringing you a sense of solace which you lacked. 

The past few days, waking up to him felt like a dream. Your eyes flutter open, only to be met with tired eyes and a sweet smile. 

It’s a crime to look that good in the morning, you thought.

Leon had thought it’d be nice to let you stay at his place for a while. He was constantly at your home, and it would’ve been a nice change of pace. He tried to disguise it as him being concerned for your anxieties about your father’s health and not a means to see you around more often in his apartment. 

In all honesty, his apartment initially did not look used. It looked similar to when he first moved in, and nothing had changed that much. Since staying with him, his miserable apartment (and life) felt alive. 

“Good morning, Lee,” you mumbled drowsily, snuggling into his bare chest, your arms enclosing his waist. 

“Good mornin’, sweetheart.” Damn, his morning voice was sexy.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. Recently, most mornings consist of the both of you lying on his bed in each other's arms, eyes shut, putting off the day’s responsibilities.

The moment is cut short by the ring of your phone, and you groan loudly. The tune of your phone’s ringtone still plays as you contemplate answering it. 

You did not want to deal with your friends right now. After finding out about Leon after he accidentally answered the phone while giving it to you, they relentlessly teased you for it.

Leon stretches his arm out to the bedside table to retrieve your phone. 

“It’s your dad,” Leon mentions, and you quickly sit upright, taking the phone from his hold and answering it.  

You observe as Leon kisses your cheek before leaving his room, giving you the privacy to talk with your dad. 

“Hey, sleepyhead, doing alright?” Your dad greets you, his words breaking up due to the poor connection.

“I’m fine, Dad. Are you okay? Your mission took longer than normal,” you asked, voice shaky.

You wanted to burst into tears. Your dad said it was supposed to be a regular mission, but it lasted almost two weeks. Usually, it takes about a week, and he calls you halfway through even though it’s not allowed. 

You hear a rustling noise, then a deep sigh, “there was a mix-up. I did more work than planned, but I’m fine now, not badly injured or anything– just tired.”

You let out a breath of relief. “When will you get back home?”

“Uhh… tomorrow for sure. I’ve got to get some results back, and then I’m free as a bird. Everything good with you, though, hun? Leon’s been treating ya good?”

“Leon? Yeah! He’s the sweetest. I'm glad you met him.” There’s a smile on your lips as you answer his question. You were honest with every word you said. Leon had become your recent source of comfort.

“That’s good. Leon’s a great guy. I wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t like him,” your dad jested. You hear a voice in the background call out your dad’s name. 

“Oh shit– Bye, honey. See ya tomorrow.”

“Bye, Dad,” you respond before hanging up.

Stumbling out of bed, the conversation with your father makes you question a few things as you head to the kitchen.

How would your dad react to your not-so-platonic relationship with Leon? Your dad did enjoy Leon’s presence. After all, Leon was his best bud, but would he approve of your relationship? Your father was always calm — albeit a bit unpredictable at times — so you don’t think he’d be infuriated. Not to mention Leon highly respected him and his craft. 

I mean, he said it himself, Leon is a great guy. He’s undoubtedly caring towards you.

Leon spots you as you enter the room. He can’t help but think you look so cute in the morning, wearing nothing but his oversized black t-shirt and plain white panties, which seems to be your go-to outfit lately. You’re wiping the sleep out of your eyes as you make your way over to him. 

“G’morning, baby. Is your dad okay?” Leon asks, handing you a mug of coffee prepared how you like it. 

“Mhm, he’s fine. Old man doesn’t know when to take a break,” you replied, taking a sip from the mug. “He’s gonna back by tomorrow, by the way.” 

Leon exhales, “That’s great. I was worried. Your dad is usually quick when it comes to his work. I guess his old age is finally catching up to him.”

–-

You decided to be the sweetest daughter in the world and bake a cake for your father’s inconvenience. Usually, you’re at classes when he’s on his work trips, unable to welcome him the way you used to when you were younger. 

You learnt at a way too young of age about your father’s job, remembering as a kid waiting for him to come home. That often left you to think of ways to surprise him when he gets back, which leads to you and your aunt baking a cake using premade cake mix. 

This time it’s special because it’ll be a homemade cake! 

You were shocked that Leon even had the ingredients in his pantry to make one.

The cake was in the oven as you prepared some icing you stole from someone’s cooking blog. Your dad was a simple man with a simple taste opting for a classic vanilla because chocolate was too sweet for him.

“Hey, Lee, what’s your favourite cake flavour? Maybe I can make it for you sometime .” You pondered aloud. 

Leon glances at you from his sudoku puzzle on his morning papers. You looked enticing in his apron, a cheesy quote plastered on the front, covered in flour — similar to the shirt he was wearing now.

It had him thinking. Coming home from work to his sweet girl baking him his favourite treat would be enough to make a grown man blush. Maybe it’d be the other way around, you coming home from classes or work as he prepares your favourite meal for you to unwind. 

Either way, it had his cock throbbing within the confinements of his pants. 

He gets up from the dining table, walking to your area at the kitchen counter. He looms behind you as he wraps his strong arms under your (his) graphic tee, resting his chin on your shoulder, the stubble on his face tickling your neck. His touch makes the hair on your skin rise.

“You’re my favourite flavour, sweetheart.” God, he was fucking cheesy. 

He’s sloppily kissing the fading marks along your shoulder blade, and you immediately stop what you’re doing, swallowing deeply at his actions.

“Leon..” you gasp softly. His nose presses up to the column of your throat.

“Let me eat you out, pretty girl,” he pleads. His hands are now gripping your hips when you turn around to face him. Leon kisses your lips softly, tilting his head as he groans into the kiss. You loved how vocal he gets with you. Each sound he made makes your cunt pulse with want. 

His palms are under your thighs as he helps you onto the cool marble countertops. Pulling away from your lips, he spreads your thighs apart. The cloth of the apron and shirt bunches up, revealing your pretty panties, soaked through. Leon moans at the sight. 

Gripping your thighs in his strong hands, he leans down, kissing the hickeys trailing up your thigh before his tongue pushes up against your pussy, the fabric of your panties rubbing against your clit.

You whimper as he laps at your drenched panties. You use your palms as support on the counter behind you, subtly rutting your hips to his mouth. 

“Fuck,” you gasp when he pulls your panties off and tosses them to the side. Your ass is halfway off the counter as he draws you near his face, admiring your cunt leaking with your arousal.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles, spreading your lips apart and kissing the sensitive bud, sending electricity through your body. You don’t know whether you find it endearing or obnoxious as he talks to your pussy. He’s such a dork. 

His tongue flattens against your cunt, intently lapping at you as you breathe heavily. You taste so fucking good, he thinks. Nose bumping your clit as he ravages your poor cunt.

His tongue delves into your hole, moving in and out. One of your hands moves to his dark locks tugging on it, a silent plead. He whines into your pussy, reverberating throughout your body, leaving you needy.

Leon palms his cock through his pants. He’s unbelievably hard as his lips move to your clit, sucking on the bud roughly, adoring each sound that falls from your lips, letting out his own groans and moans into your cunt. He could do this for hours. 

“‘M cumming, Leon,” you cry, your thighs clamping around his head as you climax. 

If you suffocated him to death, at least he died doing the thing he loved. 

Lifting from your thighs, he licks his lips, peering at you. His hair is dishevelled as he runs his hand through it attempting to fix it. 

He nudges his bulge to your dripping cunt. He got so hard from just eating you out. 

Your hands rush to help him rid himself of his pants and briefs. He moves to get a condom from his pocket, swiftly ripping the packaging and slipping it on his aching cock.

He runs the head along your folds, nudging it against your abused clit. You wrap your arms around Leon’s shoulders, moving your lips against his as he slowly pushes his cock into you. Your gummy walls clench around him while you whimper softly into the kiss. He fills you up perfectly with his thick length.

Your legs encircle his taut waist as he thrusts slowly into your pussy. The tip of his cock curving perfectly, hitting the spot that makes you dizzy. Leon picks up his pace, and the rhythm of his hips ends up sloppy. 

“Fuck, your pussy’s squeezing me tight, pretty girl,” he huffs, messily fucking you. You grip this bicep for support, nails digging into the flesh. 

“Wanted to fuck you here since the first time you walked into my place.” He groans, his calloused palm squeezing your tits through your shirt and apron. “Planned to fuck you on every surface.”

“Leon…” you whine, your cunt spasming around his fat cock as he repeatedly grinds into you.

“That’s it, baby. Cum f’me.”

He spills into the condom with a loud groan. Your head falls into the crook of his neck as you try to even out your breathing, and you think you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your life with him.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

What is Broken II (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity.

Author's Note: So, this did end up getting split in two. It just reached a natural stopping point and it made more sense to add a part IV instead of have an unnaturally long part II.

Taglist is done via reblogs

What is Broken

The next morning, she watched with red-rimmed eyes as the sun emerged over the horizon. As the brightness forced her to look away, she took a moment to thank whichever god had given her the foresight to send Aemond to sleep elsewhere. It had been another horrid night, and to explain it after all that had been said between them would have been far beyond miserable.

He would return soon, she was sure. With new honeyed words and gentle touches. With his beautiful pleading eye and perfect pouting mouth. With the softness of the elusive loving smile he reserved only for her.

Or did he? He had given Alys so many things she thought only they shared. Why wouldn’t he give the whore that smile as well?

The very thought had her stomach lurching again, but she raised herself to sit against the head of the bed and steeled herself against being sick. She took deep, controlled breaths, turned towards the eastern window to feel the fresh air coming off the bay, and set her mind free to wander.

Not entirely free, however. She did not let her thoughts go anywhere near her husband.

Instead, she thought of only nice things. The flowers that would soon bloom in the gardens with the coming of spring. The fresh fruits that would once more grace her table. Weather fine enough that she could ride through the Kingswood on her beloved steed, Litse, once more.

Eventually, the roiling faded, and she looked down to her stomach. “Kōdrȳsi rhinkpa jemo gaomua hae jālosa yno gaoman?” Is that as unpleasant for you as it is for me?

A soft thump near the top of her stomach felt very much like a noncommittal answer.

She laughed a little. “Iā jeme ñuha boteri raqāt daor?” Or do you enjoy making me suffer?

That question received no answer.

Just when she was about to say something more, she heard the door to her chambers creaking open and soft footsteps approaching. Of course, he would come to her so early; he had always slept so little. She clenched the sheets in her fists, preparing to face Aemond once more.

But it was not Aemond who walked through the door.

Instead of a single violet eye, she was met with a warm, brown, tear-filled pair that matched her own, and a helpless cry escaped her lips before desperate sobs overtook her. “Mama!”

Alicent ran to her side, taking her only remaining daughter in her arms and fighting back her tears. One hand rubbed soothing circles on her back while the other gently cupped her chin and lifted it so she could look into her daughter’s eyes. “Oh, my dearest girl…”

She buried her face in her mother’s rich auburn hair, savoring the comforting smell she’d known since infancy. There was no question that Alicent had been told about Aemond’s misdeeds – though whether he told her himself or she heard another way, she could not decide.

“I hate him,” she whispered weakly.

“No, you don’t,” Alicent countered immediately. She pulled away, took her hands, and softened her voice. “You are not capable of hating Aemond, my dear. Nor is he capable of hating you.”

“Then why did he do this to me?”

Alicent sighed, brow furrowing as she pondered her son’s actions. She did not have a good answer, for Aemond had always been the perfect son, save for the death of Lucerys Velaryon, and now, she supposed, this. It was behavior she had anticipated from Aegon, or had in the past. With her eldest son, she knew he acted out of his anger that he could not be the son his father wanted.

But with Aemond…

Aemond loved his wife. He was discontented with many things in his life – his position as the second son, his injury, and his father’s negligence – but never with her. His gaze had never strayed to any other woman, even before their engagement. Once they were betrothed, it was rare to find his gaze anywhere else but on her. He was so happy with her, always. What could have altered his devotion?

“I do not know,” Alicent finally answered. The words did little to soothe her weeping daughter. “Men… they can be wonderful when they truly love you. But even then, they have their weaknesses. Aemond was gone a very long time. Perhaps he was simply lonely?”

She shook her head and ripped her hands from her mother’s. “If he was lonely, he could have come back to me. He was supposed to return to me several times but never did.”

While Aemond was at Harrenhal, she, Aegon, and their grandsire had sent countless ravens asking for his return. Otto and Aegon asked so they could hear the news from the battlefield and try to adjust their plans accordingly. She asked because she missed and needed him. Badly.

He always sent some excuse. The battle was not yet over. Vhagar was too tired to fly. He did not want to leave his stronghold undefended when enemies lurked nearby. She had trusted each excuse like a fool.

“Did you know she’s carrying his child?” she asked, drawing the blankets further up her chest as if she could protect the life inside her from the horrible fact.

Alicent nodded. “I did. He told me.”

She frowned. At least Aemond had the decency to tell their mother himself. “What else did he tell you?”

“He was very upset, my dear.” She tried to suppress the kernel of joy that sparked at her mother’s words. “Not at you, of course, but at himself.”

“As he should be.”

“Yes, he should. But he loves you so much,” Alicent grimaced, setting a hand on her daughter’s belly. “And he loves your family so much. He is inconsolable at the thought that you may never forgive him.”

That kernel of joy went up in flames, and she looked at her mother with unfettered rage. “Why should I forgive him? He has betrayed me and has done nothing to regain my trust beyond his weak, selfish apologies.”

“Yes, but –”

“He lied to me again last night!” she cried. “He said it was only once. He looked me in the eye and lied! And he thought I would be stupid enough to believe him.”

Alicent sighed heavily as she looked away from her daughter. This wasn’t like Aemond – none of it was. Even after hearing his tearful explanation the night before, she was no closer to understanding it. Nor to finding a way to fix it.

“That was wrong of him,” she said at last. “All of it was – is. My dear, I do not know what to say or how to make it better. Your father, for all his faults, never strayed. I cannot begin to imagine the pain you are in. But – ”

“But what?” Her daughter glared at her with narrowed eyes, and her hand clenched into a fist by her side. “I cannot begin to imagine forgiving him, nor how I will ever look at him again without feeling this… this rage. Mother, I cannot be a wife to someone who hurt me so deeply, no matter his supposed remorse.”

She looked down at her stomach, then back to her mother. Though her eyes were red and wet, and her lip trembled, she wore a look of absolute determination. “I want to go. I don’t know where, but I don’t want to be here. I can’t bear to be with him.”

“Oh, my darling,” the queen pulled her daughter to her chest once more, not speaking again until she had calmed. “In any other circumstance, I would arrange for you to leave for Oldtown within the day. But it is not so simple.”

The princess stiffened in her mother’s arms.

“There are so few of us left, and we have already spent so much time apart. We cannot let ourselves become estranged.” Alicent bowed her forehead to rest against her daughter’s. “We cannot appear weak, especially not you and Aemond.”

She was frozen, but at that, she gathered enough strength to lift her eyes to look at her mother. “What do you mean, ‘especially’ not us?”

“There are no more heirs, darling, not of our line. But you,” her hand rested gently on her daughter’s cheek. “You are changing that. In mere weeks, your children – yours and Aemond’s – will become the new heirs to the throne.”

“They might not,” she argued weakly, her voice soft and breathless. “They may be daughters.”

Alicent smiled sadly, placing a hand gently at the top of the girl’s stomach. “This one has given you enough trouble that I would wager the Red Keep itself that he’s a boy.”

She put her hand over her mother’s as she tried and failed to smile. The Maester came to the same conclusion many weeks ago. Then, she had been thrilled at the possibility of giving Aemond an heir. Now, she wished desperately for daughters.

“Why do our heirs matter?” She asked. “Aegon will remarry and have his own soon enough.”

The question was met by a heavy, cloying silence.

“Mother?”

Alicent schooled her face into the careful neutrality that had served her so well as queen, though the tears shining in her dark eyes betrayed her heartbreak and grief. “I am afraid Aegon will not marry nor sire any more heirs. The Maesters… they predict he will leave us by the year’s end.”

Her heart stopped, then sank. “But that means Aemond…”

“Will be king soon,” Alicent confirmed. She again brushed her daughter’s hair behind her ears. “And you will be his queen.”

The implication hung over her like a black cloud: a queen could never leave her king.

-

Aemond knelt in the Royal Sept at the feet of the Father. He had not slept the night before, not after he told his mother what had happened and watched her cry harder than he had ever seen. He’d gone all the way back to his rooms – those he shared with his wife – before remembering the promise he had made.

He could not go back to her. To her arms. To his home.

So, he ended up in the Sept. He didn’t remember walking there, leaving the Holdfast and crossing the upper bailey. He just knew he’d been kneeling there long before the sun crested the horizon. He’d prayed and wept and begged the gods to either reveal to him a path to redemption or strike him down and spare him further torment.

The gods ignored him. He could not blame them for it.

His lamenting was halted by the sound of the carved stone doors opening, followed by a strangle rattling sound Aemond could not identify. He turned and saw his brother and king for the first time in months.

A servant stood behind Aegon to push the wheeled chair in which the kind sat with a blanket over his lap to conceal his crooked, atrophied legs, but was dismissed with a wave of a red, scarred hand. Aegon’s injuries after Rook’s Rest had been so horrific even Aemond struggled to look at him. The scars he now bore were hardly better. The king looked twisted, broken, and weak. It was a miracle little Jaehaera could look at her father without collapsing in terror.

As Aegon wheeled himself down the Sept aisle, Aemond steeled himself against the horrible expression on his brother’s face: empathy, disappointment, and rage.

In their youth, even Aegon had been protective of their youngest sister, to the point that he restrained himself from making too many lewd comments in her presence. And after years of Aemond calling him depraved, perverted, and whorish, he would, of course, delight in the irony that his little brother was just as weak as him.

“I wouldn’t have believed it,” Aegon drawled. His voice was as damaged as his body, weak and rasping. “But then I saw our mother. I always thought I was the only one that could make her look like that. So sad and weepy and disappointed.”

Aemond reminded himself that Aegon was finally the uncontested king and that throttling the life from him was now more than ever considered treason. “I hardly think you are qualified to pass judgment on me,” he growled.

“No,” Aegon smirked as he brought his chair to a stop at Aemond’s side. “But I think I am well qualified to gloat, don’t you?”

Suppressing his sneer, Aemond turned to face his brother. “Are you? How many unsuitable women have you bedded? How many bastards have you sired?” He scoffed, but his threadbare feeling of righteousness immediately gave under the lead weight of his desperation. “Why does my wife abhor me when I make this one mistake when Helaena never cared when you did the same over and over again?”

