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imaginespazzi · 2 months

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Part 5: The Answers We Wait For

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

I'd go back in time and change it (but I can't)

(In which a writer's busy schedule somehow still had time for her favorite obsession)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining

Words: 7.0K (it's very on-brand that my busiest week would produce the longest chapter)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Happy Monday lovelies :) How I managed to pull this off is between me and God at this point but here we are. I know it's been an interesting day to say the least, so I'm hoping me living up to my promises can be a silver lining. Quick note that I already fucked up the timeline at some point and Paige Olivia have actually been divorced for almost 3 years. I'll change that eventually. I actually didn't even try to really edit this chapter and in the choice between editing tomorrow and giving it to y'all today, I chose the latter. So please help a girl out and point out my typos/mistakes if you spot them and I will also eventually go back and edit. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forwards. Have a lovely week my loves <3

December 2027

Marriage and weddings had never been at the forefront of Paige’s mind. To be completely honest, for most of her life, there wasn’t much occupying her brain other than the court under her feet and the basketball in her hands. But the couple of times she had let herself picture it, she’d always thought that she’d have a Fall wedding, probably in Minnesota, maybe even on a basketball court. An indoor winter wedding in Texas had never once crossed her mind. She’d imagined vibrant fun bouquets made of pink lilies and purple hydrangeas, not the elegant red and white roses arrangements that were currently being placed along a far too heavily decorated aisle. Instead of vintage wines and carefully constructed fancy cocktails, she’d thought it would be nice to have spiked shirley temples and maybe even blue and white jello shots. She had expected to have a quiet ceremony followed by a vivacious gathering of everyone she loved. It had never even occurred to her that her wedding would become a public spectacle with People's magazine in attendance. She’d pictured a party, not an event.

Most of all she’d dreamt of getting married to a girl with dark eyes that could see all of Paige’s flaws and a soft smile that promised she’d love Paige despite them all.

But the thing about dreams is that they’re fleeting trains that travel through the tracks of your mind when you’re asleep, and when you wake up, reality is nothing but a devastating train crash.

Paige sighs, forcing herself out of her own head, as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She looks pretty. Brittany had found her a nice white wedding suit -fitted to perfection- matching it with dainty silver jewelry. Paige normally liked her outfits a little looser but Olivia loved it and Paige likes that Olivia loves it. Her hair is styled in a bun, with two straightened strands to highlight her face. She thinks she might have preferred to have them curled in the front but Olivia had sweetly insisted on them being straight because hers would be curly and they had to complement, not match. Paige doesn’t really understand the difference or the importance but she thinks if Olivia wants it like that then she's fine with it. She thinks the bold red lipstick heavily coating her mouth makes her look a little bit like a vampire out of a badly directed 90’s horror movie but Olivia had said it was necessary so that the lights and cameras didn’t wash her face out.

Paige looks pretty. She just doesn’t really look like Paige.

“What do you think Drewski?” she asks, twirling to face her stone-faced brother who’s sitting on the couch, with a bout of enthusiasm that rings hollow to her own ears, “do I look gorgeous or what?”

“You look weird,” Drews says stiffly and Paige sighs.

“Dr-” Paige is cut off by her younger brother sauntering over. A confused expression spreads over her features as Drew takes her hand and places it on his forehead, “uh- what are you doing?”

“Paigey, doesn't my forehead feel hot? I feel so sick,” the little boy whines, letting out a series of overzealous dramatized coughs.

“Your forehead feels fine,” Paige says, slowly removing her hand.

“Well of course you’d think that. You’re not a doctor who knows how to feel foreheads correctly. I think we need to go to the hospital to see a real doctor. Like right now,” Drew pulls at Paige’s hand as she begins to catch onto what he’s trying to make happen.

“You’re fine Drew.”

“I’m NOT. I’m very, very, very sick. So we have to leave right now. I could be contagious. I could be a danger to all these people,” Drew’s animated hands start to fly everywhere, “you can’t get married when your little brother’s sick. It’s- it’s just wrong. Bad juju or something like that. Everybody will understand that you just had to call off the wedding. For family reasons.”

“Drew-” Paige tries again, a hard pit settling in her stomach.

“Are you worried cause you didn’t bring your car? That’s okay I’m sure Ice or KK will drive us but you can’t get married today Paigey. You just can’t,” his bottom lip trembles as the façade of illness slips and Paige feels her own eyes start to get glossy, “it’s not right Paigey. This is all wrong. She’s all wrong.”

