#he actually said the words i have been expecting for the past several years

[eraenaa]

Blessed Curse

Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader Tag List

Synopsis: When a marriage between you and Aemond was arranged and forced by your grandsire, conflicting emotions arise, but which one will loom greater? Loathing or Love?

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers Trope, ¿Softer Aemond?, Arranged Marriage, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Targcest, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 6,803

A/N: Final tribute (maybe) to Season 1 Aemond, you have fed us with your crumbs for the past two years. Based on a few anonymous requests where they wanted a prequel of 'Loathe to Love.'

Aemond’s frown severed as he looked through the window and watched as you and your kin exited the wheelhouse. He felt his sneer severe as he spotted a look of dissatisfaction adorned your plain face as you had realized the lack of welcome provided for your kin’s return. “Spying, brother?” Aemond jumped in his spot, his sister taking him by surprise as she appeared by his side. “I am not,” he said defensively, and Helaena only hummed, gazing below as the day of your awaited arrival had arrived. “Then why have you been waiting by this window since the morning?” Helaena asked, and Aemond clenched his jaw and stayed silent, not giving a response to his sister. 

“Come, join us, Mother, and I shall greet them,” Helaena invited, and Aemond shook his head, scoffing at his sister’s invitation. “I’d rather not subject myself to their… treasonous presence,” He said, and Helaena sighed, walking away in silence. 

Jacaerys raised his gaze and caught the sight of a silver prince looking down upon them. He warily traveled his oak gaze to you, who stood by the side of your stepfather. “Should we not tell her already? How long must we keep her in the dark about our true purpose here?” Your brother whispered to your mother. “Your grandsire shall be the one to tell her. The king must be the one to impart to her his wishes and orders,” Your mother sighed, guilt heavy in her heart as the whole of your family had kept the true reason for your return to Kingslanding from you. 

“Helaena!” You called out in excitement as you entered the walls of the keep, your aunt, along with her mother, welcoming you. Helaena smiled widely at you as you took her into an embrace; though you had a distaste for the capitol, Helaena was the only one you were actually excited to see once more. “How are you?” You asked, paying no mind to the tense conversation between your parents and the queen. “Well. I am glad of your return,” She smiled, and you only smiled as well as you could not lie and agree with her statement. “I’ve been told you now have three children,” You tried to converse, and Helaena nodded. “I do; little Maelor arrived just two moons ago,” She confirmed, “Would you like to meet them?” Helaena asked, and you eagerly nodded, slipping away from your kin who were to venture to your grandsire’s chambers. 

Aemond stalked the halls and watched behind the pillar as you walked with his sister, arms linked. He rolled his eye as you strutted through the halls as if your mere presence were not damnable. “Are you spying, brother?” Aegon appeared by his side, Aemond being caught off guard for the second time that hour. “I am not,” Aemond spat and walked off, but Aegon still followed him. “I have to admit, even I did not expect our niece to grow so… enchanting,” Aegon hummed, looking steadily at his brother to see what reaction his words would garner him. Aemond shook his head, not wanting to concede or show agreement with his brother. 

“If you’re still having qualms about this marriage, perhaps it could be I to marry her instead.” Aegon hummed, further testing his brother. “The conqueror had two wives, did he not?” Aegon added and noted the way his brother clenched his jaw and fisted his fists. “You are no conqueror,” Aemond gritted and made hastened steps towards the tiltyard to escape his brother.  “I do not understand your animosity, brother,” Aegon still followed.

“Were you not so… overly fond of her years before?” He asked and made fast steps to match his brother’s furious gate. “If I had remembered correctly… you had even asked Mother if you could be betrothed to her when you were nine,” Aegon reminded, and Aemond halted in his steps as he was made to recall the instance. “Leave before I succumb to my thoughts and maim you,” Aemond gritted, his hand already clenched around the hilt of his sword. Aegon let out a laugh at his brother’s threat but retreated because there was a murderous intent in Aemond’s eye. 

Aemond had a few moments of solace in the tiltyard before you once again began to haunt him. Aemond halted his sparring with Ser Criston as he heard a laugh so melodious he was certain it was brought by delusion. He turned to the side and frowned as he learned that the laugh he had heard came from your lips, the melodiousness he relished upon just moments ago; he now convinced himself it was aggravating. The prince huffed as he saw his older brother standing by your side, Aegon being the reason for your mirth, and Aemond could not help but wonder if his brother’s actions were genuine or just another ploy to aggravate him. 

“I see your intended has arrived,” Ser Criston stated as his eyes went towards where the prince’s gaze was placed. “Aye, she has,” Aemond gritted and shook his head, twisting the sword in his hands and urging himself to continue training. “Have you spoken to her?” Ser Criston could not help but ask, curious as to what the marriage order by the king would entail. 

The knight held no fondness for any offspring of the spoiled cunt they call heir, but he himself could not be so cruel to show any animosity towards you. You were saved from the insults that he had no trouble throwing at your brothers. Ever since childhood, you were kind and gentle and good-humored. You were the only one who genuinely showed kindness to Aemond even if he was being picked on by his brother and yours. You were the only one who never cowered away from Helaena and her odd demeanor. You were the only child of Rhaenyra that the queen and her sworn protector could tolerate. It also bodes well for you that you were not present during the ambush in Driftmark. Instead, you were sound asleep next to your aunt as her brother’s eye was cruelly taken. 

“No,” Aemond answered, his tone held disgust that the knight was a tad confused by, but he made no mention of it. Ser Criston readied his position to return to sparring with the prince, but Aemond was still wholly distracted by your presence. His frown severed as the smile on your lips did not lessen whilst you kept chatting with Aegon. It would seem his brother would make good with his tease of taking you to wife as well, and though Aemond had no wish to marry you, there was a pestering feeling inside him that savored greatly of jealousy, but he did not wish to admit. 

The one-eyed prince disregarded his training and walked in your direction. You were in the midst of a laughing fit, but it quickly died as he arrived, the wide smile on your lips lessening. “Niece,” Aemond greeted, the word said through his teeth. “Uncle,” you curtsied quickly, and Aegon smirked as the scene unfolded before him. “Well, isn’t this nice,” he stated, and you turned your gaze to your elder uncle. “A reunion that is well overdue, do you not think so, brother?” He asked and clapped the back Aemond, who stared daggers at him. You licked your lips as you felt tension now surrounding the air. Aemond’s eye shifted back to you, your gaze lowered, your fingers playing with each other, and your bottom lip in between your teeth. He swallowed thickly as he did not expect a sudden surge of an odd sensation to overcome him. 

You parted your lips, ready to speak, but a call through the tiltyard caught your attention. “Tala,” Your stepfather called; the three of you turned towards the steps and saw the Rogue prince approaching. “Good day, uncles,” You said quietly and curtsied before them before running towards your father. Daemon eyed curiously his two nephews you were speaking with. Daemon offered his arm for you to take as he escorted you up the steps, and judging by the smile that was still on your lips and there was no horror in your eyes, he deduced that none of them had spoken about the true reason for your return. 

Daemon tried earnestly to contest the marriage. To make his brother see reason and not cruelly tie you with his deformed son. He even went as far as returning to Kingslanding the moment he and his wife received the message of his brother’s order. But the king had made up his mind. You were to marry Aemond. 

Two days had passed since your return to the Red Keep, and you were still clueless as to why you and your family had returned. “When do you think we’ll leave?” You asked Lucerys as he went along with you in the gardens, your younger brother carrying the flowers you picked and were planning to give your grandsire you were still yet to visit. “I do not know, sister,” Lucerys mindlessly said, his focus transfixed on your uncle, who stood by the side, glaring at him with his lone eye. You, however, were oblivious to the presence of a silver prince. 

Aemond clenched his jaw as he watched you leisurely pick at the flowers. He had been observing you through the days of your return, and he could not fathom why you were not bothered by the whole ordeal as to why he saw no aggravation or anger in you as you both were tasked to marry each other. You exuded an entirely different outlook than Aemond when it came to this doomed union which made him wonder at the possibility that perhaps you wanted it. That you were willing to marry him. Aemond found the possibility preposterous, but it was the only answer to your lax, unbothered disposition. The more Aemond thought about the possibility of your agreement to the marriage, the more it left him unnerved. But it would answer his questions as to why you did not show any outward animosity towards him. Completely civil at any of your encounters— even going as far as flashing Aemond a ghost of a smile when you passed him by the hall. Were you truly in want of this marriage? Aemond was torn on how to feel or perceive this. 

“Must we not already tell her? We’ve been here for two days already, and she is still completely clueless about the reason for our return,” Jacaerys asked his mother, who sighed deeply. “Aye, I would take she would not appreciate this secrecy— especially the severity of the situation,” Daemon added, studying his wife who stepped towards a window that overlooked the gardens where you spent the afternoon in. 

“The king must be the one to tell her. He… he must be the one to tell her his wishes.” Rhaenyra said once more, unable to be the bearer of bad news. She could already foresee the anger, hurt, and fear in your eyes, and it made her stomach pit and twist painfully. She had made a promise to herself that her daughter would be saved from the political marriages most of them were subjected to— to save her from the heartache and the displeasure of having a husband bound to you not by love but by political gain. But even she could not protect you from such cruel fates. Having no choice but to watch as you would retell the plights of women before you. 

“The king has been incoherent for days. The wedding ceremonies they prepared are set in a fortnight— we must tell her Rhaenyra. She must know of the matter now so she could prepare herself,” Daemon spoke, “Prepare herself to escape,” Jacaerys muttered under his breath, already imagining your reaction that would surely be filled with shock and betrayal. 

Rhaenyra sighed heavily and shook her head, her hand unconsciously going to her forehead to soothe the throbbing pain as she thought about the matter. “If my father still has not regained his thoughts by the morrow, then we shall tell her at tomorrow evening’s supper,” Rhaenyra decided, putting a buffer on the matter, praying to the gods that her father shall regain consciousness and be the one to tell you of his orders. 

You returned inside the castle walls as the afternoon sun was proving to be too scorching for you. Your younger brother went to the tiltyard, and you were left alone as you wandered around the castle you once called home. You were admiring a portrait hung on the wall, your eyes completely fixed on the bold colors and the detailed strokes of the work that your surroundings started to fade, and you did not realize someone had joined your company. “Quite luminous, is it not, your highness?” You slightly jumped, startled by the voice that made itself known. You turned to your right and saw a son of House Tyrell. “It is my lord,” You agreed with a small smile finding itself on your lips. 

Aemond watched the scene steely-eyed behind a pillar as you acquainted yourself with the lord in the empty hallways, unescorted. There was a smile playing on your lips as you two conversed. He watched as the lord started to inch his body closer to you, daring to brush his hand with yours that held flowers in it. Aemond’s already impaired vision burned as he saw a blush rising to your cheeks. The scandal of it! Here you are, a betrothed woman still acquiring and entertaining the attention of eligible young men. 

When Aemond saw the lord take a flower from your hold and dare place it by your ear, Aemond removed himself from his spot of observation and stomped towards the both of you. “Uncle,” You greeted in surprise as Aemond suddenly appeared in the hall. “Good morrow, my prince,” Lord Tyrell greeted, and Aemond could not make the effort to not let his contempt not show. “My Lord,” was all he replied with, feeling your confused gaze by his left as he stood by your side. “The Princess and I were just discussing this portrait. I had remarked on its luminosity and sh—“ Aemond rolled his eye and cut the lord off. 

“If you shall excuse us, Lord Tyrell, I must speak with my betrothed. Alone.” He said, voice utterly cold and almost threatening. Your lips agape at his words, your mind unable to comprehend what he had uttered. “What?” You suddenly asked as Lord Tyrell bowed towards you before hastily walking away. Aemond turned to you, expression angered. “Are you truly this careless? Walking the halls alone, engaging with a lord without an escort. Do you not thin—“ You hindered him from completing his scolding. “What are you saying?” You asked in confusion. “Betrothed?” You added, and Aemond’s brows furrowed. 

“Do not act simple with me; you know perfectly well of o—“ You cut Aemond off once more. “What are you talking about? Betrothed? What?” You continued to voice out your bewilderment. Aemond stared at you, calculating if the confusion on your face was an act. But as he stared at your eyes, he knew your confused state was genuine. “You do not know, do you?” He asked quietly. “Know what?” Aemond licked his lips and looked around the empty hall. Just hours ago, he believed you were in full knowledge of the upcoming union between the two of you— that you were completely fine with a marriage with him, for he saw no resistance or rebellion. But what is there to resist or rebel about when you are left utterly clueless? 

“We are to be married,” Aemond stated, and you gazed up at him as if he had grown three heads. “Us… married?” You asked slowly, and Aemond gave a curt nod, waiting for the dread in your eyes, but he was left shocked as you began to laugh. The hall rang and echoed your laughs, Aemond watching you as you clutched your stomach and continued to laugh at the absurdity of it. He scowled as you gasped for air, your laugh still ringing in his ears and riddling his skin with gooseflesh. “You have an odd sense of humor, Aemond. But I am glad that after all these years, you finally learned how to jest,” you said in amusement, gazing at his lilac eye as you waited for him to break his peculiar act. However, when only seriousness was present in his Valyrian orbs, the smile on your lips faltered. 

“Are you serious?” You asked, your tone dripping heavy in disbelief. “It is the order of the king,” he replied, and you shook your head. Aemond clenched his jaw as you still did not believe his words. “Why do you think you’re here? After all these years of informal exile, why do you think your family was summoned? You and I are to be married.” He explained, frowning at how slow you are to comprehend the situation. Now, the dread that Aemond was waiting for was presented greatly on your plain but pretty face. “I… I do not believe you; you are lying.” You say, and Aemond stepped closer. “Why must I lie about this unsavory matter? What I speak of is the truth. If you do not take my word for it, go ahead and ask your parents, and they will tell you the same thing: you and I are to be bound to one another.” Aemond said lowly, his face drawing closer to yours. 

You shook your head and stepped back, your gaze still locked with Aemond, who stared at you undeterred, seriousness the only thing on his face. “You will be my wife.” He stated and watched as fear grew heavier in your eyes, and you ran across the hall in search of your parents. As Aemond stared at your departing figure, he began to wonder if it was satisfying to finally see the fear and rage in your eyes that he had been expecting ever since your arrival or if there was another pestering emotion that he wished not to entertain. 

“Mother!” You called through the halls, eyes already threatening to spill with tears. When you reached her chambers, she and your father turned to you, worry shining on their faces. “My sweet girl, what is it?” She asked and took hold of your hands. “Tell me it is not true— tell me he lies,” You almost begged. “What?” Your mother asked quietly, not accepting the fact that you now knew of the betrothal. “Please, you’re not marrying me to Aemond, are you? That’s not true, yes? He was just teasing me,” You said desperately, willing your mother to confirm your theory. But as she said no word and only went pale, your knees felt weak, and a pitting of your stomach presented itself greatly. 

“It… it is the order of your grandsire,” She said delicately, moving you to sit down as your breath had been rendered short through your cries. Daemon watched by the side, his hold on his sword tight as he could not bear to see you in such a state of distress. “No… please, you cannot make me!” You wailed as your mother tried to hush you, soothing you, running her hands through your hair, and patting your back just as she did when you were a child. “Please… I… let me speak with grandsire— he cannot marry me to him,” You pleaded, and your mother’s saddened eyes gazed at you, her warm touch moving to wipe the tears on your cheeks. “I’m sorry, my sweet… we have begged your grandsire, implored him that this union could not be. But he had made up his mind, and none of us could alter it, not even Alicent.” Your mother whispered. 

You sniffled in your seat, your thoughts running with dread and confusion. “Why did you only tell me now? How could you hide this from me?” You asked in betrayal. Daemon sighed and went to where you sat, kneeling before you. “We wanted to tell you, tala. To prepare you, but we foolishly thought that we could still alter the decision of the king. We had not told you, for we did not wish to distress you with a matter that we thought we could change.” He said softly, watching as tears fell from your eyes. You bit your cheeks and shook your head, “When… when must we marry?” You asked in dread. “In a fortnight,” Your mother replied and felt her heart clench as you stifled a sob. “I’m truly sorry, my sweet girl,” She said softly as you cried quietly in her arms. 

“It would appear they hid it from her,” Aemond remarked to his mother as he sat in her chambers. “They thought they could still alter the orders of the king,” She remarked as quietly as she observed her son, who stared at the fire. “I still have not asked you about your thoughts on this marriage,” The queen remarked, watching as her son clenched his jaw. “You need not ask; you already know of it,” Aemond answered. The queen breathed in heavily. 

“This may not be what you want now… but this was all you had wanted when you were a boy,” Aemond shook his head, a scoff leaving his lips. “Will all of you stop reminding me of it? Aye, I did want her when I was a child, but I am a man grown. I do not wish for a marriage forced upon me— especially when my bride is to be so… plain,” Aemond frowned at himself as he sensed hesitancy as he uttered the words that used to roll off effortlessly. It was the truth; you were plain— your features nonconforming to the house they tried to sell as yours. But you had never been plain the sense of attractiveness, your beauty celebrated throughout the realm, beguiling the lords of Westeros and years before, Aemond as well. Alicent stayed silent, for she could not offer comfort to her son, who was bound to a marriage that was devised for the crown.

When the crown announced your impending matrimony with your one-eyed uncle, mixed reactions were shared. Nevertheless, the kingdom was made to celebrate the event. You tried to hide your frown as your grandfather made you and Aemond parade around the streets of Kingslanding, a picture of unity to be sold to the small folk so they could attest to the new age of dragons. 

“Is this truly necessary?” You asked your father as you were sitting in a carriage. Aemond was still to board it, but he and his grandfather were conversing. “It is what your grandfather wished,” You hear your stepfather say, his violet eyes shifting to your betrothed. “But why? Is he even of sound of mind? I thought others were now tasked to do his bidding; why did they let this happen?” You asked in a plea, ready to jump off the carriage as you felt it jostle and your soon-to-be husband sitting next to you. “Best stop your bellyaching. You are not the only one who is shortchanged with this marriage.” You gritted your jaw at his words, turning to your father wide-eyed, trying to discern if he had heard it as well. 

Daemon clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword at his nephew, who had the gull to offend you, his precious daughter. “Your brothers and I will follow closely behind. It is only for a few hours, tala,” he gritted, and you unconsciously pouted as your father walked away, leaving you alone in the presence of Aemond. 

You traced the patterns of your gown as you rode out of the castle gates. When you reached the streets, you straightened your back and plastered a slight smile to appear as if you were somewhat happy with the devised marriage. Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as you greeted the small folk, smiling at them and giving them a small wave of your pampered hand. He frowned at how much you loved their attention, giving them a pitiful show. “You might want to lessen the scowl… the purpose of all this is to present a united figure,” You whispered as you passed a crowd. 

“I will not be part of this farce,” Aemond spat and glared at a group of men whose hungry gaze were enclosed on you. “You are a prince of this realm. You have no choice but to be the crown’s puppet,” You said, with a tight smile as you waved toward a group of women. You feel Aemond’s glaring stare at the side of your face, but you willed yourself to ignore it. However, when the other small folk started to notice the glare of your betrothed, you turned to Aemond with a smile still on your lips, looking at him with your fictitious love-struck gaze, and you wanted to laugh as your act took him aback. 

Aemond stared into your eyes, perplexed at the look you gave him. Soft, adoring, and… he could not name the other element in your enchanting eyes. He had to look away as he felt himself stagger, and his breath was caught in his throat. When the crowd lessened, Aemond returned his gaze to you, the smile on your lips at the look in your eyes gone within a snap. You turned to him angrily, “Play the part for the subjects, Aemond. I do not expect much from this marriage, and I certainly do not expect us to get along behind closed doors, but when in the eyes of the public… best not to dishonor our house with another display of a fraudulent marriage. As all have kept reminding us, this is our duty.” You say quietly, tone bitter and overly severe. Aemond pursed his lips and clenched his fists around the air as the tumultuous crowds started to return once more, and the counterfeit smile on your lips returned. 

The day all had dreaded finally came. You stared blankly in the mirror as you were dressed like a doll. You were resisting the urge to run through the halls and escape a life of hate with a man who had only loathing in his heart for you. 

You stood before the door of the great hall, your arms linked with your mother as she walked you down the aisle. “I don’t want to,” You suddenly said, cold and clammed hands holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You tried to walk away, but your arm was linked with your mother’s, and she prevented you from doing so. “I am so sorry, my sweet, but not even you are above duty… none of us are,” She said solemnly, and you breathed out a previous breath as trumpets sounded out and the doors of the halls started to open. You bit your lip as you planted yourself on the ground, resisting the pull of your mother for you to walk. Your knees felt weak as you took small steps towards your groom, your mother practically dragging you down, her body a step ahead of your reluctant frame. 

When you reached the end of the hall, and your hand was placed upon your betrothed, you resisted looking Aemond in the eye. Aemond stared you down, the image of you wholly too much and all-consuming. This was all he had wanted. This was the dream he dreamt every night in childhood. You, in a white gown and a veil covering your comely face, and him standing before you as your groom. 

He could not explain how— how he had kept up his act for this long. To fake his animosity and loathing just in hopes that one day it would turn true because hoping and waiting for you was only a dream he had. Pretending to hold distaste for you because it was easier than letting himself hope that one day you will be his. But now, all those years of yearning have finally come to an end because before the sun could set, you will forever be bound to him.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Aemond recited and hesitantly looked toward you. Your hands were cold upon his, and Aemond took a deep breath before leaning in to seal your marriage with a kiss, your first kiss. The deafening roars and cheers of your guests were unheard as Aemond could only focus on the way it felt to kiss your lips. His mind only concentrates on the small taste he had of you— his entire being immediately starved for so much more than the quick and chaste entanglement of your lips. 