“Because Helaena never loved me, Aemond.” For the first time in their lives, Aegon was the calmer and more rational of the brothers. “She cared for me as a sister, but she never loved me as her husband. Not like our haedus loves you.”

“I love her, too.” Aemond’s face fell into utter regret and despair. “So much.”

“Yet you still broke her heart.”

Aemond turned back to the statue of the Father, bowing his head. “I did not mean to. I didn’t mean to hurt her – I would never intend to hurt her.”

“I know,” Aegon angled his chair and slumped slightly. “But you did. Over and over. I saw it. Not just with your adultery, but every time you did not come home when she asked. Whenever you took Vhagar into battle without warning her – and us. And each day you weren’t here when those babes put her through the seven hells with – ”

Aemond’s heart stopped, and his entire world with it.

“‘Babes?’”

Aegon’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t say that.”

The same blatant liar he’d been for years.

“You did,” Aemond insisted, his rage at himself now turning on his king, his mother, and everyone else who had kept this secret from him – other than his ābrazȳrītsos. He could still never be angry with her. “Why did you say that?”

After a moment of frustrated silence, Aegon finally answered. “Because the Maesters have determined that your wife is carrying twins. Something you would know if you had come home when we asked.”

“I was fighting your war,” Aemond growled, rising to his feet so his brother could no longer look down at him, “to defend your throne. It was not always possible for me to return.”

“You mean it was ‘never’ possible, right?” In that moment, Aegon truly seemed a king – mature and wise for the first time Aemond had ever seen. He almost resembled their father, as he had been on the few occasions they saw him sit the throne. “You never returned. Not for your duties, and not for your wife.”

“I…”

“If you’d come home immediately after you first fucked whoever-she-is, or any other time we summoned you, perhaps things would be better. But you didn’t, and now you must deal with the consequences of your own stupid mistakes. Again.”

Aemond flinched at the harsh words but could not deny their veracity. The death of Lucerys Velaryon had sparked a war that nearly tore House Targaryen and the realm apart. Now this… this could tear his marriage apart.

His family could be broken beyond repair before their child – their children – were ever born.

A scar-mottled hand grabbed his arm, pulling him away from his despair. “I apologize. I did not come here to make you feel worse than I am sure you already do.”

“Why did you come, then?” Aemond stared at the mangled hand that held him still. He could not bear to look in his brother’s eyes.

Aegon sighed. “I am sending you back to Harrenhal.”

“No.” Aemond ripped his arm away.

“Brother, the peace talks…”

“I said no.” He clenched his fists.

Aegon slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair, the sound echoing through the Sept. “I am your king, and I am giving you an order! You do not get to say ‘no.’”

Aemond froze, his rage roiling, desperate to spill over. But Aegon was his king, and other than his ābrazȳrītsos, his duty to the throne and his family was the thing most dear to him. So, he remained still and silent as he listened without protest.

“Cregan Stark and his army are due to arrive at Harrenhal in mere days,” Aegon explained. “I am in no condition to travel so far, and it would insult Stark and the others who were loyal to Rhaenyra to ask them to travel even further. So, as you are still Prince Regent, you will return to the Riverlands and act as my proxy in the negotiations.”

Absorbed by all that had happened since he’d arrived in King’s Landing, Aemond had entirely forgotten that particular duty. He’d known he had to attend before he left, but how could he go now? What would his wife think if he went back to Harrenhal – where Alys remained – so soon?

“You will take our sister with you.”

“I cannot,” the weak, whispered words escaped him without thought, “I cannot do that to her. You cannot do that to her.”

Somehow, the idea of bringing her with him to Harrenhal was worse than returning there himself. What would happen if she saw Alys? Spoke to her? She was already so hurt, and he did not want her to break entirely. He could not stand it. He would not allow it.

“Aegon, please,” he begged, dignity cast aside in favor of protecting his ābrazȳrītsos. “Do not make her go.”

The king straightened in his chair. “I wish I did not have to. She has already endured so much, and I have no desire to cause her more pain. But I have no other option.”

“Why? What could be more important than keeping her safe?”

Aegon’s face was drawn and filled with regret and grief. “Ensuring the realm sees you as a strong king when I am gone.”

The silence that followed was heavier than the Red Keep itself, and Aemond’s heart grew heavier still when he realized what his brother meant.

“You do not have much time left, do you?”

“Likely only a few months, according to the Maesters. But I’ll be gone by year’s end,” Aegon answered, trying and failing to summon a wry smile. “It’s almost not worth it to un-name you Prince Regent, when the crown will soon be yours once more.”

Silence fell once more.

Aemond wanted to argue. Against going to Harrenhal. Against bringing her with him. Against being king. For if he was king…

“She will be bound to me forever,” he said, not realizing he was saying it aloud, “in a way far stronger than just our shared blood or marriage. She will never be able to leave me.”

Aegon gripped the arm of his chair tighter. “Is that what you want?”

“I…” Yes. No. Aemond fumbled for his words, running a hand down his face as his thoughts raced through his mind like a thousand whirling dragons. “I want her to stay with me, but not at the cost of her happiness.”

Aegon considered the answer, the picture of a king passing judgment. At last, he nodded once. “Even if she decides she hates you, she will not leave. Her sense of duty is nearly as strong as yours, and she would never wish to raise the babes without their father.” He gestured to himself, then Aemond. “She knows well what becomes of children with no true father.”

There came a knock on the Sept door before Aemond could say anything more

Aegon sighed. “It is time for you to leave, I’m afraid. The wheelhouse is waiting.”

“What about – ”

Aegon waved a hand. “Mother went to your rooms this morning to explain the situation to her and help her prepare for the journey.”

“Can we not simply fly?” Aemond did not want for her to have to be stuck with him for the entire journey. The gods forbid that they should be made to share a tent or room at a roadside inn. Though doing so would delight him. He’d missed her so much that he would gladly take any moment he could with her, even when she was so angry with him.

Because she would be angry with him, and spending time with him would do nothing but make her miserable. Her happiness was more important than his. Always.

His brother scoffed as he began wheeling down the aisle toward the door. “Not in her condition.”

Of course. Aemond felt a fool for not realizing it himself. He’d flown Vhagar with Alys, but… she was not as far along as his wife, nor as delicate. A carriage it must be.

He should never have flown with Alys. Not for her sake or that of her child, but because flying atop Vhagar was something he did with his ābrazȳrītsos. It was something sacred they shared, and he had willfully desecrated it.

Gods, he had to get Alys out of his head. He could never become the husband his wife deserved when the witch still haunted his every thought.

Aegon stopped at the threshold of the Sept, again reaching out to grab Aemond’s arm. His eyes glinted with violent promise as he locked eyes with his brother. “If you do anything to hurt her again, intentional or not, I will exile you to Essos, and you will never see her again. I will declare you dead and marry her myself to ensure her children inherit the throne.”

“She deserves a better husband than you,” Aemond spat. It would break him never to see her or their children. But he knew he would deserve it.

The king smiled wickedly, still only a shadow of his former self. “She deserves better than the both of us, brother.”

Aemond bit back his retort and inclined his head to his king as he had at the coronation. “I swear on my life, I will never hurt her again.”

-

Aemond was waiting for her in the courtyard when she finally left the castle, well bundled in a thick, fur-lined cloak. The weather had turned, a final storm of the departing winter. Now, the sky reflected her mood – gray and somber.

At least the explosiveness of her anger had calmed, and she was relatively sure she wouldn’t strangle Aemond along the journey. But to go to Harrenhal with him, to be in the very place where he had betrayed her, to face the woman who carried her husband’s bastard …

She could be brave. She had to be brave. This was her duty, and her duty was sacred.

Aemond had taught her that.

She did not acknowledge him as she kissed her mother and brother farewell, nor as she walked to the steps set at the wheelhouse door.

But then he held out his hand to help her in.

Reluctantly, she took it. The brief touch was marginally more tolerable than the possibility of her stumbling and him having to catch her by the arm or, gods forbid, her waist. That would be far too much of a touch, and she was not sure she was ready for it – if she would ever be ready for it.

He stepped in just behind her, the two of them standing there for a moment, wondering where to sit. In the past, they’d always sat next to each other at the rear of the wheelhouse, with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist. But now, the thought of doing so again made her nauseous. So, she turned to the seat in the front.

“Wait,” Aemond grabbed her shoulder, then immediately released it when he saw her wince. He cleared his throat, then motioned to the opposite seat with his hand. “Please, sit here. I don’t want you getting sick riding backward.”

She looked from the seat to his wary smile. Surely he didn’t expect her to still sit with him, did he?

“I’ll sit on the other side,” he added after a prolonged moment of silence.

“Thank you,” she whispered with a nod of her head. But when she began walking to the rear seat, Aemond again stopped her.

“Before you sit, let me…” he trailed off, stepping to the front seat and gathering most of the pillows and cushions that lay atop it into his arms. Then, he deposited them on the other side. He spent several minutes arranging them until they were finally to his liking. “There.”

He reached out his hand again to help her sit. This time, she did not take it. She was more than capable of sitting down on her own, and she was well aware that Aemond knew that, too. He was merely trying to touch her again, and that, she would not allow.

Once she sat, Aemond began fussing again. “Please stop,” she sighed when he started crossing the wheelhouse to fetch even more pillows. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I do need to do this,” he insisted. She could have sworn his eye shone before he turned back to the pillows and blankets. “I want you to be comfortable. You deserve it.”

“A few pillows will not make me forgive you.” For a moment, as Aemond’s shoulders tightened, she almost regretted the words. She had spoken in haste and with cruelty. It was not something she was accustomed to. Somehow, his misdeeds were turning her into a mean and petty woman.

She was just about to apologize when Aemond spoke again, his voice more timid than it had been. “I know that, but I want to do it anyway. I want to show you how much I love you. Please.”

He looked at her pleadingly, desperately. It had been many years since he looked at her like that. When she was a girl, and she fell gravely ill, he stayed by her bedside against the instructions of the Maesters, holding her hand and begging her not to die. She had to look away from him to avoid falling into that memory.

“I am perfectly comfortable,” she said. “So you needn’t do anything more.”

With a sigh, Aemond threw the pillows in his arms carelessly on his seat, except for one – a small round cushion with the Targaryen three-headed dragon embroidered upon it. “Just this one more, please.”

She looked at it suspiciously, some instinct in the back of her mind telling her not to allow it. But his voice was so weak, so desperate. And if it could help her be more comfortable on the long journey, what harm would it do? She nodded. “Very well.”

Aemond beamed and crossed the wheelhouse. With the pillow in hand, he knelt in front of her and brought a hand to hover over her belly. Before he made contact, he looked up to her, a hopeful smile still on his lips.

But that smile was no longer reassuring to her. Instead, it brought on a wave of mistrust and fear. “What are you doing?”

Finally, he laid his hand on her. “I…” His cheeks flushed, and he suddenly could not meet her eye. “This is to cradle your belly while we ride so you are not rattled around so much.”

Her hand flew out and latched onto his wrist, her hold so hard the skin around her hand quickly grew red. She did not want to see him, so she narrowed her eyes until her coming tears blurred her vision. It took several tries for her to speak through her rapid breathing. “Did Alys teach you that, too?”

Aemond looked as if she had just driven a dagger through his heart. “She did, but –”

“I told you never to do that!” She ripped the pillow from his hands and threw it across the wheelhouse with all her strength.

He stayed kneeling, one hand braced on her seat. He had not flinched, only closed his eyes. “Wifey, if it makes you comfortable, if it helps you, then what does it matter how I learned it?”

“Because…” She furiously wiped her tears away, steadfastly looking away from him. “I don’t want you to think about her when you’re touching me.”

“I promise I am not thinking of her,” he insisted. “I could never think of her when I have with me.”

“No, only when I’m hundreds of miles away.”

He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, his hand never leaving her belly. “How long have you known?” Aemond rasped out. “That we are to have two babes?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the words. How had he known? Who had told him? She did not look at him, did not want him to see the blush of shame that came over her. If either of them should be ashamed, it was him. What he did was far worse than keeping a secret, even one as important as this.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” she whispered. “But you did not come back when you were meant to – you were supposed to return and give Aegon a report on the war. You didn’t.”

Aemond bowed his head, hiding his cheeks – likely just as flushed as hers. He sniffed, as he often did when upset, and shook his head. “If I had known – ”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” she snapped back. “Your… she was already pregnant by then, wasn’t she?”

For a moment, Aemond looked up at her in pleading before dropping his head again. “Yes,” his voice was thin and utterly defeated, “she was.” He reached to adjust the pillow by her side but decided against it. Then, he returned to the seat across from her, looking at her once before bowing his head and pounding on the roof twice.

Reins snapped, and the wheelhouse lurched forward.

-

The first hours in the wheelhouse passed in silence. Aemond hardly moved, staring at his clasped hands. She thought she felt his eyes on her several times, but whenever she looked at him, he did not look back.

She watched the world pass her by through the windows. She’d never gone north of King’s Landing before, other than a few short flights on Vhagar with Aemond. Then, she was too high to see the little differences, mile by mile. The trees changed and became sparser, as did the shrubs and flowers. The air felt different, as did the ground beneath the wheelhouse, which became softer and less turbulent the farther they went. Even the smell of the air changed. The slight brine she was so used to faded, turning into something green and damp. It was not an unpleasant change.

What was unpleasant was trying to fall asleep within the mountain of pillows and cushions Aemond had made for her. Once, she would have loved the plushness and softness of it. But with the babes in her belly, she had come to prefer more firmness.

She would have moved the pillows herself had she been able to. But between the sheer mass of cushions and her current size, maneuvering enough to do so was impossible. Grand Maester Orwyle had said even two months away from the birth, she was already larger than most mothers just before it. Of course, most mothers only had one babe to carry, not two. So, she was left with only wiggling around as much as she could to try and find a better position.

She didn’t.

With a huff, she looked at Aemond, hoping to silently glare at him and curse him for the stuffed throne he’d made for her. But this time, when she looked at him, he was looking back.

He wore an expression of concern, like he’d been watching her struggle for some time. His eye was wide, and his lips pinched together. She knew that look, and found herself now hating it. It meant he wanted to help, to understand what was wrong.

“I cannot get comfortable,” she explained, not that he deserved an explanation.

A spark of hope entered Aemond’s eye. “Do you…” he licked his lips. “I can hold you, if you’d like.”

“No!” She felt a slight pang of guilt at the hurt painted on his face at her rejection. He did not deserve her guilt, she reminded herself. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Aemond grimaced as if he could sense the lie. He probably could, for how well he knew her. “Are you sure? I can… I can just hold you. It won’t mean anything, I promise.”

Yes, yes, yes, her body seemed to scream. She had always found comfort in his arms, always slept best with him pressed against her. And him holding her would mean he would have to discard many of the ridiculous pillows. If she accepted, she could likely be asleep in moments.

But her heart… her heart would break to be held by him. She wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about if he had held Alys in this same way. If the whore had slept with her head resting on Aemond’s shoulders. If she had kissed his neck as she fell asleep, just as she had loved to do.

She would never be able to stop thinking about Alys. Every time Aemond looked at her, touched her, spoke to her. Alys would be a ghost that would haunt her forever.

A memory of the first time Aemond had taken her to the Dragonpit came to her.

He’d told her she couldn’t come with him, but relented the moment she started crying and dragged her into the carriage with him, Aegon, and Rhaenyra’s eldest sons. Jacaerys was the only one who argued against her accompanying them. He stopped complaining after Aemond shot him a threatening glare and declared that she was braver and more capable than he would ever be. But when they arrived at the Dragonpit, and Sunfyre was led up from the dens, she’d cowered behind Aemond. The sweet little creature - perhaps the size of one of the king’s hounds - she had once watched flit around Aegon wherever he went had somehow quickly turned into a beast larger than anything she’d ever seen, baring sharp teeth the size of her dinner knives. Aegon kneeled in front of her and nudged her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t worry, haedus. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” She still screamed when Aegon stepped within reach of those fangs. And again, when Aemond pulled her from behind his back so she could not hide from the dragon. “Do not be afraid, haedus. Sunfyre is only a dragon, as are you. The blood of the dragon runs true in your veins,” he said as she buried her face in her chest. Something about the words seemed to make Jace angry, but she didn’t know why. “I can’t help it, lēkia,” she whined. “He’s scaring me.” Aemond huffed slightly, petting her head tenderly. “You are afraid because you know very little about dragons. What we do not know can be terrifying.” He turned her to face Sunfyre, who was now perfectly docile while being saddled by Aegon. She squirmed to escape his grasp. “If you watch and listen to the Dragonkeepers, you will learn. The more you learn, the less afraid you will be.”

“Why did you do it?” she asked suddenly.

“My love?” Aemond looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns. But when she held his stare, he whispered gently, “You don’t want to know. Not really.”

“I do,” she declared.Though his answer may shatter her heart completely, she had to know. His childhood voice echoed in her head. ‘The more you learn, the less afraid you will be.’

She swore she could see him remember the same memory she had. His eye darted around the wheelhouse anxiously. “It is not a good reason.”

“Unless she held you at sword point each time, there is not a reason I would call ‘good.’” She hoped it was something like that, that he hadn’t been given the choice to refuse her. It would make everything better, almost fine. But if it had been something like that, he would have already told her.

Aemond was silent for a long while. Long enough for the sun to reach its peak and begin its descent.

“I’d seen only one battle before I arrived at Harrenhal – Rook’s Rest,” he began. “In that battle, one dragon and rider were killed, and Aegon and Sunfyre were permanently wounded.”

“I know,” she whispered. She’d been there when Aemond had brought Aegon, broken, bloody, and burnt, back to the castle. She’d seen what happened to him. Aemond held her hair back as she was sick in the corridor outside the Grand Maester’s rooms.

Aemond nodded. “I was so afraid, ābrazȳrītsos, of what I would see when I truly went to war. And it was just as terrible as I’d feared. Even worse than what happened to Aegon, sometimes.” He waited to continue until she had unscrunched her eyes as she fought away another wave of nausea. “Every time I was scared, raqiarzītsos... And alone. She offered an escape. A chance to not think about the war, for at least a little while.”

“And to not think about me.”

He blanched, moving to stand, but thought better of it and sat back in his seat. “My love, I never wanted to stop thinking about you. I promise. I thought about you every moment of every day. You are what gave me the strength to ride to battle again and again – knowing that once it was all over, I’d be able to return to you.”

She glared at him. “So, you thought about me while you were fucking her?”