“It’s not like that Drew. You just haven’t gotten to know-”

“I don’t want to know her,” Drew yells, “you don’t even know her. How can you get married to someone you’ve barely dated for a year. How can you do this to Az-”

“That’s enough,” Paige’s voice is eerily calm, as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “watch how you talk to me-”

“You’re being stup-”

“Drew Thomas I am not going to repeat myself again. Behave yourself. You’re not nearly old enough to be questioning what I do with my life,” it takes every inch of self-control Paige has to not let her voice shake.

Her younger brother’s words feel like acid rain pelting against her already wounded skin. They slip into the gashes, mixing into her bloodstreams to create an army with the battalion of her own thoughts that have been hacking away at her heart for god knows how long. Paige wonders how long it’ll be before she finally bleeds out.

“Please don’t get married Paigey,” Drew pleads, gripping his sister’s hand, “please.”

There’s nothing but silence as Paige opens and closes her mouth. And she doesn’t know if she’s trying to get words out or breathe air in; all she knows is that Drew might be squeezing her hands, but it feels like someone is strangling her lungs.

She’s saved from having to say anything by a hesitant knock on the door. As Drew begrudgingly goes to open it, Paige scrambles to put herself back together. She closes her eyes, taking in three deep breaths before-

Drew gasps and Paige’s eyes fly open. With her back turned to the door, she can’t see who it is and something like hope starts to bloom in her chest, vines of maybe it’s her weaving through her ribcage. And as she turns around, they turn to dust; dust that floats up to her eyes and makes them tear up again as she stares dumbfoundedly at the two people standing somewhat awkwardly in her doorway.

Paige had grown up an independent child. It wasn’t that her parents were neglectful or that they hadn’t loved her enough because they had. But at first it was the constant fighting and then it was the nurturing of a brand new family with new children and Paige had slipped through the cracks of oh she’s so mature we don’t need to worry about her. She had always had her parents as cheerleaders in the stands; no one was prouder of Paige than they were. But no one had bothered to force her to drink terrible tasting immunity boosters. No had patiently dyed her hair purple and pinky promised to like it even if it turned out terrible. No one had yelled at her for being in the gym till one a.m or woken her up at an ungodly hour to run drills. Not until she’d met a girl at 15 and that girl’s parents had decided that Paige was just as much theirs as their own daughter.

And suddenly there were more people added to her cheering squad for her wins. But that’s not when Paige fell in love with Tim and Katie Fudd. It was when she lost and there was a nagging finger followed by a full breakdown of what she could do better next time and finally, a bear hug promising they’d help her do it. They’d been there every step and she’d sent the invitation, scared they wouldn’t show up, that they wouldn’t be there for this step, a step that inadvertently took her further away from them. But here they are anyway.

“Hi sweetheart,” Katie says softly, her own eyes moist as she takes in the sight of the bride, “you look- you look absolutely stunning Paige.”

“You came,” Paige whispers, “I didn’t- I didn’t know if you would.”

“Of course we came,” Tim exclaims but his normal boisterous voice doesn’t feel nearly as enthusiastic, “always told you we’d be front and center at your wedding.”

Because I was supposed to marry your daughter; I was supposed to become your daughter, officially.

“I’m really glad you guys came,” Paige says, letting Katie wrap her into a warm hug. She only gets a second to let herself enjoy it before Drew’s asking a question that makes her stiffen.

“Where’s Azzi?”

It’s like there’s lightning wrapped in that one syllable and it strikes right through Paige’s heart, setting every inch of it ablaze with the flames of a name that used to feel like cotton candy on her tongue; now it feels like lava.

“She couldn’t make it,” Tim says slowly and Paige knows she shouldn’t be surprised, let along disappointed that her ex wasn’t coming but there’s a string that snaps anyways.

“Why not?” Drew asks petulantly.

“The baby’s due next month,” Tim tells him gently, “she can’t fly.”

The air feels suffocating at the mention of the baby. She’d been scrolling mindlessly through her tiktok feed when the announcement had popped up. She still has it memorized.

Golden State Valkyries superstar shooting guard Azzi Fudd announces pregnancy on Instagram; she’ll miss the upcoming WNBA season.

For a moment the world had stopped as Paige had hurriedly switched apps to instagram. And there it was. A smiling picture of Azzi holding a sonogram. Paige doesn’t know how long she’d stared at the picture but she remembers that it was set against a white background and she remembers that Azzi was wearing a green top. And as she’d typed out a congrats! that blended in seamlessly with all the other felicitating comments on the post, Paige had wondered if Azzi had felt it too. She’d wondered if, when Azzi had left a similar congratulations <3 post on Paige’s engagement announcement, she’d felt something unravel too. She’d wondered if Azzi had felt this hollowness of and i guess this is us signing off on never getting forever with each other.