You and Aemond were silent for the whole feast, a small smile plastered on your lips as to appear agreeable to the hundreds of eyes upon the both of you. You were too entranced to appear joyous that you were oblivious to the strong, calloused hand that had never left yours. Long, slender fingers drawing circles upon your flesh as if to soothe you. 

You turned to Aemond, his eye on the sea of dancers on the floor. In disbelief that he was still holding your hand. You were in shock that he was willing to keep up the pretense so immensely— a pretense of unity that none seemed to notice, for your hands were tucked under the table. 

When Aemond felt your stare, he turned to you, and you searched for the familiar cruelty and hatred in his eye; you found none. “Do you wish to dance?” He asked, and your lips parted in shock, taking a moment to comprehend his words. You could only nod, your husband leading you to stand. You were silent as he placed his hand on your waist and pulled you closer to his body. The other dancers disappeared to make room for you and your groom, a slow, mellow melody enveloping the great hall as the eyes of your guests were turned to you and Aemond. 

You stared blankly at his chest, eyeing the metal buttons of his vest, and tried to ignore the erratic beating of your heart. Aemond took in a deep breath, your scent intoxicating his senses more than the wine he had indulged himself for the night in preparation for the later activities. When it was the end of your third dance, you finally spoke, “I’m quite tired,” You said lowly, and Aemond gave a curt nod, taking your hand into his once more and guiding you to your seats. 

Five more songs passed with you and Aemond in complete silence when your sisters appeared by your side. “Sister… we’re to help you to prepare for the… night,” Rhaena said lowly and cautiously. You feel your stomach drop and your nod. You stole your hand from Aemond and excused yourself before disappearing with your sisters, Aemond’s eye following your frame until you fully disappeared away from his view. 

Aemond gritted his jaw as he felt his brother clap his shoulder, “Are you ready for the bedding ceremony, brother? I hope you still remember what I have taught.” Aegon teased and took your vacated seat. Aemond stayed silent and downed another chalice of wine, ignoring his brother. “But it is fine if you are not ready… perhaps I could substitute in y—“ Aemond turned to his brother with a severe glare. “One more word concerning my wife, and I will cut your tongue,” Aemond gritted, and Aegon’s amusement only grew. “There he is— there is the boy who wanted no one else but our niece.” Aegon grinned. 

“You are a great actor— you almost had me fooled, but no amount of hate you display could make me forget about the little boy who would follow around our strong niece like a lost pup,” Aegon’s grin grew wider, and he quickly stood to walk away before his brother turned violent. 

Aemond downed another cup before he had no choice but to join you in your chambers. He stood by the door and took deep breaths; the shy little boy in him returned, and he had no idea how to cope. Aemond bit his lip and mustered all his courage to step inside your marital chambers. He knew neither of you could perform what was expected that night— as much as he wanted to perform his duty, he knew in himself he could not.

Aemond walked in quietly, his eye on the floor as he entered. Aemond heard shuffling, and he lifted his eye. Lilac orbs placed on a screen divider lit by the flickering light of a candle, your silhouette traced upon the thin paper of the divider as you fixed your shift. Aemond felt his knees weaken, taking a seat on a chair, his eye still fixed on your shadow. By just the outline of you, of your peaked apples straining through your shift and your graceful body turning behind the divider, he already felt pleasure wash through the whole of his body. His cock painfully straining in his trousers, he would think by the amount of wine he had downed, he would be left slack that night. 

You took in deep, calming breaths as you stepped out of the divider and decided to wait for your husband, but to your surprise, he was already seated in your chambers. You looked at him wide-eyed, having the urge to cover your body, but you reminded yourself that this intimacy was part of your marriage— at least tonight. 

Your gazes did not meet as you stood by a distance from where Aemond sat. The crackling fire between the two of you is the only sound surrounding the room. You gulped before you stepped close to your husband, footsteps overly heavy with every step taken in his direction. “Kneel,” You hear aemond grit, and you frown at his words, ready to fight his order, but you remind yourself that just for tonight, you will do your duties as a wife. 

Aemond was left breathlessly as he watched you slowly sink to your knees. He bit his tongue harshly as his eye went to your plush thighs pressed together, having the urge to squeeze them and feel if your skin was as soft as his mind imagined. 

You waited, wrapped in anticipation of what was to happen next. You shuddered as you felt his cold hand come to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. Your eyes fluttered to a close at the surprisingly gentle touch, your body moving closer to him without any way of controlling it. As your eyes were still fluttered close, you felt the familiarizing way of his lips upon yours. You felt yourself already quivering and you placed your hand on Aemond’s leg to steady yourself. Aemond leaned forward to feel more of your lips, his cold touch placing itself on your shoulder, feeling the bare skin as the sleeve of your shift had dropped off. 

You moved to part from him, out of breath with the kiss you shared. The taste of him and wine imprinted on your tongue. Rose your gaze to meet his eye, and you saw that the lilac orb had turned dark. Without another word, Aemond smashed your lips once more. Kissing you more fervently and pulling you to stand. You whimpered as you felt him bite your lip and pull down further the thin cover you wore. You were in a daze as his lips kissed your sand, and his hands roamed your body, harshly gripping your behind as he led you to the bed. 

It was his turn to part your lips. You lay bare on the silk sheets of the feathered bed, his standing before you still fully clothed, and you feel a rush of embarrassment course through you, showing its evidence on your cheeks. Aemond hastily undid the buttons of his vest, eye still locked with yours; he did not miss the embarrassment and perhaps even scandal in your eyes, the tell-tale sign of your purity, and he could not help but succumb to more pleasure by the thought. 

You shifted your gaze as Aemond stood bare before you, the image of him quickly engraving itself in your mind. You bit your lip as you waited for him to shift his weight atop yours, but you were left perplexed when, from the side of your eye, you saw him sink to his knees. You propped yourself on your elbows as he pried your legs open, a deep frown on your face as you tried to comprehend what he was doing. When you noticed his head straying closer to your cunny, your eyes widened in further scandal. 

“What— Aemond, no!” You say breathlessly and try to close your legs shut, but his hold on your thighs is too strong. “You told me we must perform our duty, wife… let me perform them,” You could only fall back on the plush mattress as you felt the foreign feeling of lips upon your cunt. Aemond sucking upon the pearl of your cunt as his tongue would dart out and tease the bud. You breathed heavily and bit your lip to prevent any sound from being heard, which only made Aemond double his efforts, wanting to hear you be wrapped in utter pleasure. 

Aemond groaned at the taste of you, palming his length as it already wept, crying to be inside you, but he knew he must prepare you first. That he must savor you like this, for he did not know if after this— after this initial duty, when would be the next time he’ll have the opportunity to have your cunt against his face. 

Aemond finally pried a moan from you, smirking as he moved his finger to tease your folds, a louder moan coming from your lips as he teased your entrance. “A—Aemond,” You called as he inserted the digit, your body rigid and back arching the sensation. “Such a tight cunt… you kept yourself pure for me,” Aemond hummed and groaned as he felt your legs wrap themselves around his neck, pushing his face further to your cunt. He chuckled, and the vibrations from it made further wetness escape your cunt, your hips, your hips gaining itself upon his face; his finger found a companion, and the digits curled inside you. Brushing against the rough spot that spurred you quickly into your climax. Aemond groaned as he heard your muffled voice moaning his name.

You stared at the canopy bed as Aemond rose to his feet and finally placed his weight upon you, his lips finding yours again. You taste yourself on his tongue, and you cannot help but moan, Amend smirking as you find pleasure in tasting yourself; you were quite sweet. 

Aemond finally gave in to his wants and aligned himself against your entrance, brushing away your tears that were quick to escape your eyes as he pushed further into your cunt. He was cautious with his movements, not wanting to cause you any unnecessary discomfort. He was patient, waiting for the pained furrowed in your brows to turn to a furrow of pleasure; when it did, his thrust was still cautious. It was some pleasurable torture; he needed more, but he could not be so cruel to present you with such pain. 

“Faster,” You breathed out as you felt his thrusts were too slow to bring you to the climax you now sought. Aemond was uncertain if he heard you correctly, so he played it safe and kept his initial pace. “Aemond… please, I— I need it faster,” You urged, letting go of any pride in you as your body needed him. Aemond blinked for a moment, comprehending your quest before wholeheartedly obliging. 

Your moans spewed loudly as his thrusts were deep and fast, his finger drawing circles upon your cunt and supper you further into your release. “Oh gods… Oh gods, Aemond!” You cried and clawed his back as you came undone. Aemond groaned into the shell of your ear as his own release was quick to follow, his lips finding yours as his seed rooted itself deeply in your cunt. The thought of heirs already festering in his mind. 

That night, Aemond held you in his arms as you slept. His mind was made; he would do anything for your marriage to prevail, for the past to be shed and be forgotten. For you to be happy and contented in his arms, for he already was. As long as he had you, the only girl he had and will ever want and love, he was perfectly content with this blessing of a marriage they had disguised as a curse. 

Part Two: Loathe to Love

[auroralwriting]

your beauty never scared me

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

you’re scared no one will ever love and understand you, but spencer always has.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: a bit of unrequited love, comfort/angst/fluff, negative self thought, spencer is always a sweetheart, reader has a darker aesthetic

Maybe it was the fact that you came from a broken family from a young age. No, you didn't have a bad childhood, but it wasn't ideal for a young girl growing up.

It could have been the bad high school relationships, full of boys who didn't understand how to treat a young woman. Stuck at their stupid baseball games or waiting for them to finish their video game, sitting alone on their bed waiting for them to finish.

The most likely cause for your fear of love was simply the fear that no one would ever truly understand you, and therefore, never be able to love you right.

If you looked deeper, though, much further past the surface level, deep into the core, you would've realized that Spencer Reid had been there all along.

When you first joined the BAU, Spencer Reid was a typical little nerd, the glasses he wore even fulfilling the stereotype. His rambles about anything and everything were endearing, and lead you to begin your friendship with the man after he told you the history of your favorite movies.

"...its distinctive style with his signature blend of dark humor and whimsy. His imaginative vision, influenced by German Expressionism, is evident in the film’s surreal sets and exaggerated character designs. Burton’s decision to cast Michael Keaton as the chaotic title character and his encouragement of Keaton’s improvisation contributed to the film’s memorable, unpredictable energy. The innovative special effects and makeup, along with the creative set design by Bo Welch, further showcased Burton's unique approach."

By the end of his rant, Spencer had expected you to have been completely focused on anything else, but your eyes were trained on him, a small sparkle flickering in them.

"Spence, how do you know do much about Beetlejuice? You haven't even seen it before." you'd chuckled.

"I think Tim Burton is an interesting director. Maybe we could, uh, see it together sometime? If you want, of course." Spencer awkwardly fiddled with his fingers, the suggestion of the two of you hanging out outside of the work settle rattling his nerves.

You had given him a big smile, beneath your dark clothes and makeup was a heart of white and gold, a truly captivating soul. "I'd love to, Spencer! I own it, so you can come over whenever."

"Whenever sounds good," Spencer paused, thinking about what he had just said. "I mean, Thursday?"

"Thursday it is, boy genius." That name was usually reserved for making fun of Spencer, but the way you said it actually made his heart flutter.

Spencer would've never guessed that the girl, clad in dark clothing, the complete opposite of his own aesthetic, would be interested in hanging out with him. Then, it happened. And it happened again, and again, until you became friends.

Your friendship with the doctor grew. As you got closer, Spencer began to identify your fears and your tells. You played with your hair when you were nervous, bit the skin of your fingernails when you were anxious, tapped your foot or bounced your leg when you were impatient. He began to understand you on a deeper level.

It began to be the same for you. You knew his likes, dislikes, fears and worries. You understood his struggles with his mother and father, how sometimes this job didn't feel like enough until he made a true difference in someone's life.

Spencer Reid and you had connected in nearly a cosmic level, and that began to scare you.

It was two and a half years after Spencer had met you when he realized he had been falling in love with you for nearly a year. His small crush had grown exponentially. After Haley Hotchner's death, you'd taken in Jack for several days while Hotch planned the funeral and began to clean the house from the murders. Jack had taken to you quickly; he'd gone as far as to call you his favorite aunt.

Seeing the level of compassion and helpfulness you had displayed for Hotch made Spencer begin to realize that your friendship was beginning to move to the next level for him.

He began to think of you night and day, wondering what you were doing, how you were doing, what your plans were. He wanted to be with you, to feel your skin, linger in your existence. It wasn't until JJ had explained to him that that feeling he felt was love that he began to understand that you were in no place for him to admit his feelings.

Spencer never meant to profile anyone unless he was working, but he found it hard to not with you. He noticed your lack of dating, how even when you had the chance, you evaded it. He noticed your disdain to the notion of true love, or love at first sight, or even soulmates. It didn't take him long to piece together that it wasn't a hatred of love, no, it was a fear of it. However, he could never understand the why of the fear.

Now, you and Spencer had met five years ago. You'd both physically changed in looks over the time, but your friendship only remained and grew passionately stronger.

After the death of Emily, and finding out she didn't really die, Spencer had you as his rock. You grieved together, to the point that for three weeks, you lived with Spencer in his apartment. After you'd left, Spencer realized that he couldn't live without you anymore.

Spencer and you sat on his couch, the cold September month made you crave an early Halloween movie. So, Spencer put on his own copy of Beetlejuice he bought a few years back. The soft glow of the lamp cast warm shadows across the room, and the faint scent of popcorn lingered in the air. You could hear the distant hum of the city outside, blending with the soft rustling of the movie’s soundtrack.

"I like Adam and Barbara," Spencer hummed as he watched the screen. "They make a really good couple."

You nodded, "I guess they do,"

Spencer's brows furrowed at your words. "You don't sound convinced."

"I don't know," You shrugged, sitting up and crossing your legs. "He's sort of controlling over her. It's just too much, she's a strong woman."

"You mean he's protective over her in the afterlife filled with dead people they didn't even knew existed?" Spencer raised a brow, turning to you. "I'm pretty sure that's relatively normal."

Turning your attention back to the screen, you replied, "I guess so,"

Spencer sighed, finally deciding to ask you the question he'd been avoiding for too many years now. "Why are you so scared of love?"

His question made you turn back to him, a confused look on your face. "What?"

"You're so pessimistic about it. You always avoid dating, talking about it, anything to even do with love." Spencer explained. "I'm just curious, why?"

"Because, there is no way love that strong exists." You concluded, folding your arms over your chest. "That's why it's all in the movies. It's fake for a reason."

Spencer nearly chuckled at your words, finding himself in disbelief. Sure, he didn't really believe in soulmates, but he definitely believed in love. "Sure love exists," Spencer said. "True love has to come from somewhere to be spoken about. It's why its so deeply rooted into art and literature. Plus, with the psychological evidence of--"

"Okay, okay," You put your hands up in mock surrender. "I believe you, Spence." You'd never cut off one of his rants before.

"This bothers you," Spencer noted, his arms mocking your previous stance as they folded over his chest. "Why does this bother you so much, what aren't you telling me?"

You let out a huff of air in reply, your defences kicking into full gear. "Why do you care so much?"

Spencer stuttered over his words, “Uh- because it clearly affects you! It’s not hard to notice your dislike of it, and I want to know.” Spencer defended. He could see it in your eyes, though. You were too good of a profiler to not know he was lying through his teeth.

“The real reason?” You sharply replied, hating that Spencer was lying.

“Because I’m in love with you,” Spencer’s voice was filled with desperation. “Here you are, constantly belittling the idea of love when that’s all I want to give to you, and I don’t understand why.”

His words cut you like a knife. You hadn’t expected him to say that, let alone feel it. It almost made you feel guilty. “No one has ever understood me, Spencer. I don’t want to settle for just anyone who will pretend for their whole life that they know me when deep down they will never be able to understand who I am, what I need.”

“You think I don’t?” Spencer challenged. He tried not to feel offended at your words, truly. Yet they hit him like a slap to the face. He felt like he understood you.

“Okay, prove it then.”

Spencer was ready for this, “Your least favorite cases involve those with divorced parents. Not because of the affect on their children, but the affect it takes on them. You hate to see when it hurts one of them, or both.” Spencer’s first claim was true, and it caught you off guard. “You hate anything with a pumpkin scent, however, you enjoy real pumpkins because of their look rather than their scent. You bite your lip, tap your foot, shake your leg, all when you feel negatively.”

“Anyone could profile that,” You weakly replied, feeling thrown off at Spencer’s careful acknowledgment of your little tells.

“Are you afraid of love because no one will ever understand you, or because you’re scared you’ll never find someone who will.” Spencer finished. He watched as your mouth opened and closed, the words not quite making it out. “I see you, I hear you. My favorite thing is when you tell me things about yourself, your day, your feelings. Any day without you is a bad day and any day with you is a good one.”

Spencer’s words left your heart beating faster in your chest as you began to realize this is what you were looking for all along, but your own fear that you would never find it blind sighted you to the truth. The truth that Spencer Walter Reid was in love with you.

Spencer often recalled his own struggles with relationships, remembering the long hours he spent studying while his peers socialized. With him being so much younger, he had no way to truly connect with them. The sense of isolation he felt growing up made him cherish the connections he built later in life, driving him to seek genuine understanding and affection. On the other hand, your own problems with family and bad relationships drove you to hold a near-resentful feeling to love. It made you feel like it was something you could never have. That was something Spencer was beginning to see from your perspective.

"Please," Spencer's voice was softer, more vulnerable as his eyes pleaded with you. "say something."

"I'm sorry," you breathed. For a moment, Spencer thought you were about to reject him, until he saw the glistening tears form in your eyes. "I-I should've known sooner."

Spencer nearly chuckled, "I didn't want to make it too obvious."

"Spencer?" you asked.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Why do you love me?"

Your question made his heart nearly crack at the raw fragility your tone held. All he wanted to do was to take you into his arms and sing you sweet nothings until you believed him, but right now that wasn't an option. "I love you because you're unapologetically you," Spencer's reply made you finally lock eyes with him. "You're so sweet and kind, you never try to hide the things you like and dislike. You're so bold and brave. You make me feel so alive, so wanted. Every moment with you is a reminder of how extraordinary it is to be around someone who radiates such genuine warmth and enthusiasm."

"You really love me?" Your voice felt meek in comparison to how your normal assertiveness and bravato sounded. Your heart felt three times bigger in your chest as a tear dared to slip down your cheek.

Before it could even leave your eye, Spencer brought his sleeve over his hand and soaked it up gently with the cuff. "I love you with every part of me."

"I think I want to love you, too." you admitted. It felt hard to say those words, to finally give into your darkest, most vulnerable desire of unwavering love.

"Even with your fears, you're beautiful." Spencer softly reached to graze your cheek. "This, your fears, nothing could ever scare me. I'll teach you to let me love you if I need to."

"That better be a promise," you slightly chuckled, holding your pinky out to the man.

Spencer smiled, locking his pinky with your own, "It's a promise."

As you held Spencer’s pinky in your own, a sense of peace settled over you. The weight of your fears began to lift, replaced by a tentative hope. "Maybe love isn’t as impossible for me as I thought," You whispered, reaching out to hold his hand. Spencer’s smile was both a promise and a comfort, signaling the beginning of a new chapter in your lives.

[strangererotica]

SOAKED 𓇢𓆸

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Summary: After Reader is stranded by a carriage mishap, she finds herself lost in an attempt to make her way home alone. Luckily for her, another carriage happens to cross her path, belonging to none other than the Viscount Bridgerton himself…

In keeping with Bridgerton’s vibe, Reader is a young woman with zero sexual knowledge or experience. I imagine she’s around nineteen or twenty years old and while she has had suitors, none of them have inspired in her the feelings Lord Bridgerton evokes…

While enjoying your evening ride, your carriage had broken down. To the great frustration of your driver, you’d insisted on walking home alone. It wasn’t in good taste, for a young woman to be out walking unattended. But you were in an exploring mood, and wanted to do your exploring alone. The company of your carriage driver was something you were honestly glad to be rid of.

Despite being reasonably close to town, you’d somehow managed to wander in the direction of the forest rather than home. Night was creeping closer, trees casting shadows across your path as you looked up at the sky, trying to find your bearings.

A large, cold drop of rain ‘plopped’ against your forehead, making you flinch. Several subsequent drops followed, till the situation quickly became a downpour. You raced for shelter beneath the trees, cursing under your breath as your ankle twisted on a large root sticking up from the ground. The trees were basically useless at shielding you from the rain, Autumn having stripped their branches almost entirely of leaves.

Your hat was soaked, its brim flattened against the sides of your head. The pretty dress you’d chosen to wear that afternoon was now caked with mud at the trim; you realized you must look incredibly foolish right now, but certainly not as foolish as you felt.

The sound of horses’ hooves approaching caught your attention. You looked down the road to see a carriage drawing closer, rain bouncing from its roof and sides. When the carriage came to a stop just by you, a stab of panic shot through your chest. What if it was someone you knew, discovering you out here looking a complete mess? And even worse, what if the carriage belonged to a man?

The carriage came to a full stop; the door swung open, and the handsome, familiar face of Anthony Bridgerton emerged. Your heart thumped inside your chest as his jet eyes raked over you, a mischievous smirk turning his lips upward. “Unusual night for a walk, Miss (Y/N),” he remarked, his tone playful.

Despite your embarrassment and the wet state of your clothing, you attempted a curtsy. “Indeed it is, Lord Bridgerton,” you replied. “I was out for an evening ride, when my carriage broke down.” You pointed past you, unsure of which direction you’d actually come from at this point.

“And your driver?” Anthony asked, seemingly unbothered by the rain pelting his hat and shoulders. “What of him? Am I to assume he left you unattended? At the-.” He bit his lip, running his eyes over your breasts, your nipples visible through the soaked material. “-Mercy of whomever should find you?” he finished.

You felt your cheeks going red, in spite of the chilly rain running down your skin. “It was my choice, I assure you,” you explained. “I insisted he allow me the chance to take some air, alone, on my journey home. I had not expected…” Your voice wavered, words failing you as Lord Bridgerton’s penetrating gaze made you weak.

