#i crave for canon x oc content

[girlygguk]

crazy; jjk (m)

summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst

genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship

word count 15.5k

content jk 29 | yn 26, very jealous controlling and possessive jk, same for oc, spirited & bratty oc, jk is rich and spoils his girl, pet names, toxic relo, jk is a red flag, oc is a red flag, they’re obsessed w each other, bonnie n clyde ride or die type shit, soft yandere, drama, mc arguments, cursing, they get angry quick and over it quicker, bar fighting, jk punches a guy.. or two, blood, oc is roughly grabbed on arm by a male w/o consent, canon couple

warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system, daddy kink, consensual degradation, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), cum eating, dirty talk, breeding kink, condomless p in v sex, oc has an IUD, multiple orgasms, creampie, kinda rough(?) sex but i think it ends quite softly, theyre dirty and in love!

a/n pls read all the warnings first & only proceed if ur comfortable!! these two are superr obsessively dependent and possessive so tread lightly baby 🙂‍↕️!! im kinda self conscious abt the smut but i like the fic part and i hope u do too <<3 lemme know if i missed any tags 🖤 mwah

There was something dangerous about him. Something you couldn’t help but be drawn to, no matter how much you knew you shouldn’t. It was like playing with fire—intoxicating, thrilling… stupid.

You knew it complicated things, maybe even made life harder, but you never had been one to back down from a challenge. And when someone like Jeon Jungkook—the kind of man who looked like pure trouble but made you feel more alive than you ever had—walked into your life, resisting him was never even an option.

It hadn’t always been like this. You used to date Park Hyungwon, after all.

Hyungwon was perfectly fine. Kind, sweet, thoughtful in all the ways that made him a good guy. The type who held open doors and asked if you wanted to split dessert. You’d met him through his cousin, Jimin—your colleague and an absolute angel on Earth. In fact, you ended up closer to Jimin than you ever were with Hyungwon.

Because Hyungwon? He was just… ordinary.

There was nothing wrong with ordinary. Some people needed that. They craved stability, predictability. But you? You realized a long time ago that you needed more. You craved intensity. You needed to feel like someone’s whole world. And when your boyfriend didn’t care who you were with, what you were doing, when he didn’t even notice if you went days without texting… well, you started to feel invisible.

You knew it sounded twisted. That most people would see Hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. Healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. But that’s when you realized... you weren’t like most people.

And then he entered the picture.

Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Jeon Corp, son of the late Jeon Jun-seo.

You’d been at Jeon Corp for three years now, starting as a temp and moving into a more permanent role. Everyone knew him—the young, ruthless leader who took over seamlessly and ran things with an iron grip after his father's passing. People admired him, respected him. Feared him.

It had been two years since you made it official with the man you knew was the epic love of your life. Before that, you were friends with benefits for—what, a week? Maybe less. You both knew right from the start that there was no going back to being just colleagues or fuck-buddies. He consumed you, and you reveled in every second of it.

In the early days of your relationship, you couldn’t help but worry. Maybe your promotion had less to do with your work ethic and more to do with Jungkook lusting for you. It was hard not to question it, especially when he was your boss, and you knew exactly how intense his desire for you was. But Jungkook shut that shit down fast.

He had hundreds of employees under him, most of whom he hadn’t even had a proper conversation with. He’d approached you solely because of your performance—your results catching his attention long before he even knew what you looked like. Jimin had confirmed it.

Still, you loved teasing him about it—how he’d basically been eye-fucking you the entire time during your first real meeting. Jungkook never denied it. He would just give you that cheeky, devilish grin of his, reminding you just how that meeting had concluded—with you, bent right over his desk.

Now, sitting at Lumi’s bar with the soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses fading into background noise, your phone buzzed with a new message. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, heat spreading through your veins as you read his words.

My Love 10:43 PM Why is your location off? Sent with Siri

10:43 PM Turn it on. Now. Sent with Siri

You bit your lip, already imagining the storm brewing inside him. He was driving, and now probably wasn’t the best time to mess with him. But you were still pissed. And the brat in you couldn’t resist poking him just a little more.

You 10:47 PM i'm out, my love.

His reply was immediate, almost before you even hit send.

My Love 10:47 PM Not in the mood baby. Turn it on

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you took another sip of your drink. You could picture him now, pulling the car over, typing furiously with that adorable, frustrated frown. Oh, he was pissed—but that only made it more fun. You let him stew for a few minutes longer.

You 10:52 PM bad day at work? :(

His next texts came in a flurry, and you could almost feel the heat in them.

My Love 10:52 PM Why the fuck are you taking so long to respond? Who are you with?

10:53 PM You didnt tell me you were going out tonight and I just went all the way to your fucking house to find out you’re not even there? And your car’s gone? You drove to go out??? Are you fucking crazy?

His jealousy stoked a fire inside you. You knew better than to test his patience... but you just couldn’t help yourself.

You pulled up your camera and hit record. It started with your legs—crossed elegantly on the stool, the hem of your little black dress riding up just enough to tease. You let your foot swing, the glossy polish on your toes catching the dim light. The clip was short, but you knew Jungkook would recognize the bar in an instant.

Then, you flipped the camera. Your face came into view, framed by a pout and the neckline of your dress—the replacement for the one he’d ripped clean off you the last time some idiot tried to touch you. Jungkook had beaten the guy to a pulp, of course, which was why you were both banned from JaeJae's nightclub downtown. But you hadn’t cared then, and you certainly didn’t now.

Just before you stopped recording, you made sure the camera caught a glimpse of the arm next to you—the arm belonging to the guy who had been sulking since you brushed off his lame advances. You had been ignoring him ever since you walked in, but apparently, he was as clueless as he was underwhelming.

You hadn’t expected to be at this bar alone. In fact, you were supposed to be home with Jungkook tonight. He’d promised an early finish—four o’clock, to be exact—and you’d planned a cute pamper night for the two of you. Face masks, cheesy rom-coms. You even baked cookies.

But then, three o’clock rolled around, and your phone rang. His voice on the other end was apologetic, practically rehearsed at this point. He had to stay late. Again. Not even just a little late—ten-fucking-thirty late. Two hours past his usual finishing time.

You were livid. He promised you tonight.

You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence before hanging up, ignoring the rapid flood of missed calls and texts as you angrily dumped the chocolate chip cookies in the trash.

You were so pissed you might’ve even made his assistant, Hoseok, cry when Jungkook sent him over to check on you. Poor guy. You’d apologize later. Maybe.

By the time 10:32 hit and your phone was still silent, that pit of anger in your stomach twisted into something much sharper. You pulled up the security cameras at his office—and, of course, the room was empty. His briefcase, his keys… all gone.

He had left work without even telling you.

He always texted you when he was leaving the office. You knew there wasn’t a chance in hell it was infidelity; that wasn’t even a possibility. Cheating wasn’t something either of you entertained. But the silence? The lack of communication? That cut.

Sure, you’d been ignoring his calls ever since he canceled on you… but you were allowed to be pissed right now. He? Was not.

When your doorbell camera alert went off at 10:42, right before you were about to check his location, you felt a mix of relief and annoyance rise in your chest. You pulled up the feed to see him standing there—frustrated, fist clenched around his phone, clearly ready for a confrontation.

But you weren’t home.

You were here, at this grimy, sticky bar. Waiting.

The guy next to you shifted in his seat again, breaking you out of your thoughts. He was still there, lingering, despite your obvious disinterest. But honestly, you were kind of glad he hadn’t left.

Because the response you got from Jungkook when you hit send on that video?

Absolutely fucking perfect.

My Love 10:55 PM I'll be there in five minutes.

10:56 PM And if there is anyone sitting next to you who doesn't have a cunt or the name Park Jimin, theyre fucking dead Y/N

10:56 PM And you’re fucking walking home

You suppressed a laugh as you wiped the sugary remnants of your drink from your lips, knowing better than anyone just how serious he was.

As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way Jungkook loved you. His possessiveness didn’t bother you. In fact, it drove you wild. That definitely made you as much of a red flag as him. But did you care?

A few minutes passed as you took some selfies and uploaded them to your Instagram story, twirling the straw in your glass absentmindedly. Then you remembered the idiot next to you.

"Oh," you said, clearing your throat. He perked up immediately, pulling his beer away from his lips as he turned toward you, eyes lighting up in anticipation. Gross. "You might want to leave."

His smile faltered, confusion knitting his brow. "What?"

You blinked, tilting your head slightly as if he hadn’t just heard you. Leaning in closer, you repeated yourself. "I said, you might want to leave."

He chuckled, leaning in way too close, his breath hot and stale. “Why would I do that? Sitting next to a pretty thing like you? You look a little bored, baby… I can keep you entertained.”

You suppressed a gag. "Hard pass." You shuddered, pulling back. “But really, my boyfriend’s on his way, and he’s pissed. You might want to move down a seat or two.”

He just laughed, lifting his beer again and taking a long gulp, his eyes creepily never leaving yours. "I can handle myself just fine, sweetheart. It’s hot that you’re worried about me, though."

God. You’d never been drier in your entire life.

"Your funeral," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your phone.

A few more minutes passed in silence, and just when you thought the idiot might’ve finally left you alone, you felt him shift again, turning toward you like he was about to start up another conversation. You sighed, not actually wanting to watch another guy get the shit beaten out of him. So, you grabbed your purse and your half-empty glass, ready to leave.

But just as you slid off the stool, his hand wrapped around your arm.

"Where are you going, baby?” His voice dripped with sleaze. “This playing hard-to-get thing was sexy at first, but now it’s getting kinda boring.”

Your stomach turned, and you yanked your arm from his grip, disgust curling your lip. "Eugh, could you be any more of a stereotypical douche? Get a fucking life."

You took a step to leave, but his hand clamped down on your arm again, harder this time.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, huh?” His voice dropped, and a sickening grin spread across his face as his fingers dug deeper into your skin. “That’s okay. I like ’em that way.”

Rage flared in your chest, hot and immediate. Without thinking, your hand swung forward, and the rest of your drink splashed across his smug face. His eyes widened in shock, the liquid dripping off his chin, but you weren’t finished.

Your free hand darted into the outer pocket of your purse, fingers wrapping around the pink pepper spray canister Jungkook bought for you. You whipped it out, aiming the nozzle directly at his face and pressed down hard.

“Fuck!” he screamed, stumbling back, hands flying to his eyes. But you didn’t let up. The adrenaline thrummed in your veins as you kept spraying, ignoring the yelps and curses spilling from his lips as he clawed at his burning face.

“You crazy fucking bitch! Stop!”

“God, you piece of shit!” you yelled, uncaring of the stares now fixed on you. “Don’t ever touch anyone when they don’t want you to! Fucking pig!”

The can felt significantly lighter by the time you finally stopped, and the guy was practically on his knees, whimpering. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the bartender waving security in your direction and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Typical. He’d been close enough to hear everything, but now he wanted to intervene?

“Cunt,” you muttered under your breath, slamming your empty glass on the bar before turning to leave.

“I’m going, I’m going,” you scoffed as the guard approached, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and smoothing down the hem of your dress. As you turned to walk away, you pulled out your phone, thumb hovering over Jungkook’s contact.

But before you could make it far, a heavy hand pressed into your back, shoving you toward the exit.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you snapped, stumbling as the security guard forced you forward. “I said I’m leaving. I’m just calling my boyfriend. Let go of me, freak—”

“Ma’am, don’t speak to me like that,” the guard growled, his voice deep and commanding. “Get outside, now.”

“I'm going, you big loof. Can you at least let me wait in the bathroom? If my boyfriend sees me standing outside alone, he’s gonna—”

"I don’t care what he’s gonna do to you, ma’am. Keep moving."

You almost laughed. "Do to me?" You were about to tell him how wrong he had it—that he should be the one worried—when suddenly, the hand on your back vanished. You stopped, brushing yourself off, ready to turn and gloat.

But it wasn’t your words that made him let go. It was Jungkook.

Your very angry boyfriend had shoved the guard—who was easily twice his size—backwards so hard the guy stumbled, nearly falling over.

Jungkook’s eyes were wild, flicking between you and the security guard, a dangerous mix of concern and pure rage.

"Oh, hi, baby—"

“Get in the car,” he growled, his voice low and deadly as he handed you his keys. “And lock the fucking doors. Now.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you bit back the urge to argue. Instead, you took the keys and turned toward the door, but the security guard wasn’t backing down.

"You and your bitch need to leave now," the guard snapped. "You’re banned from this bar."

Another one? You almost pouted, but he kept going.

"We have you on CCTV. If the victim presses charges, you’ll be contacted."

“What victim?” You laughed, taking a step toward the guy. “You’re gonna let that pig press charges?”

Jungkook’s head snapped toward you, jaw clenched, staying firmly between you and the goon. “What is he talking about? Who’s pressing charges?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you gestured toward the guy still rubbing his eyes with a bar towel, water dripping down his face. “That idiot. But it’s fine, baby. I finally got to use the pepper spray you gave me,” you added, poking Jungkook’s stomach with a giddy smile.

His lips twitched, but his expression stayed serious. “Why’d you have to use it?”

You shrugged, tilting your head, giving him that innocent look you knew drove him crazy. "He kept trying to touch me, but don’t worry, I handled it. Let’s go now, please."

But Jungkook’s gaze was already darkening, his eyes now fixed on the pathetic excuse of a man across the room. You could see the anger rising, feel the tension radiating off him, and you knew he was seconds away from losing his shit.

“Let’s just go, love,” you urged, voice rushing as you eyed the situation. “It’s over now.”

The security guard had disappeared to fetch backup, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. The fact that he needed help dealing with Jungkook was almost laughable. Your man might not have been the biggest guy in the room, but you knew that shove must have rattled him, seeing as though the sidekick he'd now acquired was even bigger than he was.

And they were both stomping toward you.

You turned to warn Jungkook, “Baby—” but as your eyes shifted back to him, he was no longer at your side.

Your gaze snapped to the bar. There he was—storming up to the sleazebag still nursing his wet eyes with a towel, completely unaware that your furious boyfriend was closing in behind him. Ugh, he was like an angry, sexy bunny.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, pushing past a couple of people and hurrying over as quick as you could in your three-thousand-dollar stilettos.

As turned on as you were by the sight of him right now, you really didn’t need him missing work tomorrow because he'd been locked up for the night.

And then you, of course, also missing work because you had to sleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to his cell, since the officers wouldn’t accept bail again until he had completed his twelve-hour minimum hold.

You were almost there when you saw it—Jungkook’s hand gripping the back of the guy’s collar, yanking him back with so much force that the idiot’s eyes flew open in shock, panic flooding his face as he realized what was happening.

You bit your lip, trying to shove away the image that popped into your head of Jungkook’s hand tangled in your hair, pulling you up in that exact same way when he had you beneath him, forcing your eyes on his as he drove into you from behind.

God, not now, Y/N.

“Koo, baby, wait—” you called, but it was too late. He was gone.

Before the guy could even think about pushing Jungkook off, your boyfriend slammed his head down onto the bar with a sickening crack that echoed through the room. You winced, feeling the pain in your own skull just by watching it.

“Fuckkkk,” you hissed, finally reaching him and grabbing his arm. His muscles were rigid, vibrating with barely controlled rage. “Baby, come on. Security is coming—let’s go—”

But your words didn’t register. Jungkook was in another world, eyes burning with an almost feral intensity as he jerked the guy back up.

Without hesitation, he reeled back and delivered a brutal punch to the guy’s face, the thud of knuckles against bone filled the space as the man’s head snapped to the side, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

You sucked your teeth in frustration. You couldn’t care less if the guy sat there on the ground and bled out, truly. What you did care about was the thought of Jimin covering your shift tomorrow because you had to spend the night bailing Jungkook out of jail again.

“Okay, my love, that’s good. Now let’s go—”

“Baby, go and—” Jungkook growled, his voice dangerous and low, as he lifted the guy again. His fist swung forward, colliding with the man’s nose, and you winced at the sharp crunch that followed. The guy collapsed again, shaky hands cradling his face as blood spurted from his mouth.

Jungkook’s head whipped around, his dark gaze locking onto you with a ferocity that sent a chill down your spine. “Go and get in the fucking car,” he snapped.

“No, you fucking idiot, come with me—”

Before you could finish your sentence, your feet were suddenly off the ground, the world spinning as you were slung over a massive shoulder. It took you a second to process what the fuck was happening.

"What the fuck!" you screamed, pounding your fists against the back of the goliath security guard who was carrying you like a sack of potatoes. Your purse fell to the ground as the guy just kept walking toward the exit like you were nothing. "Put me down, you fucking freak!"

Through your distorted, lopsided vision, you caught sight of the other, even bigger, guard heading for Jungkook while you were being dragged away.

The second your boyfriend saw what was happening to you, the loser he had been beating on was forgotten. His eyes locked on the guard manhandling you, and fury ignited in his expression.

The guard approaching barely had time to take a step before Jungkook threw him to the ground like he weighed nothing. His unbuttoned dress shirt sleeves exposed the veins in his arms, rippling as he stormed toward you with a look that promised murder. Yummy.

You were still smacking the back of the giant guard carrying you, panic creeping in as the door got closer and closer. "Baby, my purse!" you whined, halting your attack for a second and pointing to the ground. Jungkook was already stalking past it. "Pick it up!"

He grunted in frustration, turning on his heel to grab the fallen Prada before charging back after you. 

The guard reached the door just as Jungkook caught up, and you braced yourself for the moment you’d be tossed out like trash. But in one quick motion, Jungkook grabbed your outstretched hand and used his other hand to grab you by the bum, pulling you off the guard’s shoulder.

You beamed as he set you back on your feet, happily taking your purse from him while he just rolled his eyes. Then, he turned and sent his fist straight to the giant’s jaw. The guard actually stumbled backward, clearly feeling the weight of the hit, and for a brief moment, you thought it was over.

But then the bastard straightened up, cracked his neck like a fucking terminator, and stepped forward again, completely unfazed.

"What. The. Fuck," you seethed, your eyes widening in disbelief. You grabbed Jungkook’s hand, tugging him back, but he was already mirroring the guard’s steps, ready to go again.

"Nope," you muttered, wrapping your arms around his bicep and using every ounce of strength to drag him toward the door.

You knew he could easily overpower you, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he debated it. But after a beat, he scoffed, shooting a final glare at the guard, who had stopped in place, phone in hand as he watched you haul Jungkook outside.

Probably calling the cops, taking down your registration—whatever the fuck. You could already imagine the panic on Jeon Co.’s PR team’s faces when they caught wind of this fuck fest of a night.

You finally let go of Jungkook’s arm when you got outside, your hand diving into your purse for his car keys. He followed close behind, silent but simmering with rage, as you both made your way to his car. It was parked right next to the entrance—definitely not in an actual spot—but he clearly didn’t care. He’d probably left it there to get to you faster.

As soon as the cold air hit your face and you and Jungkook were away from everyone, it’s like all your anger from earlier flooded right back.

You marched straight toward the driver’s seat, just wanting to get the hell out of there, but before you could reach for the door handle, Jungkook’s bruised hand snaked around your waist and pulled you back against him. He plucked the keys from your hand with ease, scoffing under his breath as he ushered you toward the passenger side.

"Give me the fucking keys, Jungkook—"

He let out a dark, humorless laugh. "First of all, you’ve been drinking. Don’t be fucking stupid. Second of all, why do you sound like you’re mad at me? I’m mad at you!"

"I had a fucking lemonade, I didn’t drink, you psycho!" you snapped, spinning on your heel to face him. "And, I’m sorry, mad at me?" You shoved his hand off your stomach and made a grab for the keys, but he slipped them into his pocket, resting his hand right over them like he was daring you to try.

"You’re the one who just went ape-shit and beat half the bar to a fucking pulp!"

"Don’t be dramatic," he rolled his eyes, leaning casually against the car like he hadn’t just trashed multiple people inside.

"You just fucking—"

He narrowed his eyes dangerously. "And why am I here in the first place, Y/N?"

"Oh, I don’t know," you snapped back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because you’re a—"

You cut yourself off this time, catching the slight arch of his brows—just a fraction.

His head tilted, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

"I’m a what, baby?" His voice was low, amused, taunting.

You squinted at him, but he just waited, utterly patient, like he had all the time in the world.

"I’m a what?"

Your eyes rolled to the sky in frustration, and you turned your back on him, yanking on the door handle in frustration. But of course, it was locked. You didn’t even bother looking back at him.

"Open the door, Jungkook."

"Sure," he jingled the keys in his pocket with infuriating calmness, "When you finish your sentence. I’m a what?"

You glared over your shoulder at him, biting back a snarl as your eyes raked down his stupidly gorgeous frame. Tousled hair, the top two buttons of his dress shirt sluttily popped open, bruised and bloody hands casually tucked into the pockets of his designer slacks. So fucking annoying.

"You," you started, eyes narrowing as you stepped back. "Are sleeping alone tonight." You punctuated it with a sarcastic smile before pushing off the car and storming down the street toward your own.

The second you started walking, you heard his footsteps trailing after you like a shadow. You just shook your head, your tone clipped as you bit out, "Go home, Jungkook. Your home. I’m sleeping at my own place tonight."

"Mm, and how do you plan on getting there?" His voice followed, calm—too calm.

"Hmm, take a wild fucking guess, genius," you snapped, diving back into your purse to grab your keys. But your hand came up empty.

"Mother fucker," you hissed, spinning around to find yourself face-to-face with his broad chest. You took a breath, glaring up at him. "Give me my keys."

"When you finish what you were saying," he replied lowly.

You scoffed, incredulous. "You’ll give me my keys and let me drive home if I finish my sentence?" You almost laughed in his face, knowing damn well he was full of shit.

"No," he shrugged, his honesty almost infuriating, "but I still want you to say it."

You groaned, exasperated. "Why is it so important to you—"

"Everything you say is important to me." His tone was unflinchingly direct. "And I want to know what you think of me."

For a split second, your heart tugged at his words, even as the anger bubbling in your chest fought to take over.

You weren’t mad at him for going in there and smashing that dirty sleaze’s head into the counter. You weren’t mad that he had taken on the Goliath twins like a reckless maniac with no concern for his own well-being.

You were mad because he lied to you.