“Gods, no!” This time, he did rise, crossing the wheelhouse to fall at her feet. “I… I didn’t think about anything when I was with her. Not about you, or the war, or even her. It was the only way I could empty my mind of all the things that tormented me.”

“… I tormented you?” The idea that she could have done anything to make him want to forget her brought tears to her eyes.

“No. Never.” He tried to reach for her to cup her cheek, but she shrank away from him. “Don’t ever think that you could. What tormented me was that I was so far from you – that I could not be there for you. And the babes.”

He could have been, she knew. He should have been. “You had many opportunities to return. Why didn’t you?” Her voice caught in the back of her throat as a sob tried to escape. “Were you too ashamed of what you’d done?”

“I was and am ashamed,” he declared, and she believed him, “but that is not why I remained at Harrenhal. I knew that if I saw you again, I would never return to the battlefield. It was hard enough to leave you the first time. I could not endure it again.”

There was silence.

She leaned back towards him and allowed him to finally lay his hand across her cheek – an unconscious attempt to soften the blow of her next question. “Is it true that you spared her only because you lusted for her? That you took her to your bed in your first week at that awful place?”

Aemond sobbed, one horrible, wretched sob. His hand dropped, and he lowered his head into her lap, clutching at her dress like a child. The urge to comfort him tingled in her veins, to pet his hair and murmur soft words to him, to gently remove his eyepatch and assure him that all was well.

She did not move an inch.

At last, Aemond lifted his head. The bottom of his eyepatch was just askew enough to allow the tears from his ruined eye to escape. “I spared her because she claimed to be a witch – a seer. The claim was backed by several residents of the keep who had no reason to lie. She offered to lend me her aid in the war, to share her visions with me so I could be prepared when I led my men to battle. I agreed. I wanted to avoid the kind of slaughter I saw at Rook’s Rest. To prevent anyone from going through what happened to our brother. Then…

“I did lie with her in the first week,” he turned away as though he couldn’t say the words while facing her. “On the sixth day. We were to advance on Darry the next morning, to… it doesn’t matter why, just that it was the first time I would lead men to victory of their deaths. I asked Alys to share her vision of what would occur, and she did. She saw how fearful I was and told me that to win the battle, I must go into it without fear. I tried to calm myself, but I couldn’t.”

He swallowed thickly, still avoiding her gaze, and dropped his hand. “Then she offered her… further aid. I will not wound you by detailing what we did. But I will assure you that I did resist.” He licked his lips. “At least at first.”

A small comfort, she supposed.

“When I was with her, all my worries faded to nothing. I thought it was perhaps a spell she put on me, but it was not. My body just needed to find that satisfaction and release. I was hoping it was a spell. For that would mean I did not truly betray you.”

He faced her again. She did not know whether it comforted or saddened her to look into his wet, despairing eye. “But I did. And I continued to do so every time my fear threatened to overwhelm me. Which was, regrettably, often.

“I was weak,” he said with a mirthless laugh, “I was so weak. I should have been braver – better. I should have been the husband you deserve. I will spend every day of my life regretting it and trying to right what I have done wrong. I swear it.” He nodded as if to affirm the oath, yet it brought her no assurance. “I am so sorry, my love.”

He said nothing else.

She still had so many questions, wanted to know so much more. Her fears had barely been quelled. But it was something. And at the very least, the emotions Aemond’s story subjected her to had exhausted her. Enough that she knew she could close her eyes and be asleep within a heartbeat.

“Thank you. For telling me,” she whispered as she moved back in her seat, away from him. “I would like to rest now.”

Aemond bowed his head and retreated to his seat without asking again if he could hold her.

Her traitorous heart almost wished he had.

-

It was raining when she woke. The weather had apparently followed them north. She leaned closer to the window, wanting the wet air to cool her, but stopped when she noticed the wheelhouse wasn’t moving.

“Ser Marston and one of the porters are arranging rooms,” Aemond said softly. She did not reply, nor look at him. A glance out the window informed her that they were in some village she didn’t know, outside a relatively large building whose worn sign, cut in the shape of a stone wall, read simply ‘Inn.’

That question answered, she still didn’t look at Aemond. She knew he’d likely been watching her since they’d arrived… wherever they were. Perhaps longer. Judging by the dusk settling over the horizon, she’d been sleeping quite a while. And yet she hadn’t woken. She wondered if she should start sleeping during the day instead of at night.

“Mother said…” Aemond halted, likely waiting for her to look at him. She didn’t. “We will be sharing a room.”

She whipped her head around to face him, ignoring the slight dizziness that came with the motion. “No.”

Aemond sighed. “Raqiarzītsos, if the innkeeper notices we are apart, he may talk about it. Rumors will start.”

“Can’t we just pay him to remain silent? That’s what Mother did to prevent rumors from spreading about Aegon.”

“And yet rumors spread nevertheless,” his voice was soft and firm, like a parent explaining something to their child. The thought sickened her.

She wanted to say that those rumors spread because their mother could not pay off every woman Aegon had his way with – there had been too many to even know who they all were. But it had been their mother herself who told her that this would happen, that she would have to somehow stomach being in the same room as Aemond at night. That the consequences of not doing so would be worse than those that would come from him being there.

“You will not sleep in the bed,” she ordered, finally facing her husband, “you will sleep on whatever chair or couch is in the room or the floor if there is none.”

Aemond sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “Very well.”

Curious, she’d expected more of a fight. For him to insist that a servant could see the half-empty bed and raise questions. For him to try and ply her into letting him into the bed with promises of holding her and keeping her warm. For him to try something. But he didn’t.

“Good.”

-

It was not a very nice room.

The paint was chipping off the walls, and the floorboards creaked. The bed linens were faded, the fur blankets patchy. The small table on one side leaned to one side, and an unshaped piece of wood held the couch by the fire level.

At least there was a couch, Aemond supposed. And as it was near the fire, he would not have to sleep in the cold to avoid depriving his wife of blankets.

She crossed the room to the bed, sitting on its edge and looking out the window again. After he’d agreed that he would not try and convince her to let him join her in the bed, she’d spent the rest of their time waiting in the carriage looking out one window, then crossing to the other side of the wheelhouse just before they were called to their room.

Even now, he could see her eyes flitting from one building to another, following the villagers as they milled about and fixating on the livestock that wandered the streets – cows, donkeys, sheep, even a small group of piglets.

He thought it was a distraction at first. But when she continued to watch the inconsequential town for far longer than he ever would, even in a new town, he realized it was something more. When she quirked her head slightly to the right and the ghost of a smile flitted over her lips, he knew what it was.

This was the first village she’d ever been in.

She was born in King’s Landing, and other than their trip to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral… she’d never left the city.

Something in Aemond’s heart cracked. He should have done something, taken her on adventures. He should have brought her on Vhagar and flown her wherever her heart desired.

But he hadn’t. He’d left her in King’s Landing, in the Red Keep. In a cage.

But now… her first trip away from the capital was one she didn’t want to be on. It wasn’t a happy occasion. And their destination was likely the place of her worst nightmares.

He should never have let Aegon order him to bring her to Harrenhal.

Aemond opened his mouth to apologize to her again but said nothing. She had already been forced to be stuck in a wheelhouse with him for most of the day. The kindest thing he could do would be to let her alone for as long as he could.

So, he went towards the door, turning back over his shoulder to look at her for a moment. She was still watching the village. It made him smile a bit. “I’m going to get supper. I’ll be back in a short while.”

She did not say anything back. She only lifted a hand to rest on the window.

-

She’d hardly noticed that Aemond had left. When he told her where he was going, she had just seen a small group of children playing in the muddy road. One of the little girls had spotted her watching from the window and shouted something to her friends. Soon, all the children were staring at her. She lifted a hand to the window to wave at them.

Then, she heard the door closing, and when she turned to look, Aemond was gone.

When she looked back to the children, they had already run off. Her hand drifted to her abdomen. “Nyke urnēbagon jemī tymāt umban daor.” I cannot wait to watch you play.

Before Aemond left for Harrenhal, he had taken her back to the nursery where they’d been raised. The furniture had been covered, as neither Jaehaera nor Rhaenyra’s son Aegon were inclined toward play. Not after what they went through. So, both had moved to their own rooms when they returned to the keep.

But the nursery would not be empty for long.

Aemond had pulled away the sheet covering the toy chest and knelt before it, examining each toy as though it were a priceless jewel. He told stories about them, recalling how they had played with them, and made guesses about which ones their child would prefer and what their choices would foretell about them.

He rediscovered the two wooden dragons they had once painted and named for themselves – Kēlītsos and Balerion. There were too many tales of those little dragons to retell them all, so he told only the one where they imagined the dragons had come alive and had flown them to the ruins of Old Valyria. Aemond would slay whatever beasts had wounded Balerion and killed their great-aunt, Aerea. Then, they would reclaim their ancestral homeland.

He’d kissed her belly then, calling the babe inside the “heir of Old Valyria.”

Now, they were the heir – heirs – to something else entirely.

To a broken family.

To a throne soaked in the blood of their kin.

To the sins of their father.

For a moment, she wished they could simply be like those children, playing without a care.

But they never would be.

They would still be children. They would still play and laugh. They would be mischievous and sneak sweets from the kitchens or stay awake long past the time they were sent to bed. They would still cry for their parents when they scraped a knee or had a nightmare.

But they would also be heirs. They would be taught by the finest scholars in the world how to bear the weight of their responsibilities. They would be trained by mighty warriors on how to defend themselves from the enemies they would have since birth. They would always know that their life was never wholly theirs.

Now, they would also always know that their father had betrayed their mother. She knew that no matter how hard she tried to prevent it, somehow, they would learn of Aemond’s mistress – the mother of their bastard half-sibling.

Part of her hated that child, the small thing that was not even fully formed and yet was the manifestation of all her pain.

Part of her, perhaps a larger part, pitied it.

After all, it was a bastard. The world had never been kind to bastards. After the role bastards had played in the war, she could not imagine it would grow any kinder.

What would the life of the bastard be like? Would it play the same games as her children? Would it have the same favorite toys, or foods, or colors?

While its trueborn siblings were learning to rule the realm and ride dragons, what would it do? Perhaps it would be a servant, like its mother, or become a laborer of some kind.

Would it know who its father was? Would it know the blood of the dragon ran through its veins? Would it ache for a bond with a dragon, as Aemond had? Would it spend its life feeling incomplete, yet never know why?

As she caught sight of the tears shining on her cheeks in her reflection off the window, she decided she did not hate the child. It was not at fault for the sins of its mother, or its father.

She said a brief prayer for it – for its health and happiness. Then one for her own children.

When Aemond came back through the door, carrying a tray laden with steaming food, she wiped her tears away and looked only once more out the window.

The children had gone home.

“Are you hungry, ābrazȳrītsos?” Aemond asked.

No, she wasn’t. But she knew she must eat regardless, for the sake of the babes. So, she crossed the room and sat at the small table.

She did not speak as Aemond served her the meal – fresh, steaming bread, warm stew, and a pot of tea. He did not try and get her to speak. He simply ate his food, watching her carefully.

He faded into the background as her thoughts continued to wander to that poor little child growing in Alys’ womb.

Would it have silver hair? Purple eyes? Or would it inherit its mother’s coloring, whatever it was?

She did not know what Alys looked like. She knew so little about the woman who had shared in Aemond’s sin.

Was she beautiful? Was she intelligent? Was she kind?

It was hard to imagine that she would be kind. That any woman who would lie with a married man would be kind. After all, she was called a witch. Was there such a thing as a kind witch?

Was there even such a thing as a witch?

Aemond said that he spared Alys because she could foretell the future. That the reason he’d first brought her into his bed was because she told him he needed to be calm for the battle ahead if he wished to prevail.

Prevail he did.

Were the visions real, then? Had Aemond only returned from that first battle, the second, the last, because of what Alys had told him?

If Alys were to thank for Aemond surviving the war, should she not be grateful for it? But how could she be grateful for something that had so thoroughly broken her heart?

How was she supposed to feel? How was she supposed to know what to feel? What to do?

“I want to meet her,” she said suddenly. Even her whisper sounded like an echoing shout after so long a silence.

Aemond stared at her. Fear and regret and anger in his gaze. His mouth hung open, and his skin had gone deathly pale.

“Alys,” she clarified. “I want to meet her.”

“My love, please. You don’t.” His voice quavered like a rose in a thunderstorm. “I don’t want you to, it won’t – ”

“I have questions for her. I will ask them.” Tears fell down Aemond’s cheeks, but he did not argue. It almost made her smile. “You may be there if you wish. But I will meet her.”

Aemond nodded. “If that is what you truly want.”

She felt no fear or hesitation. “It is.”

-

After she finished her meal, her exhaustion finally settled upon her. It had only been a day since Aemond returned to the Red Keep. Only a day since both the war and her world ended.

She just wanted to sleep. In that moment, it was all she wanted.

She had Aemond turn away as she undressed and donned her nightgown. He obeyed, staring into the fire and never once looking back until she was beneath the rough-spun blankets on the bed and gave him permission.

He only removed his leather doublet and his boots before settling onto the couch by the fire, its high back blocking them from each other’s view.

The fire crackled.

“Good night, ābrazȳrītsos,” Aemond said. “Sleep well. I love you.”

She did not reply.

She so badly wanted to sleep. But it seemed both her body and the babes in her belly wanted otherwise. No matter how she lay, she could not find comfort. No matter what she thought of, her mind would not calm.

At least she took comfort in that her restlessness was likely preventing Aemond from finding sleep as well.

When she heard his voice again, she stiffened, preparing herself to argue with him again. But Aemond did not speak.

He sang.

“Bantis ropatas Night has fallen

Yn zūgagon daor But do not fear

Sȳndror ilos daor There is no darkness

Kesrio syt drakarys vamiot ilzai. For dragonfire is near.”

It was a lullaby. One he had discovered in an Old Valyrian children’s book he found in the back of the Red Keep’s library. He had sung it to her when she was still in her crib so he could practice their ancestral language.

He stopped singing for some time when his voice settled, adjusting to the new, lower pitch. But when he began again, it was even more beautiful than before. Quiet and soft, but still beautiful.

“Yn ozelēnagon daor And shiver not

Vasīr vēzos hembistas Though the sun has gone

Drakarys kesīr ilzai Dragonfire is here

Aōhi dijaves rāelagon. To keep you warm.”

When was the last time he sang to her? Obviously not in the past six months, but when?

“Aōhi bartos mazilībās Lay down your head

Se aōhī laehossa lēdes And close your eyes

Drakarys avy mīsilza Dragonfire will protect you

Yn sepār kesan. And so too will I.”

Ah, her eyes welled with tears when she finally remembered. It had been the first night after they learned they were to have a babe, and Aemond had bedded her more passionately than he had since their wedding night and more gently than he had ever been.

He sang when they were spent, and she curled into him to sleep. Aemond brushed his fingers in light patterns over her belly and sang. But was that for her or the babe?

The last time he had sung for her and only her… she could not recall. It had been some ordinary day when she did not know she should hold onto that memory and keep it close. She did not know it was a memory she would need when Aemond went to war.

“Dōnī ēdrurī emilās, ñuha raqno Dream sweetly, my love

Bantio rȳ ēdrūs Sleep all through the night

Nyke aōma unna I will be with you

Vapār ōños arlī amāzīlza. Until again there is light.”

She wanted to be angry at him, accuse him of only singing now so he could worm his way back into her heart. But she knew that accusation would be false. After the way he fussed over her today, she knew he was truly worried for her health – and the health of the babes.

Besides, his voice and the familiarity of the song were now truly lulling her to sleep.

She was grateful for it.

“Skorī ñāqes kesīr ilos When morning is here

Se īlvon geron vamiot ilza And our journey is nigh

Īlon henkirī īlvī zaldrīzī kipili We will both mount our dragons

Sepār, sōvīlā.” Then, we will fly.”

Her last thought before her eyes slid closed was that she hoped he had not sung the lullaby – their lullaby – to Alys or her child.

-

Aemond woke to the sound of something crashing. He was immediately awake, throwing off his blanket and bolting to his feet. But he saw no one.

What he did see was an empty bed.

In an instant, his panic had risen to a peak it had reached only once before – the day he’d found out that his half-sister and her husband had taken King’s Landing, and in the aftermath, Aegon was missing and his ābrazȳrītsos was now in the hands of his enemies.

A horrible retching soon alerted him to his wife’s presence on the floor of the room, halfway between the bed and the washbasin against the far wall. But it did not quell his panic.

She was panting between harsh bouts of sickness, her arms trembling as they struggled to hold her up. Aemond moved immediately, kneeling beside her and sweeping her hair away from her face. His words of comfort and concern died instantly when he felt her lean against him.

She was so thin.

Her nightgown was soaked through with sweat, allowing him a clear and horrible view of every knob on her spine and curve of her ribs. The further she pressed into him, the more he could feel the sharp planes of her shoulder blades and the sickening lightness of her form. She was like some of the near-corpses he’d seen in the war – hardly more than skin stretched taut over mere bones.

He had not seen it before. She’d been bundled in robes and gowns and furs. And when she changed into her nightgown earlier this evening, she had not allowed him to look at her until she was buried beneath the blankets.

She knew.

She knew how frail she was. He knew and had not wanted him to know…

Had not wanted him to worry. Not while he was at war.

“Ābrazȳrītsos…”

She sobbed once before she was sick again. He said nothing else until he was relatively certain whatever illness had possessed her passed, and tried not to be too grateful that she didn’t push him away.

“Little darling, please,” he pulled her closer so he could rest against his chest. She did not resist. “What happened?”

She shook her head, reaching to wipe her mouth with the sleeve of her nightgown. Aemond stopped her, set her hand back on her lap, and used his own sleeve instead. She sighed as if the gesture somehow upset her, then slumped slightly. “Nothing happened. Nothing new, at least. This happens nearly every night.”

Every night. No wonder she was so thin.

“Still?” Aemond finally managed to ask in a rasping voice. She had been so sick in those early days – it was what had prompted them to take her to the Maesters, where they discovered she was with child. But it had gotten better in the days before he left for Harrenhal. She had said it was getting better.

She nodded, her eyes shut tight as she turned away from him. Was it from exhaustion or shame? “It…” she swallowed, and Aemond realized how dry her throat must be. He would fetch her something to drink as soon as she could stand. “It never stopped.”

“Oh ābrazȳrītsos…” his voice broke as the realization of how badly she had been suffering sank in. And all the while, he’d been sharing his bed with another woman.

If the Father truly cared for justice, he would have struck Aemond dead the moment he touched that witch.