“The rain?” he offered, an eyebrow lifted in amusement. “Understandable, Miss (Y/N). It seems I’ve found you absolutely drenched.” His eyes scanned your breasts and back up to your face.

Anthony tilted his head, acknowledging your ankle. You hadn’t noticed, but you’d been keeping your full weight off of it on purpose. “Your ankle,” he said, his tone sympathetic. “Is it sprained? You seem hesitant to apply pressure to it.”

“I twisted it on a raised root,” you explained. “It is not badly sprained. More of a discomfort, really-.”

“Regardless,” Lord Bridgerton interrupted. “Leaving you to manage on your own would be unconscionable. I insist-.” He extended his hand for you. “-That you allow me the honor of delivering you home.”

There was no way around it; you had to accept the offer. Taking a soggy step forward, you reached for Anthony’s hand and allowed him to help you into the carriage.

Immediately, you felt embarrassed by the way your wet clothes were dripping all over the carriage’s interior. The horses’ hooves sounded, followed by the familiar tug as the carriage was pulled forward. You could feel the Viscount’s gaze resting on you, but were too afraid to meet it. You’d harbored feelings for him for years, and had often wondered what it would feel like to have his attention fixed solely on you, to be the object of his interest. Now that you were in exactly such a situation, all of the practiced lines you’d rehearsed in your daydreams had completely vanished.

You pressed your thighs together, a familiar ache blossoming between them…a tightening, throbbing sensation similar to your heartbeat. You weren’t sure what it was, this odd pleasure mixed with pain; but you always felt it when you were in Lord Bridgerton’s presence, and sometimes, it occurred while simply thinking of him. You’d come to associate the feeling with Anthony, loving the sensation even as it frightened you. Not unlike your feelings for the Viscount himself.

“You needn’t worry about making a mess,” he remarked, and you froze. Because for a moment, you worried Anthony knew of what accompanied the feeling…the clear, slippery fluid that inevitably wound up wetting your inner thighs, whenever you thought of him.

He pointed to the seat across from him, which you were sitting on. Panic seized you, till you realized he was obviously speaking of the mess your rain-soaked clothing was making inside the carriage.

Your cheeks went rosy and warm again. Anthony noticed, and smiled slightly, as if holding onto a sweet secret that pleased him. “Upholstery can be mended,” he explained. “And on the subject of things that need mending…”

Anthony reached forward, taking hold of your injured ankle and lifting your foot to rest on his lap. Your eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. What could he possibly be thinking, touching you in such an intimate way?

You watched his fingers as they gently undid the laces of your boot. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a wicked glimmer reflecting back at you. Anthony removed your boot, and delicately rolled the lace cuff of your sock downward, exposing your ankle. When his fingertips brushed your skin, the contact of his touch went straight to the aching space between your legs, as if a line were somehow connecting those parts of you.

A shiver ran through your body, your hips bucking as Anthony softly stroked your skin, coaxing his finger lower, till he was cradling your foot in his hand. Every subtle movement of his fingertips sent a flash of heat straight to your center, setting you ablaze with something you’d never felt before. The familiar throbbing between your legs was suddenly burning, the pleasure mixed with a pain that kept increasing, as if demanding some kind of release, though you didn’t know how to relieve it.

Anthony watched you with an unbearable intensity-could he not see that you were unwell?-his smile long departed and replaced with something darker, almost hungry, like the focus of a predator locked in on its prey. Your body jolted as if struck. Anthony observed your behavior in stoic silence-was he angry with you?-all the while continuing to delicately stroke your skin, as if he couldn’t see the way your body was completely overcome by his simple, tender ministrations. Tears burned behind your eyes as the ache within you throbbed harder and harder, pulsing in time with your racing heartbeat. You gripped the edge of your seat, your eyes squeezing shut, air leaving your body in gasps.

You realized you must have been dying…surely, there was no other way to explain this frenzy that had overtaken you. But just as you were sure you were dying…you were flying. The world went white in your field of vision, as the tension inside your lower body finally gave way. A brand new feeling, of absolute rapture and inexplicable bliss, pulsed at your core in waves, rippling and shattering its way through you. Relief washed over you, a light sheen of sweat covering your skin, chest heaving as you recovered from whatever beautiful, brutal attack your body had just endured.

Your eyes opened on Anthony, whose expression was even more intense than before. Certain that you’d upset him with your embarrassing fit, a sudden shame humbled you. “Forgive me, Lord Bridgerton,” you panted, tears welling in your eyes. “I am unwell. I do not know what came over me just now, but I must apologize for my intemperate behavior...”

Anthony’s expression softened, unlike his lap, which now felt stiff and uneven beneath your ankle. He cleared his throat, before assuring you that “everything is alright, (Y/N).” Hearing your name leave his lips, your first name and not your family name, was like hearing an angel speak. “You’ve done nothing wrong. And I promise, you are not unwell.” Lord Bridgerton’s eyebrow lifted slightly. “Quite the opposite, in fact,” he said.

“But-.” You watched as he rolled your sock back over your ankle. “-I must be ill, my Lord-.” Anthony slid your boot back over your foot. “-Or perhaps a demon momentarily seized hold of me-??” Anthony chuckled slightly, his eyes on the laces of your boot as he fixed them. “-I must rest,” you decided. “To make sure this doesn’t happen again...”

Anthony bit his lip and grinned. “Well,” he conceded. “Perhaps you’re right. Some time in bed might be just what you need…” Anthony leaned forward and took your hand in his. “…In case that frightful feeling returns.”

Your lips parted, his nearness an alarming reminder of the feeling he conjured within you, the aching pulse between your slippery thighs reigniting. “I…” You tried to speak but the words wouldn’t come, not with his hand holding yours, his lips so near to your skin-

-A rapping on the carriage lurched you from the trance you’d fallen in. You hadn’t even noticed that the carriage had stopped moving. A driver opened the door for you, offering his hand to help you out. “Thank you, Lord Bridgerton,” you said, exiting the carriage. “I’m so grateful for your assistance today.”

Anthony nodded politely, a warm smile on his face. “It was my pleasure, Miss (Y/N),” he said, and as you turned toward your home, “I’ll call on you later this week, to see how you’re recovering.”

You felt your heart rate kick up a notch. “…from your sprained ankle, Miss (Y/N),” Anthony clarified, though the suggestive glimmer in his eye implied otherwise. You watched as his carriage retreated, starting on unsteady legs into your home. Your dress was still soaked, wet with rain and something else…something only Anthony Bridgerton was able to conjure in you, the product of a secret it now seemed the two of you shared, together… 🩵

PART TWO

[chocosvt]

HER | teaser.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader teaser word count: 1.4k actual word count: 140k (yes, u read that correctly) genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings for the full fic: drug use (weed, coke, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: as i descend to one knee and cup my hands together at your mercy, i offer a tidbit to the wonwoo fic i have finally completed after two years (lol). i know i ALWAYS say this, but i truly wasn't expecting the fic to be THIS FUCKING LONG! thankfully, i planned it well and although i lost momentum countless times (nervously side eyes the approximate & several 5 month breaks i took in between), my dedication to seeing the characters through & "completing" their growth was smth that i could not leave behind!

not having posted a fic for two years is prob a little much :0 so hopefully the length of this makes up for it (?) usually my writing is just teehee silly little romance agonizing slowburn surface level dilemmas of the self BUT THIS ONE HAS A LITTLE KICK!

so read it if you want! don't read it if you don't want!

hearts & flowers, xoxoxo (me :*)

UPDATE: read the first part here!

—MARCH 19TH.

“I have a relatively big favour to ask of you.”

 No. Wonwoo didn’t want anything to do with favours.

The fact that Seokmin had actively picked out his presence in the coffee shop like he was some shiny contortion of plastic had actually offended Wonwoo. He came here for two things: to not be bothered, which his friend knew, and to work on the book he was halfway through typing and had been halfway through typing for the past six months. Call it writer’s block, or an inspiration drought, or an absolutely depressing lack of drive—it had been hanging over the writer with an annoying persistence and it seemed that no number of lemony scones or cold coffees were going to make it vanish.

“Uh, Wonwoo?”

“Sorry… what?” He forced his gaze to shift from the blank page on his laptop to Seokmin’s apologetic, softly expressional face, slightly flushed from his time outdoors in the chilled March weather.

“I was just wondering if you’d be up for a favour—a pretty big one—and I know this is your special creativity spot, but she’s been like, breathing down my neck about it and I can’t put it off again.”

“Whose been breathing down your neck?”

At first, Seokmin didn’t say a word, or even make a sound. His lips twitched for a moment, but then he pressed them together and his chest visibly sucked in with a breath. God, Wonwoo hated the suspense and he hated Seokmin for interrupting him when he had been so stupidly close to putting a sentence down that he probably would have back-spaced in frustration a minute later.  

“Y’know…” he trailed off, “Her.”

Her.

No, not her, you.

But most people—if not everyone—referred to you by an alias that had seemed to stick so well the majority believed it actually was your name. When people said her they meant Her, and so in a confusing mess of finger-pointing they really meant you. Come to think of it, Wonwoo had no idea where the nickname even came from or who gave it to you or what it even meant.

And he was perfectly fine with never knowing.

“What?” Wonwoo deadpanned. “What on earth could she want to do with me? She doesn’t even know me.” He slid down in his chair, fingers pulling at his circle-lensed glasses so they tilted uncomfortably across his nose bridge. “Or, is this a joke?”

“Oh—no! Absolutely not!” His friend was insistent on proclaiming, vigorously shaking his head. “I’m being serious.”

“Why don’t I believe you then?”

“Okay, well, if you let me explain everything, it’ll all make sense. I said I know someone who writes really well—”

“Meaning me?”

“Yes, meaning you. And the only reason that was even brought up is because she wants to write a book.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help it. He laughed—a very short, disbelieving laugh that flashed a transient smile to his face as he readjusted his crooked glasses. You were the last person he would ever envision wanting to write a book. He then navigated the trackpad on his laptop, deciding to close the document simply titled, 01, that harboured the fleet of pages to his own current work in progress.

“Yeah,” Wonwoo disregarded, “sounds like bullshit.”

“I’m telling you the truth!” Seokmin exclaimed, gripping onto the metal back of the café chair like he was squeezing someone’s taunt shoulders. “She won’t tell me about what, okay? Just that she’s been thinking the idea for a while now. It’s not like I didn’t try to get details. But she refused—said the only person who can know is whoever’s going to help her. Look, y’have to understand, she was pestering me about it nonstop. And you’re my only writer friend!”

“Well, you’re about to have none.” He answered, reaching for his coffee cup but stopping it just short of his lips. “How serious is she about this, anyway?” Wonwoo sighed. “Do you know how much fucking time you need to dedicate to writing a book?”

He stomached a slow, somewhat grimacing sip as he tasted the coffee’s coldness, meanwhile Seokmin swallowed heavily, and at last pulled out the chair he’d been white-knuckling to take a seat.

“Yes, I’m aware it takes time. I know that. And she is serious or else I wouldn’t be here, bothering you. She takes everything seriously.” The boy began unbuttoning his sleek black jacket. “Really, who knows what’ll happen? Maybe you’ll meet her once and she’ll decide she can’t stand you, and then you’re off the hook for life.”

“Yeah, well have you ever considered what might happen if I can’t stand her? Are my feelings even being considered? Minutely?”

“Minutely, they are being considered.”

“Liar.”

It wasn’t that Wonwoo disliked you.

In actuality, you scared him more than anything. But to be associated with you was to be drawn into your life and caught like a firefly in a glass jelly jar. The proof was right in front of him—to Wonwoo’s eyes, Seokmin was basically your little mailman that scrambled around in hectic nature to do your bidding, because most tasks apparently weren’t worth the time or effort.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to rope me into this. You know I can hardly write my own shit, right?” Wonwoo said bitterly, wishing it was the opposite, “my mind is a desolate, blank canvas of fuck-all and if she thinks I’m writing it then she needs a reality check.”

“No, no—of course you won’t write it!” Seokmin reassured him with his big, opalescent smile. “Really, you’re just giving tips, maybe guiding her process, helping with the planning… you know, this could be facilitated so much easier if you spoke to Her yourself!”

“So, my nightmare?” Wonwoo huffed, shaking his leg.

In an instant, Seokmin had whipped out his phone, tapping around the screen quickly using his thin pointer finger.

“I’m just going to pull up her schedule. It’s always pretty packed, but more into the summer break, it thins out a little. “

Wonwoo exhaled, staring off into the warm, afternoon sunlight that hailed in through the windows, striking all the shimmering flecks and pieces of dust afloat in the café air. When he breathed in again, he could smell the luxurious coffees brewing in their rich and distinctive notes. It was such a beautiful day—still chilly as the snow outdoors began to thaw—but pleasant nonetheless.

“This is such a fucking waste.”

And Wonwoo spent it being miserable.

“No, it’ll be useful. Trust.” Seokmin chirped.

“You’re trying to dip me in your optimism gloss again.”

His friend smiled affectionately, tilting his head.

“This will be good. You’ve been a hermit since I’ve known you.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo scoffed, “so you think it’s a good idea to shove me with the person I relate to least on the entire planet?”

“Really? The least? So, what you’re saying is, you relate more to serial killers? Or animal abusers? Or like, literal fasc—”

“Stop.”

“You want to do this. I can see it in your eyes. I’ll set you up.”

A part of Wonwoo knew there might be no wriggling out of the situation, especially with Seokmin sitting across from him, characteristically eager and brightly pushy as always, like a goddamn salesman. For now, it could be easier to let himself get cuffed.

“Can I at least have some time to think it over?”

“Uh… well… the thing is… the thing with that is—”

“You’ve cornered me?”

“I wouldn’t word it like that.”

“… Okay.” Wonwoo removed his glasses, shoved his knuckles tender but deep into his eye sockets, massaging through flashes of white as he came to accept a fate he didn’t know even existed in his astrology. “Just, I don’t know—fuck—schedule me in wherever.”

“Ha! It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“I really don’t give a damn how it works, Seokmin.”

“Right,” his friend laughed nervously, “I promise that I’ll get back to you pronto. Sorry for the disturbance. And, uh, good luck.”

 “With what part?” Wonwoo grumbled, fixing his spectacles back on to clarify Seokmin’s sympathetic face, the light bouncing off his head of brassy hair like a disco ball. “My incapability to write a goddamn thing or the fact I have to help your perfectionist friend who’s probably going to chew me up and spit me out?”

 “Both parts.” Seokmin grinned. “It can only go up from here.”

✧✎ a/n: tada!

this is the introductory scene! i think i've read it so many times that i could probably recite it from memory at this point ;_; anyway! as i mentioned, i know that it's been a hot minute since i last uploaded any scenarios. but one way or another this monster is getting posted! i did NOT have this lurking on my poor tired macbook causing it to overheat and sputter and spew FOR NOTHING!!

i swear that i don't plan for my works to get this goddamn long. before i hardly planned at all. maybe now i plan too much? i guess i have yet to find a happy medium!! but again, i do hope the size of the fic makes up for all that missed time :_( life has been ruff. but this fic was there as a handy distraction mechanism (when i prob should have been facing reality fhwejfhwk) so i guess it's been a double-edged sword!

also just want to preface that the reader goes by an alias throughout the fic. i'm not sure if this is like... a very huge or popular concept nowadays? so if it hits your reading ear a bit weird at first i apologize! but i swear it has purpose!! *chekhovs rule* *winkwink*

ANYWAY! no more rambling!

i'm pondering the idea of adding a taglist for those who are interested, just as i did with honey boy :3 so if that tickles ur fancy then feel free to each out!

BUT PLZ HEED THE FOLLOWING:

the fic in its entirety will be split across 6 parts

the word count of each part ranges from 22-24k!

i do not YET have a set posting schedule, simply bc i am unsure of how long it will take ppl to get through each part

(so that would be smth i'd have to gauge afterward)

REVISIT THE WARNINGS!!

i will not be flagging mature/nsfw/triggering scenes throughout the fic as the fic itself already has a heavy nature to it

so pls read the warnings!

if there's any additional questions i encourage u to swing by :3

*deep breath*

THANK YOU!!!!!

[pinkroseblooms]

Boy Toy

Sugar baby!Toji Fushiguro x Sugar mama!f!Reader

Summary: You try to break things off with Toji; needless to say, he does not take it well. wc: 5.1 Warnings and tags: this story contains smut, dirty talk, cursing, rough sex, begging, emotional manipulation, toxic behavior/relationships, some soft!dom/bratty!sub elements, a clingyyandere!toji, possessive behavior, obsessive love, some angst, some fluff, all twisted af.

a/n: I see a lot of Sugar daddy!Toji content and wanted to switch things up a bit with some emotional feels. I also ended up listening to Rick Montgomery's "Boy Toy" on repeat and got ideas. Personally I headcanon that if Toji ever did somehow develop genuine love for another person it wouldn't necessarily help him chill out this time around, he'd just become more unhinged.

His things are in a pile, close to the solid red oak door; they’ve been packed away in brand new luggage carriers and on top is the duffle bag Toji had initially used to carry his stuff in for overnight stays.

If it were anyone else, Toji would have expected the various articles of clothing and personal items that had steadily accumulated inside your spacious home to be thrown out carelessly like trash on your equally spacious lawn. That or burning in the firepit. 

If it was anyone else but you, it’s what Toji would have expected, but you weren’t petty that way; even now as you stand before him, arms crossed, gaze almost blank, you radiate a certain measure of dignity. It’s one of those things Toji’s come to admire about you over the past year. It’s effortless, that magnetizing charm you exude; he liked it right away.

“You can keep the bags, sell them if you want.” Your lips form a small but rueful smile. “I sent you a check; call it a severance fee.”

“I thought I didn’t work for you anymore.”

Toji hasn’t considered you a client in months, though really, a mark was more accurate. You were disgustingly wealthy with a cute face and that was all he needed to pounce on the offer to be your bodyguard and occasional companion to the odd social events. Even cleaned up and polished, Toji was able to keep others away in droves, exactly what you were aiming for; you found social obligations tedious and his handsome yet intimidating presence kept everyone around you from lingering too long and insisting on taking up too much of your time and attention. Toji spent the first three or so months in your company essentially as an employee and he was satisfied with the arrangement. It would have been so easy and simple, it should have been, had you not burrowed your way into his head, like a bullet piercing bone. 

Dammit he never should have fucked you. Toji had every intention of keeping things professional. He should have kept his distance, he certainly shouldn’t have let his fingers trace your skin after zipping up your dress, and damn you by the way for looking over your shoulder at him with those pretty doe eyes and not telling him off when the second you caught Toji leaning in, almost like he wasn’t realizing he was doing it, to get a whiff of your scent mixed with the perfume he had said was his favorite. 

“You don’t have to keep the charade up anymore; it’s insulting at this point. I won’t force you to stay here.”

“You’re dumping me.”

“No. That would mean we were actually dating. Toji…Fushiguro-san, I made a mistake.” You’re almost talking to yourself as you look over Toji’s tensed shoulders to the entrance of your home. “I was fooling myself, thinking you could open your heart to me. But, I knew what I signed up for. So, no, I won’t leave you without any job security until you find your next meal ticket.”

“You’re not-”

“I heard you. Please, it’s not like you to back track on your words, so don’t start on my account.”

Toji was bragging over the phone, giving a verbal middle finger to an asshole of a former employer who demanded Toji’s services for a hit. You overheard him refer to you as a “piggy bank” with a pretty face, among other things. Shortly after ending the call, Toji left to work out (he couldn’t get too lazy, got to keep in shape to protect his favorite girl) and grab some food (on your card) only to return to this. You didn't even give Toji a chance to greet you with the usual flurry of kisses and a bear hug before telling him point blank he was leaving and now.

Even as Toji struggles to wrap his mind around your abrupt change in demeanor, with that practiced look of almost serene impassivity, you look so good to him, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and tiny bike shorts. You always dress down at home, in comfy, baggy things. Toji supposes you packed away all the sweatshirts you’ve collected from him with everything else of his. 

“You won’t even let me apologize?” Toji stands stiffly in the foyer, next to the bags; behind him is the front door, still open, as if waiting for him to step outside. “It was all shit talking. I didn’t mean how it sounded.”

“That doesn’t make it better and it’s not just that. You’ve been hot and cold lately. Admit it: you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge me as anything but an obligation.” You exhale slowly, rubbing your temple. “I’ve tried to be understanding; you lost your wife and I realized it would be hard. I knew that, I knew there was a chance that no matter how close we became, I was never going to be enough for you.”

You put up a good front, but Toji can recognize the faint tremble in your voice, see how your jaw locks slightly, as though you’re holding back curses. He’s hurt you. 

“Baby, c’mere?” Toji opens his arms with a pleading half smile. “You’ve been stressed lately, that’s all. You’ve been working hard and I haven’t been showing my appreciation properly, is that it?”

“Oh spare me. Listen, I won’t swear revenge or sick henchmen on your trail.” You go on, calm as can be, not budging an inch. “The check won’t bounce and all your things are there; if I missed anything, I’ll send it to you. You’re free to go.”

Toji stares at you in disbelief, arms dropping to his sides. You could have just as easily said "you're dismissed" with that cutting tone of yours.

“Are you fucking serious?” 

When you fail to respond, he suddenly turns from you, but not to storm off. Instead, Toji slams the front door closed so hard, it’s a wonder the whole structure didn’t come crashing down. You don’t so much as flinch when Toji strides up to get in your face.

“I want my stuff out of these bags.” he snarls. "Now."

“There’s no need to make a scene. It’s not like you’ll be without a benefactor for long; I bet you could find another meal ticket just walking down my driveway. The whole neighborhood is full of lonely rich women, you can have your pick.”

“You’re not a meal ticket. You know that, you know I didn’t mean it dammit!”