“So Azzi’s not going to stop this wedding?” Drew’s voice is dangerously even as he rounds on Paige, “and you’re really going through with this?”

“Drew please” Paige says tiredly as Katie runs a soothing hand down her back.

“You’re stupid. And she’s stupid. You’re all so freaking stupid,” Drew bursts out, stomping past the adults in the doorway, his anger palpable in every single word.

“I got it,” Tim says, wrapping a wrist around Paige’s hand as she moves to follow her younger brother. He squeezes gently, a half-hearted smile on his face, “it’s gonna be okay kid. It always is.”

Paige wishes she could just believe him, turn off the voices in her head and just be a kid who could take an adult’s word as gospel. But Paige is the adult now and believing no longer comes so naturally.

“Hey,” Katie says after Tim runs after Drew, pulling Paige to sit with her on the couch, “I have a little wedding gift for you.

“Katie you don’t have-” Paige begins, watching as the older woman pulls out a velvet box from her bag, placing her phone on the table next to her.

“Oh hush. I told you I’d give this to you,” Katie chides as she hands the velvet box. Paige’s eyes glisten as she opens it to find a familiar purple amethyst necklace. She’s flooded with the vivid image of her and Azzi on a random day in lockdown helping Katie organize her minimal jewelry. Paige had fallen in love with this necklace and Azzi had her eyes set on a pink topaz. It was fitting to say the least and Katie had promised them, with a glint in her eyes, that she’d give it to them as their something old on their wedding day. They’d been in between something and everything but Paige and Azzi had shared a shy smile over it anyways.

“I can’t accept this,” Paige shakes her head trying to hand the box back but Katie dodges it expertly.

“Yes you can. It’s basically a family heirloom and you, Paige Bueckers, are family,” Katie says firmly.

“Katie-”

The older woman presses a kiss to Paige’s forehead as she starts to head out, “you’re always gonna be family Paige. Always.”

Katie’s words act like a band-aid but they’re not enough- maybe nothing will be enough- to fully heal the wound of today i was supposed to officially become a Fudd.

A ringing noise interrupts Paige’s pity party and she starts half-heartedly digging around for her phone. She’s confused when she finds it because no one’s calling her and the room is still vibrating with noise. Crinkling her eyebrows, Paige’s eyes finally land on the couch side table, where Katie’s phone, clearly forgotten, is buzzing.

Azzi’s CallerID flashes on the screen.

Paige stares at the phone, rooted in place. She knows she shouldn’t pick it up, knows she should go return it. Still without a decision, Paige slowly starts to reach for it. And then it stops ringing and Paige goes still again, unsure if she’s relieved or disappointed. Swallowing, she takes another step. The phone rings again. A myriad of thoughts dance through Paige’s mind, opposing thoughts clashing with each other and making her head hurt. She lies to herself that it’s out of concern; that Azzi’s pregnant and this could be important. She lies to herself as she hits the green answer button that it’s not because she’s desperate to hear Azzi’s voice.

“Mom?” Azzi sounds distraught when she picks up but Paige thinks it’s still her favorite sound any way, “Mom? I think I did something wrong. I can’t do this Mom. You’ve been gone a day and I’ve already fucked up. I don’t know what and I don’t know when but I think I fucked up. Maybe I ate something I wasn’t supposed to. Maybe it’s because I lay on my back instead of my side but Mom she hasn’t kicked all day and I can’t get Dr. Myers on the phone and I-”

“It’s a girl?” Paige breathes out. And suddenly she’s 22, sitting in a UConn apartment living room, grinning foolishly as Jana points out an AI picture that looks like the perfect mixture of her and Azzi. Azzi, who’s having a daughter.

The woman in question is quiet and for a second Paige thinks that Azzi might hang up.

“It’s a girl Paige,” Azzi says finally.

“Are you- are you okay?” Paige asks slowly, trying not to dwell on how much she’s missed the way Azzi says her name. It’s been Bueckers every time they’ve seen each other this year and she’s never hated the sound of her last name more.

“Yeah, I just-” Azzi sighs, her voice still a little frazzled, “I’m just being paranoid cause my Mom’s not here and my doctor’s not answering and the stupid baby hasn’t kicked all day,” she pauses, “sorry. I-I don’t mean to dump on you. Not today at least.”