Aemond held her close, panting with the effort it took to hold back his tears of shame. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She was silent for a long while. Then, “I’m tired, Aemond.”

“I know.”

A long pause. It took him longer than it should have to realize she was looking at him and longer still to recognize the plea in her eyes. She wanted his help. Or perhaps more accurately, needed his help.

So help her he did, eagerly. He sat her at one of the chairs by the table while he removed her soiled nightgown and dressed her in another. He brought the washbasin to her so he could help her wash her face, then brought her a pitcher of fresh water so she could rinse her mouth. He braided her hair once more and carried her back to bed,

Once he’d pulled the blankets back over her, he reached out to her. When she didn’t flinch away, he softly stroked her cheek. “Is there anything else I can get you, my love?”

She opened her eyes just slightly. “I’m cold.”

He turned on his heel to fetch his blanket from the couch. There was still warmth radiating from the hearth. He could move to the rug.

But when he’d settled that blanket on her as well, she opened her eyes wider and gazed up at him. “Aemond…”

If there was ever proof that the gods could be merciful, that was it.

Still, he had to be certain he wasn’t mistaken. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. Thank all the gods in the world, she nodded.

His veins buzzing with ecstatic joy, he walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in beside her. As he wrapped his arms around her, it almost didn’t matter that he could feel her frailness, that he knew she had only asked this because she truly was cold, or that his touch was tainted by his sins.

Aemond was sharing a bed with his wife. He was holding her. Her, and their children.

When her breathing finally settled, and she drifted off to sleep, Aemond closed his eyes, tucked his face into her hair, and prayed he dreamt of a world where he had slain Alys the moment he first saw her.

[s-coquette]

Three’s a Crowd (2/2)

summary: Your loving boyfriend Johnny is trying to force Simon into your relationship without your consent.

warnings: slight dubcon/noncon, piv sex, anal sex, angst?? coercion

word count: 3.8k

part one

The feeling of those same honeyed brown eyes staring at you was unnerving. They were beautiful, like hot freshly brewed coffee swirling in your mug. In any other situation you would’ve complimented them, but right now you wanted to rip them out of his head.

“Simon! Hello… What are you doing here?”

You say with a forced smile, almost gritting your teeth in annoyance. Any time you heard his name you thought about what Johnny made you say while climaxing, maybe that was his cruel way of making you get used to the thought of him?

His brooding form stood in front of you at your doorway, intimidating you in your own apartment.

“Jus’ came in t’ see my boy.”

Your forced smile dropped the second he uttered those words, his boy? It almost made you want to scoff. You could see the smirk tug beneath his black mask, the bastard was enjoying making you jealous.

As you opened your mouth to rudely shoo him away and lie that Johnny was out,

“Hen.. Why are y’ out of bed-“

Johnnys tired voice came from behind you, turning around and finding him in only his briefs. You tried to shoo him away and tell him to get dressed but nothing went through his sleepy head.

“Who is tha- Simon? Steamin’ Jesus! I ken’ you’d come by.”

You were unceremoniously shoved out of the doorway while your boyfriend chatted with the big bastard. Throwing your hands up in defeat you retreated to the bedroom to sulk and get dressed to go to the store, like you and Johnny had planned the night before.

Throwing on one of Johnnys gray hoodies and a simple pair of black leggings, you sifted through the sheets to find your lost phone. Scowling when you heard your boyfriends loud laughs, wanting to rip your hair out when he invited Simon inside.

The bedroom door slamming open startled you, turning around to find Johnny grinning like he won a prize, still in his underwear.

“Woah, bun. What’s the hurry? Where ya off to? We have a guest.”

His innocent tone made you want to scream. You watched him as he rifled through the closet to find some sweatpants and a shirt.

“I’m going to the store, like we planned out yesterday.”

Your cold response made his face fall like a sad puppy. Snatching your phone finally after finding it beneath your pillow.

“No you aren’t.”

The suddenly dark tone of his voice made you stiff, it made you realise even though he acted like a soft ball of sunshine that he was in fact a grown man who had years of military experience and trauma.

“Wh- I am, we don’t have anything in the fridge and we’re running low on coffee.”

You now turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed as his face looked grim, you never witnessed that expression on him and it made chills run down your spine.

“Bonnie, we have a guest. It’s rude to leave when he’s just come by.”

“I don’t care, Johnny. He’s not my friend, I have nothing to do with him.”

That seemed to set him off more, his giant hand grabbed your wrist and tugged you along with him.

“Wait- Stop- Johnny.”

All your resistance was met with a harsh tug, a warning. You were thrown into the living room like a deer in headlights, staring at the man occupying your apartment.

Simon made himself comfortable, arms resting on the headrest of the couch, thick thighs that were probably 2x bigger than yours spread out.

The scowl on your face appeared again and you bawled your fists. Johnny ushered you to sit down next to Simon but you chose the farthest point from him.

Your boyfriend just tossed you a look and sat down next to ghost, almost hugging him.

“Wha’s got your panties in a twist, kitty?”

The loud cocky sound of his deep accented voice rumbled through you. If you didn’t hate his guts you would’ve found it attractive.

You twisted your hoodie in your hands in annoyance and mumbled out a small,

“You.”

You could sense the smirk under that damn black mask, wanting to rip it off and choke him with it.

“Bonnie! I don’t understand what’s gotten into you? What did Simon do to deserve you acting like that?”

That was your breaking point. You felt like a small child being scolded for something it didn’t do.

“You wanna know what’s gotten into me? You constantly talking about Simon! Simon this, Simon that, oh, let’s go out with him! Oh, I invited him over! Every single day it’s all about Simon! Why don’t you just dump me and be with him if you love him so fucking much since i think you’d rather fuck him than me!”

The tears stinging your eyes and the humiliation and embarrassment from your monologue making your chest heave.

Johnny looked dumbfounded while Simon just stared at you, stoic as always, but his fists were now closed.

You took that as your queue to leave.

“Wha-!”

A strong hand grabbed your wrist when you got up, pulling you down into a warm lap. Johnny held you close to him while you tried to fight the frown on your face, eyes bleary with tears.

“Hen….”

“Stop it-“

You pushed at his chest, his hands smoothed down your hair as you hiccuped on your sobs.

“Y- You come in here- call him your boy, hug him like he’s- he’s your boyfriend-“

You inhale loudly and try to wipe at your face to argue like a woman.

“You’re all- he talks about, it’s like he’s- he’s fucking in love with you! You don’t know how much that hurts me.”

Your sniffles interrupting every word.

“I jus’ wanted t’ go to the store with my boyfriend!”

You tried to continue but a giant hand cupped your cheeks and squished them together, wetting his fingers in your tears.

Your weak attempts to slap his hand away were shushed.

“Cute little thing.”

All of the emotions you just poured out and the things that have been stressing you for MONTHS, were ‘cute’. You wanted to scream. Run out of the apartment and go back to your family’s house.

Instead, your sobs got worse and you just wept while he menacingly squished your cheeks.

“Oh, hen… That’s what I’ve been trying to tell ye.”

So he didn’t love you anymore? He was fucking Simon? He wanted to break up? The thought that you’ve been in a relationship with a man who doesn’t love you back made you whimper out of emotions running through you.

“You- You-You,”

Couldn’t even articulate yourself without loud gasps in between.

“Don’ love me anymore-“

Warm hands soothed up and down your body as he brought you closer, tucking your head under his chin.

“Nonono.. Tha’s not it. I love you, so much. It hurts how much I love you. But I also love Simon.”

So your boyfriend wanted to replace you? Perfect.

“I don’t understand..”

Your confused face with crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks was enough to make Simon coo.

“I love you, and I love Simon. Simon loves me, but you don’t like him. This isnt going to work if we don’t all get a long.”

That made you push at his chest, was he crazy? He wanted to be in a relationship with both of you at the same time?

“Shhh, I ken’, hen, I ken’ that it’s selfish of me to want both of ya’. But Simon wanted to try it out. Simon is willing if you are too. That is.. If you love me. I don’t know what i’d do without you.”

You sniffled and tried to wipe at your face.

“I don’ like Simon…”

“Y’ will, bun.”

Too burned out to argue you just sobbed into his chest, every time you tried to get up you’d be forcefully shoved back. Once your cries morphed into little sniffles he loosened his grip on you. You wrenched yourself out of his grasp and got on wobbly feet, barely carrying yourself to the bedroom where you slammed the door behind.

Pulling out your phone, trying to text anyone and everyone if they had some place for you to stay over, just until you could find a new apartment.

You pulled out your old backpack and started throwing in random clothes while wiping the tears that were threatening to spill again.

You wanted to slap yourself when you remembered your laptop was in the living room.

Begrudgingly stepping out of your once shared bedroom, you make your way through the hallway and into the living room. The thing you set your eyes on making you want to claw them out.

There he was, your ‘boyfriend’, embraced in Simon’s arms. By the looks of it he was pretty shaken by what had happened, rubbing his face while mumbling something to the other.

Letting out a forced cough to make your presence known made his head snap right to you, were you going to forgive him? Give him a chance at the new ‘addition’?

Staring at the coffee table, you went straight for it. Ignoring anything he wanted to say and grabbing your laptop.

His eyebrows shot up when he realised you had slung a backpack over your shoulder. He frantically tried to persuade you, trying to get up only to fail with Simon’s strong grip on him.

Simon grabbed your forearm and threw you into them, letting out a pained yelp when your back landed on his shoulder and Johnny’s elbow.

“Stop it! You big fucking bastard! You took my boyfriend and now what do you want from me!”

You screamed at him, only to be met with a large hand cupping your mouth.

“You talk a lot of someone so small.”

The malice in his voice made you stiff, his gaze was piercing.

“I don’t care If you like me or not. I want Johnny to be happy, if he wants you to stay you’re gonna stay.”

His tone made it sound like a threat, it probably was. You nodded, unable to breathe under his hot hand.

Letting out loud gasp once he let you go, trying to scramble into Johnny’s lap.

“Look, bonnie. Simon is going to be staying with us for a while. He’s lonely at home, no one to look forward to when he wakes up, I just couldn’t let him suffer like that.”

You stared at Johnny, feeling betrayed.

“Johnny. Were you fucking him while we were together?”

The guilty look on his face was enough for you. Struggling to wrench yourself out of their grasp, Simon only locked his arms around you and made you face Johnny.

“Hen, we are still together. And yes, it was at the beginning of our relationship. I just- We’ve had emotions for each other ever since our time in the task force. We couldn’t, it was unprofessional and we’d probably get fired. Then after we got discharged we kind of lost contact, we only started talking at the beginning of our relationship, hence why um, we had sex.”

You stared at him like he was out of his mind, which he rightfully was.

“Then why the fuck are you forcing me to stay?”

“Because i love y’ too! Can’t you get it?”

The both of you were heaving with emotion, Simon just watching, the same stoic look in his eyes.

“I think that’s enough arguing. Why won’t the little lady go and brew us a cuppa so we can settle down a little’.”

“Like hell i wil-“

The death stare he gave you was enough to get you on your feet and moving to the kitchen.

You threw around the mugs, purposely clanking loudly with the spoon and furrowing your eyebrows when you realised that there was only enough left for two cups.

You sighed and made it anyway, one in Johnny’s favourite mug and one in the ratty old one you and your boyfriend avoided using.

The sight of Simon comforting Johnny and lightly caressing his mohawk just like you used to made you slam the coffee down onto the table and take a seat on the pillow next to it where you usually lounged on your laptop.

“Oh, bun-“

“Shut up.”

A frown tugged at his lips, his favourite girl hated him now.

•

The nights were the worst. Laying in bed with the two big lugs, listening to them talk like they’d just gotten married.

Your back turned to them, you’d listen to the breathy moans, the same ones Johnny used to let out with you, while they kissed passionately.

Sometimes it made you jealous that you hadn’t joined them, but your pride made you deny that.

And they did, they’d ask you countless times if you wanted to cuddle with them, kiss them, have sex with them, it all resulted in a harsh no.

Johnny took that the worst, he couldn’t continue if he saw you laying down with a pillow over your head to block out the sound of them, back turned.

The most you’d get close to them was cuddling up to Johnny for warmth. It made him happy but it also made him sad that you weren’t seeking out Simon. It was also starting to have an effect on him, he knew Johnny loved you with all of his might, and seeing Johnny so depressed over you made his heart scrunch in his chest.

One night, when you were feeling particularly depressed in your trapped state, you felt Johnny spoon you. The weight of his back and his arms around you relaxed you, made you think of the times you weren’t a prisoner in your own home.

Then you felt another pair of arms around you, Simon’s. It made you recoil, trying to wiggle out.

“Stop it- Stop it, hen! When will you accept him?”

That question made tears sting in your eyes, he thought you were going to accept him no matter what.

Johnny just sighed and pushed you against him, hovering his nose against your neck, leaving small kisses and nips like he used to. His hand wandered down, slowly, cautiously into your waistband, slipping his pinky in to test the waters before pushing his whole hand in.

You let out a gasp when he cupped your mound, his hips jerking into your yours to make you hump his hand.

“I told Simon about the time I got you to moan his name,”

That made you flush, you tried telling him to stop but he continued anyway.

“We fucked that night and i was telling im’ all about you.”

You let out a whimper, his fingers now moving to do harsh circles of your clit.

“Told im’ about your slutty little moans while he was fucking my ass. Got him off to the thought of you, hen. Made him imagine he was fucking you instead of me. Gotta return the favour, right?”

God, this man is going to drive you crazy.

He suddenly flipped you on your back, you expected to meet the softness of your bed instead you got pushed into a wall of muscle.

Trying to squirm away was no good, they only just manhandled you to stay, pushing all of your clothes off and leaving you bare between them.

Simon’s giant paws grabbed at your tits, kneading them in his warm calloused hands.

“H’ told me about these cute little tits,”

Swirling your nipples between his rough fingers before pinching them, making you yelp and jump in his hold.

“Shhh, hold on, bun. We’re going to make this work.”

His words made your eyes fill with tears.

“I want Johnny…”

“Awh, I’m here, baby. It’s alright.”

The way he talked down on you while you were being groped by another man made you sob.

“Fussy little thing, just need some extra love-“

Simon grunted before forcefully pushing his thick fingers into your cunt.

“Gotta stretch her out nice and wide, haven’t had anything in er’ in a while, huh?”

The way he was talking to you made you uncomfortably horny. You hated to admit it.

You were slowly falling into a headspace, you tried to fight it with all you could, but being surrounded by these two giant men who were talking down to you made you feel small and broken.

Johnny immediately noticed, pushing his palm against your cheek and giving you the first passionate kiss you two had shared in so long.

You let out a whine when Simon grabbed him by his mohawk, pushing him up and making him slobber all over his mask, leaving a wet patch behind.

You frowned at the sight, turning your gaze away, trying to focus on the fingers stuffed in your needy pussy.

“Jealous little lady,”

That made you whine, too strung out to form words.

“It’s okay, hen. I love y’ just as much.”

The words didn’t help, you pushed against his chest, trying to get away.

“Attention whore, that’s what she is.”

You sniffle at the harshness of his statements. His movements speed up, the slick sounds of your cunt spread out through the room. You grinded up into the stimulation, too close to your climax.

“Ah ah ah- Not so fast.”

An annoyed grunt left you, you were so soft and pliable once you got pleasure, it was so easy to mold your mind.

“Now, kitty. Johnny here is gonna fuck this tight cunt-“

Followed by a quick little smack to your sensitive parts that was surprising more than anything.

You felt his breath in your ear once he continued.

“And i’m gonna fuck his cute little ass.”

You whined and pushed at him, not wanting to see your boyfriend get fucked by another man. It only resulted in a grin and the feeling of him getting up from behind you.

You felt tears bubble up again as you tried to push him back behind you, but he was too strong for you to make an impact.

Johnnys eyebrows furrowed at the sight of you getting so distraught,

“Is’ alright, baby, I want him to,”

You just shook your head and bit your lip, hooking your arms around his neck and pulling his head under your chin.

“Fuck!”

You jumped when you heard Johnny moan out, looking straight ahead and seeing Simon shoving his fingers mercilessly into him.

You felt something sliding against your cunt and let out a yelp when you felt a bulbous tip circle your opening.

Johnny only raised his head to look at you with a grin. That’s when you felt him slowly slide in, a loud moan escaping him, after being denied of you for so long.

Simon took that as the queue to slide in too, letting out a grunt and grabbing onto Johnnys hips.

“Gonna let me fuck you, bonnie?”

You shook your head again, voice too weak to use your words. Johnny panted above you, a fucked out look in his eyes as his arms rested on either side of your head.

You both jerked up when Simon made the first move, slowly thrusting in and out of him. Johnny, vocal as he always was, letting out little whines and pants.

“St-St-ah,”

Your protests were cut out by Johnny’s rough thrusts, sending your body up and down on the bed.

“I think the little lady likes watchin’ you get fucked,”

Simon teased, doing a particularly rough thrust, making both you and Johnny moan.

“Nooo-“

You whined, eyes screwing shut.

Simon’s hand reached down and gripped your cheeks harshly,

“Look me right in the eyes while I fuck him or I won’t let you cum.”

You wanted to protest but you were met with a warning tap to the cheek, a few droplets surrounded the corners of your eyes before they got gently wiped by the scot.

They continued roughly plowing at the same pace, the way they were coordinated kind of made you impressed.

Johnny reached down and circled your clit with quick strokes, eyebrows furrowing and thrusts getting needier.

“Cmon- Cmon, hen, come, come for us.”

You stared at those same honey brown eyes and let out a loud whimper, your climax so close to tipping over.

A loud smack snapped you out of it, Simon slapping Johnny’s ass, which made him let out a whorish moan. The sounds he was making were fuelling your end.

He sped up his ministrations on your clit, his thumb circling the swollen bud so roughly you couldn’t even think.

Your bleary eyes almost crossed as you looked at Simon, the wall of muscle that his was. His chest was speckled with light blonde hairs and thousands of scars, his happy trail prominent.

You felt your legs shake as you felt the intense build up, cresting over into a loud moan, arching your back and cumming onto Johnnys cock.

“Good girl, thaas’ it.”

You heard Simon throw in his praise, it strangely making your head tingle. Johnny didn’t let up, letting out even louder moans while fucking your overstimulated pussy. The whines you let out for him to stop, that it was too much, were left out in the wind.

“Cmon, pup, cum, cum for me.”

Simon commanded, and it’s as if Johnnys body followed all of his orders, he did. Letting out a groan and pushing his head into your chest for comfort, spilling his warm seed into your used cunt.