“Enough.” You raise a hand up, your voice clipped. “Fushiguro-san, you have your things, plenty of money, and my own promise to leave you in peace. What more could you possibly want? What exactly is it that you’re holding out for? You don’t expect me to fund you indefinitely, I’m sure.”

"Why are you acting like this? Like you don't even give a shit?"

Toji’s hands clenched into fists; he’s radiating power and murderous intent, but you don’t look swayed or even scared. You know he wouldn’t strike you. Just the idea sickens him; no, it’s not you he’s actually angry with. 

“I’m a fucking idiot who wanted to show off, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Fine. Now we’re gonna talk this out like adults, I’ll put this shit back-"

“No, you will not. I want it gone. I want you gone. Don’t you understand?” You tell him firmly, eyes finally averting to the pile of bags. Toji’s puffed chest deflates at the sadness that finally touches your inflection. “I’m disappointed enough as it is; can’t you do this one thing for my sake? Why are you insisting on dragging this out?”

“I want to put it all back.” Toji blurts out stubbornly, so loud his voice echoes in the high ceilings. “You can’t do this to me, I want to stay.”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “What exactly am I ‘doing to you’?”

“Come on, this is so silly, kicking me out over a misunderstanding.” Toji lowers his voice, a smile coming to his lips as he attempts to charm you once again, hands coming up to gently grasp your shoulders. “You’re breakin’ my heart here. You said it yourself, it’s a been over a year, you know me-”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” Toji steps forward, a strained grin on his lips. “You do. You know me and you know you’re my best girl.”

“Out of all the others?”

“Best and only; I haven’t been with anyone else in months.” Toji rubs his hands over your arms but you only give him a look of derision. “I’m not lying; tell you the truth, ever since we went out to the beach, it’s only been you. Remember that trip?” he grins softly, nuzzles your temple; he knows you want to lean into him, you’re just being stubborn. How adorable. He loves when you get grumpy and need his help relaxing. “I showed you how to make a fire and we fell asleep outside on the hammock. That night was something else...you’ve been the only one ever since. Baby, I swear, there haven't been any other women.” 

Toji inches closer, hands shaking slightly where they grip your shoulders; his love bites are still visible, some more faint than others; his arms ache to hold you. You’re so close, so what’s with this wall you’re putting up? 

"I want to believe that."

"It's the truth."

Toji isn’t sure how or when it began, but before he knew it, you were calling just to talk and ask how he was doing, if he needed anything. You requested he join you not just for meetings as extra muscle or posing as a date, but on walks and meals, having conversations about the weather to debates about the nature of man to whether toast was better with jelly or jam. You’d take Toji out randomly on shopping trips and end up buying him pretty much anything that caught his eye. Anything Toji wanted, he got, and along with it you increasingly showered him with praise and affection. 

When the sex began Toji thought he got you out of his system the first time, only to end up not just repeating these trysts, but staying longer and longer after he fucked your brains out. It was borderline embarrassing, how quickly Toji found himself lulled in by your pillowtalk as you encouraged him to sleep in, promising you’d have breakfast ready for him in the morning. Sometimes, Toji would come over when you weren’t even home with the spare keys you gifted him and promptly burrow himself in your bed until you were due home. The whole room smelled sweet and it was so cozy being wrapped in the down blankets. Toji's eyelids would get heavier as he wallowed in your scented sheets ike a pig rolling in mud until the combined aromas of your perfumes, lotions, and natural scent clung to his nostrils, soothing and oddly familiar; within minutes Toji would be out like a light. After some of the best rest he had ever gotten, Toji would wake up to you stroking his head, petting him like a dog, and asking him what he would like for dinner. 

Eventually, inevitably, came the point of no return. During that beach trip Toji told you about his past; he didn’t go into too much detail, mainly that he had loved someone and he was pretty sure lightning only struck once. You didn’t get jealous or angry; you simply kissed his knuckles and put your hand over his, not saying much of anything while Toji spoke. That night on the beach you held his hand and allowed him to reminisce at his own pace into the early hours of the morning, until he was too exhausted to do anything else but hold you and the two of you stayed that way until noon.

That peaceful, almost unreal night, Toji realized you actually gave a shit about him and he didn’t know what to do with that. Regardless, you made it clear you didn’t expect to own his heart and soul. You only promised to take care of him. 

“I was being stubborn, you know how I get sometimes. You’re my one and only, baby, can’t we just forget about it?”

“I want you to leave.”

“No.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

“No!”

Toji’s hands cup your cheeks and he winces at the disgust in your eyes; why are you looking at him like that? 

“Okay, okay, let me make it up.” Toji’s voice is sweet as pie; he leans in, practically purring in your ear. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you how sorry I am.”

“Get. Off. I knew you were shameless, but this is...”

You might as well have slapped him across the face; Toji’s smile falls as you glare like he’s some repulsive insect, a leech, like the thought of him touching you is making your skin crawl.

Toji’s hands retract from your face, expression blank. “You’re really serious.”

“Don’t give me that kicked puppy look. As if you don’t have women on speed dial to call up. Why don’t you make up with one of your other meal tickets? I’m sure they’ll have forgiven you by now for however you wronged them-”

“I told you there isn’t anyone else. Don’t do this.” Toji mutters, head hanging; his chest throbs, he can feel sweat trickle down his temple. “Don’t make me go.”

It’s doubtful you could forcibly remove Toji from your presence, but that’s beside the point. It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“No, I’m really sorry.” Toji falls to his knees. “Don’t make me go.”

“Hey, wait, what are you…?”

Toji wraps his arms around your thighs, face pressed into your waist; you stiffen but he hangs on tighter, fingers digging into your hips almost painfully.

“Please, don’t make me. I wanna go upstairs, back to our bed. Listen, I,” Toji pries himself away from you just enough so he can look at you with glassy eyes. He’s panicking now, babbling and frantic as you try to pry off his arms. “Stop that! Baby, I got all messed up about getting too attached and I-I didn’t mean anything I said, you gotta believe me.”

“Toji, let go!” 

A cold sweat makes Toji’s already tight shirt stick to his tensed back muscles; he feels like he’s being choked. How could you do this to him? All he wants is to stay with you, whether it’s as a bodyguard, a hired companion, a fuck toy, hell, he’ll settle for being your pet if that’s what it takes to get you to take him back. 

"You promised you'd take care of me." he mutters, ignoring your vain attempts at freeing yourself from his unyielding hold. "I don't...want it to be anyone else."

Toji won’t let you go. You’ve made him lazy and spoiled with your pampering; he doesn’t have to work if he doesn’t want to, never has to worry about money or food or rent, and he never has to wake up alone anymore. Whether Toji’s angry, tired, bored, or as of late, happy, you’re the first person he thinks of. You give him everything and now you’re trying to cut him off.

"You let me go right now!" You slap at his shoulders, try to pull back his head from where it's pressed into your midsection. "Are you even listening?!"

With a distressed moan, Toji nuzzles your tummy, kisses the skin peeking out from your sweatshirt riding up under his forearms; his rough hands relax their grasp a fraction to caress your hips. 

“Let me stay. I won’t answer calls from my old bosses, I’ll quit betting. If I look at another woman, gouge my eyes out. All you have to do is tell me how to fix things.” Toji smiles at you, one he knows makes women weak in the knees. “Don’t be mad at me anymore. I’ll make it up, I swear. I’ll do anything you want.” he promises between kisses and nips to your skin. “Why are we wasting time arguing? You know, I can make you feel so good. My poor baby, spending all day working so damn hard; you deserve better. I'll help take the edge off...you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can help, just-”

“Toji, stop-”

“Just let me dammit!” 

Toji feels you freeze up; you’re looking back at him with wide eyes. His stomach drops like a rock.

“Sorry…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

No. Now you look scared, maybe a bit concerned; is that for him? Toji can feel some warmth creeping into his chest in spite of everything; you’re so good to him. You went to so much trouble for him and he has no idea why. 

You can’t do this. You can’t treat him like a thing to be cherished and then take it all away. Toji just wants things to go back to how they were that morning, with you feeding him berries and syrup drenched pieces of fluffy pancakes, giving him teasing kisses in between each bite, asking what his plans were for the day as he lounges in your lap, wondering what he did to deserve to be so content and full and happy. You made him so happy.

“Shit.” Toji sniffs; he can feel them coming but can’t stop the tears leaking from his eyes. “Shit.” he curses again, bowing his head until it’s resting against your tummy again. “You can’t…you can’t leave me. I won’t let you. I won’t let you abandon me. I can’t-”

“Toji, calm down.” Your voice softens considerably. “Look, do you understand why I’m upset with you?”

“I know, I know I fucked up okay?” Toji croaks, still clinging to your legs. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? I already said I would do anything you want, so just tell me!”

“Sh, come on, breathe. I need you to calm down, alright?” You bend at the waist slightly, to card your fingers through his damp hair. “Okay, I believe you. I do. I believe you, Toji.”

“Are you gonna kick me out still?”

“No, I won’t for the time being. We can sit down and talk about-whoa!”

Toji wastes no time; he has you lifted off the ground in his arms. You quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders as he makes a beeline for the stairs.

“Slow down!” You glance backward in disbelief at how easily he bounds up the carpet steps. “How are you so strong? Don’t drop me, okay?”

But Toji doesn’t answer; he practically bolts, finally reaching the next level, races down the hallway until he’s at the door to your-the bedroom he and you share. Toji’s heavy boot easily kicks the door open, somehow without breaking it off the hinges; in record time you’re on the bed, but shockingly, Toji doesn’t start stripping you down.

“Toji?” You ask tentatively; he seems fairly out of it and you can’t help feel worried. “Toji, what are you doing?”

“Baby, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed, huh?” 

Toji kicks off his boots, gently sits you down in the middle of the mattress among the fluffy pillows and the cheap plush bunny he won for you at a crane machine. Nearly hyperventilating, Toji climbs into bed after you, snatches the sheets and comforter to wrap around the two of you in a soft cocoon. Toji grabs you, cradling you in close as he tries to even out his breathing; for a fleeting second you wonder if this is what stuffed animals felt, if they could become sentient, when children held them tight for comfort. Your attention is brought back by the man rubbing his face into your hair insistently, as if he could tell your mind had briefly wandered.

“Hey, are you-?”

“Don’t make me go.” Toji cuts you off hoarsely. “You love me, right?”

“I do.”

“Say it.”

“I do love you.” You confess sincerely, words muffled slightly due to your face being squished into his chest; his heart is beating a mile and minute. “I was hurt, alright? I want to be good to you, Toji. You have to let me though; you’re not the type to dance around an issue. I just want you to be honest with me and yourself.”

“Yes, yes, I want that. You’re so good to me, baby, thank you.” Toji wraps his legs around yours; if there was a way for you to mold into him he’d make it happen. “Can I move my stuff back in?”

“I…” You hesitate. “Maybe we’re moving too fast.”

“What? No we aren’t. If anything, we're not moving fast enough. Are you still thinking of leaving?” Toji grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him; his eyes look crazed. “You’re not right? You just fucking said you loved me-!”

“Hey, hey.” You put your hands over his gently. “If you really meant what you said before, you have to listen and be good. Can you do that for me?”

Toji nods quickly. You smile for him, finally, and it's a sight for sore eyes. How do you always look so pretty? Toji’s chest throbs and he hugs you, making your ear press against his heart; you can hear it, right? It almost stopped dead when you were glowering at him, Toji still can't believe he was so close to losing this. It's not going to happen again.

“I wanna touch you.”

Toji separates from you as abruptly as he had squeezed you to him; he hovers above you, tugging on the band of your shorts, your panties. He groans pitifully when you still look unsure. Toji hikes your legs up until your ass is pressed to his chest and he’s face to face with your pussy, still covered up. That won’t do: wordlessly, he rips the seams of your shorts apart and pulls your panties to the side. Gently spreading your pussy lips with his fingers, Toji makes sure to look you in the eyes while he lets a long trail of spit trickle from his tongue to your exposed clit. 

“See?” he licks a long strip over your slit, salivating at the taste. “I’m drooling for it, just like a dog….heh, I can be your dog. Is that what you want? I’ll fetch and roll over and beg.” he traces his tongue around your swollen clit. “All you gotta do is ask.”

You can barely form words, forget making requests, as Toji slobbers, licking and sucking until you’re dripping wet. Your hands grip the pillows and your head rolls back and forth; you can hardly speak and you’re more squealing than moaning when Toji starts using his fingers to fuck your soaked pussy.

“I’m loyal too. You’re not ever getting rid of me.” 

Toji pulls back, kisses and nips the inside of your thigh as he watches his fingers disappear inside you over and over again. He’s smiling down at you, dumbly, in a daze as you let out soft cries with every pump of his wrist, every time his thumb rubs a touch too hard on your clit. He’s the only one who gets to see you like this, composure gone, face flushed, eyes wide, hardly able to do more than moan and whine at his touches. Toji’s smile turns devilish; he purposefully pulls his fingers out and shoves them back in to draw out the squelch sounds from how wet he’s made you. He slowly drags his fingers out all the way and you inhale sharply from the sensation.

“It’s my turn to spoil you.”

Toji lowers your hips down on the sheets and quickly shrugs off his sweatpants and underwear; his cock bobs when it’s released and you’re a bit shocked at how hard he is despite not touching himself.

“Let me fuck you.” Toji rocks his hips, cock over the inside of your thigh. “You still want me, right?”

And if you think he’s going to stop at one round, if you think for a second one time is going to be enough and you somehow still plan to have him out on his ass, maybe you don’t know him. Toji’s fingers dig into your ass; he’s rutting now, throbbing and dripping precum all over you and the bedspread. It brings a twisted grin to his face, like he’s marking his territory. After all, this is where he belongs. If you won’t be persuaded by his touch and words alone, Toji has other ways, he just doesn't want to resort to making you afraid of him. 

Because he meant exactly what he said: you're not getting rid of him. If you try to, Toji will just come back. If you run, he'll chase, if you hide, he'll come looking. You've made him into this.

“’M being good, yeah?” Toji lowers his head to your chest to slobber over your nipples next, barely able to speak with his lips sucking and his tongue flicking over them. “I can keep making you feel good, just let me fuck you, let me put in in, let me wreck you-”

“Toji, I want to ride your cock tonight.” You play with his hair and kiss his jaw. “Can I?”

Toji doesn’t hesitate; he throws himself back to lie on your pillows, getting even harder as your scent hits him. He licks his lips in anticipation as you straddle him, stroking him once before lining the tip up with your pussy. Toji’s eyes roll in the back of his head as you slowly sink down, clenching tight; he has to grab at the sheets and force himself to be still, has to keep telling himself this is for you, he’s going to go at your pace and show you how good he can be, obedient and careful. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger and he loves it-

“It almost hurts. You're so hard.” You gasp when you’re fully seated on his cock. “Oh, Toji…are you going to cum soon?”

“Nah, don’t worry about that baby.” Toji grins up at you, face flushed and hands shaking as they cling to the pillowcase. “So good…it feels so fucking good when I’m all the way inside. Go on, use my cock to cum, ride me until your pussy can’t take it.”

You tilt your hips so the tip of Toji’s cock rubs against that spot that makes you see stars and your clit gets rubbed against him with every thrust. At first you have your hands over his chest, but when Toji tries to slide his hands up to grab at your tits, you stop him.

“Huh?”

“No, you don’t get to touch me.” You pant out, gently but firmly holding Toji’’s hands above his head. “Tha-that’s your punishment.”

Toji’s brow furrows; he’s practically pouting. He knows he said "anything", but he wants to touch you so badly. Your tits look good enough to eat, nipples slick and begging to be played with, and your skin feels like silk on his fingers. Toji watches, biting the inside of his cheek, tasting blood when you start bouncing, thighs taut and face contorted in pleasure as you get closer and closer to making a mess on his lap.

“Baby,” Toji groans. “Come on, let me, you’re close right? It’ll feel better.”

“I can cum like this.” You say playfully as you tap his pursed lips with one finger. “You said you'd be good.”

“Just wanna touch you....” Toji’s hands twitch but he doesn’t shake off your grip; he raises his hips and you let out a whine. “Please?"

You stop moving and Toji grits his teeth, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“Hey…why did you stop?” 

“Sorry,” You smile in genuine delight. “You’re really adorable, you know that?”

“Fuck, keep goin’,” Toji nibbles the tip of your finger before you pull it away. “Come on, keep making my dick wet,”

“So cute.” You cup his face and press a long, loving kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Toji, I really do.”

Toji can’t stop himself; he yanks you down, traps you in his arms and thrusts up. 

“Ah!” 

“Sorry, ‘m sorry baby. I gotta,” Toji slurs. “Ah fuck it.”

You shriek as Toji flips you over; he has your legs spread and lowers his face down to suck and kiss and bite at your breasts, slamming his cock as deep inside your pussy as he can go. He briefly touches your hair, patting your head as you scream and writhe, smiling down at you so warmly even as his cock splits you open.

“Can’t help it. Need it, need this so fucking bad.” 

Toji latches onto your neck, sucking so hard you think he might tear the skin; you cry out and your nails accidentally scratch long, red lines down his back and shoulders. You’re clawing and sobbing, completely overwhelmed underneath him. He’s fucking you like an animal with no regard for pacing or rhythm, holding you down and open for him to slam his cock inside your swollen little pussy. Toji straightens up to grind himself into you just the way he knows you like best, gently rubbing away at your clit, smirking at the way you gush around his cock. You’re so pretty like this, flushed and messy for him.

“Tell me again. Tell me you love me and I’ll make you cum so hard your legs shake.”

“Love you,” You gasp, arms wrapping around Toji’s bulging neck, drawing him in closer; you press kisses over his cheeks, nose, chin. “I love you, I-ah!”

Toji is done being patient; he keeps his thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing it harshly as he grinds his cock right into that spot, deep and hard; you’re never going to forget how his cock feels. Toji kisses you none too gently, lips prying your mouth open as he shoves his tongue down your throat; he really doesn’t even mean to be rough this time. The desire to devour you is overtaking him. 

He’s so close. Your pussy’s soaking, his head’s spinning; just before Toji’s about to cum, you muster up enough energy to hold him back tightly and pet his hair, moaning softly into the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist. Toji wanted to last longer, but it’s too much. Abruptly, he breaks the kiss and his mouth goes to your jugular; Toji swears he can feel your pulse under his teeth.

“Cum inside me.” You plead, whimpering into his ear. “I want it…want you, Toji, no one else.”

“Shit.” Toji presses his forehead to yours, hiking up your thighs; the bed is creaking and shaking with the force of his thrusts. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Toji goes rigid and still as he cums, cock suddenly painfully sensitive; when you smile tiredly and kiss the palm of his hand, actual tears well up in the corners of his eyes. It’s all too much. He didn’t know he could even still feel like this, feel much of anything anymore. You shudder from his hot cum gushing inside you, but Toji doesn’t pull out just yet and you don’t seem in a hurry to move him anyway.

“I think you broke my dick.”

“...pardon me?”

“Pretty sure your pussy drained me dry…fuck.” Toji chuckles tiredly, very slowly pulling himself out, smiling in satisfaction as his cum seeps out of you and onto the sheets. “Did you like that?”

“I loved it.” You tell him softly, just beginning to catch your own breath as Toji uses his shirt to gently wipe you clean between your legs. “Toji?”

“Yeah?” Toji tosses his shirt somewhere and lays over you. “You want me to get you something? I bet you’re real tired after that.”

You pause; you look very serious all of a sudden, all business once more. “Toji, we really should talk about ‘us’. I don’t think we can just return to what we were.”

“What? But you said you loved me.” Toji raises his head to glare at you. “You’re not seeing other men, so put that idea out of your fucking head.”

“That is not what I meant!” 

“Okay…what is it then?”

“I was going to say, are you sure this is what you want?” You ask carefully, looking into his eyes. “Is this really what you want?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Toji can’t believe you even have to ask; he frowns and clicks his tongue impatiently. “Fair warning, I’ll find you if you try to leave before I wake up.”

“I don’t doubt it, you’re an excellent tracker.”

“I mean it.” Toji mumbles into the crook of your neck, his heavy arm over your stomach. “You run, I’m hunting you down.”

“I wasn’t planning on making a grand escape; I was thinking something more along the lines of breakfast in bed.” You suggest and smile at the way Toji’s visibly perks up. “Oh, have you had dinner yet?”

“No, I came straight here from the gym.” he lies, eager to have you fuss over him. "I'm really hungry..."

“I’ll order in something; what do you want?” 

“Anything, just get lots of it.” Toji squeezes you. “But don’t go yet though. Wanna stay like this a little longer.”

“Whatever you want.”

In minutes, Toji is snoring and curled up in your sheets like a tuckered out puppy; his leg even kicks randomly. When he wakes up to the smell of warm food and your nails gently scratching his scalp, Toji yawns with a groggy smile and opens his mouth for you to feed him, licking crumbs off your fingers greedily. You really do spoil him. 

[dark-fics-4-you]

possible rafe request?! rafes gf makes him mad by being too friendly at an event w wards business partners so he fucks her at the event 😈

Golden Boy

Warnings: domestic violence, noncon, toxic relationship, jealousy,

You chuckled politely, trying not to glare at the thirty-something year old man in front of you. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help but put a little venom in your reply, “Well, I actually do have plans outside of my boyfriend. I’m going to college right now, and I’m actually in a paid internship that I got before Rafe and I met.”

The somewhat handsome, but definitely too old to be your type, business partner, whose name you had already forgotten, gave you an annoyed look, not expecting you to respond that way to his poorly hidden dig at you not belonging at this event.

It was true, in some ways. You were far from your side of the island, and no matter how much time you put into your make up and hair or the price tags of the many expensive clothes Rafe had bought you, the Kooks could always sniff out the people who grew up with nothing.

Before he could respond though, you heard your name being called from behind. Peering past the man in front of you, you could see your boyfriend waving at you to come over to him.