“Az-”

“Where’s my Mom?”

“She- she’s probably outside. Think she left her phone here by accident. I can go find her but can I-” Paige hesitates, chewing at her lips in a way she knows Olivia hates, “can I help?”

“I don’t think-”

Paige shocks herself with her next words, “put the phone to your stomach.”

“What? Paige, did you hit your head in the last two seconds or something?”

“Just- just trust me,” she’s not really sure what she’s saying but now that she’s said, might as well commit to the bit, “I’mma talk sense into her. I saw it in a movie.”

“You saw it in a-” Azzi sighs and Paige can practically picture her rolling her eyes. “I don’t know who’s more insane. You for coming up with the idea or me because I’mma follow through it,” there’s a bunch of static noise on the other side as Azzi adjusts herself, putting the phone on speaker and pressing it to her belly, “alright Dr. Bueckers work your magic.”

Paige is nervous as she speaks, “hey there little bean. I’m your-” she stops because what is she, “I’m your Paige,” she decides softly, “and I think- I think you should stop stressing your Mama out. She’s a bit of an overthinker so if you could just help her out, I think she’d really appreciate it. Because if- if you don’t she isn’t gonna be able to sleep tonight and you don’t know this yet but when your Mama doesn’t get sleep, she’s kind of a bi-”

“Paige,” Azzi hisses.

“Big baby,” Paige corrects, “she’s a big baby. And then she cries and it’s not a pretty sight-”

“Hey!”

“Sshhh Azzi I’m working my magic,” Paige scolds, “where was I? Oh yeah. She cries and it’s not a pretty sight because,’ her voice softens, “seeing your Mama cry is the worst thing in the world. I hate it and I know- I know you’re gonna hate it too because when you finally come out little bean, the first thing you’re gonna see is your Mama’s smile. And you’re gonna think it’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Just like I do,” a sob escapes on the other end of the line and Paige feels tears start to cascade down her own cheeks, “come on little bean, give us a little kick. Make your Mama smile.”

Time ticks by slowly and Paige closes her eyes, thinking maybe her desperate attempt to keep Azzi on the line had failed miserably. And then Azzi gasps, “she kicked. Oh my god Paige she kicked.”

Paige’s grin stretches her whole face and for a second it almost feels like she’s right there with Azzi, that instead of her ear being pressed to a phone, it’s pressed to Azzi’s belly. For a second she almost feels like she can feel the baby kicking. And then she opens her eyes.

“Did it make you smile?”

“Yeah, yeah it did,” Azzi admits and Paige can hear the relief in her voice.

“I’m glad- I’m glad you have something that makes you smile.”

“Do you?” Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “do you have someone that makes you smile?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” and it’s not a complete lie. Olivia does make Paige smile. And maybe it’s not quite as big or bright or real but at least Olivia’s here to try.

“Good. I-I’m also really glad you have that.”

“You are?”

“Of course I am Paige,” Azzi says quietly, ��I want you to smile. I just- I just want you to be happy. Are you happy Paige?”

“I’m getting married today,” Paige says in lieu of an answer and she can hear Azzi’s breath hitch.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. It’s a yes or no question,” Azzi presses.

“Then you answer it Azzi,” Paige bites out, “are you happy?”

“I”m-,” the younger girl lets out a sigh, “I’m content.”

Her answer makes Paige’s skin itch with irritation and she can’t stop it from seeping into her next question, “so you have no regrets then?”

“I didn’t say that,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s voice.

“Do you or do you not regret saying no to marrying me Azzi?” Paige asks, unable to hold it in any longer.

“Paige-”

“What? You gonna say it’s not that simple? It’s a yes or no question Azzi,” Paige mocks.

“That’s not it-”

“Then what is?”

“You’re getting married Paige,” Azzi yells, “you’re getting married,” she repeats again, softer this time, “to someone else. And so it doesn’t matter how I feel. It isn’t fair of you to ask and it wouldn’t- it wouldn’t be fair of me to answer. Not today. Maybe one day- one day it'll be the right time but not today.”

“And what if it’s never the right time?”

“Then maybe it’s a question you were never meant to know the answer to.”

There’s something final in the quietness that follows, like they’re having a moment of silence at a funeral for what never even got to be.

It’s Azzi who speaks first.

“You’re gonna be a wonderful wife P.”

“You’re gonna be an amazing mom Az.”