Simon followed soon after, sticking himself to the hilt and grunting.

You let out a whimper, tears collecting in your eyes when Johnny just pulled out and left you with Simon.

A yelp leaving your mouth when the bigger man picked you up and laid you down on his chest, a hand caressing through your hair and calming down your breathing.

“I wan- Where’s Johnny-“

“Sush.”

You whined and rubbed at your face, too deep into it that your mind felt blank. You tried to push at his strong chest, hands too weak to do anything but rest at it.

“I don’ like you..”

“I know, sweetheart.”

When you looked up at him it was the first time his eyes weren’t cold, they were softer, like he was trying to comfort you.

You let out a sob and dug your nails into his chest to ground yourself. He let you.

You were still sobbing by the time Johnny came out of the bathroom, a towel in hand with a bottle of water he picked up on his way back.

“Oh, sweetie..”

He cleaned you up gently and gave you some water, not trusting you to hold the bottle yourself, before handing it to Simon for him to have a drink too.

You heaved, trying to articulate your emotions.

“Johnny-“

Was all that left you, you reached your arms for him weakly, and he pitied you and grabbed you. He laid you down between the two of them to your protest and hushed you.

And there you fell asleep, fucked out and too emotional to argue again.

[tasteleeknow]

HONEY

PAIRING: minho + seungmin x fem!reader GENRE: smut. fluff. threesome/poly. CONTENT: 18+ minors dni. WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY: You finally get to spend a lazy day in bed with your boyfriends. Playful bickering. Smut with feelings. The usual.

do not repost to other sites, including translations.

You’re used to waking up alone, especially recently. You’re lucky to get any time together at all. Seungmin works nights, Minho during the day. Your schedule is all over the place. It’s why you’re a little confused when you wake strewn half across a warm body, your check pressed to bare skin. Minho usually crept out before you’d woken, making time for a gym session before he started his day. Seungmin would crawl into bed just as you were starting your day. So who were you sleeping on?

“Morning,” Seungmin says as you blink awake, answering your question for you. You don’t bother pondering how he’d sensed you were awake. “I finished early,” he says, answering your next question before you can ask it. You can’t remember the last time he’d finished early enough to crawl into bed before you woke. 

He takes a deep breath as you lay your head back down against his chest, the steady rise and fall liting you with it. 

When you wake again it's to the sound of a solid knock at the bedroom door. You wake a second before Seungmin, rolling off him just as he sucks in a deep breath as he’s startled from his dreams. Minho. He was either very late for work or he’d taken the day off. You’re just about to pull yourself up from the bed when an arm wraps around your waist, tugging you back down into the warmth of your nest.

“Where you going?” Seungmin mumbles, nuzzling into your hair like he can’t hear the now insistent pounding at the door. 

“Let me in!” Minho calls. 

“He won’t let me!” you call back. 

Minho falls silent, a small thud the only response. You imagine him dropping his forehead against the door. Perhaps grumbling under his breath for good measure. 

“Aren’t I enough for you?” Seungmin says, holding you tight to his bare chest. “Hm? Leave him. He had you last night.” 

You’re used to it, the playful bickering. They remind you of the pets you’d had as a child, your elderly cat who’d smack your dog on the nose (always with his claws retracted) and the dog who would shove the much smaller cat away with his snout. It was only at night, when both had worn themselves out fully, that they’d curl up around each other in the same bed, kicking each other occasionally as they dreamed. 

“Honey?” Minho calls again, tone sugary sweet. “Let me in, hm?” 

“I want to,” you whine, squirming in your boyfriend's hold. 

“Convince me,” Seungmin says, lips brushing behind your ear. You can hear the amusement in his voice, the joy in having you both in the palm of his hand. You twist, feeling him loosen his grip just enough that you manage to face him. He looks tired, not having slept enough to recover from his overnight shift. You soften a little at the thought of it, of him being playful despite his exhaustion. 

“You can have me first,” you whisper before brushing your lips against his, failing to suppress your small smile. “If you want,” you add. 

He smiles back, dropping one more gentle press of his lips to yours. Then you’re released. 

When you pull the door open Minho practically tumbles inside. He’s still wet from his post gym shower, his towel wrapped around his hips and long hair dripping onto his bare shoulders. He steadies you as he stumbles into you before lifting you slightly so he can make his way around you and towards his target. You’re hopeless to stop him as he collapses over Seungmin, pressing your less muscular boyfriend into the mattress. Seungmin could fight him off, maybe. But he doesn’t. Instead your exhausted boyfriend simply groans loudly and waits for it to end. 

“You have today off?” you ask, prompting Minho to roll over and make space for you between them. 

“Mm,” he confirms as you crawl up the mattress. You watch as he drops his wet hair onto the pillow. 

The thought of rolling over onto a damp pillow makes your skin crawl. You slap his arm, hardly enough to make an audible sound. Still, it's enough. Minho scrunches up his face, groaning dramatically as he rolls onto his side as if he’s suffered a mortal wound. 

“Don’t put your wet hair on the pillow,” you say, ignoring the dramatics. 

“It’s barely damp,” he replies as he positions himself up on his elbows. 

“It’s wet.” 

He says nothing, eyeing you down until Seungmin tugs you back into his arms. You���re positioned perfectly for Minho to maintain his pointed stare as he whips the towel from around his hips and lays it over the pillow before flopping back down. You don’t much like the idea of his damp towel on the pillow either. His side of the bed, you decide as Seungmin presses his body firmly into your back. 

“I’ll wash the sheets later,” Minho mumbles, like he can hear your thoughts. They both had a habit of doing that. 

It’s quiet after that, quiet enough for you to take in the soft, steady sounds of their breathing. It’d been so long since you’d shared the bed together, since you’d all had nowhere to be but here. It’s nice. Your eyes are just slipping shut when a soft kiss is pressed to your neck. You hum, wrapping your fingers around Seungmin’s wrist and pulling his hand up to your lips. 

“Me first,” he whispers, reminding you of your agreement. He liked to go first, on the rare occasion that you had them both together. He liked working you up. The build up was his favourite part. Almost. Minho lies on his back, breathing steady and seemingly asleep as Seungmin peppers kisses to your neck. “Have any dreams?” he whispers between pecks of his lips. 

“No good ones.” 

His fingers move to cup your jaw so he can gently turn your head. It allows him to place one of his soft kisses directly to your lips, a silent attempt to console you, to remind you he’s here—he’s got you. It's clear it’s going to be gentle this time, soft and lazy. Loving. It was much like the way he’d sensed you were awake. He was aware of you. He knew what you needed. 

His fingers slip from your jaw, tracing a path down your nightgown to your hip. It’s slow, fingers light against satin. Then he’s bunching the fabric up, tugging it up over your ass and gathering it just above the hem of your underwear. He sucks a little at your neck as his fingers fiddle with the elastic, snapping it against your skin a little. 

Minho makes a small sound in his sleep, almost a decipherable mumble. Seungmin’s' fingers halt their exploration. “How does he fall asleep so fast?” he whispers. “He’s dreaming.” 

He often made sounds in his sleep, indecipherable mumbles and moans. Minho had slept at least eight hours already, having escaped early this morning for a gym session. Seungmin was the one who should be passing out. His overnight shifts were nightmarish. 

Seungmin grabs your wrist as you attempt to reach out to stir your sleeping boyfriend. “Don’t wake him yet,” he whispers. “Not like this. It’ll be more fun… another way.” 

“Another way?” 

He hums, pressing his lips to your inner wrist before releasing your arm. “Another way,” he confirms. Minho makes another small sound, more like a whimper than a mumble this time. 

“I think he’s having a nightmare,” you whisper, watching the way your slumbering boyfriend’s lips twitch. 

Seungmin leans over your shoulder, quiet for a moment as he listens for Minho’s small whimpers. Then he sighs, “Can you both have nice dreams, hm? Please. Enough nightmares.” He finishes with a kiss to your shoulder. “Wake him,” he encourages. 

You don’t hesitate, reaching across to drape your arm across Minho’s chest. Your lips brush the still slightly damp skin behind his ear as you coax him awake. It doesn’t take much, a gentle call of his name and a squeeze of his bicep. Seungmin presses up behind you as Minho stirs. “Our girl was worried about you,” he says as Minho blinks awake. 

You elbow the man behind you. “We,” you correct. “We were worried. It looked like you were having a bad dream.” 

One corner of Minho’s mouth curves up before you're jostled by his stretching, arms above his head and all. Then you’re surrounded, face to face with your newly awake boyfriend. He smiles again. “You saved me,” he says simply. 

“Was it really bad?” 

Seungmin’s hand slips back down to your hip, resuming his fiddling with the elastic in your underwear as Minho blinks back at you. “Bad?” he says. “Nah. You woke me before it had a chance.” Then he’s looking over your shoulder. “You being greedy?” he accuses Seungmin, a hint of amusement still clear in the curve of his lips. 

“She said I could go first,” he mumbles in response, preoccupied with his exploration beneath your nightgown. 

Minho looks to you for confirmation. You smile innocently. He groans, rolling onto his back and folding his hands behind his head. Dramatics. 

“You shouldn’t have left her,” Seungmin says as his fingers finally breach the hem of your underwear, slipping down to gently brush over your centre. “Left her here all alone. She might’ve let you go first.” 

You’d had fun learning the differences between their approaches. While both were gentle, Minho liked holding you firm, self assured and without hesitation. Seungmin’s fingers were always delicate, almost ghosting over you until you were grinding into his hand in desperation. 

“You were in the shower,” Minho says, rolling onto his side again to watch your face as you resist the temptation to start moving your hips. “She wasn’t alone.” 

It’s not a small feat, keeping your hips still as his long fingers stroke through your folds far too softly. You know he likes it, the way your chest rises and falls with your increasingly shaky breathing. This was why he wanted to go first. “I feel you, baby,” he says as he presses a little harder, enough to massage some of your wetness up to your clit. “Feel how you want me.” 

Minho’s fingers on your chin come at exactly the right moment, just as you’re about to give in and take what you need. He lifts your eyes to his. “Are you comfortable?” he asks. “Warm?” 

There’s an answer at the tip of your tongue, it should be easy to respond. It isn’t. You’re too focused on the desperate need to roll your hips back into your boyfriend, the one with his fingers between your legs. Seungmin makes the decision for you, slipping his hand away long enough to practically lift you onto Minho’s torso. Your head drops into his shoulder, the satin of your bunched up nightgown the only separation between your chests. 

“Good?” Minho asks, his steady breaths lifting you slightly with each inhale. 

You manage a small hum in return just before Seungmin situates himself behind you. You have an outlet this time, a firm grasp in Minho’s hair as the teasing resumes. You know how long he can make this stretch on, how long he can occupy himself with toying with you. His warm breath ghosts over you occasionally after he readjusts himself on the mattress, making himself comfortable between your legs. 

“Enough,” you eventually gasp with a tug to Minho’s hair. 

“I agree,” the man under you says, wrapping his fingers around your wrist in an attempt to detach you. “Enough.” 

You can hear Seungmin’s smirk when he speaks next, “Enough? You wanna start the day? Have a shower? I can make breakfast.” 

You groan a little into Minho’s neck, wordlessly begging him to deal with the man refusing to fuck you. His arm wraps around your waist, pressing you a little more into his chest. “Seungmin,” he says, a clear threat in his tone. 

The man behind you chuckles. “Mm, I got it.” Then the bed dips, giving you a moment to prepare as he adjusts himself behind you. Minho’s fingers dig into your waist as you’re filled, as if he can feel it too: the stretch. Full, full, full. You’re tugged down a little as Seungmin takes hold of your hips, giving him the leverage he needs to take you slow and deep. The warmth of Minho’s torso seeps through the satin as it slides beneath you. You’re glad for it, the way it offers you a frictionless barrier between skin as one boyfriend fucks you into the other. 

You’re faintly aware of someone playing with your hair at some point. It’s hard to be sure. You’re consumed. 

“Baby?” Seungmin questions after a while, a little breathless. “Okay?” His fingers press into your hips as he stills. 

Minho drops a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Okay,” you breathe. It’s all you can manage. In reality ‘okay’ barely covered it. You’d tuck this memory away, treasure the rare opportunity to have them both like this. 

Minho starts speaking as Seungmin begins moving again, lazily shoving you up and down against the man beneath you. “Can you feel me?” he says, lifting his hips slightly off the bed. His cock brushes your inner thigh each time Seungmin pulls you down. “Should I fuck you just like this?” he continues. “Do you need a break… or can I fill you as soon as he’s done, hm?” 

You bite into his shoulder. It seems enough of a response. Minho hisses, squeezing you against his torso and preventing Seungmin from pulling you down onto his cock. You know what you’ve started before Seungmin opens his mouth. “Let her go,” he grumbles. 

“She bit me,” Minho responds. 

“Let her go,” Seungmin repeats, voice strained.

Minho is silent, his arms remaining tight around you. You imagine them staring each other down, unable to hold back your muffled giggle at the image. “Let her go or I will bite you,” Seungmin threatens. 

“No you won’t.”

Seungmin falls over you, his breath tickling the skin behind your ear. “Tell him to let go,” he instructs with a kiss to your neck. When he retreats you lift your head so you can cradle Minho’s cheeks in your hands. They had a way of making you obedient. It was unlike you. You were only this way with them. Seungmin took advantage of it the most. 

“Min,” you start. “Don’t you want your turn?” He blinks. “The longer you play around the longer it’ll be before I can feel you. I wanna feel you so badly, please let go.” 

He smacks his lips together, glances over your shoulder, and then drops his arms from around you. Easy. You’re quick to press little kisses to the spot you’d bitten, a silent apology as Seungmin takes his place behind you. “Good girl,” he says as he traces your entrance with the tip of his cock. It’s hard not to bite into Minho’s shoulder again when Seungmin finally presses inside again, settling for nuzzling into his neck instead. 

It feels right, being between them like this. They so often kept their distance from each other, both a little awkward about physical affection. You liked to think of yourself as a thick layer of honey, sticking them together and sweetening them up. Seungmin had found the idea particularly funny. Minho had said nothing, simply taking up the habit of referring to you as honey when he was attempting to soften you up. Unfortunately, it worked. 

You sense the moment Seungmin decides to give in, to chase his high. A low groan and then he’s scooping you up, lifting you off Minho and fucking you in his lap. He can hold you properly like this, arms around you as he pants into your neck. Minho never takes his eyes off you, his hand moving down to stroke himself slowly as he watches the man he shares you with grind up into you.

You struggle deciding where to look, his deep brown eyes or his leaking cock. 

Seungmin grasps one of your breasts as he lets out a desperate whine. His other hand holds your hip, tugging you down as he stutters up into you—finally releasing. They both sound pretty when they finish, whether its a low grown or a high whimper. 

You fall forward when he releases you, catching yourself with one hand on each side of Minho—pressed into the mattress below. One, two, three deep breaths and then he’s wrapped around you, tugging you down into him so he can fuck up into you like he promised. They were a good pair. Seungmin liked working you up, and Minho loved fucking the other man’s cum into you. He moved his hips a little quicker than Seungmin. He likes the messy sounds. 

Seungmin drops to the bed beside you, propping himself onto his arm so he can watch. 

“You full enough?” Minho grunts out as he tugs you up and down his cock. 

You know what he wants to hear. He pauses as you lift yourself a little, manoeuvring yourself so you can brush your lips against his. “No,” you whisper. “I need more.”

His chest rises and falls, heavy and deep. “More what?” he prompts. 

Seungmin reaches over to trace patterns along your back as you hesitate. Then, “Cum,” you whisper. “I need more.” 

“Mm?” Minho hums, sweet and gentle. “Okay, honey.” 

His arms tighten around you, the firm grip contrasting with the delicate patterns Seungmin continues tracing over the bare skin by your shoulders. Then his hips are off the bed, thick thighs offering all the leverage he needs to fuck up into you as he pants into your mouth. 

[jinwoosungs]

{ 176 }

marked by you.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: yet another late night thirst post; minors don’t interact.

by choosing to interact with this 18+ content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings.

anonymous said: Reader who frets about the scratch marks that she creates on Jinwoo's back and keeps apologizing for it x Jinwoo who loves it. Too bad he heals quickly. Oh, what shall he do? Guess he has to take em again on bed n rail em hard so he can get those marks again 😼

when you and jinwoo got ready for bed that night, you were simply brushing your teeth as jinwoo got out of the showers. as you rinsed your mouth before drying it with a towel, your eyes trail over to your lover, only for your gaze to go wide upon seeing what looked like deep red claw marks against his back.

you were flustered now, heart pounding as you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks in response. softly calling out his name, you step closer to him, gently tracing at the prominent marks with your fingertips.

feeling jinwoo stiffen from beneath your soft touch, a tiny gasp of pain was heard, filling you with a deep sense of guilt.

“honey? what is it? what are you looking at?”

you didn’t answer him, choosing instead to place kisses against his back where your deep scratches were seen. letting out a sigh, you lean closer to his broad back before pressing even more kisses against those painful marks.

“i’m sorry, for hurting you.” only when you gently lick away at them did jinwoo lose his absolute mind. feeling your tongue innocently tracing at those angry red marks- the memory of them being caused by your nails raking down his back with each and every one of his thrusts makes jinwoo lose all sense of his inhibitions.

silently, jinwoo purposefully drops the damp towel from his waist, making you gasp when he suddenly faces you, trapping you against the bathroom sink. a devious smirk paints his handsome features as he teasingly rubs his erection across your inner thighs. groaning at the silky feel of them, he continues to further harden his cock for you, basking in your breathy moans as your arms automatically came up to wrap around his neck.

“my sweet and darling treasure, always so considerate of me.” jinwoo’s voice darkens just the tiniest bit, leaning in to bite down against the shell of your ear while whispering hedonistic phrases to you.

“the way you rake your nails down my back is actually one of my greatest treasures. whenever i catch a glimpse of them, i get so hard, remembering just how deep i got inside of you- so deep that it made your toes curl and your hands claw against my back…”

“ah…!” you feel him move aside your panties with one hand, massaging his cock beneath your soaking core as he collected your arousal with his velvety cock, sliding the tip of it in and out of your slickness as he purposely drove you crazy for him.

you were dimly aware of the faint, golden glow that surrounds jinwoo, eyes becoming dilated as he peered down at you. “oh…? would you look at that. i’m all healed-“

“i guess this means i just have to get new marks from you now.”

without giving you a warning, jinwoo shoves his cock deep inside of you, making you see stars as your walls cling tightly to him in a vice grip. while jinwoo fucked you against the bathroom sink, you were slowly losing bits and pieces of your sanity. your hands were already reaching toward his muscled back, clinging to him as you curled your nails against his skin.