You didn’t even bother telling the asshole in front of you that you were exiting the conversation, you just did, quickly returning to Rafe’s side.

“Ugh perfect timing, that guy I was just talking to was a total jerk,” you whispered in his ear as you gave him a hug.

“Baby, didn’t I tell you to try to get along with these guys?” He seemed angry and you could tell that this event was already stressing him out a lot. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides and everything about him was somewhat jittery, like he wasn’t in his right mind.

“I mean, you know I need to look good in front of them while my Dad’s watching. It means a lot to him.” You looked into his eyes at his words and noticed two things. One, Rafe said it meant a lot to his dad, but you knew it was more about how how much it meant to him. And two, his pupils were much wider than they should have been.

Rafe had obviously done some coke before tonight, trying to calm his nerves and give him some confidence, but it was only doing the opposite.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you look bad, but I don’t think it’s fair that I can’t defend myself in front of the people here who are looking down on me.” You shot back at him, annoyed for more reasons than one. “I’m being polite to them, but it would probably be easier for me if you were by my side to stop them from being so rude to me.”

You lowered your voice before speaking again, “And also… I don’t think you should be doing so much coke right now.”

Rafe’s burning glare alone was enough to make you regret saying anything, the return of his tight grip on your arm was just a sick formality at this point, reminding you of the previous bruise he had left in that same spot that you had to cover with makeup for this event.

After being with your boyfriend for so long, you knew the lengths he would go to when he felt personally wronged.

You learned very early on that Rafe was never one to hold back on his verbal abuse, and his physical abuse was no different, although he always tried to keep both incredibly private due to the damage that could come to the Cameron name if it ever came out that Ward’s son, the golden boy, was hitting his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, Rafe. I just care for you, that’s all. I promise I’ll be polite to your dad’s friends.” Your meager apology seemed to be good enough for the moment, and your boyfriend gave you a silent nod after staring at you for several unnerving seconds.

“Be polite, don’t share your opinion, and just keep your mouth shut for the most part. Let them talk about themselves, and they’ll probably think it was the best conversation they’ve had all day.” Rafe grumbled, but his mood improved when he tilted your head up, pressing his lips to yours, large hand still resting under your chin. You kissed him back for what you thought was an appropriate amount of time, but when you tried to pull away, he held you in place, tightly wrapping an arm around your waist and forcing you to kiss him back.

By the time he released you, you pulled away to see several people staring at the two of you, and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Rafe was always doing things like that in public when he felt like other men were threatening your relationship, he always needed to prove himself and stake his claim on you. Let everyone there know that you belonged to him.

“Remember what I said sweetheart. Just try to act like you belong here.” He smirked at his obvious jab at the very thing you felt the most self conscious about right now, before he calmly turned heel, approaching another group of stuffy, rich assholes across the large room.

Your huff of frustration must have been loud enough to be heard by someone standing near you, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

To your surprise, when you turned around you were greeted by a man who looked to be about your age.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He held out his hand, which you grabbed, giving him a firm handshake, just like Rafe had taught you.

“Yes I am, although I’m not quite sure if we have met before?” You lightheartedly responded.

“Ah, my apologies, you haven’t, I’m James, I work with your boyfriend at Cameron Development. He’s honestly a blast,” the man, James apparently, chuckled as he recalled several stories of work assignments with Rafe. This led to the two of you exchanging several funny work and college tales.

Despite never having met James before, you felt an instant chemistry with him, nothing romantic at all, of course, but you found him very easy to talk to, and to your surprise, after glancing at your watch, you realized that the two of you had been chatting for nearly 25 minutes!

At this realization, your blood instantly ran cold. Where was Rafe? Why hadn’t he checked on you? Had he seen you talking to the same guy for nearly half an hour, clearly enjoying yourself the entire conversation?

As if he could tell that you were thinking of him, Rafe suddenly appeared several yards away from where your conversation with James was taking place. There was a scowl on his face, and you could tell by the way he was advancing on you that he was pissed.

“Hey, Y/N, why don’t I give you my number, just so you have it?” James innocently asked, completely unaware of the anxiety coursing through your veins and the fact that your boyfriend was in earshot, pushing through the small crowd behind him to reach you.

Before you could even open your mouth to politely decline, Rafe was speaking for you, “She’s not interested.”

You didn’t have time to say goodbye, because your boyfriend was dragging you away from your new friend, his grip harshly digging in to your bruised arm.

“What the fuck did I tell you, Y/N?” His voice was even and calculated, but he couldn’t hide the rage simmering beneath the surface.

“You told me to-”

“I told you to get along with them, not to try to get into their pants.” Rafe growled, pushing you into the closest room with a door he could find, which happened to be Ward’s office. You landed on the carpeted floor, wincing in pain when your elbow absorbed most of the fall.

“Rafe, I promise, I was just having a good conversation.” Your voice was beginning to waver, the weight of the situation that you had found yourself in was beginning to sink in. “He’s your coworker, is it so wrong that I talked to him?”

“Stop lying! I know what I saw! You would have to be an idiot to not realize that he’s trying to fuck you too.” You would have been worried that someone could hear your boyfriend berating you, had it not been for the music playing throughout the house, and the thick walls of Ward’s study.

You realized how sad it was that you only knew that because Rafe had now loudly hurled insults at you in every room in the house he could at this point.

The blond stalked towards you, grabbing you by the wrist and yanking you upright. “I mean, did you seriously think I wouldn’t notice? You think that little of me, Y/N?”

“Rafe no, I-”

You felt the air in your lungs disappear as your head snapped to the side, a sharp pain in your cheek blossoming across the now reddened skin.

“You don’t get to talk back to me right now!” Your boyfriend yelled in your face. You had barely processed his slap when you felt him moving you again, although now you felt much more numb.

Numb to Rafe roughly manhandling you before he bent you over his father’s desk, numb to the feeling of the cold, hard wood on your face as Rafe held you down, numb to the feeling of him pushing your fancy dress up and rudely yanking down your panties before harshly pushing two fingers inside you, and numb to the tears that were now spilling onto Ward’s desk.

“Such a fucking slut! You’re soaked,” he darkly chuckled, but there was no hint of humor in his voice. “Is this all for me, or is it for James?” He bitterly wondered aloud, and when you didn’t give him a response fast enough, you cried out at the feeling of him smacking your ass.

“F-for you, Rafe,” you choked out through your tears.

You could hear him removing his belt, the sound of it hitting the floor was enough to trigger your body to begin quaking with fear and anxiety.

“Aw baby,” he cooed, and you flinched when you felt his fingers in your hair, lightly brushing some of it out of your eyes so he could look at you. “Don’t act so scared. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. Well, at least, not until after the party’s over.”

His laughter made you feel sick, but even worse was the shock you felt when Rafe spread your pussy and sheathed himself inside of you without warning.

You saw stars for a few moments, the surprise catching you off guard and he was able to slide deeper into your tight walls.

“Rafe!” You gasped, unable to fight back, as your arms were pinned beneath you, and your boyfriend’s large chest prevented you from moving.

His fingers tangled into your hair, gripping a handful tightly as he pushed your face into the desk. His hips were snapping against your ass, fucking you harder whenever you futilely tried to break from his hold.

Every time you tried to escape mentally, to tear yourself from the reality of what your boyfriend was doing to you, he brought you back, snapping his fingers or groaning your name into your ear as he forced himself deeper into your wet cunt.

You were sure that your hips would be bruised from bumping into Ward’s desk as Rafe fucked you against your will. Another reminder of all the lessons he insisted that he had to teach you by force.

Every sharp thrust was a warning that this was him holding back. This was him being nice. And you knew better than to further aggravate Rafe when he was on a power trip.

And that was exactly what this was all about. The power and privilege that Rafe held over you, that he used to hurt you time and time again, without ever facing any real consequences. This was about reminding you that you belonged to him and at the end of the day, Rafe Cameron was untouchable and unstoppable, the Kook King, the golden boy of one of the richest families in the Outer Banks.

“You are my girlfriend, Y/N,” Rafe growled. “It’s time you started fucking acting like it.”

[gabessquishytum]

While I love Dream with past shitty partners before he meets Hob having his his mind blown after he finally experiences what a good partner actually is' how about...

Hob was Dreams first love, and with that his first everything, They did the whole romance cliché of childhood friends to a serious relationship (complete with years of pinning) on the very edge of marriage with a white picket fence and kids Dream and Hob have the worse fight ever seen by either of their families, in the end Dream storms out into the rain and Hob is left yelling at him from the doorway (1889 anyone?).

Within a week Dream has moved away to pursue his dream as a artist and writer and Hob is on a plane to start backpacking around the world. The break up is swift and painful,

Eventually Dream starts dating again, but he quickly realizes that he keeps attracting the wrong sort of people; Killala started chatting up some guy obsessed with stars the second she thought his back was turned. Alianora had only dated him because Desire dared her too, Nada has tried to use him to further her families business and Titania had already been fucking married! The less said about Cori the better.

In a different world perhaps Dream would have clung on, would have delt with it and accepted what he could get. Just believed it was all he was worthy of but the thing is Dream has already experienced what it was like to have a partner who sees you as an equal. Who loves you is faithful to you and who cares about your opinion. Dream knows what he is worth and it was so much more than what any of those peoples were going to give him.

Over a decade and a half later and Dream returns to his hometown for the first time with his little Orpheus on his hip. The boys mother Calliope was a fellow lover of the arts and a famous singer. Their combined passion had lead to several award winning pieces and the creation of their beloved son but three months into a relationship had proven they were just not compatible for anything long term but Dream is forever thankful for her steady friendship.

With Calliope away on tour and no deadlines for him to complete Dream takes his son to the local park where the boy becomes fast friends with another little boy named Robin Gadling the only son of recently widowed Robert (Hob) Gadling.

It seems the Hob with his wonderfully soft dad-bod and slightly greying temple can still ignite the same burning desire within Dream as he did when Dream was a young bright-eyed twenty year-old.

This is so glorious, can you imagine their eyes meeting across the park, past the swing sets and slides and toddlers tugging on their hands!!! Dream is sure he must be, well, dreaming. He's thought of Hob often in the past few weeks that he's been back around town, occasionally fantasising about what he might look like now. He just wasn't expecting to see his former lover and have the word "daddy" immediately pop into his head.

And it seems that Hob is, literally, a daddy. He kneels to speak to Robin, who is gesturing wildly towards Orpheus, and Dream can't even move because seeing Hob being attentive to his son is just. So beautiful. But of course Orpheus drags him over to Robin and Hob gets to his feet and he's somehow even more glorious. Dream didn't think it was possible but he immediately falls right back in love with a man he hasn't seen for over 15 years.

Hob is shy and a little withdrawn, seeming like he doesn't want to offend Dream or freak him out by being too friendly. Truthfully Hob doesn't want his heart broken again. And maybe he'd be better at resisting temptation, but Robin wants more time with Orpheus and Hob can never resist his son's puppy eyes. So he finds himself sitting beside Dream on a bench, just like how they used to feed the birds together in the old days. Their thighs brush together and Hob feels like they were never even apart. He could just hold Dream’s hand right now and they could go back to how it used to be. He hopes that Dream feels it too. That he won't be disappointed that Hob is tired, and grieving, and not in the shape he used to be.

Maybe Dream will work up the courage to tell him that his weariness and the fact that he's a little frayed around the edges make him all the more perfect. Because they match each other, perfectly.

[ladydostoevsky]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐳𝐲

𝐓𝐖: 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐝, 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭?

You walked the halls of the Red Keep to see your brother, the King. He has weakened the past few years. He is seriously ill and you are very scared for him. You feel sorry for him, you really do.

You haven't heard much about Rhanyra and Daemon, your niece and older brother. You have tried to send several letters to them, but no replies.

You finally arrived at the doors of the king's bed chambers. The knights bowed on either side and opened the door. "Princess y/n Targaryen, your grace," one screamed. You entered the room. In front of the fireplace sat your sick older brother, the King, and beside him stood your sister-in-law, The Queen Alicent. She turned around and smiled happily. “Y/n” she said and hugged you.

You have very nice relationship and get along very well. You were grateful to her for taking care of Viserys. You ended the hug. "My queen" You whispered. You turned your glance to your brother, walked beside him and knelt next to him. "Brother, how are you?" You asked softly. You heard the door close and assumed that Alicent had left you alone. "Who is it?" he replied weakly. You felt tears in your throat but you held them back. "Viserys, it's me. Your sister, Y/n" "Aah Y/n. Of course. My dear sister. I feel like I'm gonna die any moment" he joked. Your eyes widened. "Don't say it like that, Viserys! What would Rhaenyra think? You are strong, brother. You are a Dragon, like Daemon, like me," You said softly sobbing now. Viserys placed his hand on top of yours which was on his planket. "The one who was promised. The long night… it's… the promised…" "Viserys? Viserys!" He turned to look at you, confused. "I think.. I need to rest a little," you nodded and stood up. "I'm gonna tell Alicent," and after saying that you left.

⎯⎯⎯⎯

The garden had always been your favorite place. The smell, the colors, the picture was just breath taking. You walked around until you saw your niece, Helaena sitting alone on one of the seats there. You walked over to her, smiling sweetly. "Helaena, how are you?" She turned her attention from her hand, where a yellow butterfly rested, to you. Her face lit up when she saw you. "Aunt! Sit, sit!" and so you did, your red dress swaying with every movement. The butterfly flew away and she took your hands to hers. "I'm fine, aunt. Today is a beautiful day, isn't it? Did you come from seeing my father?" she asked hurriedly. "Today is a very beautiful day, my darling. Yes actually I did. Your mother told me you'd be here," her face fell. You frowned and put your hand on her shoulder. "Is something wrong, me dear? Are you spending much time here?... Alone?" she looked at the floor dreamily.

"I don't have anyone to talk to most of my time. Father is sick, mother is busy with Kingdom, Aegon… does his own things, Aemond also don't care. You're the only one I have, aunt." "Don't ever say such things again," you took her head and hugged her against your chest. She hooked her arms around your waist, strongly. "Never Helaena. Your parents and brothers love you, they really do. I love you. You don't have to feel alone, never." She took her head from your arms and looked you into the eyes dreamily. "I wish you were my mother, y/n." You looked at her sadly and hugged her again.

What you didn't hear were the words she spoke to herself. "The one who can't fly can't breathe fire."

⎯⎯⎯

After that you were to search your two nephews and talk with them about Helaene. Like you expected they were on the training ground. You watched from the balcony as Aemond's and Aegon's swords clashed. A few knights and lower lords around them. You knew how proud they were. They liked to show off, especially to you. You never knew why thought.

You made your way down the stairs. The knights and lords bowed when they saw you. "Make way to Princess y/n Targaryen," this took your nephews attention. Aegon smirked. "Came to see how I beat this brat's ass and cheer me up?" he asked arrogantly. "Not today, Aegon." Aemond looked at you with narrowed eyes. He never liked how his brother talked with you. "Actually, I would like to talk about Helaena with you," Aegon groaned and rolled his eyes for that. "My lovely aunt. Can we not talk about her again. I'm about to win this battle and I would like some cheering with your beautiful voice." Next thing you knew Aegon was bleeding from his right hand. The maesters ran to him and took him to his chambers, while Aegon cried and whined dramatically.

You looked at Aemond, shocked. He had thrown his bloodied sword to the ground. He looked unbothered. "He got too close to you." You had nothing to say. What was wrong with these boys? "Aemond… I have to talk with your mother about this. This is not…" "Don't worry, he has seen worse battles," he mocked his brother. You shaked your head, turned around to walk away and said, "I need a hot bath. Now." "I will see you at the dinner, Aunt," said Aemond, watching your beautiful figure walking away.

[reivrze]

OH, SAY IT DITTO ♡

pairing. popular!jungwon x shy!reader

genre. highschool!au, fluff, reader has a huge crush on jungwon

word count. 0.8k

warning. none

a/n. this was inspired by the song "ditto" by new jeans :) the ending was kinda rushed lmao sorry, hope you guys enjoy ! reposts are immensely appreciated as they help my works get recommended, reblogs help the algorithms so thank you for all those who take time to repost my work ♡

exam season had come around at a rapid pace, and your free days now consisted of little solo dates at the library going over the notes you had taken in class. this morning was like every wednesday morning except your first two classes had been cancelled, and you had decided to take a little trip down to the library to occupy your free time.

as you entered the library, you greeted the woman sitting at the front desk, having been here so many times in the past few weeks that you had gotten to know several of the staff. getting closer to your usual table, you stopped suddenly seeing an unfamiliar presence sitting in your chair. trying to get a closer look, you sneaked behind the bookshelves, peeking out to see who was the mysterious person. your face flushed a bright red the minute you realized that the person was no one other than yang jungwon. the boy you had been admiring for the past ten years.

you had first met jungwon went you were eight in elementary. he had been the new kid, causing quite a stir amongst the students, his extroverted and hypersocial personality gaining him new friends almost every day. his arrival had awoken something new, he had given you your first experience of having a crush and boy did you not expect this crush to stick for as long as it had. how could you not fall in love with someone with such a boy-ish vibe and adorable smile ?

now here you are, staring at him through the bookshelves, debating on if you should just leave and come back later or try to find another seat. if you had the confidence, you would've gone sit at the same table as him, but unfortunately for you, that wasn't the case. letting your mind get stuck in this trance as you watched him read one of his textbooks, you hadn't noticed him lift his head up, his eyes catching yours amongst the books.

blinking out of your little daydream, your breath caught in your throat as you realized you were directly making eye contact with jungwon, his eyes curious as to why you were looking at him from afar. you felt a jolt of surprise course through your body, momentarily freezing you in place. caught in the act of observing him from behind the bookshelves, you could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. however, instead of turning away or pretending nothing happened, jungwon's expression softened into a warm smile.

breaking the spell of shyness that held you captive, jungwon motioned for you to come closer. with a mix of hesitation and excitement, you cautiously emerged from your hiding spot, making your way towards the table where he sat. as you approached, he slid his books to the side, clearing a space for you to join him.

"Hey, I noticed you peeking at me from over there," jungwon said playfully, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. "Want to sit with me? We can study together."

"Oh.. Sure" you offered him a little smile that he was quick to reciprocate. jungwon had felt comfortable enough during the time that you guys had spent together, going over the last chapter the teacher had gone over. the conversation seemed to flow with ease, you'd steal glances once in a while, not quite believing that you were actually sitting face-to-face with the boy you had dreamt about all those years.

as time passed, you found yourself really setting in the comfort of his presence, some part of you wondering if this comfort was simply rooted in jungwon's social personality or was it really that you two had easily connected. the time to go was nearing and both of you had started to pack up your belongings, your heart sank a little at the knowledge that this might be a one-time thing. just as you were getting to say goodbye and make your way to class, jungwon grabbed your wrist, turning you back around.

"Hold up- This might sound random considering this was our first interaction but I understood my lesson so much better with this one-hour study session than what I've learnt all semester and if you want, we can meet here tomorrow again after classes. you're fun to talk to and quite cute" he chuckled the last part, trying to ease any discomfort you might be feeling.

your mind went blank. you had never, in a million years, expected him to ask to meet you again. slightly overjoyed, you eagerly blurted out a yes. jungwon laughing at your surprised face at your own self. and just like that, you guys had planned your first little date, unknown to both of you that years down the line you'd still be a prominent part of each other's life.

© miyu 2023 - do not copy, translate, repost or plagiarise my work anywhere !

[moonlight-prose]

DEVOTION

a/n: this is just pure filth. literally no plot, but it was needed at this point. i've been back on my moon knight shit for awhile now and am working on several fics for them in the new year. so please enjoy the small interlude of smut before i get back to my regularly scheduled angst. (also yes this gif was necessary). everyone thank dia for dropping some of the best lines in this fic. her mind is unmatched.

co-conspirator/writer: @softanon🖤 (this is literally just the conversation we had word for word)

summary: marc needed to relax, but things don't go as you expect them to.

word count: 4.2k+

pairing: marc spector x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, filth, p in v sex, gratuitous oral (m receiving), bondage, slight dom!marc, rough sex, cum eating, cumplay, biting, edging.

“You’re meant to be relaxing,” you said, watching as Marc paced around the living room for what felt like the millionth time that night.

“I am.”

You scoffed, setting your glass of water down. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep going.”

He didn’t find your comment amusing, opting to ignore you in favor of doing another lap. After days of donning his suit and title as Moon Knight, you asked him to stay home. To relax with you until the next day where his routine would start all over again. Except you never accounted for the fact that relaxing was not a term Marc understood well. In fact, you were fifty percent sure that he didn’t know what it meant in the first place, constantly exerting himself in favor of actually resting.

Eventually your patience would run out—you knew that much. So, when he decided to turn around one more time, heading straight for the kitchen only to do exactly what he’d been doing for the past twenty minutes, you snapped. Getting up from where you sat, you reached for his arm, gripping it so tight he froze midstep. Normally you held a tight reign over your emotions, never allowing them to slip free. You just couldn’t handle seeing him unable to do the one thing you wanted for him.

“Please sit down before I tie you to the chair.”

If he wasn’t listening to you before, he was now. “Tie me to the chair?”

“Yes…” The incredulous expression he wore faded, a new one taking over. One you’d seen before. His lips curved upwards, eyes lighting up as he took in the sight of you slightly frazzled and on edge.

“You want to try?” His smile widened and you couldn’t decide between kissing him or actually going through with what you planned.

Tying him to a chair shouldn’t have been too difficult. Sure, he possessed immense strength and powers, but you had one thing over him he never saw coming. You smiled, tilting your chin up—the defiance burning in your eyes—and you saw him waver. You watched his eyes dilate, his chest heaving as he inhaled a sharp breath. He was captivated by you, a sight he’d never tire of seeing. Which made tricking him easier for you than even he anticipated.

“I really do Spector,” you breathed, emphasizing his last name in the way you knew he liked. 