"A liar." The words slipped from your lips, quiet but cutting, your eyes locking with his.

The flicker of pain that flashed across his gaze was immediate. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had braced himself for you to call him a possessive jerk, a jealous asshole, even a fucking loser. But not that.

"Baby," Jungkook swallowed, his beaten hands slowly gliding down to caress the sides of the dress he both loved and hated seeing you in. "I’m so sorry."

"Yeah," you nodded, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away just as he tried to lean down for a kiss. "Always are, huh?"

"Please, don’t," he sighed softly, his breath warm against your neck as his nose nuzzled into your skin. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had buried his fist into a guy’s jaw just five minutes ago. “I would never leave your side if I didn’t have to. You know that. You have to know that.”

"And you just had to stay back tonight of all nights?" Your words were sharp, cutting. "Couldn’t get one of your two fucking assistants to carry some of the workload? Or maybe that slut from level 7 who’s always begging to take some stress off her ‘big, hunky, hardworking boss?’"

Jungkook let out a low chuckle, nipping at your neck in amusement when you imitated Heejin’s voice. She hadn’t ever said anything quite that bold—obviously. You would’ve had him fire her on the spot if she had. But her lingering glances, the way she was always offering herself up for extra tasks, the way she hovered around… yeah, her actions spoke louder than words, and it made your blood fucking boil.

"Our board meeting ran way overtime, and they sprung last-minute critical amendments on us for the Cypher Project, baby," he mumbled into your skin, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck. "You know no one else could’ve handled it, or I would’ve been out of there."

"Okay." You nodded, lips pressing together as you let him kiss your neck for a while, but your mind was still racing.

"Okay?" he echoed in a hum, his mouth moving lower, pressing another soft kiss just above your collarbone. He sounded almost suspicious at how easily you seemed to be dropping the argument.

"Okay," you repeated, still letting him kiss you, your body slightly relaxing under his touch.

He hummed again, but then something clicked. No. This was too easy. You were never this quick to drop an argument. There wasn’t nearly enough groveling.

"Baby—"

Before he could finish, your hand shot into his left pocket, snatching the keys and shoving him you off with your other hand. He stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise as he barely caught his balance. You didn’t wait around to see him recover; you just turned and headed straight for your car.

Of course, he followed.

"Baby, come on—"

You didn’t stop, your pace quickening as you adjusted your handbag on your shoulder. "Nope. Don’t care."

"Baby, I'm fucking sorry."

"Uh-huh," you muttered, clicking the button to unlock your car before yanking the door open. He was right behind you, still trying.

“You’re not seriously leaving me right now, are you?”

You shot him a cold glance, leaning on the car door. “Yep. Maybe you should call Heejin—see if she’s free tonight. She can keep my side of the bed warm,” you spat, sliding into the driver’s seat.

His jaw ticked, tongue poking at the side of his cheek as he leaned back, letting you slam the door in his face. The engine roared to life, filling the thick silence between you two, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he nodded, something dark flashing in his eyes as his teeth toyed with his lip ring.

“You know I’m just gonna follow you, right?” His low voice carried through the glass, calm as ever.

You rolled your eyes, throwing the car into gear and pulling out of the lot.

But you weren’t the least bit surprised when, just a few moments later, you caught sight of his car pulling out right behind you.

He was home before you.

Not that you were surprised. You had gotten the doorbell alert two streets over, and it only made you scoff, your foot easing off the gas as you slowed down even more, wanting to make him wait. You had briefly considered going to Jimin’s for the night, but you knew better. Even though Jungkook had a soft spot for his assistant, there was no way in hell he’d let you sleep over at another guy’s house, and you weren't about to drag Jimin into that.

Sliding out of your car, you said nothing, grabbing your coat and purse from the passenger seat before locking it. Jungkook was already perched on your front doorstep, his head snapping up the second your tires crunched against the driveway.

“Baby, I need you to turn your location back on. I get it. You made your point—”

“Don’t start, Jungkook.” You sighed, your heels clicking against the stone steps as you brushed past him to unlock the front door.

You didn’t even bother closing the door behind you as you walked in, knowing he was right behind, the sound of it clicking shut as he locked it for you. Your purse and coat landed carelessly on the hallway table, and your fingers instinctively massaged the soreness creeping up the side of your neck. Without a word, Jungkook crouched down and slipped off your heels, lining them up neatly next to his shoes.

It was late, and the exhaustion that had been chasing you all night was finally sinking in. Your body ached, your mind was running on fumes, and all you really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. But something in the air told you that wasn’t happening any time soon. Whether it would be another argument, angry makeup sex, or another night of kicking Jungkook to the couch—only to lie sleepless for an hour before dragging his ass back to your bed—you weren’t sure yet.

Your steps were slow as you made your way to the bathroom, flicking the light on before leaning heavily against the sink. You cracked your neck, your eyes closing for a brief moment as the exhaustion took over.

You didn’t even flinch when Jungkook’s chest pressed against your back, his strong arms slipping around you as he reached for the faucet to wash his hands. The water ran pinkish, swirling down the drain as it cleared the blood and dirt from his knuckles, but you weren’t concerned. He knew how to throw a punch safely—years of boxing and training made sure of that. This was very mild compared to the damage he’d done in the early days of your relationship. Back then, you’d spent more time getting him unbanned from clubs than actually enjoying them.

He dried his hands slowly, taking his time before reaching for one of your hair ties on the counter. His fingers worked through your hair, gathering it into a loose ponytail.

You were far too drained to even consider pushing him away—not that you would’ve, even if you weren’t. Upset? Sure. But truly mad? Not really.

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you fell for a wildly successful, young CEO. Long nights, last-minute cancellations, missed plans—it was the nature of his world. Normally, you accepted it. But tonight had been different. Tonight was supposed to be one of the rare, precious evenings you finally had time to spend together after months of clashing schedules. You’d planned for it, gotten excited about it, and then… it was ruined. So, yeah, you were pissed.

But at the same time, you understood. The Cypher Project was monumental for Jeon Corp. Jungkook had poured nearly a year of blood, sweat, and no sleep into it. It was his baby, and only a handful of people were allowed anywhere near it—his assistants, his CCO, and you. This project mattered. But god, you missed him.

This, though? This was just typical Jeon Jungkook groveling. He’d pamper you, apologize at least a thousand times, buy you another bag or three, and then fuck you until you couldn’t remember why you were mad in the first place. The order of events varied; the bags sometimes took a day or two to arrive.

Once your hair was up, he gently spun you around and lifted you onto the bathroom counter. Your eyes remained shut as he moved between your legs, his long arms reaching for your skincare products. You didn’t have to tell him anything—he knew your routine better than you did at this point.

Before he got started, you cracked one eye open, just for a moment, grabbing his right hand and holding it softly in your lap. Your thumb traced over his knuckles, following the tiny splits. One was still bleeding slightly, while the other looked like it would be bruising by morning.

“Getting better, baby. Barely any blood this time,” you hummed, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before closing your eyes again, waiting.

He smiled at that, though you couldn’t see it. The weight of the towel settled on your lap, and his hand left yours, resting lightly on your chest as he leaned you down, cupping warm water from the sink to wet your face. You stayed still, letting him move through the motions, only shifting when he needed you to. His touch was precise but gentle as he massaged the cleanser into your skin.

Your toes wiggled absentmindedly on either side of his thighs, tapping softly against him while he moved through your products, handling each one with practiced ease.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke.

"I want to move in with you."

You didn’t open your eyes—mostly because your face was covered in toner—but the way your feet stopped swinging and your eyebrows shot up said everything.

“Well, that’s one way to grovel,” you muttered under your breath, leaning down blindly to rinse your face. Jungkook cupped his hand, helping you wash off the spots you missed before gently wiping your face dry with the towel. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips through the fabric.

Cute, you thought.

“Gross,” you mumbled, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.

He didn’t respond, just slipped his hands down your bare legs, wrapping them securely around his waist. You tugged the towel down and blinked up at his pretty face. He just stood there, quiet, watching you. Waiting.

"Are you waiting for something?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He bit his lip, barely concealing a smile. “Hmm. Is that how you’re going to be?”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“So your answer is no, then.” He hummed.

“My answer is nothing because you didn’t ask me a question,” you retorted, brattily swatting his bum with your foot, the light tap making him smirk.

“It’s going to happen eventually,” he said, his tone certain, almost mocking, as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours. His hand caught your ankle, stopping your wandering toe from getting too close to the no-go zone. Well, except that one ti—

“May as well get it out of the way, baby.”

“Oh,” you laughed, amusement coloring your voice as you unwrapped your legs from his waist, resting them on the counter. “Glad you consider the next step in our relationship something we should just get out of the way.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled your legs back down, positioning himself firmly between them again, his hands settling possessively on your thighs. “You know what I mean,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a low growl.

“You already know I’d do anything with you, baby,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as your feet lifted back up to drum lightly against his bum. “But I’m annoyed that you asked me this right after an argument. You’re just doing what you think will make me happy—”

The cold, metallic sensation on your thigh interrupted your sentence. Frowning, you glanced down to see his tattooed hand resting on your skin, something small and cool pressed beneath his palm.

Your brows furrowed. “Move your hand, Kookie.”

He didn’t move, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were serious—more serious than you’d seen in a long while. And that was saying something. Jungkook was always confident, always certain about your relationship, but this… this was different.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his tongue flicking at his lip ring.

“Yes?” you asked, your voice softening as your finger reached up to gently swat his tongue away before you adjusted his lip ring back into place.

“You know how much I love you, right? Like, really know how in love with you I am?” His voice was so genuine, his eyes searching yours intently.

Your head tilted slightly as you swallowed the urge to tease him. The feeling of that little cool object under his palm had your mind racing. You already knew exactly what it was, and if you’d been wearing underwear right now, they’d be fucking soaked.

“I do,” you nodded just as seriously, your hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs as you leaned forward, waiting for his pouty lips to meet yours. He didn’t make you wait long, leaning down immediately, humming as you gently suckled on his tongue and over his lip ring before pulling back.

“I know, baby. I feel it every day." You spoke against his lips, giving them a soft peck before pulling back a little, "I’m so lucky to have you all to myself. I love you just as much, my darling. I hope you know that.”

“I do, baby.” He nodded, leaning down to brush his pretty nose against yours. “You’re it for me, angel. There’s no one after you. That, I know.”

“Mmh,” you grunted in delight, your nose scrunching as your hand snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him down to your lips, hard.

Jungkook melted into you instantly, his hands finding their way up your body as he kissed you with the kind of need that made your entire body hum. His fingers curled into the back of your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and you moaned softly against his mouth, just as his hands moved lower.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, breaking the kiss suddenly as your eyes dropped to the now-uncovered little piece of metal resting on your thigh.

Tears welled up in your eyes the moment you saw it. Your hand darted down, snatching up the now-warm key like it was made of glass, your fingers trembling as you inspected it. This wasn’t a key to his penthouse—you already had one of those.

This was new. Bigger. And turning you the fuck on.

Jungkook's bunny teeth grazed his lip ring, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his face as he watched you silently. Jeon Jungkook didn’t get nervous. He was rich, successful, gorgeous, and had the hottest girl he had ever seen in his life all to himself. But even he couldn’t deny that his heart was beating a little fast, or whatever.

“Baby, fuck," you choked out, your brows furrowing as the tears threatened to spill over. You looked up at him, still clutching the key. "You fucking... ugh!"

Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt, yanking him back down to you. You kissed him again, deep and needy, your lips crashing against his with a desperation you couldn’t quite name.

"Love me that much, hm?" you mumbled between kisses, your voice husky, body arching into him as his tattooed hands slid down your sides, long fingers squeezing around the soft flesh. "Bought me a fucking house, huh, baby?"

Jungkook’s smirk brushed against your lips, so cocky, so him. “Well, I’m not fucking renting it.”

A loud laugh bubbled out of you, muffled by his mouth still pressed against yours. It was cut short when his tongue slipped past your parted lips, hot and familiar, moving with practiced ease.

His tongue... fuck, with the number of times and places you’d had it in your body, you were sure you could pick it out from a lineup blindfolded. Skilled, wet, with that lingering touch of cigarette. Fucking perfect.

You grunted against his mouth, your hand blindly reaching to set the key on the counter without pulling away. “Told you to stop smoking.”

“Told you to get fucked,” he hummed back, his words vibrating on your tongue as his hands slid from your hips to your ass, gripping hard enough to make you gasp before pulling you flush against his growing bulge.

“Cunt,” you giggled, your fingers tangling around the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper, your tongue chasing that smoky flavor as heat pulsed between your legs. The softest whine escaped your lips as you swallowed his taste.

“Bitch,” he mumbled lowly, tattooed fingers giving a dirty squeeze to your ass, brows furrowing in delight as his hips ground into yours, the thick, hard length of him pressing between your thighs. Even through the layers of fabric, the friction sent a needy throb straight to your clit.

Your nails scratched lightly against the nape of his neck, and just as you were about to bite down on his tongue, he suddenly pulled back, leaving your lips parted in a confused pout.

“What?” you whined, trying to tug him back down to your mouth, but he wasn’t budging. His eyes were locked in place.

On your crotch.

Oh.

“Y/N.” His voice dropped, deeper, more dangerous.

“Yes, my love?” you blinked innocently, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He didn’t move.

“Are you not wearing fucking panties?”

“Um,” you pursed your lips, pretending to think. “Would you believe me if I said I was?”

Your boyfriend scoffed sorely, giving a bitter nod before peeling himself from you completely and walking out of the bathroom.

You sat there for a second, blinking, frowning at the sight of him walking away, watching how the thick muscles in his back rippled beneath his shirt. God, you just wanted to run your tongue over every inch of that perfect, sinful skin, remembering all the times you had gotten off just by riding that big fucking back—

Shit.

“Baby!” you called after him with a pout, hopping off the counter and ignoring the sticky feeling between your thighs as your feet hit the floor. You wobbled slightly, legs stiff from sitting too long. With a quick kiss to the key resting beside the sink, you dropped it into your jewelry case and scurried after your angry boyfriend.

“Kookie, hold on…” The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway, needy and impatient.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were really pissed when he canceled, okay, and so you did the one thing you knew would get under his skin... going commando in public when he wasn’t around.

You fully expected him to find out at the bar or during some angry foreplay at home. Then, he’d get all sexy, possessive, and you’d end up screaming his name so loud your neighbors would complain again.

But not like this. Not after he’d been so gentle, taking your makeup off with soft, careful touches. Not after he’d just given you the key to the fucking house he bought for the two of you! He was probably feeling all soft and vulnerable, having just taken such a big step in your relationship...

You know, people didn’t really get it—but deep down, your boyfriend was just a big, cuddly teddy bear. Sure, a teddy bear with like three assault charges, but that’s besides the point.

God. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Jungkook didn’t stop. He rounded the corner into your bedroom, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched.

You followed him in, flicking on the light just in time to see him unbuttoning his shirt, quietly tugging it free from where it had been tucked into his slacks. His back was to you, standing near your vanity, jaw tight with restraint, anger radiating off him in waves.

The muscles in his broad shoulders flexed as you stepped closer, your palms sliding up the expanse of his back.

"Baby, I'm—"

"Don't." His voice was low, firm—a quiet command cutting off any apology on the tip of your tongue. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it over the chair beside him before his hand moved to his belt, the metallic clink sounding sharper in the silence of the room.

You sighed softly, pressing a kiss to his warm, bare shoulder, the skin still taut with tension. Your forehead rested against his back as your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close. “Are you mad at me?”

"Mhm." He scoffed, pulling his belt through the loops and throwing it onto the growing pile of clothes.

Without a word, he shrugged off your hold, his back stiff as he walked over to your dresser. Opening the middle drawer, he pulled out one of his shirts, and without even looking back at you, he held it out.

You didn’t hesitate, taking it from his hand. He didn’t need to say anything—Jungkook never wore shirts to bed. Your fingers slipped behind your back, tugging down the zipper of your dress before you let the fabric fall in a pool at your feet.

His eyes caught your movement in the mirror, and he scoffed softly, watching as you unclasped your bra. The bra slipped down, the absence of panties now glaringly obvious. His expression tightened as you slid his shirt over your head, the oversized fabric falling to mid-thigh.

Jungkook unbuttoned his slacks in silence, shoving them off until he stood in just his briefs. He bent down, gathering both of your discarded clothes before disappearing into the bathroom to toss them into the hamper.

You heard the water running as you pulled the band from your hair and padded toward the bathroom, wanting to brush your teeth too. But before you could enter, he stepped out, his tall frame blocking the doorway.

"Get in bed," he said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

You pouted but turned around, dragging your feet toward the bed. From the way he flicked off the light behind you, it was clear you weren’t getting dicked down tonight. Jungkook always kept the lights on when he was fucking you—he liked to see everything properly. You frowned as you crawled under the covers.

"My love," you started softly, watching his back as he climbed into bed, turning to face the window. He didn’t respond. "Baby, please—"

"I’m so fucking angry," he finally spoke, his voice low, thick with frustration. Your hand raked over the tattoos covering his tense arm as you scooted closer, your fingertips tracing the ink in the way you always did to calm him down.

"Turn around and go to sleep," he grumbled, laced with warning.

"Can’t sleep when you’re mad at me. You know that," you whined softly, shuffling closer until you were pressed against his back, your leg draping over his waist, pulling yourself into his space.

He tensed under your touch but didn’t push you away.

You nuzzled into him, your cheek resting on his shoulder, hand tracing gentle patterns along his side. "Talk to me, baby," you whispered, your voice soft, pleading. "Please."

"You knew it would piss me off. I don’t know why you’re surprised—"

"Yeah, but I thought it would be like sexy, possessive, fuck me into the mattress mad…" Your words were muffled as your lips brushed against the warmth of his back, speaking directly into his skin. “I didn’t expect you to ask me to move in with you, baby—”

"So, if I didn’t," he interrupted, tugging the blanket over his shoulder, brushing you off in the process. "You wouldn’t be sorry at all?"

You frowned, pulling the blanket back down and reclaiming your spot, pressing yourself against him again.

“Not really,” you admitted, lips finding the little heart tattoo on his shoulder blade that he’d let you needle into him. You pressed a gentle kiss to it, your voice softening into a playful coo. “Was really mad at you. But then you were all stupidly cute and you bought us a fucking houseee, baby.”

Your fingers curled around his bare side, your kisses turning into quick, playful pecks across the tattoo. "And now I am very..." You pressed another kiss to his skin, “sorry.” Kiss. “My love.” Kiss.

He shifted slightly, his body tense but responsive to your touch. You knew you were getting to him, your lips soft against his inked skin, your tone low and slow. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop you, not entirely immune to the way your kisses trailed over his back, or the way your fingers skimmed down his side.

“You think you can just kiss me and make it better?” His voice was still low, but there was something softer creeping into it, the edges of his anger starting to blur under your touch.

You gazed affectionately at your softie's back, a smile playing on your lips as you rubbed your nose over the tattoo. “Maybe,” you hummed. “But I can do a little more than kiss you, if that's not enough…” you whispered, your hand trailing lower, brushing just above the waistband of his briefs.

He let out a small, frustrated sigh, but his body betrayed him—muscles relaxing slightly under your touch.

“Brat,” he muttered under his breath, shifting his position to lie on his back, allowing the blanket to slide down his body and reveal his broad, toned chest.

A soft, approving grunt left your lips as you shamelessly drank in the view, your eyes lingering on your favorite tattoo, scribbled prettily across his chest.

You’ve always been vocal about your love for Jungkook’s tattoos—they’re one of your favorite things about him. Some hold more meaning than others, but they're all breathtakingly beautiful. Honestly, with the number of times your nails have raked down his skin while he takes you like an untamed force, you’d think the ink would’ve rubbed off by now.

But your favorite? The tattoo nestled right below his left, perfectly pink nipple.

Your name.

You’ve never been one for tattoos on yourself, and you know people have all sorts of opinions about getting your partner’s name etched into your skin—a curse, they say. But when Jungkook told you, not asked, told you that he was going to get your name tattooed on him, you'd never dropped to your knees so fast in your life.

You were both lounging lazily on his couch, enjoying one of those rare days off, when he told you the news. The next twelve hours were spent on his lap, with the couch left in a state that required professional cleaning. Jungkook was very upset when you had it cleaned while he was at work, but you made it up to him.

By telling him you wanted one too.

You could already picture your sweet Christian mother rolling in her grave at the thought of you getting a tattoo, let alone your boyfriend’s name—the same boyfriend who’s done things to you no amount of repentance could ever erase. But it’s okay. You planned to get it in a place she wouldn’t see, wherever she’s watching from.

When you told Jungkook about your plan to get matching ink, it led to the second most tender and passionate sex you’d ever had—the first being the day you both said “I love you” for the first time. He's a sap like that.

You were supposed to get "Jungkook" etched onto your inner thigh, but the moment the needle touched your skin, you knew there was no way in hell you were sitting through all eight letters. So, you settled for "JK." Still adorable, and you loved it. So did he.

He’s obsessed with it, sometimes spending hours suckling on the ink. He’ll fall asleep with his head in your lap, the tattooed skin nestled in his mouth like a pacifier. His hand gravitates there when you're out to dinner with friends, resting directly on the spot if you're wearing a skirt, over your jeans if you're not.

Jungkook, of course, got your entire first name and let you pick where it would go. He only had one condition: it had to be on the front of his body—somewhere on his chest or maybe his thigh. When you asked why, he simply said he wasn’t getting any other tattoos there. That space was only for you.

You immediately picked the spot under your favorite nipple of his, and rode him into the sunset right after.

Angel isn’t a word most people—well, any people—would use to describe Jeon Jungkook. But for you, it’s that simple.

He’s your angel. Your short-tempered, jealous, possessive, fiery-fisted angel. For forever and then some.

Despite your boyfriend's irritated expression, you could sense the familiar heat building up in him, causing his eyes to darken and his teeth to tug on his lip rings unconsciously. You felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight.

God, you were down so bad.

A sly grin tugged at your lips as you shifted, sliding your leg over his waist to straddle him, your bare heat pressing flush against the hard bulge straining beneath his briefs. A soft, satisfied hum escaped your throat as you leaned down, letting your lips graze along the sharp line of his jaw.