“fuck.” he lets out a harsh whisper of your name, sliding his cock all the way out of your soaked core before shoving himself back in, purposely rubbing against your swollen bundle of nerves in the process. pretty droplets of tears were felt settled against your eyelashes as you fought to even think straight.

when you nearly fell to the ground, jinwoo keeps you steady by placing both hands possessively over your waist, bouncing you up and down his cock with a feral grunt. with this new angle, you could feel how deep he was hitting that special spot inside of you, making you cry out as you locked your legs around his waist, climaxing immediately around him. jinwoo could feel your juices staining at his cock, making him lose all coherent thought while continuing to ram himself in and out of you.

“that’s it, fuck, that’s it…!” jinwoo watches with wide eyes, seeing the familiar clear fluid travel down the length of his erection before burying himself inside of your sweet cunt, his cock pulsating as he released everything he had inside of you.

a choked moan was heard coming from your perfectly parted lips, your nails once more latching on to his skin for support, nearly drawing blood in the process as jinwoo let out a loud groan. he weakly thrusts in and out of you, making sure that he had completely emptied himself before resting his head on your damp shoulder.

you were breathing heavily now, slowly smoothing the palm of your hand down his back, feeling the imprint of your deep scratches against his skin. “oh…oh!”

your gasp turns into a surprise one when you feel your lover growing inside of you, filling you once more as he meets your gaze with his own. an expression of lust and adoration overtakes jinwoo’s handsome features when he suddenly carries you, bringing your back against the bathroom wall. with a pant, jinwoo continues stroking his cock in and out of you as you let out even more cries of his name in response.

“hn, i’m still not quite satisfied with the marks you’ve given me. how about we spend the whole night like this and you can mark me as much as you want?”

you let out a weak moan and attempt to glare at him, but the way your gummy walls seemed to tighten around him lets him know just how eager you were to do just that.

a.n. - i’m thirsty. all of my jinwoo readers are thirsty. so i did something about it. 🫠🫠🫠🫠

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[beetlejuicyy]

The Hunt | True Form! Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: you convince Sukuna to go for a hunt like the old times. the difference is you are his prey this time

Warnings: obviously outdoor sex, primal play, predator/prey, CNC, creampie, established relationship, light degradation, safeword (not used), chasing

Word Count: 4.4K

Read on AO3

Masterlist | Divider by @joj0su

It was going to rain soon. The king of curses could sense it in the air, although no clouds were weighing down the sky. The wind carrying your scent back to him will make his hunt much easier. He already had it on his fingers when he sniffed them, like a predator identifying its prey. It was sweet and addictive, creeping up deep into his brain, compelling him to chase more. After a few moments of pondering, he decided to grant you more time to get lost into the woods of his estate. The balance of power was already unfair enough.

What if I left your side right now and ran away?

Sukuna frowned, his agile crimson eyes measuring your small frame as if pinning you in place with one simple look. You were at the table, in the main hall, having lunch.

I would catch you faster than you can imagine.

You knew that, he could tell from the smug smile stretching across your lips as you played with the food on your plate. Sukuna had noticed already that you didn't really have an appetite.

What if I would really fight to get away from you?

Sukuna sneered in response to your silly question, taking another sip of his drink. As if you could ever overpower him.

And I would act like I don’t want you to touch me, like I want to escape.

You must have been really bored the past few days in his absence, since your mind was preoccupied with such fantasies. He leaned back, placing the upper set of arms on the floor to support his body, while the other two were crossed, dismissively.

Would you take me by force?

You finally looked up at him, doe eyes glimmering with unknown excitement through your lashes.

I would bring you back, yes. You are not allowed to leave.

Sukuna would occasionally entertain your meaningless mind games, only because he was aware of how much it pleased you when he indulged in your mischievous and curious nature. However, he was failing to understand the hidden meaning of this one.

Would you take me by force, my king?

You asked again, but this time your words were coated in a promising intent, thick and sweet like honey, your eyebrows raised in a pleading look. His head leaned to the side, his mind putting in more effort to unveil the mystery of your riddle. Your sensual voice had awakened a desire inside him, the more his red eyes looked into yours, the clearer the picture you were painting for him.

I would, yes.

You were speaking the same language, at last. He uncrossed his arms, all four of his palms pressed flat on the floor behind him. His position was inviting, but you were planning on running away.

And if I screamed?

You asked, your hand stretching across the table to pick a ripe peach. When your teeth sunk into the soft and sweet pulp a thin thread of juice spilled at the corner of your lips, falling down across your chin.

I would cover your mouth shut.

Sukuna answered, his eyes leaving your enticing ones to follow the course of the peach juice falling across the skin of your neck, down under the hem of your robe, most probably between your breasts. Suddenly, his mouth felt dry, as if the only solution to quench his thirst was that single drop of juice on your skin.

And if I kicked you?

You took another bite of fruit, the crunching sound of your teeth ripping the flesh off the seed echoing in the silent room.

I would hold you down.

For a while, you contemplated in silence while munching on your peach. Sukuna never let his eyes leave your body, his mind already stirred by the idea you implanted with your words, his pupils dilated with intoxicating lust.

I will hurt you. And you will like it.

He added after a few moments of silence as you discarded the naked peach seed on a plate. You didn’t bother wiping away the mess you made around your mouth. It was hardly visible, but there was a sticky sensation of the sugary liquid dried on your skin and the sweet smell spread in the air around you. Sukuna wanted to lean over the table and lick it off. You only smiled in response to his words, a faint, contained smile that held back a million of possibilities.

I will be taking a walk in the woods. All by myself.

You announced.

Isn’t it dangerous?

He asked with a grin.

I've heard there's a beast lurking in the forest, indeed.

You said as you sat up, gathering the flowing fabrics of your kimono. You passed by him on your way to the door and you felt one of his rough hands grab your wrist.

How do I know if you change your mind?

Sukuna could easily determine your moods and thoughts with a quick simple look, even when you would refuse to speak. However, in this hypothetical situation, that was getting closer and closer to becoming reality, he doubted he could tell the difference. You looked down at him, taking a moment to admire the savage beauty of his body, the brutality of his four muscular arms, his massive shoulders. He could break you in half. The thought only made the wetness between your legs spread.

I will use a safeword.

You buried your fingers in his soft pink hair, almost the same shade as the peach you just ate. It was highly contrasting with the rest of his appearance, bringing out the roughness of his features even more.

Which is...?

He looked up at you, all of his crimson eyes focused on yours. You leaned down to whisper in his ear, although no one was there to hear your secret.

Peach.

Sukuna felt his cocks twich when your hand gently touched his ear. He looked back at you with one eyebrow raised, skeptical.

It sounds very puerile.

For a moment, you almost lost him. What was the point of these silly artifices? If you craved him carnally, a meaningful look and a soft touch from you would be enough for him to take the hint. He could take you right there, on the table, and satisfy your sexual appetite like he always did.

How long has it been since you last went on a hunt, my king?

Sukuna licked his lips unconsciously, your words sparking vivid images in his mind. He remembered telling you tales of old times, when he would enjoy bringing the terror on his prey, wether it was an animal, a human or an enemy. It had been too long since he last enjoyed it, having grown so powerful that no one could match his speed and ferocity to be called entertaning. One hand of his creeped up between your legs under your attire, as he was still pondering on the idea. You shivered under his touch, and he smiled slighly when your fingers gripped his hair a little tighter. The tips of his fingers ghosted lightly over your cunt, barely touching it. It was enough to get them wet with your juices. For a moment, you thought he had lost all of his patience and wasn't willing to play the part anymore. However, his hand retreated, leaving you sighing in disappointment. He seemed content with his discovery, almost surprised that you got yourself that wet only by thinking of him.

Peach, huh?

The muffled voices of servants were echoing louder on the hallway. It was around time they come and check the table in case their master requested more food. If someone did step foot in the room, they might destroy all the tension you had skillfully built in order to have Sukuna indulge in your fantasy.

Don't listen to anything I say, unless I say peach. If I do, it means I've changed my mind.

You always amused him whenever you had that serious tone, almost like giving him commands. He was going to let it slide this time, though, as he let it slide so many times before.

You have ten minutes.

*

The sunlight barely made it through the thick ceiling of tree branches full of leaves. The more you ran, the darker it got. For some good minutes, you couldn't even see ahead of you until your eyes adjusted. The notion of time was already a foreign concept to you. Time was measured now in the fast pace of your beating heart, threatening to plummet out of your chest. It felt like your veins were depleted of blood and the only thing keeping you going was the fear of being caught.

You started running without thinking much about it, almost simulating. The image of Sukuna's massive build was impregnated in your mind. The more you dived into the cold darkness, the more refined your senses became. The leaves on the ground were damp on your bared feet, squirrels were jumping from branch to branch, scratching against the tree bark, the air was humind and cold, stinging your throat. Your heart was booming in your ears like a war drum, but more importantly it was pulsating between your legs, a constant reminder of who you were running from.

You had to stop and catch your breath. You were in no physical condition to be straining your body to this extent. The layers of your kimono were also making your movements more difficult, the weight and tightness around your waist uncomfortable. After filling your lungs with fresh air you decided to get rid of these impediments. To hide your tracks, you struggled to bury the outer robe you discarded under a fallen tree trunk, covering the brightly colored fabric with leaves. Now that you were lighter, with only one long and thin piece of clothing covering your body, you felt safer. The forest was overall quiet and the lack of light gave you the feeling of safety, instead of frightening you like the first time. You were still on the edge, ears focused to pick up any unusual sound, but for now, at least, you were safe.

Perhaps you should look for a place to hide. The idea came more like an instinct than a rational thought. Sukuna must have already started his hunt. While you were looking for a suitable spot where you could fit your body and conceal your presence, a flock of birds took off in the distance. The overlayed sound of ruffling leaves and fluttering wings made your heart sink for a moment. But it was only birds, so you continued your search undisturbed until a white rabbit darted out of a bush, passing by you in its frenetic run. You would have dismissed this occurence as well if you didn't feel it. It hit you like a sudden enlightenment, the air thicker, heavier as if something was breathing all of it, leaving none for the other creatures of the forest. Now it was truly quiet. The birds had fled. The squierrls were hiding inside their dens. No bunny, no deer, not even insects crawling on the wood, eating away the rotten parts of the forest. Everything seemed to have stopped, frozen, frightened.

He was coming.

Terror was creeping up your muscles, like a parasyte dictating your behaviour. It pushed you to run, but everything else around you was quiet. Wasn't it smarter to follow the natural instinct of the animals, lay low until the threat goes away? You didn't blend in with the forest, though. Your pink robe, loosely tied around your waist, was contrasting with the dark greens and browns of the environment, making you an obvious target. The more time you spent debating, frozen in your tracks, the closer it got. Although completely silent like a first class predator, his unbelieveable ferocity was travelling faster than his body. The atmosphere was soaked with it, danger waiting for you at every step. Even though you wanted to move, your body wouldn't listen. His presence alone was already overwhelming, filling the entire space with tension that was crushing you.

Your eyes windened, irises shaking in distress when you saw four red points gleaming in the darkness in front of you. Nothing more, nothing less than four small crimson circles. It was enough to trigger a response in you and your feet darted in the opposite direction, running faster than you ever imagined you could. Your heartbeat was once again hectic, your hands pushing branches and plants out of your way. You were gasping for air but there was no way you could stop. Your robe got caught in a thick bush and you pulled it forcefully, ripping it only to free yourself. He was near, almost one step behind you. He was purposefully being loud, branches cracking under his feet, his steps shaking the ground he was walking on. He wanted you to know he was there, close, maybe only one arm's length away from grabbing you by the neck.

The forest was a neverending abyss. You couldn't even tell what direction you were running in. Maybe you were heading back to the manor. Maybe you were sinking even deeper into the wild. All that you knew was that you were running away from him.

You cried out in pain when you fell on your knees, tripping. A guttural, animalic sound that was so foreign to you, almost impossible to believe that it came out of your body. You quickly turned around on the ground, trying to find out where he was. Cold sweat was running down your back and you were panting, half because of effort, half because of terror.  Your knees were bruised. Your hair unkempt. Your robe torn at the hems. Yet, he was nowhere to be seen. His absence was alarming. You couldn't even see him coming, couldn't anticipate where you should run. You felt your robe soaked around your outer thigh, the wet sensation tingling your skin. You looked up, thinking it had started raining, although there was no sound of raindrops hitting the ground.

And you saw him.

In the tree above you, standing on a thick branch. The mouth on his abdomen was fully manifested, the tongue poking out above the knot tied around his waist, thick saliva oozing down, dripping on you. You felt choked, deprived of air, although he was at a fair distance from you. Sukuna hopped down, landing right in front of you with a sound so loud and earth-shaking it resembled thunder. You tried crawling back, heels slipping on the grass under you. For every three frantic movements of your limbs he took one calm step, closing in the distance.

"Get away from me!" Your voice sounded threatening, although you were in no position to.

The strength in your legs was almost used up. You didn't think you could stand up, not to mention do it fast enough to  escape him.

He ignored you, taking another step. It seemed like there were two beasts inside him: the calm, calculated hunter that  chased and cornered you and the savage, famished creature that showed through his abdomen, salivating at your sight.

In a split moment he was leaning over you, his massive frame caging you against the ground, teeth sinking in your neck. Your artery pulsated under your skin, full of fresh blood running frantically. You found the force to kick his legs, trying to get him off you, but he wouldn't budge. All of his four arms were supporting his body above yours, two on each side of your struggling form. You could hear his feral breath right under your ear. You screamed and hit him as hard as you could, to no avail. The tongue on his abdomen ran over your skin, spreading its spit all over your tummy and your core. When its tip creeped between your legs, tasting your juices, he groaned like a famished animal that was finally getting his long deserved meal. It took a lot of effort not to submit to his touch, like you usually did. Instead, your mouth kept screaming curses at his name, begging for help in the middle of an empty forest where he was king. Two of his hands held your body in place, one kneading your soft breast while the other held you by the hip, his nails painfully digging in your skin, the muscles of his arms flexed in the effort of holding you in place.

You managed to grab his hair, pulling as tightly as you could to get his face away from your neck, where he was already leaving marks. One arm was sufficient for him to support his body, his knees already forcing your thighs spread apart on the ground. So he used the fourth hand to pull yours away from his hair. He caught your other wrist in his grip as well, pushing your arms above your head so you wouldn't defy him anymore.

"Let me go!" You shrieked, your arms aching because of his forceful grip. With every moment his teeth sank into a new spot on your neck you expected him to rip your flesh off your bones, that's how exhilarated he seemed to consume you. Something about you neck, the back of your ear, your tangled dirty hair, it seemed to have a particular smell that was getting him off because he kept sniffing and licking the area like a wild animal. "No!" You howled, your legs fighting to stay closed while the large tongue moved between your folds, wet and warm, sending a numbing pleasure all through your body.

You had never made Sukuna lose his self control like this before. The way you were fighting under him awakened the animal inside, his senses sharper than ever. Your cries were music to his ears. Your kicks were only encouraging him to hold you down even more. But most of all, your smell, your raw intoxicating smell, it was irresistible. Not altered by any artificial fragrance, not washed away by any water. His face was buried in the crook of your neck, where it was the strongest, and he was aiming to get you sweating all of it out of your body. Perhaps this blinding obsession was the reason he lost focus because, when you unexpectedly kicked your knee at the corner of his large abdomen mouth he growled in pain, grip losening on your body.

You took this chance to slide away, driven by adrenaline alone. It seemed that your instincts had unlocked a primal power inside of you, because you never even dared to hope that you could hurt the beast that Sukuna was. You were almost on your feet again, supporting your body on your arms to force it stand up when his hand grabbed your hair harshly and you fell back on the ground on all fours. You howled in pain like a wounded animal as he pulled you by the hair, forcing your back to arch.

"You have nowhere to run." He spoke for the first time as he leaned over your body, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar.

Your scream echoed in the entire forest when one of his cocks penetrated you, losing no time to adjust. But you didn't scream because of pain. There was no pain to feel when you were so wet, so prepared for him as he slipped inside you so easily, your walls tightening around his length in a welcoming feeling. His thrusts were fast and harsh from the start, the knot of pleasure tightening in your belly immediately. His other cock was rubbing between your ass cheeks as he forced himself into you in a frenzy, grunting and growling in the lowest, most savage voice that seemed to come straight from the depths of hell. Your cries turned to moans of pleasure, your body shaking according to his rhythm, your muscles tensed in anticipation for your orgasm. You couldn't fight against him anymore in that position, when he was fucking you like a wild animal.

You yelped in pain when he forced his other cock inside your walls, stretching you forcefully, knowing you could take all of him. You had to take all of him. Tears ran down your cheeks as your eyes were shut tightly, the only thing you could focus on being his two massive cocks inside your dripping wet cunt, abusing it relentlessly. He had both your hands behind your back, using you like a lifeless rag doll. In a seemingly kind gesture, his hand caressed your cheek, a mouth opening in his palm to wipe away your tears, only to press agains your mouth, silencing you. The tongue forced itself into your mouth, circling along with your own tongue. He could force your body to bend as much as he pleased, pulling your arms further back and pressing his hand tighter against your mouth, hitting your sweet spot over and over and over, even if it meant breaking you in half.

The sounds of his hips slamming against yours echoed in the dark forest, your muffled cries and his hysterical growls warning everything and everyone to stay away. The two arms that had been keeping your hips in place wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling your back straigth against his torso, this new angle allowing him to reach new, untouched spots inside of you. The tongue retreated from your mouth, leaving you a drooling mess, unable to protest anymore, and moved lower to suck on your nipples. Your head was bouncing against his chest as he thrusted into you, and you could almost hear the unnaturally fast pace of his heartbeat. Your hands found two of his wrists, fingers wrapping weakly around them, pressing his touch even more against your body.

His head dipped into the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath of your intoxicating smell before biting your ealobe.

"You could have ended this already." He growled into your ear, thrilled by your body's eager response to him. Your hands were desperately clinging to him, your smell so attractive and obsessive pulling him in, your cunt tightening around his cocks, taking him so well. His thrusts were getting sloppier and slower, but nowhere near weaker. "But you love it when I hunt you down and take you like an animal." You gasped with every swift and deep thrust. "Look." He said, and when he noticed your eyes wouldn't open, he growled the command in your ear again. "Look." His hand forced your head down. "Look how well you're taking me." Another hand moved to press against your navel. Right below it, a bulge was swelling round and disappearing under your skin as his cocks pushed in and out of you. You couldn't articulate any words in response. Instead, your head fell back against his chest, eyes shut tightly, feeling your orgasm approaching. Your whole body felt tight, muscles tensed. He was manhandling you with ease, two arms around each thigh keepibg the m apart, the other two around your upper body, knees hovering over the ground. One of his hands moved to make sure you would be reaching your high along with him, only the tips of his fingers barely touching your sensitive bud of nerves enough to have you whimpering even louder.