He liked knowing that he was what you wanted. That while you loved Steven and Jake as much as him, it was Marc that met you first. Marc that made your head spin in that first kiss, brought your walls down with a single look, and captured your heart with his gentle touch. He belonged to you. He knew that from day one.

Tugging on his shirt, you pulled him towards you, capturing his lips in a kiss that melted him. You’d always say kissing Marc was entirely different from kissing Steven. Where Steven hesitated, Marc took, he devoured you—leaving nothing behind. He yanked you closer, his tongue sliding against yours as you breathed a heady moan into his mouth. Marc would never tire of your taste, always craving the flavor of your favorite tea on your tongue, the slight mint of your toothpaste. 

All that together mixed with the perfume he bought you and suddenly he was at your mercy.

He stumbled, feeling you push against him until eventually somehow you ended up in the bedroom. Kissing you stopped time; everything ceased to exist except you. You and your soft hands and warm skin. He moaned, palms sliding up into your t-shirt, delighted to find out that you had forgone wearing a bra today. That combined with the fact that it was his t-shirt you wore made his head spin even more. He was throbbing in his sweatpants, his heart racing so fast he was certain you could hear it.

One last push sent him tumbling into the overpriced desk chair you bought him (well technically Steven but sharing was a part of the deal), followed by you climbing on top of him. He didn’t care where he sat, couldn’t even coherently tell you with confidence where he was. All his brain let him comprehend was your tongue that slid along his, your hands that tugged off his shirt before they reached behind him for something.

By the time he realized what exactly you were doing it was too late. He pulled back, accidentally nipping too hard on your bottom lip, as you finished adjusting the leather belt that was wrapped around his wrists. Binding them together.

His eyes flew open to see your pleased smile as you adjusted your spot in his lap. Purposely grinding down on his hard cock to hear that soft grunt you loved. Normally it was you at his mercy, willingly complying to everything he wanted. But to finally be helpless to you (or as helpless as he could be with superpowers), made his whole body heat up. His cock throbbed when you licked along the prominent vein in his neck. A gasp leaving his lips at your touch.

“Relax,” you murmured, pulling away from his head that tilted up towards yours in an effort to catch your lips in a kiss.

“Baby c’mon,” he replied, his words tinged with a pleading tone he’d never used before.

He watched your eyes light up, your smile deepening at the sound of him begging and he knew he was done for. He’d give you anything to get you to look at him like that again. The unfocused look in his eyes told you exactly what he was feeling. After all, he’d seen the same look in your eyes each time he gave you an orgasm so intense it caused your brain to short circuit.

Not feeling the need to respond, you slid out of his lap until your knees hit the floor—his leg parting unconsciously to give you room. The sight caused his mouth to part, his chest heaving with every breath he took. Marc wanted to render you incapable of speech. He wanted to watch you fall apart in his arms while you came on his cock. He wanted you, and he tugged on the tight bind the belt had on his wrists.

Your eyes snapping up to meet his gaze with a glare stopped his movements.

“I said you need to relax,” you sniped, hands sliding up his thighs and stopping right below the waistband of his sweats.

“Let me fuck you and I will,” he replied, grinning breathlessly at the sight of your eyes unfocusing for a moment. “This was fun, but I promise I’ll relax much more if you—”

The words died on his tongue as his breath was punched out of his chest, a groan ripping from his throat. Marc’s head fell back against the chair the second you pulled his sweatpants down and took his cock into your mouth. There was no warning, no foreplay where you stroked him until he was a mess in your hands. Somehow that made all of this hotter. You wanted him to relax your way by giving him this.

He gasped when you pulled back only to engulf him in the wet heat of your mouth again. His gaze fell back down to you and he had to refrain from cumming then and there. Your eyes were glassy with tears, spit trailing down your chin as you came up for air every now and then. Marc was leaking, practically dripping down your palm and that somehow made all of this worse. Yet he silently begged you to keep going. The taste of him was salty and intoxicating, causing you to moan with each spurt of precum that landed on your tongue. 

Licking at the head of his cock you watched his mouth fall open, a whiny breathless moan hitting your ears. His hips jolted with each lap of your tongue, a broken please falling from his lips. Pumping the rest of him steadily you watched him grow closer to the edge. Each drag of your lips along his cock—tongue pressed to the thick vein that ran beneath it—dragged him towards a climax that would leave him incoherent. He could practically taste it on the back of his tongue.

“Fuck baby,” he gasped, his head tilting back as his hips attempted to thrust up into your mouth. “I’m—shit—‘m gonna cum.”

He felt the familiar tug in his stomach and right as you sunk down lower on his cock, taking him into your throat with a muffled moan, he knew he was done for. A shout left his lips, but was cut off suddenly, the feeling now fading. He whined, eyes focusing on you sitting back on your heels with a shit eating grin on your face.

“What the fuck?” he whined. “Why…why did you stop?”

Pressing your head down on his thigh you watched his cock jolt from your close proximity. “You wouldn’t listen when I said you needed to relax.”

“So you decide to edge me?” he asked, trying not to snap at you.

You giggled, kissing his clothed thigh. “Had to make sure you were paying attention.”

If he wasn’t so keyed up he would have melted from that sound alone, but his body was thrumming with the loss of an orgasm. His arousal now spread like liquid fire through his veins. He wanted to cum. No fuck that. He needed to cum. Tugging on his restraints again, he felt tempted to summon up a part of the suit—just to break himself free. But you blowing air on his cock, your hand wrapping around him again, silenced that thought immediately.

“Are you going to relax now honey?”

He’d do whatever the fuck you wanted. “Yes,” he breathed, watching wide eyed as you wrapped your already swollen lips around his head. 

A shiver wracked his whole body at the soft kitten licks you were giving him, his eyes threatening to close.

“Are you going to be good for me?”

The words didn’t even register in his mind before he nodded frantically, his hips pushing up into your mouth when you took more of him.

“Yes,” he panted, his hands tightening into fists. “I’ll—oh fuckfuckfuck baby that’s so fucking perfect. You’re perfect.” 

The words were falling out of his mouth faster than he anticipated, his head now empty of only one thought. How it felt when your cheeks hollowed, tongue licking at his slit each time you pulled up. The pressure was building once more. Blinding pleasure spreading through his body at a rapid pace as you built and built his orgasm. For a moment he forgot that you had pulled away before—he allowed himself to relish in what was to come.

Only for it to fade away once again.

He cried out as if in pain, his cock throbbing so painfully that he was sure you saw it. It was red, leaking, and begging to be put back in your mouth. Yet you still shifted back to where you were before. Only this time you didn’t wear a grin; your eyes were dazed, watching the drop of precum slip down to his balls. Your chest was heaving with each breath and you had half a mind to let him finish. To finally indulge yourself in the taste of his spend.

However, you were too fucking stubborn to give in now.

“Fuck please,” he begged, desperate for some reprieve from the onslaught of pleasure.

But then he saw it. The sinful mischief in your eyes that had his toes curling. Marc knew what he was in for whenever you looked at him like that. The last time he had almost cum in his pants from the sight of you in lingerie so see through you might as well have been standing before him completely bare. His breath caught in his throat, your name a moaned prayer falling from his lips.

“Marc,” you teased, finger trailing down his cock lightly to watch it jump. “You’re so pretty like this.”

“Yeah?” he asked, trying to keep hold of the thin strand of control he had left. “I’m even prettier when I cum.”

He heard the sharp intake of breath and knew he had you in his hold. Or at least that’s what he thought. You tutted, pulling away entirely before once again taking him into your mouth. His whole body jolted as if he was electrified, the blinding pleasure he sought now being shoved his way as you doubled down. The wet sounds of you pumping his cock filled the room, combining with his whimpers and moans. He couldn’t tell up from down, whether he was on the precipice of cumming or being torn away from it even further.

You moaned, your hips rolling forward into nothing, and that nearly sent him over the edge. Tears tracked down your cheeks, spit now spilling down your throat. He had never seen a sight so beautiful before. You tightened your grip, sucking the head of his cock into your mouth, and he cried out—his balls drawing up so tightly it was accompanied by a slight sting of pain.

“Fuck!” he shouted, hips jolting up and causing you to gag as he hit the back of your throat.

He was right there.

Then as it did before…the feeling began to fade.

You practically heard his control break in half, his head snapping up—eyes meeting yours with a hardened expression you’d only seen him wear when he was fighting. The black of his pupil began to glow white, the familiar wrappings now trailing up his arms as you heard the belt snap, clattering to the ground. 

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

His gaze held you in place as you tried to scramble back on the floor to somehow escape the consequences of your actions. A guttural growl tore from his chest, his now bare hand latching onto your leg and yanking you back until you were spread out on the floor underneath him. Pulling at your shorts, he managed to get them down to your ankles, allowing you to make the final choice and kick them off all the way.

“Marc,” you started, the remainder of your sentence dying on your tongue as he fixed you with a glare.

“No,” he spit out. “You wanted me to relax. So I’m going to relax.”

There was no room for you to argue. Not that you wanted to either way.

Hoisting your leg over his shoulder, he gave you no warning as he lined up his cock and pushed into you in one thrust. You cried out, fingers searching for purchase on his forearms as he pulled back until just the tip remained inside of you. His hips shoved forward, filling you up until you were barely able to breathe. This wasn’t him tenderly making love to you, this was him chasing his release while breaking you apart beneath him.

“Ah—Fuck! Marc, r-right there.” Your head fell back, eyes squeezing shut when he sped up, his pace brutal and unforgiving.

Fingers wrapped around your chin, gripping tight in order to tilt your head towards him. “I want you to look at me,” he rasped, his voice deeper than before. “Can you do that baby? Can you be good for me?”

Your words being thrown back at you sent a thrill shooting through your body—your pussy clenching down around him. He groaned, hips ramming into yours with a fervor that mimicked your own. While you liked being in control, seeing him like this, fully ripped apart from your actions, was far more appealing. His eyes squeezed shut, mouth parting as he unexpectedly dropped his weight on you, striking against that spot that made you see white.

Choking out a sob, you dug your nails into his bare back to find something to ground yourself. You were drowning in him and he loved it. His lips slotted messily against yours, spit trailing down your chin, and he moaned when he tasted himself on your tongue. Marc no longer had control of his actions, too desperate for a release that had been out off for far too long. Yet you loved it all the same.

“You’re dripping for me,” he murmured, fingers dropping to swipe through your folds and press against your clit. “Did you like sucking my cock that much? Hm?”

His words barely registered in your mind before your whole body tightened. A breathless grunt was punched out of him as your pussy clamped down around his cock, your orgasm nearing with each stunted thrust of his hips. You keened in his arms, your head falling back—mouth dropping open—and he almost gave in entirely. If there’s one thing Marc loved more than anything else, it was seeing you fall apart on his cock. Tonight however he would deprive himself of that experience.

Because his stubbornness outweighed yours every time.

“No!” you gasped, head shooting up as he pulled away entirely. The pleasure began to melt from your body, leaving you feeling empty and hot. “Please. Marc, please. I want to cum. I’ll be good for you. I promise—” You were babbling, saying anything to finally make him give in, but deep down you knew this was his own form of payback.

“I know baby,” he breathed against your lips, thumb running along the top of your cheek. “I’ve got you.”

His hands gripped your hips, turning your body with practiced ease and pulling you to your knees. Your chest was against the floor, head turned and cheek pressed down to see what he was doing. Although you knew what he was doing.

Marc got to his knees, gripping his cock to slide against your dripping folds before finally pressing into you again. This way he sunk into you deeper, hitting spots that made your toes curl before he even began to move. You moaned, pushing back until his hips met your ass, smiling at the sound he let out. Both of you may be stubborn as hell, but when it came to this—being so full of him that you would feel it for days to come—you finally relented.

Pressing a wet kiss to your spine, he started the previous pace from before. He shoved sounds you didn’t even know you could make from your chest with each thrust, as pleasure streaked down your spine. You felt the way he stuttered when your walls began to tighten around him again; knew that he was on the very precipice of cumming. With a shaky hand you began to touch yourself, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts—causing your pussy to clamp down even tighter.

“Fuck,” he grunted, fingers digging in painfully into the skin of your hips. “I fucking love you.”

You cried out unabashedly, uncaring if the neighbors heard you. “Marc!”

“Yeah?” His hand gripped the back of your neck, using the leverage to push you back onto his cock. “I’m the one making you feel good.”

He felt it before you did, the familiar tightening of his lower abdomen, his cock throbbing as the orgasm began to wash over him and he tried to stave off. Just a bit longer to finally give you what he denied you. Baring his teeth, he fought against the sensations, forcing himself to be edged one more time. Fuck, even now you still held a tight grip around him, still the one in complete control and he loved it. That alone made him nearly fall off the edge of the cliff.

“Oh shit,” he groaned, getting ready to pull out and spill over your ass as he usually did. Your hand digging into his hips stopped him.

“Cum inside me please,” you whimpered, tears tracked down your cheeks from the amount of pleasure wracking your body.

“What?” His eyes went wide.

A slow smile crept up your lips, eyes lighting up with the same mischief as before. “I want you to cum inside me.”

Marc wasn’t sure he heard you correctly, but his body was already working towards exactly that. His right hand slapped against the floor beside your head, forehead dropping to press against your temple as he gasped for any amount of air.

“Gods. Fuck.” he grunted, hand reaching up to grip your chin—meeting your lips in a messy kiss.

“No gods,” you hummed. “Just me.”

He felt your hand dig into his hair, holding him close to you as his hips rutted into you in sloppy strokes. Each drag of his cock along your walls sent you even higher—the echo of your slick and skin slapping against skin became a filthy symphony to your cries of pleasure.

“Cum for me gorgeous,” you breathed, watching his face contort, eyebrows pulling together.

His mind went blank, vision blacking out and body going taut. Euphoric pleasure ran through every inch of his body as he finally let himself go. A cry of your name was muffled into your shoulder, arms giving out while his whole body shook from the waves of mind numbing bliss that filled him. He spurted into you, filling you until some began to spill out and drip down his balls, and you begged for more.

The breath caught in your throat when he broke for you—his cock pulsing inside of your wet heat. You wanted to shout, tell him how much you ached for him, how much you belonged to him, but the words were stuck in your throat. He hadn’t made you cum, but somehow you were flying just as high as he was. Unable to form a coherent thought.

Your walls clenched around him when he finally caught his breath and pulled out slowly. A trail of his cum dripping down your inner thighs.

Whimpering, you tried to fight off the urge to finish yourself off, because if there’s one thing you knew about Marc it was that he refused to let sex end until you finished. That still didn’t stop your eyes from shutting when your body practically shook from the overstimulation of being edged yet again. He heard you though…loud and clear.

“Oh baby,” he breathed, hand running gently up your thigh.

“Please…” You were silenced by his hands sliding up to your ass, spreading you for his eyes to see.

“Look at you.” His fingers swiped through his cum that steadily dripped out of you. Only to drag it towards your clit that pulsed with need. “Beautiful.”

Gasping, you pushed back onto his fingers, desperate for any amount of attention he gave you. But soon it wasn’t enough. Your body was so worked up that his fingers alone couldn’t bring you to that edge and he knew it. You sobbed his name when he pulled away, nearly on the verge of bursting into tears. Only for your back to bow, a moan ripping from your throat, when his mouth sealed over your pussy.

“Fuck!” Your nails scratched along the floor, legs shaking as he sucked your clit into his mouth.

He moaned against you, the vibrations going straight through you and causing your toes to curl. It wouldn’t take long at all for you to violently fall over the edge. Which is why he sped up. Slipping two fingers into your pussy, he sought out the spot that would send you to the quick end. Each swipe of his tongue forced a moan from your chest—the breath leaving your lungs faster than you could keep it.

Marc was licking you clean of the mess he made and that single though alone paired with his fingers striking gold finished you off. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream, eyes rolling back as your body convulsed with the power of your orgasm.

For a moment you lost all sense. The blood rushing through your ears and white flashing behind your tightly shut eyes. But when you came to you found Marc still going. Drinking down every last drop of you and him combined with a fucked out dazed look in his eyes. You knew if you didn’t stop him now he’d continue until you were unraveling beneath him, but your legs were already shaking from the strain of being on them.

“Wait,” you panted, hand shooting out to grip on his wrist. “I-I can’t.”

His teeth sunk into the skin of your ass in response. “You taste so good.”

That brought a smile to your face. “You don’t taste so bad yourself, Spector.”

Gently, he turned you until you were laying flat on your back, his chest pressed to yours as he laid over you. His lips met yours in a soft kiss, tongue sliding along yours. You moaned at the combined taste of you and him. It made your head spin. 

Exhaustion riddled your body and you could see that it was the same for him. Tomorrow he’d have to go back to being Moon Knight; somehow having to find a way to sleep in between giving Jake and Steven the body. But tonight…right now, he was yours. Yours to love, yours to care for. So, you pulled him closer, your leg slinging over his bare hip as you kissed him languidly—relishing in the closeness.

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter fourteen

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm back to posting semi-regularly, yay! Not sure when the next chapter will be finished because of the holidays but hopefully it'll be within the next week or so! This one is a little on the shorter side, but the next several will be longer I think! (Since I haven't actually written them--but I have plans and they're lengthy.)

Series Masterlist

word count: 2k

“Oh man,” Martinez groaned as his eyes flicked from Alfred, to her, to the picture, and back again. He gulped audibly. Next to him, Blake the security guard was white as a sheet. “Gordon’s gonna kill me.”

“Gordon’s gonna kill me,” Martinez said for the twentieth time as y/n poured him a cup of coffee to replace the one that was currently still on the foyer floor. “I was supposed to be the one paying attention. I was the one he trusted.” Which, he informed  her after maybe the fourth “Gordon’s gonna kill me,” that meant he was Gordon’s most trusted on her security team. He was one who was secretly supposed to make sure no one else was compromised. 

“Martinez,” y/n said for the nineteenth time. “No he isn’t. You were doing your job. You already said you didn’t leave, or fall asleep, or take a call. In fact, you did your job so well you ignored my offer of coffee.” She held out the new mug. 

Martinez was still nervously mangling the hat of his uniform. He was completely ignoring her reassurances. He went still after a second, then turned eyes that were twice as frightened to her. “Man, Mr. Wayne’s gonna be so mad too, isn’t he? This is his house.” 

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “I’ll handle Bruce. And besides–Alfred’s more in charge than he is, and he already agreed it wasn’t your fault.” Alfred had met Gordon downstairs a few minutes earlier. The elevator and entire lobby had been turned into a crime scene. Martinez and y/n were waiting to give their statements. 

Easing Martinez’s fears was much easier than facing her own. It was easy to focus on him and nothing else. Because in the short half hour since she’d first found the picture, each bit of new information was worse than the last. No one on the security detail had been harmed, bribed, or had even moved. The security cameras had been turned off for only ten minutes. Which all meant that someone had enough access to Wayne Tower and its security to get past everything extra that had been set up. 

They wanted her to know that they could get to her. 

And they were drawing it out. Instead of grabbing her, they were making her wait. Making her scared.

Y/n focused again on the nervous cop in front of her, who was still bemoaning the fact that everyone was going to be mad at him. 

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to be mad at you,” she snapped. There was a headache blooming between her eyes. 

Martinez quieted, looking like a kicked puppy with a mustache. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, y/n. If I can make it up to you at all–” 

“Just drink your coffee, okay? No one blames you.” Y/n took a sip of her coffee. Her hands were still shaking, and some of the liquid spilled over as she set the cup back down. Damn, she was wasting a lot of coffee in one night. 

She startled when a warm hand landed atop hers. She looked up and met Martinez’s soft gaze. He didn’t say anything else, but his presence was enough to steady her. 

“I’m so glad they didn’t shoot you,” she said after a moment. 

They shared a grin. “Hell, me too.” 

An awareness prickled along y/n’s spine.

She looked up, and there was Bruce. 

His hair was stuck to his forehead and his shirt was on inside out. Her stomach swooped. There really only seemed to be one possibility from those two clues, plus the fact that he hadn’t been home. 

Jealousy and shame spread like hot oil through her stomach. 

Bruce looked…angry. His eyes were twin blue flames where they stayed locked on Martinez’s hand atop hers. 

Martinez scrambled to his feet as if the king of fucking England had just walked in. More coffee spilled as he bumped the table. Y/n half expected him to bow for Bruce. She rolled her eyes. 

“Mr. Wayne! I’m so sorry, I swear I was paying attention, I–” 

Bruce’s eyes went cold. “And you are?” 

“Officer Martinez, we actually met back–” 

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. It was her turn to jump to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said to Bruce.  

Martinez flinched. Bruce calmly glanced her way then went back to glaring at Martinez. 

“When the security of my home has been compromised due to incompetence–” Bruce said, still calm despite the obvious fury in his eyes. 

Y/n cut him off. “Oh shut up. Stop talking to him like that. It wasn’t his fault!” 

Bruce’s eyes flashed. “Well, it was certainly someone’s.” 

“Maybe it was yours, then.” The words rose within her on a tide of anger. God, her life had been threatened again, and he had the nerve to come home from fucking his girlfriend and act like a dick to her friend? “I mean, you’ve been letting the rest of the tower go to shit for years, makes sense that maybe security is a little lax. Especially if you don’t even give enough of a shit to ever be here.” 

They were almost toe to toe now, both breathing heavily. From the corner of her eye, she saw Martinez freeze in place, mouth open in shock. 

“I give too much of a shit, y/n. If your little boyfriend hadn’t been distracted–” 

Oh, y/n thought. Bruce thought Martinez was her boyfriend. And okay, maybe it looked like that, but Martinez actually had a great girlfriend who was in a group chat with them where they all sent memes to each other. She and Martinez wanted to set up a double date with her cousin and y/n.

The realization made the anger ebb, but then she was pissed off all over again. 