“Thought you liked your bitches bratty,” you murmured, the words brushing against his lip rings. You kissed your way slowly, deliberately down his neck. “Heard Heejin can get real mouthy.”

“Hm, she’s not usually that bad around me,” he said, his tone casual, almost playful. His tattooed fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing lazily along your sides. “Then again, her mouth is usually otherwise occupied.”

Your lips froze mid-kiss against his neck, the heat in the room shifting as a bubbling wave of jealousy swirled low in your stomach. You knew he was only matching your teasing with his own, but it didn’t stop the image from forming—Heejin, beneath you, as you straddled her in this exact position. Only this time, you weren’t smirking. This time, your hands gripped a pillow, pressing it down firmly until her frantic kicks finally stilled.

You recovered quickly, trailing your kisses lower down his chest. “Yeah?” you bit, voice tight as you continued kissing along his skin. “She suck your cock just the way you like it, baby?”

Jungkook swallowed a shiver as you slid down his body, your mouth hovering over his chest. The tension between you thickened as your teeth grazed his nipple, your tongue darting out just enough to tease.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice strained as he felt your hot breath fan over him. “She’s real sloppy with it. Bit surprising, considering she acts like a fucking church girl in the office—”

You waited until his nipple hardened from the sensation of your breath before biting down, hard, sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin.

His reaction was instant—a sharp hiss slipping through his clenched teeth as his fingers dug into your sides on instinct, gripping you hard enough to leave marks.

His hips jerked up against you, the friction sending a spark through your core as he tried to suppress the groan building in his throat at your obvious stake to claim. His restraint was fading, and you couldn't fucking wait.

You followed up with a soft lick, soothing the now-red nub before lowering your mouth to press a wet, possessive kiss over your tattoo on his chest.

“Sorry,” you mumbled insincerely, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him.

Jungkook’s gaze was fiery, narrowed as he looked up at you, but you could see the way his breath quickened, his stomach contracting deliciously beneath your bare heat that he was affected.

The grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down harder as he let out a low warning. "Careful, baby."

You smiled small, dragging your nails lightly over his abdomen as you trailed back up his body. “Sorry, baby. Hyungwon used to love it when I did that—"

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Jungkook was flipping you onto your back, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. The look in his eyes was dark, jaw clenched tight as he loomed over you.

If there was one thing that drove Jungkook over the edge, it was when you mentioned your ex.

"Think you're so funny, hm?" His voice dropped low, a dangerous edge creeping in as his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his gaze darkening as it scanned your face. You could feel the shift—he was serious now.

You pouted up at him, a small smile still playing on your lips. “Just being honest, love. Hyungwon’s left nipple was really sensitive—”

A deep scoff reverberated from Jungkook’s chest, his fingers tightening their hold just enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leaned down, his nose brushing yours as his jaw clenched.

"If you ever comp—" he stopped abruptly, his breath unsteady, voice shaking with barely-contained rage at being compared to the guy he’d nearly put into a coma the last time he laid eyes on him. His jaw clenched, tongue sliding over the inside of his cheek as he glared down at you. "Say his name again, Y/N. I fucking dare you."

You don't know why you did it.

Maybe you lacked survival instincts. Or maybe it was because you were wetter than the fucking Atlantic.

Oh well. Too late now.

"Hyungw—"

You barely got through the first syllable before you were flipped onto your stomach, your cheek pressed into the mattress, the sudden force of the movement knocking the air from your lungs.

A grunt escaped your lips, your head tilting just enough to catch your breath. You could barely contain the smile threatening to spread across your face, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as a thrill of excitement raced through your veins.

Fucking finally.

Jungkook’s weight vanished from the bed, and though every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, you knew better. You had been here before, too many times to count. Sitting up to look at him would earn you more than just punishment—it would leave you edged and begging for release until you were a writhing, pathetic mess. Normally, you’d relish every second of that torture, but right now you were too fucking soaked and too fucking needy to drag this out any longer. You haven't had his cock inside you since before he left your place for work this morning.

And that was like… seventeen fucking hours ago!

Your body thrummed with anticipation, the ache between your thighs pulsing as you stayed perfectly still, hands flat at your sides. You nuzzled deeper into the pillow with a pleased hum, toes wiggling in eager impatience.

Then came the sound you were waiting for.

He was back behind you, the loud click of the belt buckle confirming it. "'M getting too soft on you, baby." His voice was low, dark.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you felt the cold brush of the belt against your bare thighs, the sensation jolting straight to your core.

You bit down harder on your lip, resisting the urge to respond. You knew that would only make it worse. And better.

"Let you ignore my texts," he hummed, the belt dragging slowly up the curve of your legs, making you squirm involuntarily under his touch.

"Let you walk around with no fucking panties," he growled, his hands pulling up the hem of his shirt so your body was fully exposed to him. You immediately gripped the fabric, holding it tight so it stayed in place, eager to feel the weight of his eyes on your bare skin.

"Bought you a fucking house."

He rested the belt on your waist, a promise of what was to come, then his fingers trailed lower, sliding exactly where you wanted them. He gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks just enough to let you feel the warm brush of his fingers against your slick heat.

"This what you wanted, baby?" His voice was a low, mocking drawl, dripping with condescension. "You want me to fuck you like the needy little slut you are?"

A helpless whimper escaped your lips, your thighs parting instinctively at his words, betraying the desperation that throbbed through every inch of your body.

It was fucked, really—how easily he could lead you into this hazy, trance-like state with just a few words. In everyday life, you were lippy, hot-headed, the kind of person who would never let anyone walk all over you without a fight.

But with Jungkook? When he controlled you, when he degraded you, it never left you feeling small, not like other inferior men from your past who only managed to make you feel amused or bored.

With Jungkook, it was different. The way he commanded you, as twisted as it was, it made you feel seen. Wanted. Like you were exactly where you needed to be—in his hands, under his control. All you desired was to surrender completely, to let him take and take until there was nothing left.

Maybe you were biased, considering you loved the man currently smirking wickedly above you with every fiber of your being, but who cared? He owned you, and god, did you love every second of it.

Jungkook hummed, his fingers sliding through your wetness, gathering it slowly. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "So wet just from running that fucking mouth of yours, huh?"

Your breath hitched, every nerve firing as he lifted a hand to press lightly on the buckle resting on your back, the pressure sending a delicious ache radiating through you. You could already imagine the sting it would leave, the thought alone making you drip.

Then, his hand trailed back down your side, leaving the belt untouched and useless on your back. You bit back a disappointed grunt.

"All leaky and achy just from imagining Heejin-ah with my cock in her mouth, baby?" His taunt was biting, and you couldn’t stop the irritated noise that bubbled from your throat. He deliberately added the friendly honorific to get a rise out of you. And it worked.

"Oh?" Jungkook's laughter was filled with malice as he lightly traced his thumb over your folds for the briefest of seconds, not enough to satisfy, not even close.

"You don’t like it when I talk about other girls having me like you have me, huh? Not so fun is it, baby?"

His thumb brushed against your clit, fleeting, fast, gone before you could even register the sensation. Your hips bucked, chasing after the contact you craved, but he was already pulling away.

"Funny that," he mused before his tone turned menacingly low. "Because you sure as hell like talking about that boring fucking cuck a bit too much for my liking."

With the last remnants of your composure, you opened your mouth, ready to fire back one last bratty comment. Maybe the lord was on your side, though, because before you could get a word out, Jungkook cut you off.

"Color."

The retort died on your tongue, and before you even processed it, the response was out.

"Bright fucking green."

Jungkook’s mouth came down hot and harsh, his evil tongue licking a fat stripe right down your soaking slit. He took one of your ass cheeks in each hand, parting them effortlessly. You felt more than heard the deep inhale and exhale over your cunt as he dipped his nose into it like a dog would do to their water bowl on a hot fucking day.

Your breathing turned erratic, and your hands curled into fists to stop yourself from grabbing his head and forcing him deeper into your pussy. The way his tongue moved so deliberately, so lazily, only heightened the tension coiling tight in your core. When he had his fill of dragging his nose up and down your slit, his mouth latched onto your clit, slurping it up like it was his last fucking meal.

Your back arched, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your fingers clawed at your sheets, trying to clutch onto any last thread of sanity. The grip on your ass tightened, keeping you wide open as he went at you with a brutal pace. Your thighs trembled around his head, your hole fluttering at the pleasure he was delivering to your clit. He was relentless, taking out all his anger and frustration on your poor little pussy.

Your cunt couldn’t keep up with him. It was dripping, soaking your boyfriend's face faster than he could lap it up, coating his chin and dripping down to the sheets beneath you. He groaned into your pussy, a low, dirty sound that vibrated right through your core.

"Ah! Fuck baby," you sobbed, burying your face further into the mattress. "Ngh-fuckkk!"

He didn't stop, tongue noisily sucking and flicking at your clit. Then his hand lifted and came down hard on your right ass cheek, the sharp slap sending a jolt straight through you. It ripped a moan from your throat and you forced yourself not to ask for another one.

"Not my name right now," he pulled back enough to scoff.

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s hands were already on you, shifting your body until you were holding yourself up on your hands and knees, your weight settled into doggy position.

He let out a low hum in approval before wasting no time and burying his mouth back into your heat, tongue sliding up and down viciously through your sopping folds.

“Ah-uhhh! Yes, daddy, oh my godddd,” you cried out, your eyes rolling back, hips bucking as his nose pressed deeper into your pussy.

He moaned into you, the vibration rippling through you as his tongue trailed slowly toward the entrance of your weepy hole.

Your evil fucking boyfriend hovered there for a moment, pretending to tease the tight muscle before his lips gave a big, harsh suck. The sound echoed in your ears as he slurped up as much of your slick as he could, coating his tongue before shoving it right into your clenching hole.

“Ah!” Your scream tore raw from your throat, your nails digging sorely into the mattress. His free hand slid up your body, four fingers pressing into the top of your ass cheeks, gripping you with possessive strength, while his thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing it in big, messy circles.

"Daddy -ah! Oh my fuckkk yes, eat your fucking pussy daddy, goddd."

Jungkook groaned lowly into you, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in the taste of the sweetest pussy he's ever had and will ever have in his life. He was manic as he drank from it, slurped at it, rubbed it all over his dirty fucking face. The wet sounds of his tongue pistoning into your hole, his finger sliding over your soppy clit, your fucked-out whimpers while you screamed for your Daddy.

Music to his fucking ears.

Your legs shook, elbows digging into the mattress as you forced yourself to keep form. If it weren't for your boyfriend's firm hand pressed against your stomach, holding you up, you both know you'd be face down on the mattress again.

Jungkook felt the tension in your belly beneath his palm and he knew you were getting close. He let you writhe for a few more seconds before slowing his movements, slipping his tongue from your hole and pressing a kiss to the pretty, puffed outer lips. He gave a wet suckle to your pebbled clit on his way out and finally pulled back with a loud smacking sound.

As much as the whiny cry you let out when he pulled away made his already aching cock throb harder in his briefs, he needed both hands for what he was about to do to you. And you knew it.

His bunny teeth poked out to graze against your inner left thigh, pussy-coated lips puckering to press a soft kiss over the ink that bore his name. Then, his hand pulled back and landed a quick smack on your right thigh, the light sting spreading instantly across your skin.

You understood immediately, a strained groan slipping from your lips as you rolled onto your back, head sinking into the pillow.

The belt buckle had been digging into your skin, so you quickly pulled it from beneath you, tossing it beside you on the bed. Your feet pressed into the mattress, knees bending as your legs spread open once more, leaving your glistening pussy on full display—just the way he taught you.

"Mm," Jungkook hummed approvingly, his eyes raking over your body with that look of dark satisfaction. His hand drifted to his cock, now uncomfortably hard, and gave it a rough palm through the fabric.

When his gaze paused at your chest, where his shirt had slipped back down to cover your breasts, you knew what to do. 

But you didn't want to take it off… it was your favorite.

Instead, you tugged the fabric higher, pulling it up over your tits, shuddering as the material grazed over your sensitive nipples. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you bit down lightly on the hem, holding it in place between your teeth.

Jungkook let out a low, dirty groan, his fingers trailing up your thighs, giving the soft flesh a possessive squeeze. "Good girl, baby."

"Thank you, daddy," you keened at the praise, though your response came out muffled with the shirt wedged between your teeth.

You gave a little impatient wiggle of your hips, feeling the mixture of slick and saliva begin to drip out of your pussy the longer it was left unattended.

Jungkook's eyes hooded at the sight, watching as a glob of his spit dripped down from your pussy and disappeared right between your crack. He swallowed hard, hands itching to spread the fat cheeks and watch the liquid pool around your tight, puckered hole. He'd grab your phone and make you bring up Park Hyungwon's contact, force you to Facetime the pathetic fuck, and make him watch as he let more of his spit trail from his mouth right over your greedy ass. Then he'd use his big tongue to shove it deeper and deeper into your winking little hole .

Of course, the Hyungwon part was purely theoretical because you no longer had his number or any contact with that cunt anymore. Jungkook saw to that three days into your relationship. But the other parts—

"Daddy?"

His gaze slowly drifted up to your pretty face when your muffled voice broke him from his thoughts. "Yes, my baby?"

"Wha's da bel' for?" you mumbled, your speech slurred by the fabric of his shirt still caught between your teeth.

Jungkook’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip, eyes darkening at the sight of you struggling to speak, and he wasn’t surprised when his cock twitched in response, pressing harder against his stomach.

He glanced at the belt lying next to you. “Was gonna punish you, angel,” he admitted softly.

His hand trailed down, freeing his throbbing shaft from its restraints and kicking the briefs aside. The (non-sexual related) clean freak in him made a mental note to tidy up later.

Climbing onto the bed, he settled between your legs, his weight pressing down on you as his chest melded into your soft, warm skin. A quiet, content sigh slipped from his lips as he let himself sink into you.

“But 'm still very sorry about earlier,” he murmured, his words a gentle apology as his hand brushed along your side, his nose nuzzling against your boob. “And I wanna be a little gentler with you tonight. Is that okay?”

A warmth swirled in your stomach, sending soft flutters through your body. Your hand lifted to thread through his silky, messy hair, your nails grazing his scalp just the way he loved.

“Of cour-kkhm,” His eyes flicked up to meet yours from where his head rested on your chest, and with a bunny smile, his fingers carefully tugged his shirt from your mouth, freeing your lips so you could speak more clearly.

Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his tattooed fingers, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. “You can have me any way you want, baby,” you whispered softly, your words full of affection. “You know that.”

“Never getting rid of me, you know that, right?” he murmured against the soft skin of your sideboob, his lips puckering to suck a delicate mark into the flesh.

“Would never try,” you sighed, your hand trailing down to rest on his warm, solid back as he licked tenderly over the mark he’d left. “Would fucking castrate you if you even tried to leave me.”

A low, deep laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he shifted up, his naked form pressing closer until his mouth found its place in the crook of your neck. He mumbled softly, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Would let you.”

You giggled, your head tilting to meet your other half. “Slut,” you mumbled sweetly before connecting your mouth with his. Your lips moved together in perfect sync, tongues lazily lapping against each other, unrushed and full of love.

The taste of you in his mouth had you clenching around nothing as the memory of his filthy tongue buried between your thighs minutes ago resurfaced. Your hips rocked up lightly, exhaling through your nose when the tip of his cock just barely brushed against your sticky clit, the sound loud in contrast to the soft click of your tongues.

Jungkook was no less affected, groaning into your mouth as his fingers tightened around the sides of your waist. His hips shifted down so the full length of his shaft could slip between your slick folds, and he reveled in the loud, squishy noise of your heat enveloping him as he slid back and forth.

“Mmmmhh,” you broke away from his mouth with a sigh of relief, your head lolling back as your body ignited at the feeling of his cock finally returning home. He didn’t make a move to push inside just yet, continuing his deep thrusts, coating his length and balls in your slick as he rutted back and forth. "Shit, baby."

Jungkook’s groan was strained as his hand trailed from your side, slipping between the two of you without moving his head. He reluctantly pulled his cock from your slick folds before two of his fingers were there to replace it, sinking into your heat without hesitation.

"F-fuck," you choked, your chest heaving at the sudden stretch, your body reacting instantly to the familiar intrusion. It was the first time something stiff had been inside you all night, and the relief was overwhelming.

Jungkook groaned low in your ear, letting you adjust for a second before his hunger took over. He pushed his fingers in deeper into your hole, sinking them in fully until his palm slapped loudly against your clit. Then he pulled them out and drove them back in, harder.

"Oh god, b-baby, shitttt." Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, jaw slacking when his long fingers easily reached that spongey part deep inside of you.

He nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing the hot skin there as his fingers continued their relentless pace, a soft groan escaping his throat. The way your walls squeezed tightly around his fingers like you didn't want him to pull out, the loud sqsch-sqsch-sqsch of your pussy echoing in his ears as he thrusted his hand in and out of your dirty little hole.

God, he was going to cum untouched like a fucking teenager.

“Need to put it in, please, baby,” he begged softly, voice strained with need, his breath hot against your neck. “Need you."

Your hand cupped his face, fingers brushing lightly over his jawline as your eyes fluttered shut. “Take it,” you mewled, breath catching as his fingers slowed. His hips shifted back over you, his heavy balls pressed snugly against your clit. “Take it all, baby. It’s yours.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers, his wet hand wrapping around his throbbing cock. He exhaled into your neck before slipping back into your folds and you choked out a loud sigh of relief as he finally began to fill you up.

“Shittttt,” he slurred against your neck, his forehead pressing into your jaw as he sank all the way in until his hips were flush with yours. “God, baby... so fucking good.”

His body stayed pressed against yours, his chest melting into your own, every inch of his skin needing to feel yours. His lips ghosted over your collarbone, up your neck, and to your jawline, pressing gentle kisses as he moved inside you with deep, unhurried thrusts.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, your hands sliding up his back, pulling him impossibly closer. You buried your face into his neck, the scent of Bvlgari and tobacco making your head spin. It was so good. So fucking him.

The warmth of his heavy body on top of you made you feel so safe, so completely his. It fueled the burning ache in your stomach, the pressure in your core building with each deep stroke.

Your brows furrowed, overwhelmed, and your eyes pooled with tears, both from pleasure and emotion. "God, I love you so much, Jungkook. You make me feel so safe a-and loved," you choked out, voice trembling.

Jungkook’s hips stilled slightly, but you felt the way his cock twitched inside you at your words. He pulled his head back, looking down at your tear-streaked face, eyes softening.

"My baby," he mumbled softly, his clean(er) hand lifting to brush away your tears before leaning down to press soft kisses over your flushed skin.

"As long as I’m alive, nothing and nobody will ever hurt a hair on your pretty little head, Y/N." He kissed over the fresh tears, licking the salty liquid off his lips before placing a soft kiss onto your pouty lips. "Besides me, of course, when you ask me to."

A watery chuckle escaped your lips as he added, "I love you more than I love myself, baby. You're my world. I would kill for you," another kiss to the corner of your mouth before he cheekily added, "almost have."

You giggled, shaking your head and leaning up to press a grateful kiss against his lips. You followed it with another, longer one, brushing softly over the cool metal of his lip rings. "Can't wait to live with you, baby."

"Mmm," he groaned in satisfaction, his hips instinctively picking up their slow, deep rhythm at your words. "Yeah? Can’t wait to be trapped in my house, nowhere to run when you’re being a little brat?"

You laughed, breathy from the way he was rolling his hips into you. "Like I get far as it is? You just follow me like a dirty stalker."

His smile turned dark and playful as his thrusts became a little sharper. "Uh-huh, and you think that would stop when we sign some stupid joint tenancy papers?"

You couldn't help the way you clenched around him at that, big eyes blinking up at him in shock. "You're letting me sign the papers with you?"

Jungkook's brows furrowed as if confused. "Baby, it's our house; why wouldn’t you?"

A grunt rumbled from your throat as you pulled him down, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Jungkook groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, his thrusts growing rougher in response to the bite.

The sounds that echoed around your bedroom were wet, needy, the slick squelching with every push and pull as he kept his pace, deep and steady. Your breaths mingled, his lips hovering over yours as he rocked into you.

Jungkook groaned lowly, his hips pressing harder, more urgent. “You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped, his lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw, up to your ear. “Give it to me every day, and it's still so wet and tight for me, fucking hellll.”

You keened at his praise, biting your lip harshly as his pace quickened. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, thighs squeezing as you pulled him deeper inside you until you were so close you were getting shoved into the headboard with each thrust.

“Ah, bab-uh! Right theree,” you whined, back arching as he hit that spot with precision, his thick head shoving against your g-spot like it was second nature. He knew your body inside out, and still, every time felt like a new fucking discovery.

Jungkook grunted lowly, his lips hovering by your ear as he thrust deeper, harder. “Right there, baby? That’s my spot, isn’t it? Feels so good when I fuck into it like that, huh?”

Your nails dug into his back as you whimpered, completely at his mercy. The slamming of the headboard against the wall was so loud but you couldn't care less. “Yes, yes, fuck, baby, that's yooourr fucking spot, uuh! Fucking take it, baby, godd!"

Jungkook groaned, his hips snapping faster, rougher, each thrust more desperate as he pounded into you. “I will,” he promised, possessiveness dripping from every word. “And you’re gonna give it to me, right, baby? Gonna beg me for it?”

“Please, baby, take it,” you cried out, your legs tightening around his waist. “Take it all, it’s yours. Just fucking take it.”

His hand gripped your hip hard, anchoring you in place as he slammed into you over and over again. He shifted you down a little so your head wasn't slamming into the headboard and his free hand slid down to rub over your slippery clit.

"Whose is it, huh? Who does this dirty fucking pussy belong to? Tell me.”

“You,” you sobbed, your body trembling beneath him, the pressure building in your core so quickly you could barely think. “It’s yours, baby. All y-yours.”

“Say my fucking name when you come,” he demanded, “and you’re gonna take everything I give you, right, baby? Greedy little pussy’s gonna suck up every drop of my fucking load. And you’re gonna hold it in there until I’m ready to turn you into a mama.”

You came so fucking hard.

It hit you all at once—your release crashing through you, your body shaking violently as a broken scream ripped from your throat, nails digging so deep into his skin you knew you’d leave marks.