They let it left unsaid that they were supposed to be wives to each other, that they were supposed to be moms together.

***

March 2033

Paige doesn’t know how long she stands outside, staring down the winding road that had taken Stephie and Azzi away from her. The neighborhood is slowly waking up and if the woman across the street opens her curtains and thinks it’s a little strange that her new neighbor is standing like a statue on her front porch, she only raises a slight eyebrow before going back to her day. It takes almost twenty minutes before her head finally convinces her heart that no matter how much she stands outside, they’re not coming back.

There’s a part of her that can admit that maybe Azzi had a point and maybe she shouldn’t have asked her to stay over last night. But Paige has never been known for her common sense, especially not when it comes to Azzi. Because truth be told, asking Azzi to stay the night was perhaps the least ridiculous of the thoughts that had invaded her mind last night. It was easy- too easy- to fall right back into whatever with Azzi. She’d done a good job pretending that the nightly facetime calls had been for Stephie’s benefit but the truth is that they had become just as much a necessity for Paige. She’d fallen asleep with a smile on her face every night and the temptation to have that in person last night had been too hard to resist. And so she hadn’t.

She makes it about three steps up the stairs, when the fort still set up in the living room catches her eye. And that’s when the first tear falls, and then the second and then the third until she thinks if she tried to swim in them, she’d probably drown. Paige abandons the idea of going up to her room and crawls back into the tent made of blankets. And she must be going insane because she swears she can still smell the faint scent of a toddler and Azzi’s lavender perfume on the pillow she cradles to her chest. It’s ridiculous to be so attached already. She knows that. Stephie isn’t hers but it feels like the little girl has crept underneath her skin, burrowing herself in a part of Paige’s heart that the blond didn’t even know was there. And Azzi- well no matter how long it’s been, no matter how much resentment Paige has held, the truth is that there’s a little patch of Paige’s soul that will always belong to the younger woman.

Paige barely registers herself falling asleep until there’s abrupt knocking on her door and she realizes she’s been cocooned in the fort for almost three hours. She hesitantly lets go of the pillow, groggily walking towards the door. It’s useless to pretend that she isn’t hoping it’s Azzi and Stephie on the other side, isn’t hoping that Azzi had realized her mistake, isn’t hoping to scoop both of them into her arms and fill the hollowness that’s been thrumming against her ribcage. God Paige has barely survived a month -a day if she’s completely honest- she doesn’t know how she’s going to survive this whole season.

She crosses her fingers behind her back as she opens the door.

“Hey,” Katie’s smiling face looks back at her, holding up a tray of coffee and a bag of something, “figured you haven’t eaten breakfast yet?”

Paige blinks stupidly as Katie lets herself in, moving through Paige’s house with ease and immediately locating the kitchen. She hands Paige a cup of coffee before ransacking through the bag and pulling out a glazed donut, “eat. I know you haven’t.”

“Does Azzi know you’re here?” Paige asks slowly before taking a bite out of her donut.

Katie gives her pointed look, “who do you think gave me your address?”

“Is she- is she okay?”

“You two are something you know,” Katie shakes her head, “you’re asking me if she’s okay and she sent me over here to make sure that you were okay.”

Paige feels her heart swell with after all this time, “she sent you?”

“I have breakfast with Azzi and Stephie every Sunday morning. Now imagine my surprise when I get there today and my oh so sweet and wonderful granddaughter isn’t talking to her mother. And so I forced the story out of Azzi and I barely understood a word she was saying through her tears-”

“She was crying?” Paige feels her lungs constrict.

Katie shoots her an unimpressed look, “can I finish the story?”

“I don’t like this story. It has Azzi crying.”

“Yeah well the two of you seem to enjoy doing that to each other,” Katie cocks an unamused eyebrow and Paige flinches at the truth of it, “anyways I didn’t understand much of it but she was clear by the end. Seemed to think you needed someone, needed me and so here I am Paige.”

“Why is your daughter like this?” Paige demands, “how is she gonna make me cry and then send somebody else to wipe my tears.”

“Well I can leave-”

“Why couldn’t she just have stayed?” the blonde questions, “why does she always have to overthink things and make it more complicated? Why can’t she just listen to her heart once in her fucking life? Why can’t she just let herself live? Why is it always no with her and never just yes?”

Katie gives Paige a sad smile, reaching for her hand, “that’s why.”

“Please don’t speak in riddles. It’s 10 a.m and I’m sad,” Paige whines. She might be in her early thirties but there’s something about Katie Fudd that makes Paige feel like it’s okay to be a bit of a child.