The feeling of thick ropes of cum inside you came at the same time with your orgasm. You weakly protested when he still thrusted inside you, slower, making sure his seed stays inside, although it was so much that it was spilling out and dripping over his balls and on the ground. He let you go, at last, the moment he completely pulled out of you echoing with a loud pop! in the empty forest. He had you so stretched, so fucked out, semen still dripping out of your hole as he laid you down on the grass.

You were panting and shivering, your heartbeat still beating insanely fast. But your whole body was relaxing, almost melting into the ground. The feeling of the soft grass blanket under your naked body, cooling your heat, and the humind air cleaning out your mind were truly soothing. For a moment, you almost forgot Sukuna was still there, your mind blank. The sound of raindrops hitting the tree leaves pulled you out of your haze. You were cold. As you turned around on your back you noticed Sukuna sitting next to you, with his robe messily put back on, his body towering above yours to shield you from the rain.

He seemed to have awakened from his frenzy too, because there was no sight of the thirsty creature that chased you. Instead, he was inspecting your body, evaluating his success on the hunt.

His piercing eyes made you snap back to reality and you became very aware of the fact that you were naked. You curled on the ground, unconsciously, arms covering your breasts, trying to be as small as you could.

"What are you so modest for now?" He almost scolded you, his voice back to the usual tone you knew. However, he wrapped you in the remnants of the torn robe you had on when he found you, right before ripping it off. You didn't even remember when that happened.

"T-thank you." You said, pulling the fabric over your shoulder. He picked you up with his two upper arms and you wrapped yours around his neck for support. It felt almost like the end of an unusuap sacrificial ritual, when the ancient priest would offer the dead lamb to a god. Except you were not dead and he was the god. Maybe this is how it happened on the other side, the immortal soul of the sacrificial lamb being welcomed among-

"Are you asleep?" Sukuna asked. The natural sounds of the forest were filling your ears now that the danger was gone. "You'll catch a cold."

"N-no. I was just resting my eyes." You shivered when his face kept touching yours, his nose sniffing at your neck and hair as he walked you out of the forest. You were dirty, of course you were, and sweaty and wet with all filthy fluids.

"Hm. Strange." He concluded. "It's gone."

You didn't have the energy to ask any more questions. Besides, he seemed to be talking to himself. You could feel your body warm up again against his. Soon, you were out of the forest, heading back to the manor.

《previous: Corruption | next》: Ascension |

Geto Suguru x reader True Form! Sukuna x reader

[callme-darling]

take care of you

or; promising pierre a family after he worked so hard — partly inspired by this anon 🤍

word count: 1.5k

warnings: smut, fem reader, spoilers for ‘bloody milk’, cursing, p-in-v, riding, a hint of a breeding kink, porn with plot lmao, not proofread

a/n: y’all, this turned out so much softer than i was planning😭

“come to bed, dear.” you urge gently, voice quiet as you hook your chin over his shoulder.

his eyes were glued to the laptop screen, as if in combing through multitudes of official and unofficial documents would somehow grant him a miraculous insight he has overlooked previously.

he didn’t move, nor make a sound of any kind. his eyes remained focused, as if in a trance that allowed the rest of the world fall away. your heart ached for him, it really did. in one fell swoop, his livelihood was torn away from him, all despite his best efforts.

“pierre.” whispered, like an ancient beckoning—warm, promising, and void of the familiarity of desolation.

this time he hums, a noncommittal sound, but an evidence that he was present, at least relatively.

you bring your hands to his shoulders. start slow, you remind yourself. ease the burden from his shoulders, find the space to allow yourself to carry it for him, even just for a little while. “pierre,” you whisper again. “the room is cold without you.”

“in a minute.” he responds, dragging the cursor on the screen to click on an article he had already read thrice before.

your heart clenches as you watch the man you love try to make sense of the devastating lost. wordlessly, you step to his left. you’re mindful not to disturb him often, but tonight you felt the ache was almost palpable.

prompting his arm to raise slightly, you duck under his elbow and gingerly crawl onto his lap, your chest against his as you tuck your face into his neck.

you breathe in his scent, a mixture of his minty shampoo and him. he doesn’t shake away your touch, and you instead feel him slowly relax beneath you. taking that as a sign, you wrap your arms around his waist, your hands rubbing along the faint ridges of his spine and latiss.

“i love you, pierre.” you murmur against the warmth of his neck, the hair at his nape tickling your nose as you breathe softly.

his chest rises against yours with a deep inhale. then you feel warm palms on your hips, his fingers tickling your ribs as he holds you closer.

the embrace was what he wasn’t fully able to communicate into words yet. ‘i’m sorry, i’ll do better. i’ll figure this out. for you, for me. i’ll fix this.’

you lift your face from his neck, hands on either side of his head as the pads of your thumbs stroke the skin beneath his ears. “let me take care of you tonight… can i, please?”

he seemed almost taken aback by the sudden determination in your eyes. but his hands held you all the same.

“it’s okay, you don’t-“

“but i want to.” you cut him off. “i want to make you feel better, even just for a little bit.” when he doesn’t respond right away, you tilt your head slightly, pretty doe eyes blinking into his, “please, let me love you.”

“oh, honey..” his hands ran up and down the expanse of your back, fingers bunching up the material of your tshirt.

a soft smile started to crack through your lips, “is that a yes?”

he sighed, eyes searching yours for a quiet moment. “you could do whatever you wanted to me, and i would never object.”

you smile softly as you press your lips to his, finding a tender rhythm. you shift in his lap, knees pressed on either side of his hips. with smooth movements, you begin to softly grind against him, feeling the faint bulge beneath your core.

your hand finds the back of his head, fingers raking through his hair as he stares up at you, lips parted slightly. his fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts as he brought his lips to yours again.

a subdued moan slipped into your mouth as you pressed down more attentively on his lap, your fingers tugging at the roots of his hair with a teasing gyration of your hips. you jumped faintly when a warm hand dipped into the back of your shorts, dragging the material down your thighs and revealing you bare.

“no panties?” he hummed, half to himself.

you grinned, teeth biting your lip as a quiet whine threatened to rise from the back of your throat. “figured i wouldn’t be needing them.”

“you little minx…” he sighed, bordering on admiration.

you could feel how wet you were, how worked up you were quickly becoming. a steady hand tested the waters as you reached between your bodies, fingers grazing over the growing bulge in his jeans. you felt it twitch under your fleeting touch.

pierre huffed as your featherlight touch quickly became more confident, assured. he head fell back against the chair, his adam’s apple bobbing. “fuck…” he cursed with a guttural groan, “you don’t know what you do to me.”

you press a trail of warm kisses to his throat, tongue teasing the skin every so often. “then why don’t you show me?”

as if to reinforce your words even more, you slide off his lap. he looked as if he was about to protest, but as he watched you slide your shorts completely down your legs, any complaints quickly died in his throat. you return to straddle him, but this time you worked the facet of his belt open. your mouth was on his as you slipped a hand into the front of his pants, moaning softly against his tongue as his cock twitch in your palm. you free his length from his jeans, the tip blushed a pretty red as you let your thumb run over the slit and down the length of it.

pierre let out a shaky breath. it’s been too long, you thought. too long since you’ve last had the chance to take care of your lover.

he helps line himself up with your entrance, both of you eager to satisfy that hungering lust.

as you sink onto him, your eyes flutter shut. his hands grip your waist tightly, fingers sure to leave bruises as you clench around him.

“easy,” he prompted softly. he shifts in his seat so that he’s reclined slightly, giving you a better angle. his blue eyes stared into yours as the pads of his calloused fingers gently began to massage your hips. “take it slow, yea?”

you’re mindful as you begin to find a rhythm, the small room quickly filling with the soft acoustics of breathy pants and whispered moans.

he could feel you clench around him sporadically, a telltale sign you were close. your forehead was on his shoulder, fingers gripping onto his biceps for stability. his hands fell to your hips. with an effortless grip, he took control of your movements, working you along his length with steadied ease. his lips pressed to your face, hoarse words warming the shell of your ear, “fuck- just like that dear, you’re so good-“you felt his teeth nip at your earlobe, “gonna make me come.”

you felt your breath stutter, whole body warm and alive with an all-consuming need. “in me,” you gasp out, “please come in me.”

his grip on you tightened, but his words were quiet with uncertainty, “you sure?”

“shit- yes, please pierre, please come in me.” you beg again.

the shift in his demeanor was evident as he fucked into you with a newfound vigor. “gonna fill you up, fuck-“ he growled, “so fuckin’ tight.”

you came with a pitched whine, eyes clenched shut and mouth agape. your body shook lightly in his grasp as you felt his cock pulse in your cunt, a new heat filling you from the inside out.

you both stayed quiet for a moment longer, panting softly.

his hands soon began to rub small, nonsensical shapes along your back. his lips pressed soft kisses along your temple as you brought a hand to the side of his neck, your fingers playing with the hair there.

his raspy voice broke the silence. “so.. is this your way of telling me you’re ready for a family?”

you could hear the smile in his voice. your own smile grew. “i just think that maybe.. it’s time for us to start a herd of our own.” you nearly cringe at your own words, but when you pull away to look at his face, any thoughts of doubt were stripped from your mind.

a lovesick smile tugged at his lips, his eyes searching yours with a warmth not found in words. he presses a tender kiss to your lips. “i think that’s a lovely idea.”

[georgiapeach30513]

Bullet In Your Heart, Part 8

Summary: you and Clark....

Pairings: Clark Kent X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral sex (F receiving), PIV sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, breeding kink, judgmental people, grief, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.2K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Your fingers dig into the sheets, and your eyes roll in the back of your head as your back lifts up off the bed. Holding onto whatever ounce of your senses you have left while you bite on your lip, it was the price you paid for having two small children.

Your back starts to rise off the bed, but his meaty hand press your stomach, holding you down. His right hand drives in and out of your core, while his mouth makes a meal of your honey. You can feel the rumble on your bundle of nerves as he chuckles when you slap a hand over your face. Muffling a scream you couldn’t stifle.

Clark’s mouth is a work of art. If you were artistic you would have already made a shrine to the godlike qualities he possesses. Starting to wiggle around, and then he curls those fingers. Hitting over your g spot over and over again until your body trembles. Still he begs for more. Using his shoulders to keep you good and spread. Your legs try to close at the overstimulation when his fingers pound into your sex. Seeing stars, you come undone, squirting into his mouth, and he laves up every bit of your juices like a man starved.

You’re left panting. Gazing up at the ceiling while your husband feasts, and you wait for the room to stop spinning. Lifting up to your elbows you watch Clark smirk at you as he wipes off his glistening face. “Don’t you look proud of yourself,” you huff out.

Clark nods as he stands up out of the floor. Picking your body up, he launches you up the bed before he’s splitting your legs, and crawling in between them. Slapping his cock over your clit, smiling even bigger, “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that, my sweet little Cricket bug.”

“I really despise that nickname.”

“Why’s that?”

“The nickname of a child,” your eyes go cross eyed as he slams his girth into your body. “Oh my god.”

“You know why I like that nickname?” You shake your head no, and grab onto his hips as he starts a slow thrust into your body. Dragging his veiny cock out of you slowly, and leaving you breathless before he stabs back into you. “Because even though you’re not this tiny little girl anymore, there is this tight little cunt that I get use every fucking day.”

“Clark,” you whimper, and your nails dig into his back. “Clark, they’re gonna wake up.”

“And it’s time for us to have another one,” you nod your head up at him. Wrapping your legs around his waist, and you pull him even closer, yipping when his bulbous head grazes over your cervix, “You always did like me deep, huh? Like to feel me in your pussy for the rest of the day. Aren’t we going to that pool party?”

“What?” Pulling himself out of you, he goes harder than ever before. Moaning out loud, and he places a hand over your mouth.

“Quiet, Cricket,” he starts at an earth shattering pace. Leaving you begging for mercy. “I want you to go to that party with my seed dripping out of you. I saw Frank staring at you. There’s only one man you’re slutty for, and that’s me, understand?” You give him a head nod, and you cling to his back for dear life.

“Got me in a damn vice grip. My god, you’re coming aren’t you?” Another nod as your body becomes completely pliable for him. “Good fucking girl,” pulling out of your body, he flips you to your knees, before crawling behind you. Burying his cock balls deep into your cunt, he mounts you, and you have to hide your face into the pillows. “It’ll take this way. You're such a pretty little slut for me in the morning.”

You can feel him all the way your stomach as he splits you open. Using his body for his pleasure when you hear him use his strangled voice. “Are you coming a-a-again? It’s because you feel my cock throbbing, huh?”

“It’s because you’re fucking me so deep,” that was too loud, but you’re in a different world. Your body rocking with every hammer he does into you.

“Right…right there. Best pussy I’ve ever had,” Clark’s hands pull apart your ass cheeks, and he stares at where the two of you connect. Watching as he nearly turns you inside out, and your walls cling to him so tightly. “So fucking sloppy for me. Fuck — me!” One last hard push into you, and ribbons of hot cum fill your belly, and you look back at him with the softest smile. Your walls milk every last bit of his essence, making you all warm and tingly.

“That’s the one, Cricket. I don’t know if I want a little Lottie or a little Henny,” keeping himself inside of you, he adjusts himself down to his knees. Those crystal eyes look up at your satisfied face before back to the two of you. “I gotta keep it in there, okay?”

“Okay,” you whine. You didn’t want him to pull out yet anyways. “Clark?” He finally looks up at you, and you preen, “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Cricket bug. I meant it, you’re the best pussy.”

“I really don’t want to think of all the women you’ve been with while you’re inside of me.”

“Deep inside you,” he gives you a wink, spreading you wider apart. “You know, there is another hole back here,” you shake your head no, starting to giggle, “Dot let me…”

“Clark!” He starts laughing, spitting down to your ass, “No!”

“Come on. One time.”

“You’ve already came.”

“So if I get hard again?” You want to kick your husband off you, but then he looks back at your hole, starting to slowly slide himself out. Dropping out of your body when he just stares, “I love seeing how gaping I make you. God, I made such a mess.”

”Daddy!” The door handle wiggles a bit, and you’re thankful Clark was smart enough to lock it. It wiggles again when a big bang happens, “Daddy! Henny is in my room! Wake mommy up, and get your son! Daddy! I hear you laughing.”

“I’ll deal with this,” you say, standing up, and Clark points to your panty drawer. “Yes, daddy. Let me put this on, so I feel your mess inside of me while we’re with the neighbors, but you got to wash your filthy mouth. Lottie will want kisses. Go,” you motion towards the bathroom, and Clark walks towards it. But stops to pinch your nipples, and pull you towards him.

Slamming his mouth against yours, and you can still taste your arousal on his tongue. Moaning at how good he feels, “Daddy!” Lottie knocks on the door a bit, and he pulls back.

“I’ll make sure to fuck you again tonight, Mrs. Kent.”

“How about you let me fuck you?” He growls, and jogs into the bathroom, leaving you to pull on your panties and a nightgown. Opening the door to see your exasperated daughter stare up at you.

“What took you so long? Were you and daddy having a tickle fight again?”

“Yes, darling. Come on, let’s deal with Henry. He is just like your daddy, you know?”

“Wild man,” he really was. He was every bit as wild as Clark used to be. But marriage and children really calmed Clark down, and you couldn’t be more thankful. Life was different than you had planned, but you had finally learned to love where you are currently. Happy that you get to see Carter through Charlotte. She is every bit as sweet and loving as he was.

You give a curt smile to the host. Everyone here judged you for being with more than one man, and several hated you for taming Clark. He leans in behind you, kissing your neck, and placing another behind your ear, “They’re jealous that they couldn’t get me to settle down.”

“Oh, so Susie is someone you made a mess of?”

“Absolutely not. She’s someone I turned down. Such a prude. Here, take Henry, I’m going to go cook with the dads. Have yourself a cocktail,” he gives your ass a little swat before walking away, leaving you to kiss over Henry’s chunky cheeks.

“You know, I don’t know how you do it?” Judith, one of the more distant neighbors, says while walking up behind you.

“Do what? He’s really not that heavy.”

“Oh, no, dear, she means you and Clark,” you glance between her and Susie confused, and the host offers you a cocktail, “He can walk, right?” You answer yes, and she gives a point over to the kiddie pool. “He’ll be fine. I’m sure Clark won’t mind keeping an eye on him with you.”

Confused, you let Henry step onto the grass, and he runs right to his daddy’s legs. Crashing into them with a belly laugh, “See.”

“What about me and Clark?” You feared these women would never accept you as one of them. Bitter Betty’s. Throughout the years, the whispers never stopped. It didn’t help that you kept to yourself.

“Oh, honey, don’t get defensive. Of all the men that you could have found, you chose Carter’s best friend? Ain’t that a trip?” You smile sweetly at her, when in reality you want to gather your children and go back home. “How do they compare? I mean nobody was talking about Carter’s size, if you know what I mean.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Batting your eyes, you look straight at her, and thankfully her smile starts to fade.

“Don’t do that, it’s all good fun.”

“Yes, my first husband dying in a war is a riot. Thankfully Clark wasn’t drafted.”

“Did you ever, well, you know?” Judith shakes her head no at Susie, and you look between the two of them again. What were these women on. “I mean, everyone thought about relations with Clark. He’s practically slept with every woman in town.”

“Except you,” she shuts her mouth, clearing her throat. “No. I never once thought of Clark like that. In fact both of us were distraught when Carter passed. We fell in love during grief, and we fucked before we were married,” Susie gasps, placing her hand on her chest, and Clark turns around, now holding Henry. His face is full of concern as he watches you leave the women.

Leaning down to Charlotte in the water, “Lottie, come on, baby.”

“No, I’m playing with my friends.”

“Charlotte Abigail Baizen, out of the pool now!” You feel your cheeks inflame with anger as she pouts, climbing out of the pool, and Clark hands you the baby.

“I got her. Hey?”

“Don’t you thank them for inviting us either,” Grabbing Henry with a huff, and kisses his cheek you start to stomp home. Fuck all of them. They could go straight to the pits of hell for all you cared. They had no idea the inner battle you feel every single day. Feeling guilty that you can’t love Clark the way that you loved Carter because Clark would never be him.