“Jung—” your breath hitched in a sob “Jungkooookkkk!”

Your body arched into him, every wave of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you limp and trembling beneath him as he kept pounding into you, chasing his own release. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed in your ears, barely drowning out the breathless thank yous tumbling from your lips.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, his voice strained as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing as he used you as a fleshlight.

“Gonna be the best daddy,” you cried, legs shaking as you let him abuse your whimpering cunt. “Can’t wait to have your fucking babies. Give you, uh, g-give you as many as you want daddy.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, head thrown back in bliss. “Yeah? Gonna keep popping out babies for daddy until he says you’re done? Gonna let me fuck you so full until it sticks... 'til your belly’s so big you can barely fucking walk, baby?”

You could hear the slick, wet sloshing noise every time he pulled out and slammed back into your pussy, and you swore it was the prettiest sound you’d ever heard.

“Yesss, daddyyy,” you cried out, voice high and desperate. “Please make me a mommy. P-please.”

“Nghhh, fuck!”

With one final deep thrust, he spilled into you, hot and thick, his body trembling as he filled you completely. Your name fell from his lips again as your greedy walls fluttered and clenched around him, eager to milk every last drop of cum from his cock.

But he didn’t stop.

Jungkook’s hips kept rolling into yours, adjusting for a moment at the sensitivity before he sped up, dragging his softening cock against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb was cruel, chasing your swollen clit even as it tried to hide from him.

It was too much, too intense, but you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted—back arching, nails back digging back into his big shoulders, a broken wail spilling from your lips.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, head falling back as the overstimulation consumed you. “I c-can'tttt—”

“Another one," Jungkook growled, his lips brushing over your jaw, kissing you through every ragged breath. “C'mon, my love, you can do it. One more. One more, then you're done, baby.”

And just like that, it hit you—your second orgasm crashing through your body, leaving your toes curling and vision blurring. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking beneath him as he kept grinding, coaxing you through every wave of pleasure until you were trembling, thighs quivering around his waist.

“God, fuck!” you sobbed, clinging to him as the last of your release pulsed through you, squeezing his soft cock tight as he groaned into your neck. You were limp, shaking, but he stayed right there.

You both knew the chance of actually getting pregnant was very slim, thanks to the IUD in your arm, and you weren’t ready for that. You think.

But the breeding talk always turned you both the fuck on, and that 0.9% chance set something dangerous ablaze inside you. The risk, however small, just made it so much hotter.

You let out a content sigh as you crashed back to earth, shaky arms looping around his neck, pulling him down, craving the weight of his body on yours. Jungkook collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, still buried inside you

“Did so good, my baby. Always so good for me,” he cooed, his voice low and soft, as his nose nuzzled gently against your skin, brushing over your collarbone.

A breathy giggle escaped your lips as your fingers threaded through his slightly damp hair. “Thought you said you wanted to be gentle tonight.”

Jungkook hummed lazily against your neck, his lips trailing over your skin with a soft chuckle. “That was gentle,” he murmured, sinking deeper into your warm skin.

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “You’re not wrong,” you replied, your chest still heaving slightly as your hand slid soothingly up and down his back. You felt him smile against your neck, his arms tightening around you, his cock still nestled deep, clearly in no rush to pull out anytime soon.

For a moment, it was peaceful—the sound of your mingled breaths the only noise in the room. Then, Jungkook lifted his head slightly, glancing at the soft glow of your Mac screen. His eyes caught the time, and he let out an annoyed groan, burying his face deeper into your skin.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” you asked, your fingers still threading through his hair as you glanced toward the screen yourself. Your heart dropped when you saw the time.

“You’ve got to be up in, like, three hours,” you mumbled, running your hand down his back, your feet sliding up and down the back of his thighs in an attempt to soothe him.

Jungkook’s body tensed slightly at the reminder, his lips still pressed to your neck. You could feel the irritation in his silence, and your heart sank at the thought of him leaving before you even woke up.

“I’ll make your lunch before I come into work at eight, baby,” you offered softly, your voice gentle as you tried to ease his frustration. “I can bring it up to y—”

“I’m not going,” he interrupted, his voice firm but soft against your skin.

Your heart stilled at his words, and you pulled back slightly, trying to see his face. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”

“I’m not going in tomorrow,” he repeated, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “And you’re not either. We’re staying right here until we both get some real sleep.”

You blinked in surprise. “But—”

“And then,” he cut you off again, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, “we’re gonna wake up, pack your shit, and move into our house.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation.

Jungkook nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile as he leaned down to kiss you pouty lips, his hands brushing back your hair. “Told you, you can’t run from me anymore, baby.”

You grinned against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him deeply, your heart swelling with love.

“I love you so much, my dirty stalker,” you cooed against his mouth, your fingers drifting to trace over your name inked across his chest.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkled as his lips pressed softly against yours again, his body relaxing as he breathed you in. “I love you more, my crazy girl."

END.

WOW what a ride!! let me know what you think?? love you 🖤

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Eighteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen

AO3 LINK

Author's Note: All my love and many thanks to @vampire-exgirlfriend for being my cheerleader, for taking my face in her hands and telling me that I word good, and that the story I'm telling is one that's valid. We all need a cheerleader like her.

EXPLICIT CONTENT

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - She'll Still Be Mine

Aegon distracts himself from his woes with some physical healing, weird talks with both his dads, and a night out with his best friend.

Emotions were a tempest inside Aegon Targaryen as riotous as the churning waters of Blackwater Bay. He slammed the heavy bedroom door behind him, the fury of it shaking the candles in their holders on the small table inside the door. Sunfyre was a growling, heated presence inside the cage of his ribs, pulsing in time with each beat of his heart. How he craved for fang and claw so all would feel his fury.

Too hot. His skin felt too hot, too tight, too much.

Aegon tore at the buckles of his doublet, peeling off the rich, green brocade and tossing it aside. It did little to assuage his feelings. Sick curled in his gut; an impotence he could do nothing about. He yanked at the ties at the throat of his linen shirt and his eyes landed upon the bottles on the table, where they’d been residing for the past few weeks.

‘Mother wishes you to dry out’, his siblings had said the night after him and Aemond had been dragged back to the keep, the betrothal announcement and his brother’s words swirling around his head. No more wine, no ale, no beer. Only ciders, or the watered wine they’d break their fasts with.

What good did that do him now, when nothing was at the ready to distract him anymore? Besides, it would be a shame for all these nameday gifts to go to waste.

Aegon cocked his head as he approached, swiping up the first bottle. He ran his thumb along the waxed cork, the familiar Arbor seal pressed on top. Thunder rumbled outside as Aegon worked his dagger along the seal with practiced ease, bits of wax falling to the floor like petals as he leaned against the window pane. The cool air that accompanied the end of the harvest season felt good on his heated skin, the spray of rain just outside a balm even if it was not quite what he needed.

What kind of man was he who could not protect who he loved the most? Over a moon had passed since his nameday, since Abby’s horrible scream ripped through the night. All Larys Strong had found in his investigation was that the bastard had worked in the kitchens for the past year. No family, a “quiet fellow”, with a few dalliances with the serving maids.

Nothing.

What cold comfort it was to his hunītsos, who could not sleep alone and had taken to his sister’s bed or pulled Wylla into her own. Few nights she’d even crept into his bed, mouth wet against his throat as he distracted her from her nightmares and fear, to replace everything with the thought of him and only him. How he could lose himself in her, the scent of the heady, dark rose and currant soap that clung to her skin, to forget about his lacking when she mewled his name, rutting against his cock separated only by her small clothes, his teeth worrying at the bite he’d left on her shoulder back in the tent, refusing to let it fade. How easy it was to be there, with her, than some stinking brothel with bought comfort.

Aegon gasped for air as the red dribbled over his mouth and down his chin, staining his shirt. Without thinking, he’d taken several pulls from the bottle. It was perfectly dry as it snaked down his throat, a familiar feeling of relief, and the taste of plum and cherry far more enticing than the ciders he’d been restricted to. He watched from behind the silver hair that fell into his eyes as lightning illuminated King’s Landing before a crack of thunder boomed, loud enough to startle him even though he’d been prepared for it.

Dragging the back of his sleeve over his mouth, he leaned against the ledge and shut his eyes, letting the storm mist across his face - the wind blowing north and thus, his room had avoided getting soaked. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Theraxis' great, gray bulk come slinking out from behind the wardrobe, watching him with large yellow eyes as he promptly flopped over onto his side and turned, looking at him upside down.

“The lords tell me should I need anything, I have only to call upon them,” he told the cat, putting to voice what he’d held inside him these weeks. “So ready they are to give me my sister’s birthright, I do not even have to ask them for it.” He shook his head, another pull to ease the rumbling ache. “What kind of man do they take me for?” Theraxis had the courtesy to blink at him, pawing at the air and he snorted softly.

“They take you for potential.” Aegon startled at the unexpected voice. Theraxis let out a pleased meow and scampered up, prancing on deceptively light paws towards his mistress. She was lovely in the firelight, the glow of it catching along the edges of her hair, her long braid slung over one shoulder. Gone were the light silks and fluttering linen of the warm months. She was clad in a dressing gown of cream, embroidered with vines and flowers, the sleeves slashed from her elbows, the lavender lining reminding him of the flowers she had in her room the other day. “Oh, hello my darling,” she cooed, dropping to her knees to greet her cat - the animal the size of a hunting hound, seemingly larger as he tried to crawl into her lap while she laughed. The gown she wore was a deep v at her neck, and he could see the ties and lace of her nightdress beneath.

Her delicate fingers scratched around Theraxis’ ears as he pressed his cheek against hers and finally, her eyes met his. “We haven’t talked about it. Is that why you were so upset just now?”

Aegon took another pull from the bottle and went to the table to grab one of the goblets resting there. “Your brother has no more news,” he said, not hiding the truth from her, but guilt spurred him to take another drink. Abby’s lack of response indicated she had either already been told or was not surprised. Or a dozen other things involving how she didn’t indulge in her far more unpleasant emotions.

She pressed several kisses to the top of the cat’s head before he padded to the door and she followed to let him out, shutting and locking it behind her. He said nothing, giving her time as she rested her head against the wood to gather herself and splashed wine into a goblet like a good betrothed. It was easier to make sure he didn’t drink all of it without letting her share, and surely some wine would loosen her anxieties, if not her tongue.

There were times he wondered if she would ever trust him with all the things she left unsaid - if she would ever trust anyone with them.

Aegon approached, boots thumping softly on the rich rug. She turned at the sound of his approach, watching him as he took a sip from the goblet before holding it up to her lips for her to have a taste, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “He has no news. Cole and the whole fucking Kingsguard and the City Watch captain have found nothing.” Abby’s hand wrapped around the goblet to take another sip, and she looked so fragile, half in shadow with her back against the door, that he wanted to scream, to throw the bottle and demand the heads of the watch who were meant to be guarding the camp.

He took another swig from the bottle instead, drifting further into the room so she could not see his anger. Futile, he knew, but he’d not have her fear him, not when he was like this. Not when he feared himself.

“You wondered what kind of man the lords took you for,” she finally said and he knew a subject change when he heard it. Aegon scoffed and Abby tutted. “I said they see potential for someone to curry favor with. Your sister may be your father’s heir, Jeyne Arryn rules over the Eyrie, but your sister’s rule puts in doubt their own holdings. Should their sisters and their sister’s children then come before them, or the eldest daughter who married the heir to another keep? Not to mention a woman? Sitting the Iron Throne? Ruling over them when they would not even let their own wives do so?”

“It’s an ugly fucking chair,” Aegon complained.

“So you would not mind your wife ruling you?” was her teasing reply. Warmth spread through his belly - whether from Abby’s words of ruling him and the images that conjured to mind, or the reassurance she was not going to press him to ‘at least think about it’.

“I would not mind, for my wife is far cleverer than I.” The words were easy, calling her wife, that it nearly caught him off guard. Abby paused, teeth scraping over the pout of her lower lip, stained dark with the wine. He took the goblet from her to take another drink. “I do mind that they think me willing to steal my sister’s birthright - something made abundantly fucking clear that is not, and never will, be mine as long as our father lives. If her marrying Daemon did not cause it among-” He caught himself and shook his head. “Nothing will knock her from that pedestal. I mislike them thinking me such a monster.” It did not matter if he and Rhaenyra were close. They were far from it, and the war of jealousy, of anger and frustration towards her, did not mean he would take the throne from her in retribution, first born son or not.

Setting the bottle down on the low table before the fire, he lifted his arms, pushing up on his toes until his spine and shoulders popped deliciously. He groaned, tucking his hand beneath his shirt to scratch his belly and growled as he felt a cool hand join his, nails slightly sharper scratching against his skin and the fine hairs running along his skin, vanishing beneath his waistband.

“Decided to pet me instead?” he groaned happily, nuzzling his nose against the crown of her head and inhaling the bright scent of her hair. The distraction she provided was a good one and he let out a snort of laughter when she pushed him back onto the couch.

“You are most certainly not a monster, nor as awful as they try to paint you with such ambitions,” she said fiercely, immediately, and he held onto her defensive words and reassurance, let them be a balm to his wounded soul and the space where Sunfyre purred, content with the sweet and fierce words.

Aegon let his head fall back on the back of the couch and enjoyed the way she looked above him. Her face was slightly flushed from the wine, mouth stained red as a rosebud, small and plump and begging to be kissed. She was covered up in her dressing gown, no erotic enticement that he was used to seeing and yet she stirred his blood and his arousal all the same. ‘Lovely’, he thought, reaching a hand up to tug on the end of her copper braid, demanding her closer.

“I would devour you,” he murmured, licking his own wine stained lips. He’d tasted her off his fingers, but had yet to truly indulge the way he wanted. To escape into her was all he wanted, better than the wine that coursed through his veins. This was the vice he wished to indulge in, to lose himself in, and all the better with his Abrogail, his love.

Abby raised her eyebrows at him and pressed her hand to his knees to make room before lowering herself before him. His mouth immediately went dry, his lilac eyes widening as he took in her adorably focused look. First, she went for one boot, tossing it away, then the other followed and he settled in to be taken care of. Fingers, delicate with a needle, needy and demanding when in his hair, perfect when tangled with his own, began to work on the lacing of his trousers. His cock twitched, half hard already from her touch, and the groan Aegon made when she touched him had his toes curling against the rug.

Her giggle was sweet, as everything about her was. It was by no means the first time she’d taken his cock in hand, fingers struggling to wrap around his girth in a way that made him see stars, that begged to see her stretched around him, whimpering and whining to take him. This was no different. She drew him out, moisture already gathering around the head and her thumb immediately swiped to spread it around, a gentle squeeze following.

“Missed you,” he murmured, wrapping her braid around his hand once and tugged her closer. Abby’s pupils were blown wide and the flush of her cheeks was deeper, and he knew she liked the gentle pulling of her hair. Aegon had been delighted to discover how much she liked it when he handled her in such a way. “Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Abby smiled, a shy look of a blushing maiden, before she leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip of him his mouth jealous with need of her. He jerked at her braid in surprise and she yelped, shock rather than pain and an apology fell from him. Her eyes narrowed at him, assessing.

“Did you like that?”

No longer soft. No longer guileless. No longer his little rabbit; this was his kēlītsos, the little lion batting about its prey. Her thumb was idly stroking the underside of his cock in the way that sent him to shivering, balls aching, and he nodded. He lifted his free hand to cradle the soft curve of her jaw, thumb pressing against her lower lip. His heart was thudding. He’d wanted this for so long, had dreamt of it, but hadn’t asked, unwilling when she was so new to all of this.

Her mouth opened more, and he looked at the sweet pink inside, and Aegon released a long, shuddering breath.

“Please,” he whispered.

Abby’s teeth nipped at his thumb and he let her go, shifting around to give her more room. His fingers danced over the little buttons holding her dressing gown closed, tugging idly at one. Aegon wanted to tug at her collar, take a peek at her breasts, but the angle denied what sight was his. Another snort of laughter escaped him when she reached up to his chest to push him back. He watched, enraptured, as she opened her mouth once more, resting the salty, warm tip of his cock on the pillow of her tongue and wrapped her pretty lips around him.

“Jaw soft,” he told her through his groan. “Do not force yourself to take more.” She wouldn’t be able to, and he did not want her to hurt herself or him. Just as her sweet words soothed his woes, her mouth soothed him as well.

Aegon let himself fall into the warm tingle of wine and arousal pumping through his veins, gaze heavy lidded as his Abrogail pleasured him. The vision she was to him had him aching and it took everything not to force himself further into her mouth the longer she continued, to use his grip on her braid to guide her down. He would be good for her. A good teacher. He felt her sigh and moan around him, and praise fell from his lips.

“That’s a good lass… you’re doing so well,” he reassured her, delight settling into the heated knot in his belly with each happy wiggle she made. Even as the pacing of her mouth left something to be desired, or the moment where he felt the tease of her teeth before she adjusted and left him wanting more of that sharpness that had his breath catching, he still could not imagine a more intense experience. What she lacked in experience and technique, she more than made up for in exuberance and the simple fact it was her on her knees for him. Cassandra Baratheon might have had a mouth that could take him down, but his precious girl wanted him.

He desired nothing more than to be truly wanted.

Her mouth popped off, strings of spittle clinging from his cock to her lips as she gasped for air, eyes wet with the tears that came from taking him, and he hushed her, reaching up to stroke her cheek and smiling as she nuzzled into his hand. His thumb stroked over her mouth, spreading spit and his own essence until her lips shone with it, glossy and inviting. “Easy now, you can use your hand for a bit.” She was good at that. Abby nodded, eager, and tugged at the waistband of his trousers.

“Up,” she ordered hoarsely, and he complied, helping her work them down and off so there was no barrier. Aegon reached behind his head to tug off his shirt and lifted a foot to rest on the table behind her, lazy and languid, balls tight and aching. A whine stuck in Abby’s throat, those depthless eyes looking up at him as she leaned down, tracing her tongue along his balls, her hand sliding down to cup them the way he’d taught her. Long licks, kisses, each different affection, had Aegon feeling as if he’d spill all over her and ruin her pretty gown. “You are being so good for me,” she told him when she lifted her head from him to smile up at him.

“I want to be good for you,” he swore with a frantic nod. “I will be, I promise. Please don’t stop.”

Abby had the gall to giggle at him. It was then that Aegon noticed that one of her hands disappeared and he realized that it had slid beneath the gap of her dressing down, her nightgown beneath bunched up. A fresh wave of heat washed through him at the idea of her own arousal so demanding from this that she needed to find relief.

Oh, his poor kēlītsos.

“I want to taste you,” she whispered, and he could hear the catch in her voice, just there when he knew her arousal was growing. Abby’s hand worked him, slick and perfect with that slight twist of her grip and he nodded.

“Please,” he begged again. “Clever girl, you’ve learned so fast, you can do it. I know you can.” He tugged on her braid again, hard enough for her to feel it, and it drew a moan from her, the arm that was tucked beneath her gown moving a little faster. “Open up, you’re almost there.” His words were catching with his anticipation as he fed her his cock once more and Abby took him with an eager whine that vibrated up from the base of his spine. His hips jerked towards her, unable to help himself, and she choked as more of himself forced inside but she didn’t stop, taking him with greedy, needy sounds. Then, her other hand joined and the sensation of her wet fingers stroking against his balls and the soft skin just behind had him seeing stars.

It was over nearly as soon as it had started and he was falling into his end like he was still a green boy, the pressure at the base of his spine imploding, pulling him farther and farther down until he was pushing her away, attempting and failing to warn her of what came next. Abby's eyes were wide, wet and blue and endless, as he came, her name choking off in an almost pathetic cry. She was not deterred, the first of his spend catching along her cheek before she was taking him in hand, continuing to stroke him as he caught along her chin and mouth, over her pretty dressing gown that he got to ruin after all.

Aegon did not care, his vision blurry, everything focused on the feel of her hand, the pleasure of his release, the way the milky white spend decorated her. There was a strange sense of waste in the back of his mind that he did not give more thought to but knew where it came from. That time would come soon enough.

He fell back against the couch, limbs soft and tingling, his own mouth wet, his skin heated in that satisfying, post-peak flush even more the better for it was Abby that brought it on, because she loved him. Gods, he loved her. He loved her so much he could not find all the words for it.

“I love you,” he panted, head lolling over to his shoulder as he gazed at her, fondness, affection, everything he could not put into words heavy in his tone.

“I love you too,” she returned, voice rough and weighted and just as sincere, meeting him in the place between them. Affection surged through him and Aegon tugged at her braid again before dropping it, hands reaching for her arms to draw her up his body, his eyes dark and heavy as her tongue swiped against the silkiness of him against her mouth. In a daze, he reached up to push more of it off her chin and into her mouth, and she noisily sucked the taste of him off his fingers.

Eager and adventurous, Abby was not some soft maiden, frightened of a romantic touch. Nay, Abby was an eager lover, excited to be with him, wanting to be with him. How many years had he spent chasing a peak that he could not name, throwing money at women, men sometimes, trying to find the piece that he craved. He was far more experienced than she would ever be, and how he desperately wanted to take her, to bury himself in the home of her body.

How easy it would be, and yet it was the knowledge that it was expected of him to 'ruin' her before their wedding that stopped him. To get her fat with his child, to take some kind of advantage of her, to only sate his own desire. The way the bitter bitch of a septa had grown horrified at their needy kisses in the gallery, to Aemond's angered remarks in the library, to Mother's hawk-sharp stare every time Aegon drew close, the reminders to Abby about 'virtue' in his mother's solar in the evenings. The idea that he was seen as some insatiable, lust filled creature who could not be trusted to control himself, raked hot against his insides. The way he was judged, and the way he knew she would be judged, left him feeling just as strange and raw as the assumptions that he coveted his sister's birthright.

To deny himself the full pleasures of his body allowed him to shake away his own past; to discover in the slow build up of all that brought her pleasure was a new experience and one that he would draw out - to deny himself the pleasure just as he denied her the full experience of him - to build up the anticipation was too enticing.

He kissed her then, the taste of wine, of her and him, making his belly burst into excited moths like the ones pinned to his sister’s collection boards. Abby was shivering and filled with tension as her own peak had not yet been realized, but she came into him eagerly, a needy thing in heat, and he would sate her as she had so kindly and sweetly done for him.