“What gives you the right to act like this?” she spat at Bruce. He was so much taller than her that her neck was starting to ache from glaring up at him. “After what you did, after what you said, you’re acting like you have any right to one, be involved in my personal life at all or two, be jealous!” 

Bruce flinched. Just like the first time it had happened two days ago, it didn’t feel as good as she thought it would. 

“Um,” Martinez said in the echoing silence. “We’re actually just friends and I–I’m going to go give my statement now?” 

Y/n barely noticed him leaving. 

She was so sick of being so afraid, so heartbroken, so…everything. 

“You’re going to apologize to him whether he’s just my friend or not,” she said, poking Bruce in the chest. He winced and tried to mask it by looking away. “I already told you, Bruce. I lost you three years ago. Stop acting like that didn’t fucking happen, because it did.” 

Bruce’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Now he wasn’t looking her in the eye at all. “I didn’t mean–” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, yes you did.” But the words were bereft of the anger that had been present only moments before. She took a deep breath and a step backwards. “I’m just–sick of pretending things are the same, okay? I know you want to go all protective-best-friend thinking Martinez is my boyfriend or that he put me in danger but–I can’t just–Things aren’t–” Suddenly words were failing her. “It’s just not the same, okay?” 

She watched as Bruce softened, too. “Y/n, I’m sorry, I–” 

“Why did Martinez just run out of here like a bomb went off?” Gordon’s voice cut across whatever Bruce had been about to say. 

“Mommy and Daddy were fighting,” y/n said drily, her defense mechanism of humor kicking in. Bruce made a choking noise. “Find anything useful? Like maybe Frank Gallo?”

She could almost hear Gordon’s teeth grinding from across the room. “No.” 

“Bruce,” Alfred said from behind Gordon. “We have some things to discuss.” 

Bruce gave her one last glance before following Alfred out. 

Alone with Gordon now, y/n sank into her chair with a long sigh. She stared at the little coffee spills as if they had personally offended her. “If I spill any more coffee tonight I might kill someone.” 

“Now that would be a sight. Looked like you were about to do Mr. Wayne in already.” Gordon chuckled and took the seat across from her. He flipped open a small notebook. 

“I’m still not opposed to smothering him in his sleep,” she muttered. “Arrest me if you have to.” 

“How about I get your statement instead?” 

It didn’t take long. She was basically a pro at giving statements to the police at this point. When she was done, she said, “I’m so…tired of giving statements to the police.” 

Gordon regarded her with sharp eyes that didn’t miss anything. “We’re doing everything we can, y/n,” he said softly. 

“I know, I know. It’s just–getting shot at was scary and all, but this is my home.” Her voice cracked. She ducked her head and fiddled with her coffee mug so Gordon wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “They’re telling me they can get to me here, too. Where I’m supposed to be safe.”

“I understand completely. We’ll get him. We’ll get them. I have a feeling he might show up on our doorstep sooner rather than later, with something bat-shaped pinned to him and a couple of black eyes and broken bones.” Gordon smirked. Y/n frowned as she realized she hadn’t seen Batman at all. Had he been downstairs? Maybe Bruce hadn’t wanted him to come upstairs. Her frown deepened. “Now, you’re going to have to help me convince Officer Martinez not to sleep in the elevator tonight. Or right outside your door. He’s pretty upset.” 

“I’m surprised he still wants to hang around, considering how much of a dick Bruce was,” y/n said under her breath. “But I’ll do my best.” 

Martinez took a lot of convincing, but eventually relented and went home to his girlfriend. He made y/n put a chair under her bedroom door handle first, though.

Bruce hadn’t reappeared by the time y/n went to bed. 

She laid down, the words of their argument–or whatever the hell that had been–replaying on a loop. Being around him made her feelings go haywire. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry at him. The heartbreak of three years ago had taken over her life and she had to admit that the anger felt…almost good. Cathartic. But it also made her feel out of control. She didn’t feel like herself. Being mad at Bruce went against years of instincts. She was used to defending him, or him defending her, to being on the same team together.

She was still wide awake as dawn broke over the sky hours later. 

Another thought kept turning over and over in her mind. Frank Gallo–or someone he had hired–had gotten into her home. Her very, very secure home. 

She had been afraid before, but it was nothing like this. Her safe haven had been…sullied. They knew who she was, where she lived, and had basically said right to her face that not even Bruce Wayne’s money and power could keep her safe. 

Added all together, y/n’s mind simply would not shut off in order for her to sleep.

It occurred to her again that she hadn’t seen Batman at all–had Gordon updated him on what happened? Because he had been in that photo, too. He had kept her alive, which she was certain had pissed off the Gallos. Was he a target? Maybe the picture of them together was a threat to both of them, but only given to her since they knew where she lived. 

When she rolled over, her eyes caught on all of her research piled on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes snagged on those three words: white knight syndrome. 

She bet she had her answer about any possible feelings he might have. Even if he had shown up, he hadn’t tried to contact her, to see her, nothing. He was probably sick of having to keep her alive. He was probably leaving it up to Gordon and the police department now. 

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone. 

Next Chapter

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[pink-sparkly-witch]

Take Care of You

Summary: Y/N is run ragged. Her employer keeps throwing more work at her, and she’s too nice to say no. She’s also been keeping Jensen’s businesses afloat while trying to keep an eye on their families with him away filming. She’s overwhelmed, stressed and hasn’t been sleeping well. When Jensen comes home after finishing his movie, he notices his girl’s not doing great and plans a weekend filled with “her” time.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Established Relationship for @jacklesversebingo

Warnings: tw: mentions of cancer, tw: mentions of cancer treatments, tw: dementia, domestic fluff, massage, smut, oral sex (f rec), p in v. 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is a very self-indulgent story that I wasn’t sure would ever be shared. This has been my life for the past few years, and when I sat down to write something, this is what word vomited onto the page, and I couldn’t stop it.

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“Honey, I’m home!” Jensen declared as he opened the front door, quickly closing and locking it behind him. The lamp in the hallway was on, your purse and laptop bag were sitting on the sideboard, and by the text you’d sent him two hours ago asking if he wanted anything special for dinner tonight, he knew you were home. Why then, he frowned, was the whole house silent?

Dropping his bag next to the sideboard, Jensen moved further into the quickly darkening house. “Y/N? Babe?” he called out again, still being met with silence. Walking into the living room, he huffed an annoyed breath, shaking his head in disbelief at the state he’d found you.

You were still in your work clothes: pinstripe pencil skirt, black button-up blouse and tan stilettos. Your hair was still in a tight, professional bun, and your glasses were pushed up on your head. From the look of things, you got home, put your bags down and immediately fell asleep on the couch.

That damn job was going to be the death of you. They took and took and took, giving nothing in return. You were eager to learn, take on more responsibility and help everyone around you. They took advantage of that and turned your kindness and willingness to be a team player into an expectation. Not only was it expected, it was now frowned upon if you said no. So you didn’t, and God help you if you told someone else in your team that they had to be the one to stay late because heaven forbid, you did actually have a life outside of the office.

Jensen sighed as he looked over your beautiful face, blemished by dark circles around your eyes that makeup could no longer cover. How long had this been going on? He’d been away filming for a month and, with other commitments, hadn’t been home. He was contractually obliged to attend conventions on two of the weekends. Another was his own doing; he was exhausted and couldn’t be bothered packing and travelling to spend only thirty-six hours at home. So, instead, he promised he’d come home next time and went to play golf with a buddy. The only problem with that plan was that he couldn’t come home that weekend either as you’d caught Covid. The guilt he’d played golf instead of coming home to you still ate at him.

You both knew you didn’t need to work. Jensen made enough to support you and allow you to live comfortably, but you wanted to work; you needed to. And when he was away for work, you got lonely and threw yourself into work. Jensen had tried several times to convince you to travel with him and spend your free time doing what you loved most: writing. He thought he’d made a fool-proof argument for his case, but you outsmarted him with a flaw in his master plan; you had responsibilities to your family. And to his. Someone needed to help care for your elderly grandparents. God, both your parents were now at an age that even they were considered elderly, and you felt it was your responsibility to do all the heavy lifting for the generations that came before you.

So many aspects of your dad’s health deteriorated since he battled stage four prostate cancer a few years ago. The chemotherapy weakened his immune system, and he never fully recovered from its poison. The treatment exacerbated his arthritis, and his joints were now in constant pain. But it was his memory that was now concerning you. He was forgetful during his treatment, which was understandable because it was one of the side effects. That, and his mind probably ran through a million different scenarios about his mortality. It was just that it wasn’t getting better. It was getting worse. He’d told you the same story twice in the hour you’d visited last week, and now there were changes in his behaviour that doubled your worry.

Jensen hadn’t meant to worry you when he’d asked you after Christmas dinner with your family if your dad was doing alright. He’d told Jensen the same story several times while you were there, and he thought he was helping you out by mentioning it. He’d been upset when you admitted you’d been concerned for a while and hadn’t told him. When Jensen asked why you hadn’t talked to him about it, guilt flooded him when you said work was keeping him busy enough and that he didn’t need to be stressing about anything else just now. 

You’d told him back then that you’d been trying to convince your mom to talk to him and seek help, but they were as stubborn as each other. When the woman wouldn’t even stop smoking after having a partial lobectomy because of lung cancer and radiation treatment for throat cancer, you knew you were fighting a losing battle.

A light had been switched on, though, when at your mom’s birthday dinner, there were just too many things that couldn’t be ignored, including your dad calling you his recently deceased sister’s name and acting completely inappropriately for a restaurant. Your five-year-old niece had behaved better than him. Finally, you managed to convince your dad to see a doctor. Eight months and various appointments and tests later, a diagnosis of frontotemporal dementia, one of the rarest kinds of the disease, was confirmed. Two days before your birthday, no less.

As he watched your sleeping form, he knew something had to give before you became ill, and his plans for a weekend filled with couples excursions and dates quickly changed. It was now your weekend. You had a family barbecue up in Dallas that you couldn’t miss on Sunday, but until then, he’d take care of you and everything else that needed doing in the house. He’d force you to relax all weekend if it was the last thing he did. And it started with making your favourite comfort food: mac and cheese.

Jensen lit some candles around the living room to give a dim light rather than switch on the brighter lamps and wake you. Heading to the kitchen, he put a pan of water on the stove to boil before pulling his phone from his pocket and calling his mom.

“Hi, sweetie! How are you?” Donna greeted cheerfully.

“Yeah, I’m good, ma. How’re you doing?” he replied as he opened the cupboard and pulled down the box of fake cheesy goodness.

“We’re fine, son. How’s Y/N?” his mom asked, and he smiled softly at the affection in his mom’s voice. His whole family adored her, welcoming her into their family with arms and hearts wide open, taking her in as one of their own without hesitation.

“Uhm, let’s just say I’m glad I’m home for a few weeks. My girl needs a little looking after,” Jensen chuckled dryly.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I don’t think she’ll ever change. She always puts others before herself. Is there anything we can do to help? You know if you need to miss Sunday, you can. We won’t be upset,” Donna sympathised.

“We’ll be there on Sunday. I think it’ll do her good, you know? Relaxing by the pool and seeing family. But I wanted to ask you something,” he said.

“Anything, son,” she said instantly, and Jensen chuckled at his mom’s worried tone.

“You know that lavender bath stuff from the place in Dallas you got her obsessed with?” Jensen asked, grinning at his mom’s relieved laugh.

“I just sent her some. It arrived the other day. There are bath salts, bath bombs, bubbles, and some candles. And the pillow spray. Oh, and the essential oil! You could give her a little massage!” There was a grin in her voice, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“Alright, I get it!” Jensen chuckled. “I was going to ask if you could pick some up for us coming up there, but if she’s got some, that’s even better! I just need to know how to use it.”

“Okay, so you want to start with lighting the candles...”

You could feel something soft and warm caress your cheek, and you start to wake. Your eyes flutter open, taking a minute to focus through the dimly lit room, and finally, find the forest-green eyes of the love of your life, and you smile at him with a contented hum. Jensen smiled softly back as he continued to stroke your cheek gently. “Hey, sleepy head,” he whispered.

“Jay, you’re home!” you grinned, voice husky from sleep. “I missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too, darlin’. It looks like someone came home and crashed out,” Jensen chuckled softly.

“What time is it?” you ask, rubbing at your gritty eyes and yawning. You had to admit that although it wasn’t your intention to indulge in a nap, you did feel much better.

“A little after nine,” Jensen answered and laughed at your gasp.

“Nine!? I’ve been asleep for three hours?” you groaned in annoyance.

Jensen smiled and gently gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Yeah, and by the look of this, you need much more,” he gently runs his fingers under your eyes. “Those dark circles would make a panda claim you as one of their own, and that was before you rubbed at your eyes and messed up your mascara!”

“Oh, God!” you groaned.

“Hey,” Jensen said, “you’re still beautiful, baby,” he smiled. “I made you mac and cheese. Eat. I’ll grab a quick shower to get the plane smell off me, then I’ll run you a bath,” he held his hand out to silence your protests. “And if you’re a good girl and let me take care of you, you can have a massage when you get out,” he grinned boyishly, knowing he had you where he wanted you.

“A massage or a full body massage?” you giggled as you watched him search for the right response.

“I’ll tell you what. Eat, bathe, and pamper yourself in the tub with a glass of wine and a face mask, and after, I’ll give you a normal, completely innocent massage. If, and only if you still want that,” Jensen licked his lips and smirked, “full body massage to help relieve any deep-rooted tension, then darlin’, I am at your service,” he rasped in his ‘Dean’ voice, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s been a month. The only way to get rid of that kind of tension is for those talented fingers to work it out of me,” you lowered your voice seductively. “And I think it’s gonna take a few… releases,” you smirked at his darkening eyes, “to get rid of it completely.”

“Fuck!” Jensen groaned, and you grinned mischievously.

“Oh, and if you need to relieve some tension, my hands and mouth are at your service. Although,” you teased further, “I can think of somewhere else that’ll appreciate it a lot more, and I guarantee you won’t regret using it to your advantage,” you winked.

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days, baby girl,” Jensen grumbled as he headed upstairs to shower and prepare your bath.

You cleared up the mess Jensen had left in the kitchen, rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He’d be mad at you for doing it, but you didn’t care. He was also tired and deserved not to worry about a messy house.

Opening the cupboard, you pulled out two glasses. A crystal tumbler for Jensen’s whiskey and a wine glass for you. Filling the ice bucket, you pulled one of his good bottles of Scotch from the cabinet, put it in the bucket, added a bottle of wine, and went upstairs.

The scent of lavender filled the hallway, getting stronger the closer you came to the master bedroom. Smiling, you stopped inside the door and leaned against the wooden frame. You watched with a soft smile as Jensen moved around the room and lit candles. Most were unscented pillar candles, but you noticed the little glass votives on each bedside table and knew they were somewhat responsible for the soothing fragrance permeating the room.

“Found my secret stash, huh?” you spoke, grinning at Jensen’s damp, hedgehog hair and guilty look. “Hey, I’m not mad, baby. Thank you for doing this,” you gestured to the candles and the soft acoustic music playing lowly.

“Anything for m’girl,” Jensen walked over to you and pecked your lips. He took the ice bucket and glasses and placed them on the dresser. “I put your robe over the heated rail so it’ll be nice and cosy when you get out,” he glanced at you with a soft smile, opened the wine bottle and poured you a large glass.

“Thank you,” you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He chuckled and pulled you closer, arms around your shoulders and tucking your head under his chin. You sighed and melted into his body.

“What’s this for?” he asked, kissing your hair.

You shrugged, “I just need a hug.”

Jensen kissed your hair again and pulled away slightly, looking down at you with pure adoration. “Well, you can have all the hugs you want for the next three weeks.”

“Promise?” you grinned into his chest.

Jensen chuckled and pulled you in tighter, “I promise. Now, let’s get you in that tub, huh?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “It smells amazing in there!”

Jensen let go of you, filled the wine glass and handed it to you. “Go on in and enjoy. I’ll be here when you get out,” he kissed your forehead and gently pushed you towards the ensuite bathroom.

You gasped at what Jensen had done in there. It was lit only by candlelight, and the steam billowing from the tub filled with bubbles and the lavender scent surrounding you immediately made you relax.

You sighed as you walked to the double sink and stepped out of your heels, kicking them under it. Grabbing a brush and a hair tie, you pulled your hair free of its constraints and brushed it out. Replacing the tight, professional bun with a much more comfortable, messy one, you opened the drawer, grabbed your face cleanser and began to remove the day’s dirt, grime, and makeup, frowning at the dark circles under your eyes.

Finally, you stripped your clothes off, leaving them in a pile on top of your shoes, intending to put them in the laundry basket later. You looked through the sheet masks you kept in a little basket on the counter, settling on one with chamomile and aloe vera, keeping the relaxed vibe in the bathroom.

Sinking into the tub, you sighed loudly as the hot water encompassed your tired body, enveloping you in a warm hug. You placed the mask over your face, rested your head on the bath pillow, and sighed again, letting the water soothe your body, and the lavender soothe your soul.

Relaxed, warm and sleepy, you walk into the bedroom with your fluffy robe wrapped around your body.

“There she is!” Jensen smiled when he saw you. You already looked more relaxed, making him feel lighter than when he first saw you.

“Come on, lie down,” Jensen said, placing a towel over the bedding to protect it from oil. You walked towards the bed, untying the robe. Despite seeing you naked thousands of times, Jensen turned his head to give you privacy. Once ready, you crawled up the bed and lay comfortably on your stomach.

“Comfy, baby girl?” Jensen’s voice is quiet, and you feel the bed dip with his weight. You hummed in response and shivered as his warm hand ghosted down your spine. Jensen poured the lavender aromatherapy oil on his hands and rubbed them together, warming the liquid between his palms.

Straddling your thighs, but careful not to put too much weight on them, he rubbed your lower back, sweeping his hands over your skin, covering it with the slick oil. Moving to your shoulders, he tuts and shakes his head.

“Poor baby, all knotted and tight up here,” he murmured as he increased his pressure.

“Hmm,” you moaned. “Feels good, Jay.”

“Yeah?” Jensen asked, working his thumbs into the knots along your shoulder blades.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” you purred. You hardly ever took time out for self-care, but when you did, it was something you enjoyed, and you wondered why it was something you didn’t make more time for.

Jensen’s hands continued to work out the knots, and he smiled softly with every moan and hum that left you unchecked. Feeling you relax under his touch and sink further into the mattress made him relax, too.

“How do you feel?” Jensen whispered, not wanting to startle you or ruin your tranquil state as he sat back on the bed.

“I feel good, baby,” your voice was soft – lazy almost, as you turned over to lay on your back, biting your bottom lip when Jensen’s eyes went straight to your naked breasts. “See something you like?” you teased, giggling at his smirk.

“I do,” Jensen’s voice was deep with arousal, “so, can I interest you in a full body massage, or would you like a rain check?” Jensen was always a gentleman; you could see in his eyes (and sweatpants!) that he wanted you, but he knew you were exhausted and would never push you to go further.

“I think,” you smirked, “I want that full body.” It had been a month for both of you, but the excitement on his features made you laugh. “You’d think we never have sex with that look on your face!”

“Can’t a man miss his wife?” Jensen chuckled. “Miss her body because his hand just won’t cut it after a while?” he bit his lip and placed his hands on your chest, rubbing and caressing your breasts and down your torso. He hooked his fingers in the fabric of your simple cotton panties and pulled them down your legs.

Dropping them on the floor, he kneeled between your legs, gently pushing them up before pulling them apart, placing them on either side of his body and opening you up to him.

“Hmm,” he hummed, licking his lips at your glistening folds. “A month is far too long, baby girl. Never going that long without you or this pretty little pussy again,” Jensen murmured and lowered himself to your core, licking a long line up your slit.

You had missed this. Jensen’s tongue was unbelievably talented, never failing to make you come multiple times over hours when he was in the mood. Still, you knew tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights. Tonight, you’d fall apart embarrassingly quickly on his tongue, and then he’d be too desperate to tease you more.

Jensen slid a hand up your body, cupping your breast and grinned into your folds as he felt your body arch further into his touch. Your hand covered his and squeezed, forcing him to grip your breast harder. Taking the hint, he slid his other hand up your chest and began to play with both.

That was all that it took for you to fall over the edge. You grabbed Jensen’s hands from your chest and linked your fingers with his, moaning incoherent curses as your body convulsed through its climax.

“That’s m’girl,” Jensen murmured as he placed one last kiss to your centre before dragging his lips up the rest of your body, nipping and sucking along the way. His warm hands skimmed your body, and he hummed lowly at the softness of your skin, making you putty in his hands.

Jensen’s kisses finally reached your lips, and the combination of his soft lips and your taste on his tongue sent another wave of arousal shooting through your body. Your hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged at it viciously until he got the message and pulled it off. 

His eyes rolled as your nails gently raked over his lower back and around his stomach. You dipped your hand into his sweats, finding his erection and clasping your hand around it. The groan that rumbled from him was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard, making his desperation for you clear as day. He dipped his head and placed his lips to yours once more, the kiss slow and sweet at first, but as you began to pump your hand up and down his length, he pushed his tongue into your mouth and deepened it. 

Jensen’s hand moved from your hip and skimmed up your torso. He gripped your breast and squeezed before trailing his fingers back down and settling between your legs. Running his thumb down your folds, he coated his thumb with your slick before expertly finding your clit and flicking the tiny bud.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss as your legs automatically opened wider for him.

Jensen focused his lips and tongue on your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a contented hum. You moaned loudly as your body arched up, forcing yourself into him further, the movement causing his thumb to press into your clit just a little bit harder and pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Wanting more, you started to grind your hips into him, increasing the pressure of his thumb against the tiny bundle of nerves. “That’s it, baby, take what you need,” Jensen growled as he trailed kisses up your chest, “tonight is all about you.” 