But somehow in the midst of your turmoil you fell in love with Clark. The way he fathered your children. The way he looked at you every morning. You were feral for the way he treated you when it was just the two of you. It wasn’t the same, and would never be, but you and Clark had created something entirely different. You created a love that bloomed from grief and friendship.

Clark finds you in the living room, dancing around with Henry while an old record plays, shooing Lottie into her bedroom, when you kiss over Henry’s closed eyes. Humming along with the music when Clark comes back. He stands at the entrance of the living room, watching the two of you. “Cricket, go put him in his crib.”

“I need him right now.”

“Don’t use my son as a way to avoid this conversation,” looking up at him, you scowl. That isn’t what you’re doing. “Cricket, he’s asleep. Either you take him or I will.”

“Clark, you don’t understand.”

“Then put my son in the bed and explain it to me.”

“Your son,” you hold his body closer to you, wishing you could rewind the day, and never go to that stupid party. You didn’t need friends. “You never tell me what to do with your daughter. I guess because she’s Carter’s?”

“Go put Henry in the bed, and let’s talk about this because you’re being unreasonable. Now!” With a final kiss, you stalk out of the living room. Laying him down in his crib, and you pet along his perfect skin. He is one of the most beautiful little boys you have ever seen. Deciding it’s best not to make Clark wait too long, you walk back into the living room.

Clark is now in his chair, lighting up a cigarette when he looks at his watch, “That took almost five minutes. His room is just down the hallway.”

“You timing me? Can I not take my time to look at your son? I thought about stopping in Lottie’s room to help her change, but thankfully Carter’s daughter is smart enough to change out of her wet bathing suit.”

“What the fuck is your problem? Lottie is my daughter, Henry is my son, and they’re our children,” he watches your chest heave. Breathing angrily, you try not to shed a single tear. Clark has always been there. Was there the moment Charlotte was born, and you have built a beautiful life. “Why are we bringing up Carter?”

“Because he’s always going to haunt us. Because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, and you had to fuck his widow. Your best friend, Clark.”

“You weren’t complaining much,” you hate how he can be so calm when you are raging. You want to throw something at him. He is the reason you went to the party. “So why are we bringing him up?”

“Because those stupid bitches hate me. They hate that I married you, hate that I tied you down, and have your child.”

“They hate that you know what I feel like, and feel me everyday.”

“You’re such a slut.”

“Yeah, for you,” you roll your eyes, starting to walk away, but Clark stands quickly, grabbing your wrist, and pulls you into his body harshly. “You’re my little slut, and I’m yours. I don’t care what those women think.”

“But I do! You insist on trying to be friends with the neighbors, and going out and being social. And I go there and they talk to me like I’m trash because I’ve had two dicks.”

“Who the fuck cares?! Are we happy? Are our kids happy? Did I not fuck my seed into you just this morning? Cricket, I don’t care about them. I care about you. You don’t want to be social, fine. We’ll get us a pool. Get the kids a playground. You and them are all I care about. And I’m not going to spend the next six months arguing about Carter. He’s gone. And…I’m glad.”

You lean back to gaze up at him, tears filling your eyes while you search his face. “I wouldn’t want to have missed this with you. So yeah, you tamed the slut. If he’d come back, I wouldn’t have you and our home. I love you, Cricket Bug. You’re my favorite person, followed by a tie for second. I can’t change his death, but I can love you fiercely, and take care of you. But I will not be the other man in my home. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” he wasn’t coming back. You could have done so much worse than Clark. And this man adored you. Worshiped you every morning while he kneels before your altar. “But don’t say you’re glad.”

“I am glad. But I’ll promise never to say it again. Just like I promise I won’t make you go to one of those parties ever again. Now, let’s eat some sandwiches, and then we’ll go find a playset for our children. Okay?” You nod your head. They were yours and Clark’s, Carter’s in spirit.

His hands slide around your middle, lips starting to nip around your neck, and you let out the most adorable giggle. “Clark, where are the kids?”

“Lottie is out front playing on hers and Henry’s new playset. The swings are her favorite. And I just laid Henry down for his nap,” he twists you around. Grabbing onto your waist harshly, he places you up on the counter. Planting his body in between your thighs.

Clark’s hands swipe away the baby hairs around your face, and he starts pressing soft kisses all over your face, “The kids.”

“Shh,” he whispers. His mouth moving behind your ear, following on down your neck. “I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for the life you’ve given me.”

“It’s me that should be thanking you.”

“Why’s that?” His head pops up, and those baby blue eyes bounce around your face. You smile up at him, biting your lip. “Honey, why should you thank me?”

“You saved us.”

”Us? What are you talking about, Cricket bug?”

Your hands roam up his chest, and around his neck, “You saved me and Lottie,” he starts shaking his head no, but you cup both his cheeks, grinning. “You did. You didn’t have to stay with me, with us. I was a wreck, and pregnant, and you made sure I ate, and…you loved me when I couldn’t love myself. You took care of her when I was still learning to cope. You kept us alive. And…”

“Please, stop. I did that because I love you, and her. And I love this life that we made.”

“Aww, Clark does have some sweetness, and not just need to fuck me.”

“You’re ruining this moment,” both yours and Clark’s heads look towards the door when you hear your daughter scream. “Lottie?” Jumping down off the counter, you head towards the front door. That is a scared scream.

—

Charlotte climbs up the slide ladder before going down it again. Stopping at the end of it, and she looks back at the house exasperated. Henry always had nap time when she wanted to play. Huffing, she moves over to the sandbox, starting to play with the tools while she waits on her brother’s short nap.

A man walks down the road to the house. His eyes look around the property longingly before stopping far enough in the distance to see Charlotte. Not close enough to alert her, but close to hear her voice. She sings a sweet little song while her fingers dig into the sand.

The man’s fingers run over the picket fence, it has been freshly painted, and he sighs. Walking a bit closer, the girl spots him, and gives him an odd look, “Are you here to see my mommy and daddy?”

“Daddy?”

“They’re inside,” she gives a point towards the front door, and the door is open. Letting a light breeze blow through it, but he can’t see anybody. “Mister?”

“Yeah,” he asks, squatting down to look at your daughter closer. She gives him a little giggle. “What’s so funny?”

“Why do you have a beard? My daddy and grandpa don’t do that, no sir,” she said that word again. The man gulps before sitting down beside her. Sticking his hand in the sand. He picks up a wad of it before letting it fall back in the sandbox. “You don’t talk much.”

“I didn’t even know who I was for a long time.”

Scrunching up her nose, she looks at him funny. Giving a little scoot back, and even the man timidly scoots back, too. “What’s your name?”

“Charlotte. I was named after my angel daddy’s grandma,” the man gives her a soft smile, but then she looks into his eyes, “Why are you crying?”

“I’m overwhelmed right now.”

“Let me get my daddy. He’ll know what to do.”

“No,” he grabs her tightly, and she lets out a scream. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. Charlotte, don’t scream.”

“Stop! Mommy!” The man goes to stand. Dropping her arm, and he sees the door open. “Mommy!” She turns running towards you, and you and him stare at each other for far too long. Seeing a tall shadow walk up behind you, he turns to leave.

You can’t believe what you saw. Trying to calm your breathing. It was all right, and so wrong, “Carter?” The man freezes, and Clark places a hand on your hip. “Carter Baizen?” Slowly he turns around to see you, but sees his former best friend behind you. “Carter?” He nods his head, and you gasp, covering your mouth.

Visions of your life with Carter flash through your mind. The moment a sweet little boy gave you a dandelion and told you he was going to marry you. Your first kiss behind the school house while Clark kept watch for the adults. The first time Carter touched you and you felt actual sparks fly between you. That first ‘I love you’. Every moment with your best friend, and the love of your life plays like the greatest story ever told.

Placing your daughter in Clark’s arms you walk over to him. It was him. A bit grown out and rough, but it was him. The same eyes. And the way he looked at you was the exact same. “I thought you were dead.”

“I did, too,” he looks back at Clark holding Charlotte, and then down to you. “What’s he doing here?” His eyes move towards your hand, noticing the ring on your finger. “No,” he shakes his head as tears stream down his face. “I told him not to fall in love.”

“What?”

“Carter, maybe we should go inside, and have a talk,” you look back at Clark. Unsure of what you need to feel. But Carter is alive, and he’s here. Clark turns with Charlotte still in his arms, but leaves you with your husband? Former husband?

“Cricket, what happened?”

“Life. Come on,” you aren’t sure what this means. Aren’t sure what you should think or react. But your Carter was right beside you. Following you into the house that you made a home with his best friend.

Getting into the living room with Clark now in Carter’s chair and Charlotte hugged up against him. “I’m sorry, bud. I couldn’t keep my promise,” hearing a creaking door, Carter’s eyes look down the hallway, and sees a little barefoot boy running towards you. Outstretched arms and calling for his mommy.

“This is my son, Henry Carter Kent,” Carter’s eyes slowly close. Swallowing the bile that threatens to rise up his throat. “Cricket, we can’t have this conversation with Lottie.”

”What comver — comversay — saytion…why can’t you talk in front of me?”

“Don’t make me do this,” Clark stares up at you shaking his head. Hoping you remembered the last ten minutes over right now. While you had happy memories flowing through your mind, he felt like his happy moments were being stole from him. “She won’t understand.”

“Tell me!” Charlotte grabs his cheeks, trying to get him to look at her, “Daddy, I wanna know.”

“What are we supposed to do with them?” Your words come out stiff. If you allow all the emotions to pour out you might just collapse on the floor. Everything is so overwhelming right now, and you don’t know what to think. What to do. What you had to do. Was yours and Clark’s marriage now a lie? What did this mean for your family? What did you want to do?

Carter was your everything. And then life happened and you settled into your new something. Yours and Clark’s relationship could be volatile at times. Things never flowed as easily as they did with Carter. But you two fought to make them work. Because you wanted to. Or did you just not want to be alone? And Clark was there accepting you when other men would turn away.

“Your folks can get them. Don’t make my daughter try and understand this,” Carter clears his throat, and Clark shakes his head no, pointing at him, “Don’t. She is mine. Cricket, honey, call your folks. I don’t want the kids to be part of this until…please, just don’t.”

“Can you give — just a moment. Clark’s right. Okay? They’ll be right here,” Carter nods. Having a seat on the couch in front of Clark, glaring. That was supposed to be his chair. His daughter. His home. His family.

His wife.

His life.

His everything.

It was all stolen from him. It should have been Clark.

Carter

or

Clark

A/N: Yes, this will be a choose your own adventure. So who do you choose? Carter or Clark? What is the right decision? is the decision for you or your children?

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @missus-shadowsinger @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @charmed-asylum @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @mrsevans90 @slowdownbeforeyouregretit @suunnnieeeee

[kaciidubs]

Hoodie Season | Hyung Line

❣ Summary: What it would be like stealing and wearing their hoodie ❣ ❣ Warnings: None - just fluff and implied relationships. ❣ ❣ Gender Neutral! Reader [No use of Y/N]❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as baby, sweetheart, thief [lovingly], Chan is referred to as Chris ❣ Maknae Line ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ AO3 ❣

Chris

Would it still be considered ‘taking his hoodie’ if he actively encouraged you to wear them? 

It’s probably his favorite thing in the world - seeing you relaxing on the couch in his studio while wrapped up in one of his hoodies, doing your own thing while he worked on one of his many tracks.

“You doing okay over there, baby?” He called over his shoulder, sliding his headphones around his neck before turning in his chair, “Hungry or anything?”

You looked over at him with a soft smile and he couldn’t help but give a dimpled smile back, admiring the way his hoodie nearly swamped you in fabric.

“I’m fine - could probably go for a bite later on, though.”

“20 minutes and I’m all yours - my treat.” He offered with a grin, hiding a chuckle when you sat up at his prospect.

“Sounds perfect, but don’t rush yourself, alright?”

He loved it even more whenever you’d send him a random selfie during the day; sometimes making a silly face or using a cute filter, and the collar of his gray Maniac hoodie would show up in the edge of the photo - or even covering your head, and partially your face due to how oversized he ordered it.

Sometimes, when their schedule had them going out for a few days or so, he’d make sure to leave behind your favorite hoodie of his with a note; ‘In case you miss me too much’.

Chris would absolutely end up getting matching hoodies for the both of you, even going so far as spraying yours with his cologne to make it feel more like his.

All in all, Chris absolutely loved the idea of you “stealing” his hoodies, even if he was the one giving them to you.

Minho

Though Minho wasn’t the type to have a closet overflowing with hoodies like a few of his members - Chris, Seungmin, and Jeongin, namely - he did have four or five that he kept in his rotation. So, when that rotation shortened by one, he knew who the culprit was immediately.

“Hi, you!” Your charming voice filled the speaker of his phone, and he wasted no time in getting to the point of his call.

“I didn’t know I was dating a thief.”

A confused hum came through the phone, before he heard the tell-tale sound of a hidden giggle, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He scoffed, amused at the failed smugness you attempted in your tone, “Oh, really? So you know nothing about a green Mahagrid hoodie that was hanging in my closet the last time you came over?”

“Nope, not a clue, I don’t even know what a hoodie is!”

This time he couldn’t help but laugh, “You can’t trick me! I know you took it from my closet - what do you even need it for anyways? Didn’t you end up buying one in a different color?!”

“Yes - but it’s not the same! Yours is so much softer, Min, can you blame me?”

“Actually, I can, since it’s stolen property.”

“Then sue me!”

“I will!” He smiled at the sound of your laughs on the other end, only to look up and see a few of the other members trickling into the dance studio, “We’ll continue this later, thief.”

“I’ll make sure my lawyer’s present - have fun at practice, honey.”

Hanging up, he let the remnants of the silly conversation settle over him before he felt his phone vibrate, lighting up with a text message from you. Opening the text chat, he was met with a picture of you in said stolen hoodie, a mischievous grin on your lips with a text underneath; “Thief: 1, Boyfriend: 0”.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but his heart skipped a beat seeing you in clothing he’d worn himself - you looked so natural in it, somehow more comfortable than when you wore your own.

Sure, he’d make a whole scene of it whenever you’d manage to swap out his rotation again, but deep down he felt a sense of pride about it - he even added a few more into his selection just to see them disappear from his closet after a month or so.

You were a hoodie thief, but you were his hoodie thief, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Changbin

Changbin was the perfect subject for stealing hoodies - the sizes were always perfect for being hugged in fabric with hoodie-paws from the oversized sleeves, not to mention the fact that he left them everywhere, so who could blame you from picking them up and adding them to your own collection at home?

“Sweetheart? Have you seen my hoodie?” He called from your room, the sound of him shuffling through his duffle bag echoing down the short hall.

“The one you came over in? It’s on the couch, Binnie!”

“No, no, there was one I had a week ago, I thought I left it in the recording studio but none of the staff saw it so I figured it’d be back at the dorm!” His voice grew louder as he entered the living room, bed head fluffy and black t-shirt slightly ruffled, “But then I couldn’t find it when I got home, so I just wanted to know if you saw it anywhere.”

“I don’t know, Bin, you have so many it’s kind of hard to keep track of.” You walked into the living room from the kitchen, attention focused on sending a text, “What color is it, maybe I-”

“Hey!”

You jumped, looking up at him with furrowed eyebrows, tilting your head when he merely stared back at you with an incredulous grin.

“You’re wearing it! I thought you didn’t know where it was- when’d you get it from the studio?!” He rushed toward you, eyes bright with an even brighter smile on his face as he took you in; the green Supreme hoodie that was already big on him had practically doubled in size on you in the cutest way possible. “You’re so adorable in it! God, how’d you manage to get even cuter? What am I going to do with you?”

You could barely get a word in when he took you into his arms, rocking side to side and smothering your cheeks in a flurry of kisses.

“B-Bin! I didn’t know, I swear!” You managed to wiggle your face away from his onslaught of kissing and incoherent cooing, “Chris noticed you left it and gave it to me the last time I visited the building with Felix - I meant to give it to you but then I wore it one time and it just… stuck with me!”

Changbin held you at arms length, studying the way his hoodie came to your thighs, the way the sleeves were bunched excessively around your wrists - he swore if you put the hood over your head, you’d turn into a green Supreme hoodie monster.

“I’ll give it back if you want to wear-”

“No! Keep it, it looks good on you - I’ll just wear the other one and when I want it back, I’ll trade with you.”

Of course he’d hold true to his word; whenever you had a hoodie of his that he wanted to wear, he’d trade you for one you wanted to wear, and vice versa - anything to see you wrapped up in his clothes.

Hyunjin

If Minho was jokingly dramatic about his hoodies being stolen, Hyunjin was overly dramatic - almost to the point where it was like the world was ending and he’d never see his dear hoodies ever again.

Of course, he loved seeing you attempt to recreate his outfits with his hoodies as the staple piece, but that didn’t mean he was going to pass up the chance at giving you little hassle for raiding his closet.

“Hyun, it’s only for one day, I promise I’ll give it back to you!”

“But why do you have to take that one?! Why can’t you take the gray one, it goes better with your shoes!”

You rolled your eyes at his stylistic reasoning, clutching the black SKZ hoodie in your hands. “Because I want to wear this one, whether it goes with my shoes or not!”

“But what if I wanted to wear that one? Huh? What about me?” He pouted at you from his position on his bed, tilting his head to add to the pitiful curl of his lips.

“If you wanted to wear this one, you’d be wearing it instead of your balenciaga one, now wouldn’t you?” Raising an eyebrow at him, a bashful smile easily broke through his dramatic facade as he tugged at the black sleeves making you laugh. “What am I going to do with you, my drama prince?”

“Keep taking my hoodies until I’m left with nothing but a worn out t-shirt?” He grinned, running a hand through his unstyled blond hair.

“Darling, you have more clothes than me, I think you’ll survive missing this one hoodie.” Sliding the article over your head, you took a second to go over the fit in his mirror with a satisfied hum. Maybe it didn’t go with your shoes, but it was warm and smelled like him, and that was all that mattered.

“Miss it?! Nuh uh, you said it was only for today you thief!”

Safe to say, after a bit more teasing - and giving him kisses as “payment” for wearing his clothes - you both ended up going out in his hoodies, but one of them might not have ended up back where it belonged.

❣ Honestly, this was very much inspired by me listening to Hoodie Season on repeat recently, but can you blame me? As always, feedback is appreciated! Whether it be a simple like, reblog, or keyboard smash and the most essay-like comment, feel free to share your thoughts. ❣