“You are a mess,” he chuckled, and Abby’s flushed skin burned deeper once more. He pondered for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and rising from the couch.

She squealed, a delighted sound, and clung to him as he took her to the bed and deposited her amidst the soft blankets. He braced his arms on either side of her, capturing her mouth for another kiss before he pulled away to get a clean cloth to wipe the rest of her face with. The water in the basin was cool, and he took his lady firmly by the chin to work on wiping her face. Even as Abby’s giggles filled the room, she remained pliant and well-behaved, teeth worrying on her lip as he cleaned her up.

“Ticklish, are we?” he teased her, fingers fiddling with the buttons on her dressing gown. There were only five of them. Five annoying little bastards kept him from her perfect breasts.

“How dare you tease me when I performed so well,” Abby replied with her nose tilted in the air haughtily, which bared her throat to him and the slick shine of spend clinging to her skin. He dove in, licking it up with the flat of his tongue, pushing her back onto the bed as he hovered over her, devouring her neck with exaggerated sounds as if he were Sunfyre feasting upon a carcass. She shrieked, giddy and squirming, his captured prey, and he growled and hummed against her throat and lost himself in the sound, in the scent of her. “Oh no! The dragon is going to eat me!” she cried, pushing at his shoulders as fiercely as she clung to him. He groaned, grinding his hips against her as he felt the bite of her nails in his skin, the edge of pain soothing amidst the pleasure.

The dragon was, indeed, about to feast.

He would be as good of a boy as she had called him and not tear the dressing gown. Aegon took his time to undo each of the fastenings, easing her out of the pretty fabric before tossing it blindly behind him.The nightgown beneath was simple - cream colored linen with pink ribbon laced through the neck, little ruffles along the ends of her sleeves. Nowhere near the near sheer gown he was used to seeing her in. There was something sweet in this, something that called to the dark thing in him that demanded he ruin, and he nuzzled between her breasts, tugging at the pink ribbon with his teeth to hear her laughter again. How much better to have wine in his blood and the sound of her in his ears to chase away all the dark thoughts that haunted the corners of his mind, chasing endlessly, predator to prey. Aegon’s teeth snatched at a nipple, peaked beneath the nightgown, the damp of his mouth soaking into the material.

Abby’s fingers dove into his hair, her other hand grasping desperately at his shoulder as she arched into him. There had been no sweeter experience than discovering all the ways she found pleasure, and Abby was deeply responsive. Not in the way the others had been - responding only to what he sought regardless of the pleasure, only for what he paid them for. Abby was a taut string, full of ticklish spots and places that made her whimper and writhe. Aegon wondered if he could make her peak from toying with her breasts alone - he’d heard for some that was possible, and he was curious if it would be the case for his love.

He kept her clothed, the need inside him thrashing against the restraint, wanting to devour her, to take her and make her his without question. Aegon’s mouth continued to focus on the ripe swell of her breasts while his hand reached down to tug her gown up over her thighs, reaching beneath the fabric to tug her smallclothes away, fingers working at the tie. She was a clever girl, reaching down and helping him remove them until he could touch her freely. Aegon sighed, long and low, vibrating at the feel of her silky and warm against his fingers. A final nip at her breast and he slid down the bed between her thighs. Aegon laughed as they spasmed, and Abby tried to close them around his head.

“Let me,” he coaxed her and she squealed, softly, wriggling against the bed.

“What are you doing?” she asked, voice hushed, and he pressed her thighs apart, Abby letting them fall as he hooked a trembling thigh over his shoulder.

“Kissing you.” Aegon stroked her thigh soothingly and nipped along the soft skin of her thigh. She jerked beneath him with a needy whimper and her fingers found themselves in his hair once more. With a content sigh, Aegon leaned forward to stroke the flat of his tongue softly along the seam of her, the taste of salty and sweet bursting on his tongue. Abby gave a choked cry before it turned muffled and he lifted his head to see her shoving her nightgown over her mouth to muffle the sound. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the warmth of her, humming so she could feel it and how she squirmed and wriggled at the sensation. Aegon wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t muffle her sounds - he desperately wanted to hear her, every sound, every sigh, to hear his Abrogail whimper and beg for him.

Though he knew how loud Abby could be and the last thing he needed was his mother finding out about this.

Aegon kissed his way back down, avoiding the place where she ached the most and tending to the rest of her. Spreading her with his fingers that knew her so intimately, and allowing his tongue to do the work, kissing her here as well as he kissed her ripe mouth. Seven help him, all he wanted to do was feast upon her with abandon, to hold her down as he brought wave after wave of pleasure over her. Not now though, not yet when he’d never touched her like this, and there were so many new things to learn about her, and what brought her the pleasure she so deserved.

It was so simple to fall into it, the enjoyment in the tasting of her, his hands stroking along her thighs, along the tender flesh behind her knees, reaching up to stroke her belly and feel her desperate hand grab his, clinging to him as she rolled her hips into his touch with a growing insistence. When he wrapped his mouth around the tender bud, another sound ripped through her, back arching, sound muffled behind her attempts at quiet. Her fingers pulled in his hair and he felt it shoot straight through his cock, feeling the stirrings of his arousal come back. He growled softly, nipping along her thigh near the crease, the little mole there a hidden thing only for him. Teeth nipped harder, curiously, and Abby cried out again, fingers pulling at his hair and something dark and molten stirred in his chest. The need to bite her, to break her tender skin, leave a scar of his teeth there for him to admire, for her to touch when she needed him, coursed through him, the needy, feral thing inside of him demanding it. It could match the mark he’d been deepening along her shoulder, that filled him with a heated possessiveness every time he touched or saw the evidence of his claim.

Not yet. He couldn’t yet, not here, not now. But he could leave a bruise, mouth worrying at the soft skin of her left thigh as he left numerous marks along her collarbones, places she could hide and cover. When they were free at Harrenhal, he would not let her hide them. Let them see how much he loved her, how much he craved her.

How Abrogail belonged to him.

Aegon picked up his pace as her hips grew insistent, her fingers tugging harder on his hair, wordless mumbles and whimpers peppered with her gasping, “Please,” and “Aegon,” and even something whispered in her mother tongue, the words giving her a twist and lilt to her tone, “Mo realta geal.” It took only two swipes of his tongue over her clit to have her crying out, slick gathering along her folds, her body trembling at the newness of the sensations, and the familiarity of the peak he gave her. He moved back to press kisses along her thighs and up to press more of them along the clenching muscles of her belly.

“I’m not done yet,” he told her, watching in delight as she managed to prop herself onto her elbows, face flushed and her beautiful eyes heavy lidded. Before she could say anything, his tongue swiped at the fresh rush of arousal once more, insistent this time, the pressure increasing from his more exploratory efforts earlier.

He let the need take over, the touch of his teeth nipping at her skin, the way the tip of his tongue danced Valyrian letters over her to find which motions drew her desperate and frantic. After her second peak, Aegon pressed two fingers inside of her, giving her the sensation that he knew she instinctually craved by the way her moan was full of relief, and the shocked cry as he carefully pressed a third inside of her. His mouth and chin shone with the evidence of her, his other arm banding over her stomach to keep her frantic hips steady as he feasted on her, his thank you for her eager display at pleasuring him from earlier. After the third wave crested, Aegon withdrew to press his wet mouth against her belly, working his way up to settle further between her thighs, cock aching as his arousal returned. When he brushed against her, he whimpered, and beneath him, Abby’s hips rolled up trying to catch him. He knew that motion, the way she angled her hips, the way her eyes, blue and wet and blown black, gazed up at him.

“Aegon-”

He cradled her jaw with damp fingers, his eyes focused on hers, the little freckles sprinkled along her nose and cheeks. A harsh swallow, his throat bobbing, and he let her rock her hips up against his, feeling the slick warmth of her body against him, knowing that after her peaks, she’d be ready for him. It would take little to settle himself and bury his cock inside her sweet cunt.

Their breaths came out in tandem. Heavy gasping filled the air as he lowered his head to press his forehead to hers, noses touching, breathing in each other’s exhales. While he cradled her jaw, Abby reached down between them to wrap her fingers around him, guiding the tip of him along her folds.

“Careful,” he warned her, thumb pressing lightly against the pretty, fluttering pulse in her throat.

“I will,” Abby whispered, voice little and delicate, a mewl as her eyes fluttered, his cock rubbing along the seam of her, bumping along the apex of her. “I need you… I hate waiting…”

He kissed her softly, the arm he was propped up on shaking. “I know, hunītsos… soon. We won’t leave our bed for days, I swear,” Aegon promised her. “I’ll tie you to it, have my way with you. Hells, you can tie me down and have your way, darling.”

“And I’ll say thank you,” she gasped and he could feel the clenching over her body, the fluttering of her cunt against his cock as she peaked again, a little ripple compared to the waves from before but all the same. “As I thank everything I ride.”

It wasn’t more than a moment before he spilled over her for the second time, his spend dripping across her cunt and slipping across the back of her hand. Their moans were soft, muffled as she swiped her tongue in his mouth, and he gave himself over to her, settling into the softness of her body.

Soon.

Soon she would be his, forever.

The double doors to the king’s apartments had intimidated Aegon since he was a boy.

That was their purpose, after all - to be intimidating and guard the sanctum of the monarch. Aegon wondered if his namesake had wanted such doors, or if this was from the menace that Maegor had sought to employ. Were they modeled on the lord’s chambers on Dragonstone? He’d only been to the island a handful of times and had never made it towards those sacred apartments that his elder sister now kept. The ironwood imported from the North was dark and gleaming, the intricate carvings of snarling dragons flying through the knots and whorls of the deeply polished wood. The handles themselves were cast iron, the sinewy body reminding him of Sunfyre’s sleek frame, wings splayed out to press against the door.

Sers Lorent Marbrand and Steffon Darklyn flanked the entrance, the elder Ser Lorent looking at him with his hand raised to open the doors for him but had paused at whatever look was on Aegon’s face. The man was not much older than Ser Criston, his auburn hair gleaming a shade of molten gold in the shaft of afternoon light.

If his father was dead behind that door, would the men standing here bend the knee to him, swear fealty to the king’s first born son? Or would they flee to Dragonstone to throw themselves at Rhaenyra’s feet? Would the blood of he and his brothers still coat their blade?

‘You are the challenge, Aegon. Should Rhaenyra take the throne, your life may be forfeit.’

Would it really? If he didn’t matter to this man?

‘But you do matter,’ a little voice stroked at his thoughts. ‘Near a full moon’s turn, this castle was filled with the expectation that you would be named heir. Finally acknowledged. The rights as first born son finally, finally extended to you. Finally, Sire would have to acknowledge that he beget you, could no longer ignore and wish you were a dead child born to a dead woman.’

The people had cheered for him. They had called for him.

Would being king make that worth it?

Aegon tugged at his left cuff, tucking his fingers inside where the favor was wrapped comfortingly around his wrist over where she had scratched him all those weeks ago. Warmth flooded through his veins, and the knots in his chest eased, and the scent of her rose and currant perfume oil danced through his memory.

It didn’t matter. None of this mattered; the king did not matter, not anymore. For once, Aegon found himself relieved to greet the day, one step closer to escaping this city and leaving the machinations and the ghosts behind. The future was no longer a dim, necrotic thing, a looming noose waiting for him to climb the gallows. His mother and the Tower’s ambitions, once smothering and all consuming, now felt like something he could finally escape. He had dreamed for years of fleeing across the Narrow Sea to the pleasure houses of Lys, or the once secret city of Braavos, and to know that the Riverlands held such an escape for him, away from the legacy of his forebears and into the life of a country lord, allowed him to finally breathe.

Ser Lorent opened the door and announced his presence. “Prince Aegon, Your Grace.”

It took everything in him to not wrinkle his nose at the medicinal scent that clung to the cloying drifts of incense as he stepped into the room, the great door shutting behind him with enough of a thud that he fought not to flinch. It reverberated through his bones, and Aegon had the mad thought that it was the stone door of a tomb, trapping him inside with the shambling corpse of his sire.

Whatever new concoction Maester Orwyle had been giving him appeared to have staved off the rapid decline he’d been experiencing beneath Mellos’ care. The rot had eased somewhat, and the king’s mind was clearer. He sat beside his table, a great book before him making notes about a new expansion, no doubt. Aegon approached quietly as his father did not acknowledge him right away, and for the first time in some years, he took stock of the Freehold.

The scent of stone dust in the air struck another memory. This was one where he was smaller, mother preoccupied with Daeron’s first steps. He’d slipped in behind Lord Lyonel to lay on the cool stone beneath the table. His father had found him later, surprised, before Aegon had explained that he was too hot and the ailing king got down on the floor and lay beside him. He’d been so surprised that his sire had joined him that he froze, uncertain as to what to say. The king had filled the silence, speaking of how dragon’s blood runs hot in their veins through the bond they have with their mounts. He’d spoken of the theories of the magic that created the dragons, that made them, the Valyrians, different from mortal men so they might ride in the skies.

His breath caught in his throat as his sire patted his hand.

“You’re a good boy, Aegon.”

“Thank you, father.”

The Freehold had expanded further, nearly pressed up against the balcony doors if not for the slight gap behind it for one to get through to open the doors. His father’s quill scratched across the paper, fully occupied with whatever thought he was absorbed in. Aegon’s eyes rove over the buildings, and settled on the great dragon carving perched upon a platform on one of the buildings. The wings were broad things, beginning to spread open, its thick neck arched, its head a rough shape that reminded him of Vhagar. If only it were painted, decorated the way the frescos and murals of the Holdfast were.

Aemond would surely know more about what Aegon was looking at, what this district was meant to be, but Aegon knew that even his brother’s voracious appetite did not hold a candle to their father’s obsession. Aegon doubted even Gaemon and Daenys the Dreamer could recreate the Freehold in such detail. Had the warlord Aenar thought of teaching his grandchildren of Valyria? Or had the coming of the Doom and losing everything they’d ever known, the people and places that were once home, been too painful of a thing?

“I am not sure if that dragon will speak to you no matter how hard you look at it.”

The chuckle that followed was raspy and Aegon jerked as if caught doing something he shouldn’t, backing away from the table before he broke anything just by being too close. He looked up, his sire’s dark lilac eyes so like his own, cloudy with his illness that had prematurely aged him.

Aegon’s hands shifted, wiping his palms on his legs to keep from crossing his arms protectively over himself. He did not know how to speak to the man before him, and all thoughts and preparations he’d made that morning, going over what he’d say to him in his head had all vanished.

“Sunfyre is a good listener, but I don’t think dragons make the best conversationalists, stone or otherwise,” he said, his voice higher than he’d intended.

Another chuckle and a shake of his head. “No, they do lack that needed ability to carry on the other end of a conversation.” He hummed in the way that Aemond had. “The lords of the realm had nothing but good things to say of you, my boy. An impressive feat of might in the tourney. Lord Edmund came to beg for reparations for his injury. I told him he had fought well, but let us not mewl over being bested by someone better, hm?” A shake of his head and the king set his quill down, his full attention on Aegon in a way he had not experienced in some time.

A heated sensation coursed through Aegon and he couldn’t figure out where it had started. He felt it spread in his chest, along the back of his neck and into his cheeks, not quite embarrassment, not quite pride either, but something that felt in-between, as if being seen was both a good thing and an embarrassing thing.

“Everyone knows.”

“I imagine the man is sore knowing not only has he lost to me in front of the realm in combat, but the hand of my Lady as well,” Aegon said, fingers twitching along his wrist for the reassurance he needed once more. It was easier to speak of things not quite himself, than to figure out how to respond to his king’s approval. Even his grandfather had little complaint at how he conducted himself during the festivities. There’d even been approval as to the attacker in the camp as well.

Thinking about it still caused Aegon’s blood to boil, the ache in his hands to raise that bastard from the dead and tear him apart himself.

“You will do well, I think,” the king continued “in your own country house. I envy you the escape, in truth, and it will be good for you. Get out on your own.”

As if Aegon was being sent to a hunting lodge in a little village, and not the largest castle in the realm, beneath the eye of Lord Tully and half the banners displeased at Aegon’s presence, and the others who spent time vying for favor. Still, the king’s platitudes strangely bolstered Aegon and he straightened his shoulders, coming around the table slowly, lingering along the edges of what looked like a market.

“Thank you, father.” Aegon was pleased that his voice did not falter on the word. “I’m looking forward to it. Sunfyre will enjoy the freedom, and I know Abby is looking forward to creating a household.” Aegon was still trying to learn their names outside of the twins who had remained in King’s Landing with both Abby and Helaena, as well as the bubbling and babbling Ryger, who was helping Abby practice the River tongue, and in turn, she was practicing with him. Warmth spread through his chest and he finally met his father’s gaze. “I came to ask about the family jewels.”

“Oh?” The king settled in his chair, a curious tilt to his head as he waited for more.

Aegon swallowed. “Yes. Abrogail is to be my wife, a princess of House Targaryen. It is only fitting that she have her own pieces from the treasury, and I’d like to pick some for her.” He took a breath, forging on before he could lose his nerve. “I would also like to make some custom pieces, that would be hers to… heirlooms. I saw how pleased she was to receive some of her mother’s things. I’d like for her to have that for our own children.”

He imagined Abby’s belly, round with child, his child, their family. Abby, dripping in jewels that he’d chosen for her, that brought out the sparkle of her eyes, the red of her mouth, to glimmer around her throat and in her curls. Aegon’s fingers twitched beside him as if he could reach into his mind for her, to draw the vision in reality.

“Mmm…” That hum, again so like Aemond’s and yet so very not, broke through Aegon’s thoughts and he watched his sire nod, reaching for a piece of parchment. “True enough. Let it not be said that House Targaryen does not care for their own. Women do love jewels.” A dry chuckle. “You should be careful how frequently you give them to her. She’ll come to expect a piece for every minor inconvenience. What one must do to keep the peace.” There was a scratching across the parchment, a pause before it resumed. “One of the crowns, of course. And jewels for… two pieces. I think that is more than enough to supplement whatever House Strong holds in their own treasury.”

He held the parchment out and Aegon closed the distance, as close as he dared, to take it from him. “Take this to Lord Beesbury’s office. He holds the keys to the treasury.”

“They’re not held by your own office?” Aegon asked curiously, glancing down at the scratch of his sire’s hand. A tiara and jewels for two pieces. Aegon wanted to cry that it was not enough, that it would never be enough, but it was more than he had truly expected. To be given this so willingly had left him feeling lightheaded; he’d been prepared to defend his request and to not have to was a strange feeling.

It was not something he thought he should get used to.

“No, the treasury holds the taxes, which in turn goes back to the people. Wars, tourneys, the maintenance of the King’s Road. The servants here and at Dragonstone, the upkeep of the Red Keep. The allowance for you and your siblings to fund all that drinking and merrymaking that I know you like. Your mother’s ladies, the Kingsguard, the Dragonpit… Feeding dragons is not cheap.” The king laughed again and Aegon prickled at it, uncertain how to handle the man before him talking with him so normally, as if they were truly father and son. He ran his tongue over his teeth behind his lips as his sire settled back in his chair and the heavy, dusty book in front of him. “No need to pay double the guard to simply store our things somewhere else. Take that to Lord Beesbury, and do give him my regards, boy.”

Boy. At least it was better than Baelon.

Aegon looked at the paper in hand, permission so unexpectedly granted, before his feet moved and he knocked on the door for it to open. The heavy thing swung open, Ser Lorent giving Aegon a slight nod and…

“Ser Criston,” Aegon said, not quite hiding his surprise to see his mother’s man standing there. Lilac eyes searched the Dornishman’s face as Ser Lorent closed the king’s door behind them. If Aegon didn’t know any better, he’d think that before the man’s features smoothed out, he might have looked worried. Ser Criston? Worried? The thought didn’t seem to register with him. He’d seen Ser Criston look concerned when one of them took a particularly nasty blow in the training yard and blood was involved. He’d seen concern when Helaena was having one of her struggling moments where she needed to get away from everyone.

“Your Grace.” The knight’s voice was low as he fell in step beside Aegon, a half step behind as he did with his lady mother. Unlike the last time, all those weeks ago after the knight had tried to give him advice, there was no air of judgment radiating off the man. “Prince Daeron expressed his wishes for the pair of you to go flying.”

“Did he? Well, I’ll find him after this.” A smile stretched along Aegon’s face. Daeron had been incandescent with the prospect of going flying with his siblings now that Tessarion was big enough to take a rider, and Aegon knew Helaena had gone out with him already. Aegon tried not to feel guilty for it, since there would be plenty of time for the pair of them to ride together without Mother fretting all the while.

"Your Grace."

Aegon paused and turned to look at the knight, uncertainty raising the hairs on the back of his neck. 'This is it', he thought. This was when the lecture would start, when Ser Criston Cole, his mother's sworn shield and protector, the man who first taught him how to hold a sword, who had been there when he was frightened and afraid after Daeron's birth, when Mother was bedridden, when the maesters feared she would not make it, would take another piece from him, and Aegon wondered if it would be that one piece that would send him toppling into shambles.

Nothing he'd done would matter. Nothing would be good enough.

"I have not had the time to tell you how well you've done," came the words that Aegon struggled to register. "I must admit, I was uncertain how things would turn out given your long time away from training, but..." Cole shook his head, a smile crossing his handsome face. "That was an inspired fight, my prince. You took what I've taught you and what you've learned on your own and used it well."

A flush of heat rushed through Aegon, that sudden nervous flush that usually came from shame, but in this moment felt strangely optimistic. "Thank you, Ser Criston," he said, voice stilted, mouth dry.

"You've handled yourself admirably these past weeks, my prince," Cole continued. "I am proud of you, and the man you've shown yourself to be, and I have made that known to your mother." His dark eyes shifted away as his fingers drummed against the pommel of his sheathed sword. Praise was hard earned from Ser Criston, and something Aegon had thought he himself had long given up chasing, as Aemond received it so easily. "She worries for you, of course."

"Of course," Aegon said faintly, eyes burning and he cleared his throat. He was, much like in his sire's room, a boy once more, small in many different ways. The weight of expectation was looming and all he wanted to do was run from it, and how unforgiving the failure could be. Yet he yearned for it. "Thank you for your kind words, Ser Criston." Stilted. Unsure. Aegon felt foolish. He felt like something else was looming and it wasn't coming.