You continued to grind against his hand, tumbling straight into another climax the second his lips attached to your throat. Jensen held you closer, slowing the flick of his thumb and prolonging your high just a little without overstimulating you.

You shivered, suddenly feeling cold, as you returned to yourself and whined when you noticed Jensen standing at the edge of the bed. Chuckling, he pulled his sweatpants off and crawled back up your body.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “Are you ready?” he whispered while rutting himself through your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

“For you, always,” you smiled, but as he pushed his hips forward and entered you, your head fell back, and a low moan tore from your throat. With a growled string of curses, Jensen filled you to the brim and stilled.

“Fuck, Jensen!” you gasped.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, stroking your cheek, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m good. I missed this. I missed you,” you whimpered and wrapped your arms around Jensen’s neck, pulling him towards you and pecking at his lips. Slowly, Jensen pulled his hips back and thrust forward slowly and gently.

The lazy way that you made love was everything you needed and more. As you both succumbed to your climaxes, you knew that you’d always be safe in his arms and that he’d always take care of you the way you took care of everyone else.

Tags: @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, welcome to the March roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read close to 60 fics total, and these were the cream of the crop.

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

(Inaugural roundup can be found here)

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

~

Title: Bones of My Bones (& Flesh of My Flesh) by everyday_forever Word Count: 15,759 Summary: When Will & Hannibal reunite in Italy at last, Will doesn't fear becoming Hannibal. He knows he already is Hannibal. However, Will feels as if he's a derivative of Hannibal, made in Hannibal's image, from Hannibal's own raw material. He doesn't feel like he's Hannibal's natural equal. Will thinks the only way he can forgive Hannibal is by claiming a piece of Hannibal in return, and choosing to make it a part of himself. He has to eat him. And Hannibal is all to happy to let him.

As far as I'm concerned, this IS canon. Truly some of the best canon-compliant characterizations of them that I've read. This is absolutely what would have happened if Will hadn't tried to kill Hannibal after leaving the Uffizi Gallery. It was perfect. And so them. And obviously, mutual cannibalism. *chefs kiss*

Title: Do you feel the hunger, does it howl inside? by merrythoughts and ReallyMissCoffee Word Count: 261,929 Summary: It's been weeks since the Fall. Since Will had leaned against him, the wild scent of blood thick and cloying on the air, and had taken them from the top of the cliffs. And for every second of every day since, Hannibal has been calmly dealing with the fallout of his decision that night: Life over death. Will had intended them to die, had allowed himself a moment of weakness, of desperation. Perhaps the last act of an exhausted soul. Yet Hannibal had denied him.

I am being dead serious when I say that this fic changed my brain chemistry and managed to do something that several years of therapy had not. I wanted this to go on forever (there IS a sequel!) and did my very best to savor it instead of plowing through the entire thing in a single day. Check the author notes if you're unfamiliar with these two writers–the format took me a couple chapters to get used to, but clearly it wasn't a big deal for me.

Title: Sensational by bigfootghostdick Word Count: 39,607 Summary: Franklyn’s obsession with Hannibal Lecter truly knows no bounds. His obsession only grows worse after being fired as Dr.Lecter’s patient. Feeling slighted by Hannibal's rejection, Franklyn follows him home one evening only to stumble upon something that he never expected to see. Who’s that dark-haired man locking lips with Hannibal right outside his front door? Overcome with jealousy, Franklyn decides to seek revenge on his tenth psychiatrist. How? By selling the photos he took of them to Freddie Lounds.

Listen. I love a good jealous!Franklyn, especially when Hanni and Will firmly put him in his place. Sue me.

Title: The Stress-Sex Connection by shotgun_sinner Word Count: 48,090 Summary: When Will gets out of the BSHCI, he resumes therapy with Hannibal Lecter. His stress levels are through the roof, and Hannibal makes an offer that Will doesn't turn down. Hannibal assumes he's going to take Will to bed and make love to a fragile man, shy and delicate. Will enjoys taking Hannibal to bed, and proving him wrong. OR the story where Hannibal is shocked to find out that Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets.

I was sold on the last line of the summary, "Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets" because it actually got a good cackle out of me, and then who would have guessed! Essentially porn with feelings, but I loved.

Title: hold me, kiss me, rip out my tongue by multifandom_fanfic_writer Word Count: 18,005 Summary: Will notices things. He notices a lot of things, can’t turn it off. Some of these things are about Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He watches Hannibal watching him eat. He watches the touch on his elbow lingering, possessive. He watches Hannibal's eyes darken when Will pulls his hair and fucks his throat hard.

Okay, so I'm realizing that a lot of my five star fics this month were pretty smutty, but I make no apologies. That being said, I did find the characterizations of both Will and Hannibal to be very compelling, and it had the added bonus of Will getting to rub it in Alana's face that Hannibal chose him not her.

Title: Ligare by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 8,280 Summary: Will's never gone down on a man before and is feeling nervous about it. His solution: tie Hannibal up first. Hannibal has no complaints.

Initially shied away from this one because Will essentially drugs Hannibal to knock him out and fuck him for the first time, but I PROMISE Hannibal knew exactly what Will was doing and allowed it. However, if that isn't your thing, this won't be for you.

THAT BEING SAID, my honest reaction after this was, "fuck fuck fuck, dom!Will might be my new favorite." Bonus points for it being the first in a series, and the rest is equally good!

Title: Oboedire, Implorare, Vovere by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 18,715 Summary: At the end of Ligare, Hannibal said Will should "test" his willingness to submit to him. Will takes him up on that, and the results are more than either of them expected.

As I said, the rest of the series was SO GOOD. This was basically off the charts hot.

Title: To the Devil His Due (His Due is You) by everyday_forever Word Count: 26,3319 Summary: Will Graham is in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, courtesy of one Hannibal Lecter. And Will wants payback. He threatens Hannibal with a reckoning. And then Will has a terrible and wonderful idea- he opts to get back at Hannibal and make him jealous by pursuing a sexual relationship with Dr. Frederick Chilton. Feeling emboldened, Chilton sends the audio recordings of him and Will together to Hannibal to boast of the new development in Will's 'therapy.' Hannibal knows at once Will is the mastermind behind it all. Hannibal is most displeased with his manipulative albeit cunning boy. Chaos ensues. Will continues to manipulate both Chilton and Hannibal in order to make Hannibal jealous. Will has entered into a dance with the Devil after poking Hannibal's beast and Hannibal is eager to teach Will a lesson and remind him who he belongs to...

HEAR ME OUT. Prior to this fic, I had never considered Will/Chilton. Ever. Let alone reading a fic where most of the on paper smut is ChilWill. And yet here we are. Hannibal was just so present through it all, given that Will was only screwing Chilton to get at Hannibal (although, I liked that there was some genuine affection between Chilton and Will, it wasn't completely callous), and it just all combined to be an excellent fic. Sue me.

Title: Trope: Fake Date (Hannigram AU) by TigerPrawn Word Count: 4,207 Summary: Will's possible promotion is relying on his superiors thinking better of him. One way to do that is to take his omega to the upcoming cocktail party. Only problem is, he doesn't have one, having to rely on one sent by an agency. He wasn't quite expecting Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Fluffy first meeting AU, nothing more nothing less. I just love seeing them happy!! (sometimes, lmao)

~

And that's a wrap on this month! See ya next time!!!

[frvnkcastles]

hi, sorry if I wrote something wrong, this is the first time I make a request... well, I've been dealing with OCD since 2020 (not with organization, but with having to touch something repeatedly or turning the light on and off among other things, and if I don't do something bad happens) and I saw that you're accepting ideas, so here's mine if you want :) Frank Castle x Reader who has had OCD for years but it has gotten worse and she has a panic attack because she doesn't want to deal with it anymore but she just can't stop

I’LL KEEP YOU LIKE AN OATH ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: Stuck in a compulsion, you need Frank’s help and support more than ever.

Warnings: Reader has OCD, panic attack, hurt/comfort, feminine nicknames

Word count: 1.4k

Author’s note: I’ve actually been assessed for OCD because I display some traits but I’m fortunate to say they’re not that severe, so I can’t say I fully know the experience I was writing about here. But I hope it meets your expectations, anon! You’re so strong and I hope you’re doing well <3 I feel like Frank would 100000% learn everything he can about his partner’s disorders and go to doctor’s appointments and make sure there’s no skipping meds. Tell me I’m wrong!! Anyway, enjoy :)

You didn’t know what happened to make your symptoms worse, what caused the turn towards a decline in your control over your compulsions but it happened, anyway. You thought you were doing so well, but slowly and surely, your steady management of your disorder crumbled and you soon found yourself in an evil loop that you didn’t quite know how to break out of.

Frank quickly picked up on it getting worse. He could read you like an open book and he was perfectly attuned to your moods and especially the anxiety that had begun to rear its head more often, so it was easy for him to figure out you were struggling. You had been together long enough for him to know exactly how your symptoms manifested and what he could do to help, but he couldn’t deny his heart broke for you after you had made so much progress in the past year.

He caught you standing by the light switch one evening, and he immediately knew what was going on. ”Hey, sweetheart. Wanna take a walk with me or somethin’? Get your mind off of it?” he asked softly, placing a hand on your arm to gently retrieve you from the switch, but you stood firmly and pried his grip off of you.

”I can’t do that. I—I just can’t”, you insisted, flicking the lights on and then back off, which earned a frown from Frank. You had told him before about the immense fear of something bad happening if you didn’t follow the compulsions, and while he knew he couldn’t fix what was going on in your head, he always tried to soothe your circling thoughts.

”It’s aight, baby. I promise, nothin’s gonna happen. I know I’m just some asshole sayin’ it but I swear, it’ll be okay”, he reassured you, stepping in front of you to tear your burning stare away from the light switch and towards him. ”Remember what the doctor said, huh? Sometimes you gotta refuse to engage, yeah? C’mon, sit with me for a while, sweetheart”, he reminded you, and reluctantly, you had to admit he was right. You had agreed to give exposure therapy a go, and when you didn’t feel strong enough on your own, Frank had promised to be right by your side to help you sit with the anxiety.

Frank extended his hand to you, and with a sigh, you took it. ”Attagirl”, he commended you before leading you to the living room couch. You fidgeted but sat down, regardless, and he hauled you into his arms, creating a pile of cuddles on the cushions. Throughout the time you had been together, you had discovered that he could be very affectionate — at least when the right person had come along, and usually, you enjoyed it deeply. But right now, you couldn’t help but ruminate on the damn light switch.

”I gotchu. Wanna tell me about your day tomorrow?” Frank tried to steer your mind toward something else, and exhaling shakily, you nodded. You really wanted to try, make an effort for him and give him a reason to be proud of you. You were certainly weary of your compulsions, so you couldn’t exactly blame Frank if he was starting to feel the same way.

”Yeah, I—I, uh… I’m seeing a friend for lunch and—”, you started, but lost track of your own sentence quickly enough. You couldn’t stop thinking about the light switch, couldn’t help but feel the imminent doom looming over you if you dared to step away from the compulsion, and it was driving you mad.

”I’m listenin’, pretty girl. Which friend we talkin’ about?” Frank tried to keep you going, so thoughtful and attentive, but it wasn’t working. You knew he was really trying for you — he had attended every doctor’s appointment as per your wish and he had made sure to ask what he could do to help, how he could take off some of the burden you were carrying by yourself. And he routinely checked in with you to ensure he hadn’t crossed any boundaries and that his gentle pushing was still helping, and most days, you were happy to report that he was your saving grace.

But right now, it just wasn’t enough.

”I’m sorry, I can’t do this”, you stammered, rushing to climb out of Frank’s arms. You hurried to the light switch and began flicking it on and off, the urge to do it a specific amount of times overcoming your senses. You stood by it like a moth drawn to a flame, and Frank felt a horrible pit in his stomach for being unable to ease your mind.

He followed you from the living room, just in time to catch sight of you bringing your hands to your forehead in despair. You promptly burst into tears, feeling sickened and nervous and out of control, and as you shakily dropped your hands to cover your face, Frank rushed to your side. He placed his palm flat on your back and he crouched over to your level as you doubled over and your breathing grew shallow and panicked.

”Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, sweetheart”, he tried, his gruff voice full of worry as he watched you sink deeper into the panic attack.

”I just want it to stop”, you sobbed, feeling so hopeless and defeated. You didn’t want to get stuck in these loops anymore, but you were incapable of stopping, and it was sending you into a downward spiral right there and then.

But Frank was determined to save you from it. ”I know, baby, I know. It’s real shitty. I wish I could make it stop, y’know I would in a heartbeat”, he spoke with sincere sympathy. ”Breathe f’me, yeah? Look at me. Focus on just me, nothin’ else”, he instructed, soft but demanding enough to be a guiding light, and trying your best, you followed his example of breathing in and out steadily.

Your head was still spinning and your chest felt constricted, but you managed to slow down your breathing. Feeling completely overwhelmed, you slumped down to the floor and sat down against the wall with ragged breaths and trembling hands. Frank followed you down, squatting in front of you to remain in your eyeline, and his hand rested on your propped-up knee.

”There you go, keep goin’”, he encouraged you in a way that helped you calm down. He kept you grounded and as minutes ticked by, you were able to pull yourself back from the void of the sheer panic. You dropped your head between your arms, and observing you with the burning desire to do more to help, Frank sighed.

”I know this fuckin’ sucks, baby. You don’t deserve any of it”, he spoke up, sitting down fully. ”But you know I’m always here, aight? I ain’t givin’ up or lettin’ you do it, either. We’ll get you therapy or meds or whatever it is you wanna do”, he went on, and feeling embarrassed for spinning out of control the way you had, you looked up at him.

”I’m sorry. I wish I wasn’t this way”, you lamented, and in response, Frank just shook his head, refusing to let you go down that path of self-hatred.

”It’s not who you are, ya hear me? They’re your symptoms. It’s a disorder. It’s got nothin’ to do with the kind of person you are, which, by the way, I fuckin’ adore and love no matter what. You’re my girl, and I’m here for you even when you think you’re at your worst”, he claimed with a serious tone. It wasn’t something he was going to argue about — to him, you were perfect. You just happened to struggle sometimes, but that didn’t make you any less beautiful or amazing to him. In fact, it just convinced him that you were so, so strong.

Smiling weakly, you took his hand. ”Thank you, Frankie. I love you, too”, you whispered in gratitude. The compulsion hadn’t left your mind yet, and you suspected it was going to stick with you for a while, but you felt a little better knowing Frank wasn’t going anywhere nor was he going to judge you.

”C’mere, girl”, he gestured for you to crawl into his arms, and you happily obliged. You did exactly that, shuffling on the floor until you were sitting between his legs and your head rested against his chest, the warmth of his firm body bringing you immense comfort.

For the night, Frank was focused on helping you alleviate the anxiety, but the next day, he was driven to find you some help. When it came to your well-being, he did not procrastinate, and so, he was determined to do whatever he could, just for you.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 15, Undermined - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Jade Carthage (she's a warning), delusions.

Word Count: 661

Previously On...: You confronted Sam to question him about Bucky's claim that he happens to get hard when he fights. Fortunately, it seems like he was telling you the truth... about that, at least.

A/N: Ah, tis my final day of Spring Break. Back to regular life tomorrow, and no further breaks until the end of the school year :( Well, we have Memorial Day and now Juneteenth, so that's something, but it's still gonna be a loooong 11 weeks :/ But I gladly welcome the better weather. Did anyone watch the eclipse? I'm in the path of totality, but I slept through it, I think lol. It was cloudy here, anyway, so I didn't even notice.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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True to his word (almost as though he were actually trying to make it a habit), Bucky kept his distance from Carthage. Several times, FRIDAY had alerted you that Bucky and Jade had crossed paths somewhere within the Tower, and you would review the footage with bated breath, always expecting to see the worst, as if they would strip off their clothes and start fucking in the common room. But you were relieved to see that he continued ignoring her, acting as though she truly did not exist, and it seemed to be driving her mad with vexation. 

She was so perturbed by it that she eventually came to you looking for a way to get to him.

“I need to talk to Jamie,” she said, interrupting you mid-conversation with one of the scientists in your lab. 

“Okay,” you said, dismissing the scientist. No reason multiple people should have to suffer through this. “Then talk to him. It’s a free country.”

“He isn’t speaking to me,” she pouted. “He’s acting like I don’t exist!”

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” you told her, trying to keep the smile from your face. “I’m not sure what you want me to do about it. Or that I’d actually want to do anything about it, even if I could, if I’m being completely honest.”

“I just don’t know what I did wrong!” she whined. You sneered at that. How could she be so completely lacking in self-awareness? Especially to come to you, of all people, after the things she’d texted to Bucky, after trying to destroy your relationship.

“Would you like the list alphabetically, or in chronological order?” you asked. 

She rolled her eyes at you. “You know, you should have just stayed away from him. Everything would have gone according to plan if he wasn’t so fucking obsessed with you.”

“According to plan?” you asked her, eyebrows shooting to the top of your forehead. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

Jade seemed to stumble for words. “I– he– you knew I liked him when I first interviewed. And just to get back at me because I was maybe a little bit rude to you, you went and stole him for yourself!”

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. You wondered if you should ask Tony for a raise, because while you were paid extraordinarily well, you sure as shit weren’t paid enough to deal with this. “Listen, Carthage,” you began, “because I’m just going to tell you this once: My relationship with Bucky started long before either one of us ever even knew of your existence.” Technically not a lie, just a small fudge on the truth. Friendship was a type of relationship, after all. “And it’s going to keep going long after both of us have forgotten your name.”

“You don’t understand what you’re putting me through!” she cried, tears forming at the waterline of her eyes. 

You stared at her for a moment, unblinking. “What I’ve put you through?!” you asked her, clenching your fists to keep from punching her in that annoyingly pretty face– you knew that would lead to a fist fight you had no chance of winning. “You have been nothing but a thorn in my side since the moment you first walked into this Tower. Before you showed up, I was the happiest I’d ever been, but you had to come along and try to sink your claws into the man I love. You ruined my relationship; fuck, you ruined my life.”

You didn’t know what effect you expected your words to have on Jade, but you weren’t prepared for her insidious smile as you finished speaking. “Maybe you should be asking yourself, if Jamie loved you as much as you love him, why your relationship was so easy to ruin.”

With a flip of her hair over her shoulder, she was gone, leaving you alone, speechless and freshly betrayed all over again.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[casualavocados]

so i've been going down several translation holes while giffing kiseki... finding different sources which have their own translations, etc. then trying to choose the words that fit the meaning of the scene im giffing best.

i just wanna talk about two lines in particular that have made me tilt my head and wonder about nuances, so here we go:

the first line/translation i want to mention is from ep9, and is to do with the meaning and intention of the characters/story. it's when chen yi is confronting ai di after he gets out of prison about the time ai di slept with him four years before. i found three different versions of what ai di cuts him off with:

these all contain insanely different meanings in english. i was losing my mind trying to figure out the subtleties of what ai di was saying here, so i reached out to a very helpful speaker of the language who has made kiseki translation posts before, @nikkotinamide , and they said this about it:

and i just got so excited about that...the nuance! the specifics! referring to it as "settling accounts" is likely where the first translation about "the past" comes from, but the other two are closer to the true meaning. however, if you simply went with the revenge line you would miss the complexities that are being suggested in ai di's character.

thinking of that night as a debt he owes to chen yi and has to pay back... as something to be settled - something he isn't even really asking about but more expects chen yi to follow through on... it makes this line so much more poignant to me because it describes his guilt and heartbreak about what happened between them - about what ai di chose to do - in a much more specific and cutting way. ai di expects anger, rejection, and retaliation from chen yi, and tries goading him into reacting in those ways bc he believes he has done something unforgivable (and also that chen yi doesn't (and will never) love him), so he would rather chen yi push him away than risk being that close again.

(un?)luckily for him chen yi is absolutely smitten with him and doesn't let him get away with it. ♥️

the second translation i want to focus on is in ep12 & has more to do with words that don't translate exactly into english, but i went on a similar bender trying to decipher it:

specifically the translation of the last two characters: "堂口 (táng kǒu)" - the word translated here as "office".

bc outside of youtube i found those characters also translated as "headquarters," "gang," and "hall", which are all, again, wildly different from each other. so my best guess was that it was actually a very specific word that highly depended on the context it was being used in, and that context was being translated generally so that non-speakers in the audience would understand. but i wanted to know what that specific word and context was!

so i reached out to a bestie who did some more digging and she found this:

which IMMEDIATELY made me batshit insane because of course that's what it means; of course it's that specific!!

"office" is too professional for where chen yi lives - it's a car garage; it's their front as an auto shop. but it's also not yiyun's "headquarters" because that's the building with the spa where chen dongyang and his husband operate out of: the true central point of the gang. but because of this other line in episode 3, we know chen yi (and ai di too through association; they're a pair, do not buy separately, etc.) leads a specific division of yiyun gang:

so when chen yi asks ai di in ep12 if he's going to the bar or to "堂口" he's asking if he's coming home to the auto shop: their specific division of the gang, (which we knew all along was what he was talking about in the first place).

(...and this is just me continuing with the meta side of it, not the translations, but i also think this connects to what xiao jie and ai di were both talking about when they brought up chen yi's succession as the leader of yiyun:

because chen yi is currently just a leader of one branch of the gang, and young (25 at the point where cdy retires), so to me it makes sense that older, senior members of the gang - possibly even leaders of other divisions - would want that spot. but chen yi is practically cdy's son so get wrecked guys the gang passes to him. 🥰

and that's also why cdy is urging ai di to just come back and be a member again. bc he raised both chen yi and ai di (they are a pair, do not buy seperately) and because chen yi is gonna need ai di to watch his back as he takes over full responsibility. ...im mad we didn't get to see more inter-gang dynamics. that could have been so COOL let me IN.)

anyway those are the two translation bits that have left the biggest impression on me while i've watched and giffed kiseki so far. i just think language is so fucking neat.