"Should you wish to continue training, I would be glad of it," the elder continued, peering back at him. "With your uncle, Ser Gwayne, coming with you to Harrenhal, you would also be in good hands."

"I will consider it, Ser Criston," Aegon said quickly, desperate to escape the strangeness of receiving praise. "Is this why you came looking for me?"

Cole was quiet, watching him for a moment before shaking his head. "I heard you had gone to see the king." There was more to the statement but Cole did not finish it, and Aegon was not certain how to take it. Had Cole been worried for him? "Your mother did express hope you would join her in the Sept after supper for evening prayers, but I did not think she would ask you outright. That task might be left to the Lady Abrogail.”

Aegon grimaced at the idea of it. He had accompanied his mother to her prayers over the years, had found his own sense of comfort not in the gods, but in the quiet time with her. The way Mother’s face would relax in the candle light, the whispered prayers, even stories of his grandmother who had died a handful of years before he’d been born. The moments were precious to him, were moments where the gulf between them did not feel more than a trickling creek, where Mother’s hand rested warmly between his shoulder blades or stroked her fingers along the nape of his neck as she did when he was small.

“I’ll attend with her tonight,” he said softly. “Thank you, Ser Criston. Please send my mother my wishes.”

“A round!” Aegon declared, hopping up onto the bench, his hand gripping Alyn’s shoulder. “For Alyn Hull! The best fucking man I know!” He giggled, pleased with himself even as Alyn smacked him in embarrassment, ignoring his protestations and dropping back down in his seat.

The Shallows was a tavern they had only recently become more acquainted with as Aegon drew further from the Street of Silk, and Alyn’s aunt and uncle ran the place at the top of the street from the main docks. It had become a comfortable place, all considered, and Aegon had found excitement in the stream of sailors and bards that frequented the place, often only in the city for a night or two, with tales from the Stepstones and the fighting, of far off Myr with their new inventions, Braavos and their clever fighting men.

“You’re ridiculous,” Alyn shook his head, shoving at his shoulder once more as stabbed a hunk of meat out of the stew.

“He’s not,” came the clipped tone, a northern burr tempered by the southern accent. Fresh tankards of the house ale were set on the table as Bri shook her head. The deep green of her kirtle looked nearly black in the low light of the tavern, her skirt tucked up in her wide black belt. “It’s what you deserve.” It was Alyn’s turn to receive a hit as she shoved at his shoulder, before Alyn grabbed her hand and pulled her into him to kiss her cheek.

“You just can’t wait to get rid of me,” he complained. “You’re so happy the prince is dragging me all the way to Harrenhal so you can finally run away with Beric Storm.”

Aegon reached for his tankard and quickly occupied himself while the pair fell into their bickering, and he was quite certain Alyn’s hand had made it to the wench’s backside. He rolled his eyes and turned to look out at the rest of the room from their vantage point at the back of the tavern. Below, the crush of small folk were cheering as the drinks were dispersed, shouts of ‘Hail Prince Aegon!’ in thanks and calls and well wishes for Alyn.

“I’d have no one else by my side, Hull,” Aegon said after Bri returned to her duties, grasping his friend by the shoulder.

“Who else would keep you alive?” countered Alyn with a snort. “I consider it a fine payment for my bodyguard services to you over the years.” Aegon prickled at how transactional Alyn made it sound, a frown crossing his face before Alyn’s hand gripped his shoulder in return, drawing his attention back to him. “We have had fun here, in the city, have we not?” he asked, a smile instead of his usual playful smirk crossing his face. “TIme for us to have a new adventure. How robust do you think the city life of Harren Town actually is?”

“Fuck if I know,” Aegon said shortly, still prickling but trying to shake it away. “You can bring your girl with you.”

“Nay,” Alyn murmured, taking a swallow from the fresh tankard. “Bri promised to stay with my mother until Addam’s back from the Stepstones.” Alyn’s elder brother was serving in the Velaryon fleet, fighting down south in Lord Colrys’ war. “She won’t leave until he’s safe and returned to us.” Aegon nodded, understanding. The Hulls were a close family, Alyn’s aunt and uncle having opened the tavern when Alyn was a babe, not long before Aegon himself had been born. His mother was one of many who wove fishing nets - a trade that could be easily found north in Harrenhal. However, Aegon had offered to put his mother up as well, set up and comfortable how he knew Alyn hoped for her.

“Word from your brother?”

A shrug. “Lord Velaryon won another battle - according to those merchants from Qohor that came in this week. Rumor is the Triarchy might be enlisting the Bright Banners.”

Aegon drummed his fingers against the tankard. “He’ll be fine. And when he comes back, we’ll make sure he’s taken care of.” Another drink to cloak it in the casualness rather than the seriousness of his words, uncertain how Alyn would take it.

“First you make me your steward, now you offer to make my brother another part of your new house?” There was a teasing quality in Alyn’s voice, but Aegon knew better, just as his friend knew his own tones masked his own truth. They had been through much together, things that neither of them would ever speak of, but knotted them together like the nets Marilda Hull wove with such care.

He snorted and shook his head, tearing off a hunk of the fresh bread Bri had brought, soaking it in his own stew. “Addam can do what he likes, and whatever I can make happen, I will. It’s not charity,” Aegon quickly added, because Alyn would rankle at times about charity until he learned not to complain about it. “He served the realm. Should he want to be a Gold Cloak, should he want to set up a tavern in Harren Town, hells, send him to Oldtown and become a Maester-”

“Aeg,” Alyn cut in, fingers gripping his shoulder and Aegon fell silent, eyes focused on the food before him. “I want to come with you to Harrenhal. I want to make a better life, I don’t want to raise my children in this stinking cesspool of a city, I want my mother to have the garden she’s always dreamed of.”

“You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” Aegon said, voice low, the frown pulling at his mouth once more. “I’d still let you have it for-”

“Aegon,” Alyn said. “As your steward, all I ask is for your respect.”

“And as your liege, all I ask is you tell me when I go wrong,” Aegon replied, finally meeting his friend’s eyes. They were bright green, like his aunt’s, and his mother’s. The silver hair was the only thing that hinted at his origins. His true origins. ‘As your-’ Aegon could not finish the thought and instead he hooked an arm around Alyn’s shoulder, pulling him in to smack a kiss to his silver head. “Here, steward. Give that bard a dragon and let’s get something good playing.”

Thank you for being here! I hope you've been enjoying yourself! It's been a hot minute since we had a chonky Aegon POV chapter and with everything having gone on, I thought it was a great time to revisit. Not to mention, I've been sitting on this Viserys interaction since Chapter 9. I've really wanted to dive into certain personality traits of his that often get understandably overshadowed by less than stellar qualities since he's on a different trajectory here. I understand that maybe that's not what some of you are expecting, and that's okay! But I really do love diving into his head and unwrapping him and shaking him in my snow globe, so those of you that enjoy that, again, many thanks for being here. Also I'm so glad to bring Alyn back! We touch a little on that parentage mystery as well <3 I'd love to hear your thoughts and theories! Let me know what you loved about the chapter! What are you looking forward to? Next chapter we have Alicent and Jace and then OFF TO HARRENHAL! OMG are you so excited? I'm so excited! Also omg who was behind the attack?? I hope justice is served one day :prayeremoji: Hope everyone is having a great weekend!!

Next Chapter

[estialon]

Echos of the Twin Moon 🌖 🌑

A very short fic to how my tarnished (Xeric) ended up in Messmer’s grasp. This is ⚠️ canon x oc content, please read at your own discretion!

Pairing; Messmer x Male!Tarnished (Xeric)

TW; Soft manipulation? Mild obsession? Looking for someone else in another person. Idk someone help me. *cries*

HC; M and R do like each other to certain extent but never act upon it.

—

It was the twin-moon knight that first captured his interest. The raven hair and her silver garb, the ever calm presence except for the fire ablaze from her sword, a blessing of his to her.

But as it all stands, he knew she was the moon he could not grasp—not that she was too far, but the pull could bring devastation, foiling his purpose.

To wage war, he had no time for love albeit craving one, a love else from his mother. Though, even after everything seems to simmer down, his tongue is tied from speaking of such blasphemy to her. It all seems too late, especially now that the right time has been gone for far too long, that she must have believed that he didn’t want the same as her.

Yet he let her remain, and she too chose to remain as his blade.

—

When he saw the tarnished, a lowly intruder stepping in, adorning her armour, it brought not only void to his chest but also rage to his blood.

First strike, second strike. With all his might he unleash his flames, burning away at the intruder. The tarnished, while able to evade his wrath, still caught the remnant of his strength and slowly but surely dwindle in front of him. When an opening came, he pounced at the graceless mongrel. With the blunt of his spear the crescent-adorned helmet soon crashed onto the floor. His gaze, through the serpents, went to the fallen ready to burn the wrath he had into their mind.

But to curse himself, as the helmet had rolled away, he didn’t expect a sight of someone with her raven hair. He thought he was out of his mind, lost in his madness after being separated from her for far too long, yet he couldn’t strike down the last blow at the owner of those eyes. Violet sapphire, glistening to his flame like a shade of glint stones in the night sky.

He knew the tarnished had also wield her blade and adopted her sorceries; this lowly creature had dare used it against him. He knew that her fate had ended at this fool’s hands, yet he couldn’t bear the thought of slaying such resemblance and such a parallel of prowess.

Like a twisted way of his yearning coming true. An embodiment of something he didn’t know he could even dare to wish for ever again. He was repulsed at himself for thinking of such a thing, the blood in his mouth taste like bile at the thought. But as the seconds passed and the realization crept up his mind, he only find the idea ever more tempt.

A replacement.

A forgery.

This tarnished is naught but a mimic to her greatness.

But he, smelled like her.

“Tarnished…won’t thou put down thy blade?”

He expected fierce rebellion protests through those twin blade, another flurry of cuts from the echos of the twin moon. The tarnished had came here to fought him, whatever the reason maybe he is not here to be courted or befriend. Yet all he see was the hand which clenched tightly around the handle slowly lets go. He could have sworn he heard the little sigh from that smaller frame.

An opportunity.

“What…is thy name?”

“Xeric”

—

Thanks for reading! I’m not used to writing fics so this is a new for me. Please forgive me for any grammar mistakes. I might write more in the future, who knows? Messmer might be OOC but I think I got him pretty alright. Anyhow, have a great day!

[mrskreideprinz]

| MONSTER |

Pairing: Dottore x Oc!Cecilia

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dark Content, Oc x Canon, Dottore is probably ooc, Cecilia goes by she/her pronouns, Dottore & segments go by He/Him, Heavy Angst, Camil is a segment oc, Camil is young (around 5 - 6 years old), Cecilia & Camil have a familial bond, Physical Assault, Manhandling, Abuse, Dottore has some serious control issues, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Lab Accidents, Vandalism (Idk if that needs a tag but just in case), Manipulation, Cecilia has abandonment issues, Cecilia is mentally ill, Angst without a happy ending, 4.7k words.

A/n: This was by far the most stressful fic I’ve ever written but I hope you guys enjoy it. Also please practice proper lab safety guys lmao.

Summary: This is a story of how my oc Cecilia gets her vision <3

Tags: @auphelia @suyacho @themovingcastlez @tighnarly

It was half past midnight when the door opened and an unwelcome figure stood in the doorway. Watching the sad sight in front of him, Dottore frowned. He was not surprised. No, not in the least. He knew this was exactly where he would find Cecilia, sitting with her legs crossed as she happily told Camil another ridiculous story of hers. It had been this way for quite some time. Ever since he pushed Cecilia and the young segment together–a ploy to keep Cecilia out of his way–they had been inseparable. Unfortunately, as happy as the two of them were together, Dottore found himself more than just frustrated with their relationship.

After some time together he noticed that the moments he and Cecilia spent together dwindled, and often her time was spent with Camil. Dottore wasn’t the jealous type, or at least that is the lie he continuously told himself. Seeing how deeply she loved and cared for the boy made him feel a mixture of emotions that he’d rather be rid of. He’d never seen Cecilia be so docile and kind hearted as she was towards Camil. Even Dottore couldn’t deny she looked like the picture perfect mother she’d always craved to be. 

He wondered often why she couldn’t be as content with him as she was around Camil. The way she laughed seemed more genuine, her smile wider, and her eyes had a hopeful glint in them. Quite frankly it infuriated him, and the fact that he knew why it enraged him only bothered him more. Every day he’d come into his room only to find Cecilia absolutely enamored with the boy. It needed to stop. He had to put an end to it, now. 

He shut the door loudly and watched how Cecilia stopped talking to look up at him innocently—oh, it pissed him off—and noticed how Camil suddenly tensed up. 

Dottore walked slowly towards a corner of the room where a mirror and a darkwood dresser stood. “It’s late.” 

Cecila scowled at Dottore as his focus remained on undoing the buttons on his shirt. “It’s not that late.” She paused to give Camil a small, comforting squeeze. “Besides, I was almost done telling my story.” 

Dottore’s gaze did not move from the mirror, but it did tighten. “Camil doesn’t need his head filled with any more of your silly ideas.” 

Cecilia glared at him and held onto Camil tightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Dottore removed his stained button up shirt for a cleaner version of a similar shirt. He took another glance into the mirror before sauntering towards Cecilia and Camil, staring them down through the safety of his pointed mask. 

“You two have been spending an awful lot of time together.” He said with a strained smile.

Dottore knelt down to their eye level, both Cecilia and Camil on edge. Cecilia could sense something was wrong. Dottore was off, more so than usual. 

“Is that a problem?” She asked, still glaring at Dottore.

Cecilia clung to Camil, holding onto his body with an almost iron grip and even going as far as to lean away from Dottore. She may not have been as smart as Dottore, but she was no fool. 

“Not at all. It’s merely that Camil has work to do and you’re holding him back.” Dottore explained.

There was a long moment of silence where Cecilia and Dottore stared down at each other while Camil cowered in Cecilia’s arms. He clung to Cecilia almost as much as she did to him. Everything in Cecilia’s body told her to run. Run far, far away until it was just her and Camil, but she resisted. Cecilia knew better than to do something so reckless with Camil, even if she did want so badly to do it. 

Slowly, Cecilia released Camil from her arms and allowed him to move as he pleased. Although, he still remained by her side regardless of the freedom he was given.

Dottore placed his hand atop Camil’s head and smiled. “Run along to the lab. Omega is expecting you.” Dottore flashed his pearly teeth in amusement. 

Camil’s eyes widened in fear and he struggled onto his feet before he ran off in a panic. Cecilia watched with a wounded heart as Camil ran out the door clumsily, falling before finally getting back onto his feet and sprinting straight out the door. Cecilia wanted to reach out for him, urge him to be more careful, but she knew better than to anger Dottore further. 

Cecilia jerked her head to look at Dottore. “What is wrong with you?” She snapped. “Why did you do that?”

Dottore stood up and crossed his arms. “What is it I’ve done exactly?”

Cecilia stood up and gestured to the door with her hands. “That!” 

Dottore lifted his head up to look at Cecilia with what she could only assume was a cold expression. “It seems you’ve forgotten not only who but what Camil actually is.” 

Cecilia grit her teeth and narrowed her eyes. “Camil’s a lot more than what you’ve created him to be.” She spat.

Dottore clenched one of his fists as he tried to calm himself. 

When he’d given the segment as a peace offering to Cecilia he never thought she’d pull the stunts she had. Naming him was one thing, loving him was another, but acting as if Camil was her own was going too far. It was bad enough that the segment was one of his weaker segments. The last thing he needed was Cecilia’s silly little fantasies implanted into his mind. 

“You forget yourself, Cecilia. Need I remind you who gave him to you in the first place.” He tilted his head to the side to glance at her. 

Cecilia clenched her fists, trying her best not to lose her temper. She hadn’t forgotten, in fact there were times she wished she could. The fear of losing Camil in a second to him scared the shit out of her. The mere idea had kept her up at night on one too many occasions. She’d lay there, eyes trained to the dark ceiling, as every worry slowly started to trickle its way into Cecilia’s mind. She would glance over at Dottore’s sleeping form and wonder for a second if she could get away with taking Camil and leaving. Thankfully, she would quickly correct herself before going any further. 

“That’s it!” Cecilia yelled, forcefully putting on her boots.

It’s true that Dottore and Cecilia had never seen eye to eye. Even in the best of times they could be found pointing fingers and chewing each other out. Cecilia was impulsive and immature, while Dottore was calculated and calm. It was a recipe for disaster. When the two had just met things were a lot more peaceful, civil even, but times had changed and bringing Camil into the mix only worsened things. 

Dottore grabbed Cecilia’s wrist as she stomped towards the door. “Sit down before you do something reckless.” 

Cecilia yanked back her hand and glared at Dottore. “Don’t fucking touch me.” 

He let her go but only to trail behind her, watching her closely. It didn’t take long to notice where exactly she was going, and Dottore knew precisely why. If he’d known Cecilia would’ve turned out to be so troublesome he would’ve never entertained her in the first place, but unfortunately this was a lesson he had to learn. It’s true that Dottore did have a soft spot for her at some point, but it was safe to say that place had all but hardened now. 

“Stop following me.” Cecilia snapped, picking up the pace as she walked, nearly tripping on her own two feet. 

Dottore smiled. 

“Throwing a tantrum? How am I not surprised?” He said. 

That fucking asshole.

Although his words enraged Cecilia, she couldn’t deny the validity of his statement. It’s true that her rash decisions would not help in the long run, but she couldn’t help it. At least, that is what she told herself for so long. She reassured herself that her harsh attitude was a just reaction. Dottore was clearly up to something and at that moment Cecilia trusted Dottore only as far as she could throw him. She just needed to see Camil, she needed to know that he was okay. That’s it, nothing more. 

It didn’t take long for the two of them to reach the double doors to the laboratory. Cecilia swiftly pushed through them without a second thought. Several segments stopped what they were doing to see what all the commotion was about, and upon seeing Cecilia and Dottore they backed away and returned to their work. She scanned the room to search for Camil. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. Upon seeing him she quickly rushed to his side and placed a warm hand atop his head. 

Cecilia knelt down to meet Camil at eye level, pressing her forehead to his. Cecilia was relieved to see Camil still alive and well. Her mind had come up with rather awful ideas of what had happened to him rather than what was truly reality. She hugged him tightly, ignoring Dottore who was most definitely staring at her. Perhaps, she was too harsh on Dottore. Maybe, she really was too overprotective when it came to Camil, and he was a segment, after all. She couldn’t very well keep him all to herself. She let out a sigh of relief. All was well. Everything was okay. 

“Cecilia.” Dottore warned.

Cecilia gave him one last tight squeeze before finally letting go of him. It was in the instant that she let go and watched Camil return to his work that the warning of danger shocked her body, again. She had the urge to take him and make a run for it. Everything was fine, she reassured herself. Nothing and nobody would harm Camil. As long as she was around Camil would remain safe and well. 

She had been lost in her own mind when a firm hand ripped her from her sprinting thoughts. 

“It’s time to leave, Cecilia. Now.” Dottore demanded. 

His grip was like iron, leaving no room for Cecilia to escape him no matter how hard she would try. Cecilia felt many eyes on her, judging her harshly. Even in that moment all Cecilia could think about was Camil and whether he would be okay. She wondered if her actions would doom him. She prayed that he would not be punished for her behavior, but even looking back she hadn’t regretted the way she acted. 

Dottore waited till Camil had walked further away to let go of Cecilia. “Get out and stop disrupting my work.” 

Cecilia rubbed the area that had been squeezed in order to soothe the pain. She wanted to leave, truly she did, but she couldn’t move her legs. It was as if they were cemented to the ground, refusing to budge even a little. Nothing was wrong, nothing could possibly be wrong. Even as Dottore glared at her, eyes full of fire, she could not move a muscle. In her mind she yelled her reassurances, trying her hardest to convince herself that nothing was truly going to happen to Camil, but no matter what she did she just couldn’t believe the words she was shouting. 

She couldn’t pinpoint a reason as to why she was acting the way she had. It was unusual even by Cecilia’s standards. She needed to move and fast. She knew that if she didn’t move, leave the lab quickly, that there would absolutely be punishments for both her and Camil, but no matter what she did she wouldn’t budge. It was as if her body had a mind of its own, knowing information she had yet to understand. 

Cecilia analyzed her surroundings, watching closely to how Dottore and the segments around him acted. She watched as he glared at her and then returned his attention to a nearby segment which was then approaching him. Dottore had begun discussing something with the segment, Cecilia wasn’t sure of what exactly because she could only hear her panicked thoughts rushing through her mind. It was in this small interaction that Cecilia noticed for a split second that Dottore had looked to Cecilia, then the segment, and then finally to Camil. 

Cecilia’s eyes widened. Something was wrong. Her eyes darted to Camil and then to Dottore who grinned at her. For a while Cecilia couldn’t make out the words that Dottore was saying, but then she started to become more awake and aware. That’s when she clung to the first and only word she heard: ‘maintenance’. Her heart pounded in her chest like a heavy drum and her face turned pale as she realized what he meant by it. 

Finally, Cecilia’s body moved and jumped towards Dottore’s. “Please, don’t do this.” 

Dottore remained silent and motioned for a segment to approach him. He then pointed in the direction of Camil and asked the segment to grab him and bring him to one of the empty operating rooms. Cecilia’s eyes darted to Camil and she tried to rush to Camil’s side, but sadly, Dottore’s hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. 

“Let go of me!” She yelled, but it was no use.

Dottore didn’t release her and instead he squeezed her wrist as if to crush her bones into dust. She whimpered in pain and looked to Camil with a remorseful look, only thinking about him in the midst of all her pain.  

Camil looked at Cecilia with a pained expression. He could only watch for a few moments before he looked away and squeezed his eyes shut, beginning to cry not only from the sight, but the sound of her cries as well. He covered his ears with his hands, adding pressure to shut out Cecilia’s voice but it was a fruitless attempt. For he could still hear the shrill sound of her voice, piercing his skin like a razor blade. 

Cecilia let out a loud scream as she watched Camil be escorted away from her and led into a nearby room. She reached out an arm towards him but she was painfully out of reach. Dottore yanked her backwards and threw her onto the floor carelessly. Cecilia cried out for Camil as she crawled her way to Dottore’s feet, clinging to his legs as she begged for him to reconsider. 

“Don’t do this. Please, Zandik, he's all I have.” She pleaded. 

Dottore looked down at Cecilia’s tear stained face and kicked her off of his legs, walking towards the nearby room without a second thought. Cecilia was frozen in place as she watched Dottore make his way towards the door, and it wasn’t until she heard the click of the door shutting that her maternal instincts kicked in, again. In an instant Cecilia jumped to her feet and ran straight for the room. She tried to turn the knob but it was too late, it was locked. 

She slammed her fist against the door. “Zandik! Zandik, stop! Let me in!” She screamed, her voice falling on deaf ears. 

Cecilia was at a loss as to what to do next. She slammed and pounded against the door, screaming until her throat burned, but it was no use. All she could do was hang onto the hope that Camil would be okay in the end, and that future seemed bleak from the few words she had heard through the door. Words such as ‘memory’, ‘brain’, and ‘scalpel’. It was becoming incredibly clear to Cecilia that things were about to take a turn for the worse, but if she found some way to stop them, save Camil, then maybe things could be different. Maybe, she hoped, she could alter the future. 

She continued fighting even when it seemed futile. Eventually her arms grew weary and her body weak as she fell to the ground, her head leaning against the door as she became numb to the surrounding world. Whatever was to happen to Camil was now inevitable. 

Hours had passed when the door was opened and woke Cecilia up. It didn’t take long for her to stumble to her feet, using the nearby wall to balance herself. She watched as Dottore moved him and Camil to the side, while three segments walked out the door and passed them. All three of the segments seemed to have unreadable expressions, giving Cecilia nothing to go off of to determine what sort of outcome she should expect. Cecilia came face to face with Dottore and pleaded for an answer with her eyes; he merely smiled and looked at Camil. 

She knelt down and held Camil’s face in her hands. “So, he’s okay?” 

Dottore nodded. “For the most part.” 

Dottore grinned, almost as if he was holding back laughter, but Cecilia ignored it for the time being. She wrapped Camil up in a great big hug and sighed with relief. 

“I thought I lost you.” She whispered. 

Cecilia pulls back to stand up and reach a welcoming hand towards the boy. “Come on, let’s go finish that story.” 

Camil said nothing. Instead he gave Cecilia a confused look before his gaze turned to Dottore. He tilted his head and stared at Dottore as if he had a question he was too scared to ask. Cecilia lowered her hand, sensing something was off about the situation. She wanted to ask Dottore a question, many in fact, but she was frozen in shock. Dottore looked at Camil and then back to Cecilia with a great big smile. 

“Oh, yes, there is one minor detail I forgot to divulge.” Dottore admitted. 

Cecilia stared at him in pure terror, not knowing what words would spill from his lips. She tried to reason that whatever truth he withheld could not be as bad as she thought. Camil was alive and well, after all. Nothing could possibly sour that triumphant truth. 

“When I did a bit of maintenance I decided to work on some loose ends. Sadly, this meant I had to make some adjustments up here.” He pointed to Camil’s skull. 

Cecilia’s heart pounded harder than it ever had before. She could feel her blood rushing through her body at an inhuman speed. Something was wrong.

“What did you do, Zandik?” Cecilia asked.

Dottore smiled at her, again. “I had to temper with his memory.” He paused for a second. “So, simply put, he doesn’t know who you are.” 

Immediately Cecilia felt her heart drop into her stomach. She couldn’t hear anything. Not a single sound was heard other than the faint sound of someone wailing. It felt as if her chest was being crushed by tons of bricks. Cecilia couldn’t think, breathe, or even utter a single word.

I failed. 

I failed you Camil.

Suddenly everything started to boil to the surface. Every word Dottore had ever said became etched into her skin, his grin implanted itself into her brain, and just as she thought she was calming down she got an image of Camil’s smiling face in the back of her eyes. Camil was gone. The boy she loved as one of her own for so long had become nothing but another face to look away from. 

Cecilia started to mumble to herself, gripping onto her thin hair as she pulled on it and made a painful ache form on her scalp. Each time she had an image of Camil’s face staring back at her she felt her heart lurch and her breath hitch. She wanted to rip the skin right off her bones, rip and tear at her flesh until there was nothing left but a forgotten memory. 

For a moment Cecilia snapped out of what hysteria had disrupted her mind to peer up at Dottore with a glare. Her eyes, a poisonous shade of magenta, pierced through his ruby ones. She wanted to kill him. Cecilia wanted him to feel the pain that was throbbing through each and every one of her veins. 

Cecilia was not one to feel hatred for anyone, much less her own lover, but in that moment she had licked up the fresh taste of hatred and spat it back out. No more did she feel sympathy or care for the man who stood before her, instead she lapped up the taste of malice’s black ooze as if it was her favorite flavor. Cecilia had soon tuned out anyone surrounding her and Dottore, completely forgetting Camil and the remainder of the segments which accompanied him. 

Without thinking she swung her hand across Dottore’s face, watching with locked eyes and flared nostrils as his mask fell to the floor with a loud clank. Usually the appearance of his scarred skin and deep red eyes would’ve caused Cecillia to feel a flutter in her chest, but what remained instead was a cavernous hole that sucked any good around her. 

Camil, or what was left of him at least, was left backing into the wall behind him. He tried his best to escape in a stealthy way, but instead he had ended up opting for just running away. This time Cecilia paid him no mind, not even turning her head to get one last look before he ran behind another segment. The Camil she knew and loved had already died. So, what was the use holding onto an empty carcass? Just because her hands once held that small body of his in her arms, cradling him until he fell asleep, it did not mean that she had to hold onto him any longer.

Cecilia straightened her back as a trail of tears made its way down her pale cheeks. “You’re a fucking monster, Zandik, and you always will be.” 

There was a familiar look in his eyes that Cecilia found upon uttering those words, but she paid it no mind. Instead she gave him a cold glare one last time before walking away. Her goal was to simply walk out of the lab and never return. Maybe, she would even find her way back to the flowery fields of Mondstadt, but instead something took control of her body and ate the last bit of warmth she had left inside her. 

She walked past a few counters littered with scientific tools and other various substances. Cecilia stopped for a moment to catch her breath, simple as that, but then something happened. Deep down inside her gut something had snapped, releasing an intense feeling that was deeper than love and colder than hatred. Cecilia had finally lost all sense of rationale as she remembered the night she held Camil for the first time, and how his breathing was so small and weak. He had clung to her as if she was his mother, and in another world maybe she would’ve been. 

In a fit of rage she swiped her arms across the contents of the counter which stood in front of her, knocking over various tools and beakers which had god knows what in them. She hissed in pain, something was burning. That burning had turned out to be her own skin and the smell was awful. In an attempt to ease the agony she felt she ended up falling back into another counter, and upon turning around she had destroyed more beakers that contained more unidentifiable substances. She cried out in pain as more random fluids had splashed against her skin, destroying the porcelain skin that used to rest comfortably on her body. 

She stumbled in an attempt to run towards Dottore, cursing as she approached him. “What- Fuck! What was in those.. Those.. That fucking shit you have over there, Dottore. What is it?!” She screamed.

Dottore merely chuckled and responded calmly. “It’s acid.” 

Cecilia growled and ran towards a nearby station that was used for emergency purposes, and quickly stepped into the nearby shower, turning it on as quickly as possible. Sadly, there was not much she could do, because upon looking at her reflection on her way into the shower she realized just how badly she’d been hurt. Although she could barely see with the pain searing throughout her whole body, she had realized that half of her face had been burned away by the substance. She looked for mere seconds, tears stinging against her open wounds before she quickly got into the shower, making sure to get the water all over the damaged skin. She wasn’t even entirely sure it would help her, but it was worth the try.

She continued to wash away the acid as best she could until her body fell completely weak against the hard tiled floor. Cecilia’s expression fell into something empty, looking down at her skin which had all but practically been destroyed by her rage. She hadn’t even noticed that some of the segments and Dottore, including the boy she used to call ‘Camil’ had long since left her, abandoning her to the cold floor covered in blood and various fluids. At that moment she wondered what the point in saving her flesh was if she couldn’t share anything good with it. 

She felt her body weaken, the medications she was regularly given to by Dottore had no doubt weared off by now. Her fingers twitched and lips turned up in a small smile as she thought of the warm feeling of holding that small boy in her arms, carefully and with tenderness. As Cecilia pondered the what if’s her body had begun to freeze, her fingertips became covered by frost and her lips turned a bright shade of blue. She thought about if things could’ve been different had she let Dottore do as he pleased a little more. Maybe, if she was a little less stubborn and a little more soft things wouldn’t have ended so harshly. In the end she wasn’t sure what was left for her anymore. Perhaps Mondstadt would be a more welcome place to explore, but for all Cecilia cared she would’ve rather died than continue on with her journey in life.

She blinked only for a moment when she felt the last bits of warmth wash away into something bitter cold. It was as if she had died and gone to whatever hell was waiting for her. She accepted it for the most part, but not before her eyes opened and saw her breath floating in the air in front of her. 

Where am I?

Why is it so cold?

It wasn't until she opened her eyes that she saw the floating vision in front of her. At first she hesitated, not knowing whether it was meant for her or not, but as she soon reached out for it with a trembling hand, it seemed to accept her. She didn't worry about whether that vision was hers, because as she looked at the glowing cryo vision once again she knew that it was indeed hers. 

What a sick joke it was. Cecilia thought in that moment if her life had truly just been some joke for the archons to bask in. Had everything she’d done up to that point meant nothing? Had she meant nothing? 

As much as she knew she had to get up, fight for her right to live, she just couldn’t. Even as she withered away on the floor she still couldn’t help but yearn to hold Camil in her arms again. She just wanted to feel the sunshine on her face as she told him another story she had learned in her time in Mondstadt. She wanted Camil back. She wanted her sweet, baby boy safe in her arms again. Sadly, Cecilia would only be left with the aching in her heart and the face of an unfamiliar person. Whoever Cecilia used to be had died that day and instead she had turned into something truly horrific

[bitchymanlet]

Safety Net

Chapter 1: The Plan

🔞MINORS DO NOT INTERACT🔞

Pairing: Levi x Fem!OC; Sub!Levi x Domme!OC

Tags/Content Warnings: canon compliant; problematic; pregnancy; baby trapping; porn with plot; explicit sex; angst; obsession; jealousy; age gap (both are adults); losing virginity; secret relationship; power imbalance; superior and subordinate romance; D/s dynamic; BDSM (FYI, these tags cover the overall story. No sex or kink in this chapter.)

Word Count: 2,491

Summary: Ambitious Scout Emmy Bohn, member of the elite Captain Levi's Special Operations Squad, finally brings her dream to fruition by means of deceiving the one who she holds most dear, her own Captain. However, it's not all smooth sailing from there. She must grapple with the possibility that the life of peace she's meticulously crafted in her mind over the years—the control that she so desperately craves—may always be a mere fantasy.

A/N: This is my first fanfic I've ever published. Hope you enjoy.

Levi shuffled into the Commander’s office with a despondent look etched onto his stony-face. He kept some distance between himself and Erwin’s desk, yet far enough away from the door to prevent anyone outside from eavesdropping.

“Levi.” Erwin perked up, giving the Captain his full attention.

Levi rips off the bandaid. “I’m in deep shit, Erwin... Emmy’s pregnant,” he paused, putting his hands on his hips and sighing, “and it’s mine.”

Erwin eyeballed Levi, waiting for an elaboration. “Care to explain?”

“It’s been so long since you got laid that you forgot how pregnancy works? We had sex.”

Erwin shut his eyes and released a long, weary sigh. “You’re not making my job any easier, Levi.”

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” Levi deadpanned.

Erwin stared at nothing as he put on his signature thinking face.

Levi spoke up, “Nobody knows. Except for Dr. Sieger at the infirmary. Emmy just found out today and came straight to me with the news. So…” Levi shrugged, crossing his arms. “Any ideas?”

Erwin thought about it. If the doctor had confirmed it, then there’s little chance that she’s lying about her pregnancy. Nor would it be feasible to assume the doctor would tell anyone, that’s a small relief to Erwin at least, since Dr. Sieger is under oath to keep patients’ medical confidentiality.

“There’s no certainty that the child is yours.”

Levi scowled. “Are you really suggesting that Emmy, the one without so much as a speck of dirt on her record, is actually a slut?”

“You cannot be certain that there is no possibility for her to have gotten pregnant from someone else.”

Levi’s scowl faltered slightly. He had only slept with Emmy once, and in that single time he had worn a condom. Shit happens, a broken condom isn’t unheard of. Sure, there was a possibility that Emmy could’ve seen someone else around that time… He scoffed at such a bullshit notion. She was a virgin right up until they had done the deed. But that’s none of Erwin’s business.

“You know Emmy’s reputation. And you know damn well how easily word gets around. Petra is Emmy’s bunkmate, she’s got the bottom bunk and she’s a light sleeper. If Emmy snuck off to go fuck somebody, Petra would’ve found out, and she couldn’t keep it secret–that girl wears her heart on her sleeve.” Levi glanced off to the side. “There’s no doubt about it… it’s mine.”

Erwin stared at Levi. “By your logic, Petra would know about Emmy sneaking off to see you. She could be a witness.”

“Petra doesn’t know because Emmy didn’t sneak off. I gave Emmy a late night assignment… As far as Petra knows, Emmy was busy following orders,” Levi muttered.

Erwin folded his hands together over his desk. “This was no accident, I see. This was premeditated.” He nodded, gazing at his hands before looking at Levi. “You realize that fraternization is prohibited? This is grounds for dishonorable discharge.”

“I’m well aware,” Levi answered dryly. “What’s the point in telling me this? You’re gonna give us the boot? Okay, thanks for dragging me out of that shithole, my six years as a Scout have been a blast, good luck with saving humanity, Commander.”

Erwin let out a wry chuckle. “You know that I would never give you the boot. Emmy is another story…”

Erwin considered the possible outcomes. If the child was indeed Levi’s, according to the military code, that would mean both Levi and Emmy would have to be dishonorably discharged. Booting Humanity’s Strongest Soldier from the Survey Corps would be shooting himself in the foot at best and damning the fate of humanity at worst. Although, if he kept their affair under wraps, Emmy’s pregnancy would eventually become a problem. He wasn’t so much of a monster that he would put a pregnant soldier on the front lines. Emmy is a very capable soldier in her own right, but so were many others. Nor could he make her take the fall for this either–it would ruin her.

“Her squadmates are aware that she is sick,” Erwin said. “I could formally put down that she has contracted a severe ailment and give her medical leave. Perhaps it was a flare up from some chronic illness that she had under control, until now. She can return at her own discretion.”

“Beats a dishonorable discharge, but… then she’d have to report for duty after her leave. What about the kid? She doesn’t have a family to take care of it, they're all dead,” Levi said in agitation.

“Then her duty won’t be on the field. She could transfer to office work, again, on the grounds of her documented chronic illness.”

“Then who would take care of the kid?”

Erwin narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t we ask her?” He stood up from his desk with an air of nonchalance. “Bring her here.”

Levi clenched his jaw and left to fetch his pregnant subordinate.

~~

When Emmy entered the Commander’s office, none other than Commander Erwin himself was seated on his small, professional-looking sofa.

“Hello, Emmy. Have a seat.” Erwin gestured for her to sit on the other side of his sofa.

Emmy stood frozen in place while Levi walked past her and plopped down in a chair.

She quickly nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said, quiet as a mouse, then she rushed to the sofa and sat down.

She held her trembling hands together on her lap. It wasn’t often that she had the chance to speak directly to Commander Erwin. Despite only having eyes for the Captain, even she couldn’t resist his charming aura.

But she had to keep it together. This is the moment of truth. She cannot screw this up.

“How are you feeling?” Erwin asked in a low tone of voice.

She cleared her throat. “Uh-I-I’m, uh, fine… sir.” She didn’t have to act here. Her anxiety was so real, her voice went up an octave higher without even trying. She gulped, hoping she wouldn’t throw up all over his nice rug.

“Captain Levi told me the news; that you are with child. Congratulations.”

Emmy glanced at Levi, who had a somber look in his eyes. She then lowered her head, saying nothing.

“Perhaps a ‘congratulations’ is not very appropriate, for the circumstances in which you find yourself are anything but.”

Emmy bit her quivering lower lip. She let out a whisper of a noise, trying to find the courage to speak. This was supposed to be the easiest part, yet here she is, all choked up in the Commander’s office like she’d just seen a titan for the first time.

“Nevertheless, I haven’t summoned you here for a reprimanding. I must ask you, what course of action would you prefer for yourself? I suggested that I give you a medical leave for your chronic illness, and that once you have recovered, you may return to do office work. Captain Levi, however, doesn’t like this plan.”

Emmy lifted her head up, widening her eyes at Erwin.

“I’m not getting punished?” Emmy’s high-pitched voice shook.

“No. This is… a special case, let’s call it that. Now, your thoughts?”

Her heart raced in her burning chest, in any moment her stomach acid could come up, further stripping her of her dignity before her two heroes. How she loathed making herself appear meek. Subordination was one thing, for she would gladly accept the command of a worthy leader. Meekness made her stomach twist in knots.

This is just a means to an end, she reminded herself, fidgeting with her hands all the while Erwin’s and Levi’s eyes locked on her.

Her eyes filled with tears. “I… worked so hard to get to where I am, sir,” her voice cracked, and she blinked her tears free. “To think that… after all this time, my-my career is…” She hiccuped, her voice caught in her throat.

Levi stepped up to her, pulling his handkerchief out from his breast pocket and handing it to her before retreating back to his chair, draping his left arm over the back.

Emmy whined at the kind gesture, her Captain always did have a keen sense of compassion. She gingerly wiped her tears on Levi’s divine handkerchief, almost as soft and silky as his skin. What a shame that her nose was too snotty to be able to smell it.

How despicable this was, and she knew it. After all the times she had been praised for her diligence; for her bravery, even from her beloved Captain Levi.

“I’m not fighting for humanity anymore…”

She never fought for humanity. She fought for herself. For this one goal.

“I’ll just be a mom,” Emmy heaved. “If I did office work, then there wouldn’t be anyone to care for my baby... My family died in the Titan invasion of Shiganshina five years ago!”

“Levi told me the same." Erwin’s eyes bore into her own with intensity, she hadn’t even noticed him blink yet. "What should we do instead, Emmy?”

She blew her nose into the Captain’s handkerchief, sullying the precious thing with her filth.

“Maybe… a medical discharge would be most ideal…?” her voice cracked.

Erwin quirked an eyebrow, and Levi leant forward in his chair.

“A medical discharge?” Erwin broke his gaze away from Emmy for a brief moment as he sat up straight and tilted his head. He then looked at Levi.

“That way,” she continued, “I could stay home to raise my and Captain Levi’s child, without being called into duty,” Emmy said in a lower tone, closer to her natural speaking voice.

The room fell silent. Emmy clutched Levi's soiled handkerchief, her eyebrows knit in worry. This was it. All the Commander had to do was approve. If he doesn’t, then these past five years would have been for nothing.

She would rather kill herself than succumb to a titan. If she had no control over how she could live her life, then at the very least she could control how she would die.

“Emmy… Do you love Levi?”

“Why the fuck would you ask her that?” Levi’s expression twisted into a grimace.

“Well, I’m curious.” Erwin glanced at Levi before turning his body over to Emmy, staring into her eyes again. “Why not one of your fellow squadmates with whom you spend more time in the day getting intimately involved? Why Levi, your superior officer?”

Levi gripped the back of his chair.

Being asked that so suddenly brought on a wave of heat over Emmy. She had a lot to be ashamed of, but there was no shame in loving the man who gave her a purpose for living. If this would help to convince the Commander of going along with her plan, then so be it.

Her breath hitched, her face flushing as she raised her shoulder in a bashful manner. “I do. I am in love with my Captain, sir. I have a close relationship with each of my squadmates, and I do care for them deeply, but the Captain…” Emmy continued with her shaky voice, “There’s no one in the walls who I admire more...”

She winced, dropping her head in embarrassment at admitting this to the both of them, and her eyes had again filled with tears as she bit into her stupid quivering lip. Her stomach gurgled in the silence.

Levi squinted his eyes; a pained, sympathetic look to his face. He’s heard her say it before, but now, he can’t quite shake it off as easily as he once had. This crush of hers that he foolishly fed into led to all of this. He can’t shake off the fact that he’s going to be a father. Father to a child growing inside of his most dedicated subordinate who will lose the career she fought tooth and nail to attain, all because he didn’t keep it in his pants.

Erwin scrutinized her reaction for an uncomfortable length of time.

“Very well, you shall have your medical discharge. Consider this matter settled.”

Emmy released a puff of air as Erwin stood up from his sofa and went over to his desk. “You’ll get lump sum payments for the two years you have spent in active duty. No retirement benefits, I’m afraid, but name one Scout with that privilege.”

Erwin opened one of his drawers and looked through his files. “You have served us well, Emmy… You are dismissed.”

In place of relief, she felt a pang in her heart and cringed as she held herself back from gagging.

“Thank you, Commander Erwin,” she said in a choked voice and leapt up on her feet. She saluted Erwin then glanced at Levi for a split second before turning her head guiltily. She hurried out of Erwin’s office, clinging Levi’s delicate handkerchief to her chest, feeling like the most revolting human being who had ever lived.

Levi sighed from his nostrils as he squeezed the back of his chair so firmly that the wood made a creaking sound. He glared at Erwin, who seemed unfazed.

“Oi. Blondie. Did you have to get so weirdly personal there?”

“I was determining her motive.”

Levi scoffed. “Now you’re calling her a liar? I know her better than you do.”

“There’s no need to get defensive. I granted the woman her wish, did I not?”

“Yeah, but why did you ask her that shitty question?” Levi stood up and strode over to Erwin’s desk. “You had to twist the knife in her wound?” Levi spoke with a harsh, gravelly voice.

“Think about it, Levi. You know who you are.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a shit what her motive is. She’s my comrade in arms. I’ve saved her life, and she’s saved mine. And she didn’t use mind control to get me into bed, I made the choice to fuck her.” Levi leant his fists against Erwin’s desk. “Fact of the matter is, I knocked her up. This is my responsibility, Erwin. End of story.”

Erwin hummed. “That is your prerogative, Levi.” Erwin found what he was looking for, and took out a medical discharge document before sitting down. “Even so, ‘taking responsibility’ here entails that this will remain strictly confidential. I am effectively sweeping this under the rug. If there is any documentation of you and Emmy having an intimate relationship, that could be held against me as Commander.”

“I get it. I’m not marrying her.”

“And you must make it clear to her that any sexual affiliation she has with you is not to be shared with anyone. In your heart you can claim it, though, legally, that child is not yours.” Erwin dipped his quill into ink and began writing onto the document. “She was diagnosed with a debilitating chronic illness and is hereby found to be medically unfit for duty. If perchance anyone discovers her pregnancy, it is nothing more than a subsequent occurrence of her early retirement.”

Levi’s knuckles still against the wood, his jet black fringe curtaining over his aggrieved, downcast face.

“I’ll be sure to spell that out for her.”

~~

Join my taglist @sixpennydame

[laughroditee]

Hello. My name is Laughroditee, and I am just a silly little tart on the internet. I like to write and draw stupid things for my own amusement and/or to exorcise my demons. 

This is my NSFW sideblog, and as such, minors should not be here. If you interact with my blog or my work and are a minor, know you are going against my wishes. 18+ only!

My SFW stuff is on my main blog, @momokeen, and most of my fanart will be reblogged from there. (Sometimes, I just post it here or as responses in reblogs because I am my own lord and master.) All likes and asks will be from my main blog, but reblogs and comments will be from here.

I am also on AO3 under the same name (laughroditee).

🤡 What to expect:

Silliness, angst, fluff, some smut, and some horror. I aim to keep my fandom experience silly-funny because I am here to have a good time. That being said, I also love a good emotionally scarring fic. So think of candy-coated psychic damage, I guess. That's the vibe here.

I write canon x reader AND canon x OC because making characters, figuring out their psychology, and then breaking them apart is one of my favorite things to do. 

At this time, I write gender-neutral!Reader, afab!Reader, or female!Reader if I’m doing a x Reader fic. 

🤡 Fandoms I like:

Call of Duty, Devil May Cry, Dragon Age, Stardew Valley, Fallout: New Vegas, (and more)

🤡 Currently, I write for:

The COD fandom

🤡 And draw for:

The COD fandom

My Works

Content warnings will always be listed before the meat of the text, so please read those.

🟢 Fluff

“You're Coming With Me” - Simon Riley finds a kitten. (My first fanfic.)

Simon has a rat (Drabble or something? Headcanon?)

🟡 PG-13

"Repossessed" trailer script ft. necromancer!Graves - Phillip Graves offers to resurrect a loved one... for a price.

Cowboy Price imagine (PG-13 for suggestive themes)

“Best friend!Soap / Roommate!Soap x gender-neutral!Reader x Gaz” (no title for this yet) - You and Johnny bicker like children, and he's surprised to hear you're going on a date with Kyle.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

"Queen Behavior" - short fic about little Simon witnessing his father abusing his mother (read the warnings)

🔴 18+ MDNI

“Your Ghost” (female OC x Ghoap, features MCD. This is an exploration of grief, trauma, and healing.) - An American tarot reader finds herself inextricably linked to John MacTavish, whose ghost needs a favor from her before he can rest.

Part 1 - Knight of Swords Part 2 - XIII Death Part 3 - Three of Swords Part 4 - A Love That Bleeds Part 5 - First Contact Part 6 - Death at the Door

Headcanons

Weird Domestic Habits of the 141

TF141 and their favorite ASMR types (with links!)

Simon is a penguin

Analyses

Closer!Price analysis

⚠️ WIPs

Closer

Buried Alive

Your Ghost, Ch. 4 - A Love That Bleeds 

Priest Soap

Random Poetry

"My Heart You Have/ And Yours I Crave"

Nocturne

Fanart

“Lt., let’s take a photo together!” 📸

Magical Boy Soap

Magical Boy Soap in the style of “The Rose of Versailles”

My COD OC Jesse “Jester” Donovan (kind of a shitpost but…)

Captain Price doodle wearing an elephant trunk g-string, and proof that I made it.

Tags (under construction)

Personal stuff is tagged under #laughroditee rambles

Asks are tagged as #ask laughroditee 

And works I've created are tagged with #laughroditee

Unless it’s fanart, then that is tagged under #momokeen*

*working on updating tags...

[blueneil]

Maybe, just maybe, i fell too hard on Sanosuke...

Feels weird since i'm not new into otome game, as i play it since around 10 years ago (the shall we date addiction got me). And i never catch any feelings for any character before, i just love doing story and put myself in the MC's shoes.

But for Sanosuke i actually like him as me myself, not me placing myself as MC/Chizuru, and i thinkkkkk MAYBE just MAYBEEE i fell way too hard that now its hard to even control myself 😭💔 Feeling crazy since idk i can feel like this to a 2D character.

Sometimes i ask myself what makes him different from any character that i know before? I play a lot joseimuke, read a lot manga, watch a lot anime, but yet its only him who make me like this???

I really want to put him on chokehold and ask what did he do to me, becuaze this is the character i fell in love with ???!?👇

And fuck me for thinking he is attractive even in theis set of pictures...

Jokes on me because everytime my mind tried to dragged him down, the single of his smiling picture makes butterflies fly in my tummy.

Just a sneak of how "bad" i fell for him, i stop drawing since 2018 for reasons, and going back in 2021 but never really got motivation of it UNTIL Sanosuke Harada is taking my mind, living rent free for 24/7 that i can't control myself then boom, i did canon x oc pairing with him in SSL -verse (my heart is not ready for making bakumatsu oc's lore,,,).

And because i craved for their content i don't have any choice but to draw them by myself.

This is just one of it since in the last 6 months i already make 10s art of him and my oc??? Which didn't sounds much but it is way more than i draw in the last 3 years 😭 I know its a good thing that i get my passion in drawing again, but still??? What did he DO to me honestly??

I want him to smile at me, i want to hug him, i want to kiss him, i want to be able do much things with him even if i 100% realize he is not exist. Thats why i draw and make oc to be come my 2d persona and able to live in the same dimensions as him. I know this is weird but i can't stop...

Do you think i need help? I really never feel this much before for 2d character 😭 He is really taking over my mind for almost a year since i get into hakuouki, and its just getting worse by day 😭

[kikufuku01]

I Love You, Always series m. list

I Love You, Always series m. list

Sukuna x Reader

Summary: In the midst of the crowds, I see no one but you. You’ve noticed this stranger every day. You see him when you go, and you see him when you return. At first glance he looks harmless, since his hair is pink and his face is smooth and clean, that is, until you see his nape and arms. He’s covered in tattoos. You know you should stay away but it seems like the universe keeps pulling you closer and closer to him. You want to know him. You’re curious about him and unfortunately, humans are attracted to the unknown. He’s bad news, but maybe it’s what you crave. He’s a beautiful disaster in your plain and boring life.

“I can’t tell if this is love between a man and a woman, a bond that has been built up for a long time, or the deep friendship that we share, but one way or another, I really loved you. More than I thought.”

Genre: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Status: ongoing

Warnings: fluff, smoking, angst, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, reader is half, smut, virgin, virginity loss, consensual sex, slow burn, alcohol consumption, heavy angst, drugs, non-canon, Sukuna is human, alternative universe, no jujutsu, minor mentions of other characters, oc characters, choppy story cuts, slow updates 18+

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING THE CONTENT STATED IN WARNINGS.

Note: Sukuna is not written in canon LOL. He’s a gruff, edgy, soft little bastard in here. He’s not too soft, but he’s definitely not written as thee Ryomen Sukuna... let’s just enjoy this one for a bit... Let me dream, okay? Reader is half! Just wanted to say that I don’t write too often so my updates will be slow. This is a fanfic that I’ve had in my google drafts for a while, but I didn’t get too far into it so there’s not much written yet. However, I wanted to share it with you anyways! I hope you can enjoy the story in the end! I’m not very talented so if this fanfic isn’t your cup of tea, just keep rolling through. Thank you :)

Part 1 Lonely Boy - Part 2 Uncertainty - Part 3 I’ve Missed You - Part 4 High Heels - Part 5 I Keep Looking at You - Part 6 Horror House - Part 7 Too Much to Drink - Part 8 Alcohol on Your Tongue - Part 9 Jealousy in Your Eyes - Part 10 Dancing on Your Own - Part 11 Toxic in You - Part 12 Taste of Your Tears - Part 13 Confrontation - Part 14 Three Brats - Part 15 Sakura - Part 16 Bali - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20

More to come

[roleplayfinder]

I (22 F) am looking for someone to roleplay with! For fandoms, my current cravings are Harry Potter (Marauders Era (including the Slytherin Skittles), The Slytherin Boys). I can do either oc x canon or canon x canon, depending on your preference. I prefer to 2x2, although this can be discussed further when we talk. I’m pretty open about which canons we play, but below are some things I’ll always say yes to! I am okay with nsfw content. I’m super into ooc talk and really creating characters together! I prefer to roleplay on discord.

Marauders Era:

Canon×Canon:

Jegulus (I would prefer to rp as Regulus)

Wolfstar (I would prefer to rp as Remus)

Rosekiller (I would prefer to rp as Evan)

OC×Canon:

I can Roleplay as Regulus, Remus, Evan, Lily or Pandora

And I'm always gonna say yes to roleplay against Sirius, James, Barty and Narcissa (+ many more if you have other ideas)

Slytherin Boys:

I would love to rp only oc×Canon and I would gladly play against Tom Riddle (if he is rp as Mattheo's Brother) or Theodore Nott

.

[skiel-infinity]

∘✧ 9 people you’d like to get to know better ✧∘

Tagged by @itsana004 💖

➣ Tags

1. Three ships: if you asked me this ten years ago, i'd cry and beg you to give me more than three, i used to be such a massive shipper, now, not so much anymore BUT! 1) Toolshipping (Bruno/Antinomy x Yusei || Yugioh 5Ds) and when that final antinomy duel concluded, you bet your ASS i cried 2)Aiballshipping (Yusaku x Ai || Yugioh VRAINS) again, when that ending dropped. i was in SHAMBLES. GIRL YOU CAN'T JUST CONFESS AND THEN DIE, NOOOOOOOOOOO and then they. butchered this scene (imo) in the dub. made it less powerful. >:I 3) Phos x Cinnabar || Land of the Lustrous y'know that scene when Cinnabar makes a tiny Phos out of their poison? Yeah. That's when it began for me. bonus ships: oc x canon supremacy

2. First ever ship: hhhhhh the first ship I remember ACTIVELY shipping is Ferriswheelshipping (Hilda x N, Pokemon Black and White) The moment they get on the ferris wheel together, I was like. Instant ship.

3. Last song: uhm, the last song i heard was on the radio and i do not remember what it was lol

4. Last movie: I rewatched Bonds Beyond Time for the third time with an IRL not that long ago. It was part of my spiel to catch up my dub only fans on what they missed out of 5Ds :>

5. Currenly reading: Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao. Listen, that book is RIGHT up my alley. Mechas, rebellion story, and my favourite mythos? Sign me UP!

6. Currently watching: So I lost count of what number rewatch this is but. . . 5Ds. Again, I am on a MISSION to catch up all of my dub only fans on what they missed out. Right now I'm at the first Aporia duel.

7. Currently consuming: OC content. Your OCs, hand them over. I will cherish them and ask if my OCs can be friends with them too

8. Currently craving: i need some cheesecake, like, right tf now. . . It's been forEVER! ! !

9 people to Tag: @saint-bestial @kittydoesthings @gourde @relliqvia @bat-connoisseur @thatwolficorn @sun-citadel @snailstrailz @majachee

Only if you want to of course, and for anyone else feel free if you want to 💕

[serenofroses]

Prompt: “10. spooning at night“ from fluff prompt list." otp: m! wrath oc x Darth Vowrawn A/N: transgender Vowrawn, old married men in love, immortal Wrath OC, heavy canon divergent.

Kritanta returned home to find his husband within the shared master bed--who was far too exhausted to bother draping the bedshets to cover his body on a cold night. He smiled behind his mask and revelled in the sight of his devoted husband sleeping peacefully.

Before he walked to the bedroom to turn in for the night, he checked in on his daughters to ensure they are wrapped up in warm duvets and aren't wide awake at this late hour, as the winter snowstorm about to brace towards rural Ziost.

The young twins had such energetic and playful side to them had completely knocked Vowrawn off his feet who barely acknowledged his presence through the Bond due to his extreme tiredness.

Kritanta knew Vowrawn had been working relentlessly as the Dark Councillor and becoming a working parent with the perks of raising twins.

The lamp was dimly lit by the bedside cabinet, suspecting that it had been left on for hours as Vowrawn had been up waiting for him to come home for a much needed alone time while the twins were sleeping. But Vowrawn could not stay aware long enough that he neglected to put his glasses and tome aside.

Kritanta smiled at his husband and used the Force to switch off the lamp without disturbing Vowrawn's slumber with noise movement--he carefully pried the glasses and tome off to put them away. He was quick and quiet from his hardened years of Sith training. He unclipped the lightsaber from the belt to place it in the glass display for safeguarding and set on removing his armour.

Once he was done stripping his armour and put his cargo pants on for bed, he made his way to the bedside and pulled the duvet over the pureblood's body to shield him from the cold air. Vowrawn would've thanked him in the morning for not catching a dreaded cold in the middle of the night. Kritanta lifted his fingers to run through his husband's red hair gently.

Vowrawn stirred in his hazy slumber, "Mm?"

It took him a moment to open his half-lidded eyes to spot his, as he would fondly call, "gorgeous" husband.

"Sevket. You're home." Vowrawn greeted tiredly, reaching out to stroke and feel up the bicep through the tip of his fingernail, "I must've doozed off while waiting for you--I do apologise, my dear."

Kritanta took his rebreather mask off and placed it onto the beside table, inhaling the scent of putrified air within the room and looked back to Vowrawn with a smile.

"I appreciate it but your beauty nap comes first, Kavi." Kritanta says in a soft tone before getting up, "Shift."

Vowrawn wasted no time to move and lay in the middle of the bed, leaving a lot of room for Kritanta to climb onto the bed, underneath the duvet, pressed his body against Vowrawn's.

"Mm. You're so warm." Vowrawn murmured approvingly as he wrapped his arms around his husbnad and nuzzled his face into his chest with a contented sigh, "I wish we could stay like this forever."

"Me too." the Wrath agreed in a tired voice.

The two didn't say anything more as they were too exhausted to engage in a conversation. Kritanta shifted closer to snuggle with him, he craved, and starved, for this closeness all day before the two eventually drift off to sleep together.

[snowy-weather]

Nine People You'd Like to Know Better

I know I'm super late to this, my apologies. XD

Thanks for the tag, @septicrodent

3 Ships:

These will all involve my OCs in some way. XD

Ralis Sedarys X Mirni. OMG I love these two so much. I have no idea why I started shipping them, it was probably just a random thought that turned into an obsession over time. XD Drawing them makes me so happy. I've been obsessed with them for like... a year? Two years? And it's showing no signs of stopping.

I do realise that my version of Ralis Sedarys had become heavily headcanon-ised over time. XD But with a characters with as little canon content as him I suppose that's doubt to happen.

Varonys X Alya. Mirni's parents haven't even existed in the way they do for like a month and I LOVE them. Strict, stoic, grumpy nerd (who's secretly a little awkward) and his absolutely lovesick assistant. 🤭 I love it. I expect to make much more art of them in the future.

Next one isn't an Elder Scrolls (or Elder Scrolls OCs) pairing, it's from my original story.

Athix X Maron. Maron is an aloof, vain and standoffish man (who's secretly also a nerd but don't let him hear me say that) and Athix is a lovesick fool who just can't hide how much he absolutely loves Maron. They're both bad guys, honestly, as they work for the main antagonist in the Ace of Swords prologue chapter. But somehow, Athix' adoration of Maron is so cute to me. Maron, like I said, is standoffish and often acts annoyed at Athix' advances. But don't worry! He likes him a lot too.

First ship:

In general? No idea. XD I honestly don't remember.

In Elder Scrolls? Estlin (OC) and Torvar from the companions. Originally, I wanted to make a Skyrim story focused on my Dragonborn character Estlin and Torvar would be her unlikely love interest. Mostly because I married him in my first playthrough of the game. I thought he'd be kind of like an anime character I love. He's not, but I got attached to him anyway. XD

In Ace of Swords? Probably Yashiro and Agnes. They're an official couple (married) and the first couple to appear in my original concept for in Ace of Swords in 2019.

Currently reading:

I'm reading a long-running Elder Scrolls fanfic written by a friend of mine. I'm totally hooked. It's two parts so far: 'Ancient Blood' and 'Indigo Children'.

Last film:

Madagascar 3: Europe's most wanted. 🤭 What can I say I have a soft spot for weird animated comedies. I grew up watching Shrek.

Currently Craving:

Coffee.

-

I know the idea is to tag 9 more people, but I'm awkward, I don't know for sure who has and hasn't been tagged yet and I don't wanna bother people too much, so I'll pass for now hehe. Still, I'm happy to be tagged! ^^

[ensign-smith]

hello! i have star trek brain rot and would like to find some discord rps

about me: 30yr, she/her, PST timezone. i've rp'ed all my life but i fell away from it for the past 8 years. recently discovered chat bots which are a fun intersection of my hobby of rping and my career in data science. however i figure i should probably also keep talking to humans as well, it's good for the soul or whatever. and also my writing skills. lol

style: lazy lit, i mirror my partner, but i average about 2-5 paragraphs. i'll rp all sorts of characters. im queer/poly friendly. i will double. happy with R-rated plots and content but i'm unlikely to get explicit.

prefs: must be 21+. romance is not required in my RPs. just looking for friendly people who i can really nerd out about star trek with!

Starred is who I'm craving to play!

✨Ensign Vorik✨ x OC (nb x F)

Tuvok x OC/Canon (M x any)

Ex-Borg OC x OC (F//)

Betazoid/Vulcan OC x OC/Canon (F x any)

✨Lore Soong✨ x Romulan OC (M x any)

Bonus: Steven Universe/Star Trek cross-over! Let's make up our own canon!!! (F//)

Bonus: something else??? I love playing playing both canon and original characters!

I have watched these series (at least enough to RP them): TNG, VOY, DS9, LWD, PIC

if any of the following characters pique your interest, reach out here or ringingbellz@Discord!!!

[starshinerart]

OMG ANOTHER MAO MAO OC x CANON SHIFTER!!! I LOVE YOU!!! No fr i'm like addicted to Mao Mao and have been since it came out- if you dont mind, could you share more and your oc and like your lore?? Im just craving any mao mao content i can get!!!! -fosforflower

Hi!!! OMG Thank you SO SO much for the support! I'm always happy to talk about my oc and ship. This is what I have so far:

Regarding my OC:

Her name is Lambina Woolington. She is a sheep girl who moves to Pure Heart Valley to escape the boring life of her old town. But she also needs time away from her overly attached parents (more on those two in the future) who don't know how to give her space. She is kind hearted with a quirky personality, but can also be seen as "strange" or "odd" to some.

Mao Mao tends to not really like Lambina initially, finding her rather annoying and strange, even going far as to judging her based on his own bias. But this bias mainly stems from the contrast of their relationships with their parents. While Lambina gets WAY too much love an affection from her parents to the point where she needs her own space, Mao Mao would to anything to win that same love from his neglectful father. It's because of this that he sees the sheep as "ungrateful" for what she has, even though that is not the case. He later learns that just because someone is strange or different doesn't mean that they are a bad person and to not judge someone based on these differences. He also learns that his opinion is not fact and that not everyone will view things the same way as him, as Badgerclops and Adorabat have no problem with Lambina. Even the King has taken a liking to her!

Regarding the OC x Canon Ship:

I ship Lambina with King Snugglemagne (the ship name is Snugglelamb)! Why you may ask? Well, tbh, I've always liked the King despite his issues. And I had this headcanon of him crying due to having no heir to the throne and therefore wanting to settle down with someone. But you can't rush love that way, and that's the lesson that the King has to learn. When he meets and falls for Lambina, it's not just to have an heir to the throne. It's legitimately because he loves her, she being the first person that he truly loves more than himself (and his mother).

Also, someone like Mao Mao would NEVER expect the King to fall for a simple awkward sheep girl. But love works in mysterious ways. Do you know what Lion x Sheep equals? DIVERSITY!! It's something that you wouldn't expect and yet, here it is. Mao Mao questions why the King has eyes on this particular girl to which the King replies that she has some sort of "Je ne sais quoi". Though he initially doesn't have the courage to ask her out due to having what he calls the "Royal Butterflies". Meanwhile, Lambina doesn't think that she is good enough to date royalty, especially considering that no one has ever wanted to date her in the past. But the two eventually get past these insecurities and start a relationship.

I also think that Lambina would be good emotional support for the King whenever he needs it. And they would cuddle a lot too!!!

Eventually, they get married and have a daughter, Princess Purity (more on her in the future)

Again, thank you SO much for reaching out to me! I hope we can talk again in the future. I love talking about Mao Mao related stuff.

[findroleplay]

hey there

19 NB looking for other writers around my age (18–23 preferred)

I’ve recently just been rewatching a bunch of stuff and now I’m craving something in one of these universes (especially those with !):

Shameless (US) !

The Office (US) !

Yellowjackets 

Dimension 20 (most seasons, including the new NSBU season)

I only write SFW content and tend to lean semi-lit to lit. I’m really excited about a completely original story and doing OC x OC (not strictly romantic), but I’m down to double with OC x CC too! I can be persuaded into CC x CC but it’s not my first preference. I also tend to write female characters, but if we’re doubling I can roleplay a canon character of any gender for you! I usually roleplay on Discord.

I love planning and getting excited about characters/ships, making mood boards, etc, but I also get that not everyone’s into that. I’m basically down for whatever, I’m just excited to write again! Like this post if youre interested and I’ll reach out to you!

-