“Why is it always no with her and never yes?” Katie repeats, “c’mon Paige you know that’s not about last night.”

“It is,” Paige argues stubbornly.

“It’s not,” Katie says, gently squeezing Paige’s hand, “it’s about her saying no 8 years ago.”

“I’m ov-” Paige stops, withering under Katie’s glare, “okay maybe it’s a little bit about her saying no 8 years ago. But I’m allowed to still be upset about it. She broke my heart. I wanted forever and she walked away. I’m allowed to be mad about that.”

“Of course you’re allowed to be mad Paige but that’s exactly why Azzi had to go this morning. And it’s exactly why you shouldn’t have asked her to stay last night. You guys can’t just pretend none of it happened because it did. You’re still hurt Paige and ignoring that is gonna get you guys nowhere. Especially with Stephie involved.”

“So what are you saying? You’re saying me and Azzi should just be teammates? You’re saying I should just never see Stephie again,” even the thought of it makes Paige feel like she is laying down on a bed of thorns.

“You’re so goddamn dramatic Bueckers,” Katie rolls her eyes, “I’m not saying any of that. I’m saying maybe you just need to take it slower, with both of them, instead of having a goddamn sleepover the literal first night you’re in the same city. Besides,” Katie gives her a knowing smirk, “my granddaughter is obsessed with her Miss Buecks. Pretty sure she’d find a way to see you again no matter what.”

“Good,” Paige lets out her first smile of the day, “because I’d find a way to see her again too. She just- she’s kinda great isn’t she? Azzi did a good job with that one. She’s- she’s perfect,” she looks at Katie who’s regarding Paige with a thoughtful expression, “what? Do I have donut glaze on my face?”

“No, no it just- I’ve seen that expression before.”

“What expression?”

“The one you just had on your face while talking about Stephie,” Katie laughs to herself, “it’s the same one Tim had when he first met Azzi.”

***

“Oh my god. It’s Paige Bueckers. Can I have your autograph?” Steph Curry winks at Paige as she walks into his office. The Golden State legend had started an after-school basketball camp for kids in the Bay Area and as soon as he’d heard the news of Paige coming over to the Valkyries, he’d messaged her if she’d be interested in helping him out in the off-season. Paige had been more than willing to be a part of it, always invested in giving back to her community. If she’d been excited by the idea before though, today, after the worst sleep of her night as she tossed and turned to the hopeless depression of not having spoken to Stephie and Azzi for far too long, Paige really needed this distraction.

“Don’t think you can afford my autograph,” Paige smirks lazily as she basically droops into the seat opposite him.

Steph laughs goodnaturedly, “welcome to the Bay Area kid.”

“I’m a little old to be called a kid don’t you think? I’m nearly 25,” Paige grins, wiggling her eyebrows..

Steph shakes his head, “nah you’re always gonna be a kid to me. You and Azzi both,” he chuckles to himself, “even though Azzi’s got her own kid now. Have you met her?”

Well that distraction lasted 30 seconds, Paige thinks to herself as she forces a smile onto her face, “yeah. I’ve seen her around.”

“She’s cute as hell right? And she knows it. Little miss bossy pants has everyone wrapped around her fingers. Kinda reminds me of Riley,” there’s a goofy expression as Steph thinks of his daughter and Paige wonders if the same one is reflected on her face as she thinks about Stephie, “and she’s a natural at basketball. Only five and her shot’s already pretty good. You’ll see it today when she comes to camp. And she’s pretty good at defense-”

“I’m sorry what?” Paige blinks rapidly.

“I know. What defense can a 5 year old play but it’s just the way she moves you know?” Steph tries to explain and Paige shakes her head.

“Not that. Stephie- Stephie’s coming to camp?”

Steph grins large and proud, “of course she is. She was the first camper I signed.”

“Right,” Paige nods, giving the man in front of her a tight smile, “can you- can you excuse me for one second.”

As soon as Paige is outside of Steph’s earshot, she’s calling Katie; Katie who had sat at her kitchen counter yesterday and listened with a smile as Paige told her all about Steph’s camp. Katie who hadn’t said one word about Stephie being a part of said camp. Katie who was maybe grinning just a little too hard at the idea.

“Did you know Stephie goes to Curry Camp?” Paige asks as soon as the line connects.

“Hi Katie. Hi Paige. How was your day? Oh mine was good Paige, thanks for asking, how was yours?” Katie replies sarcastically.

“Katie,” Paige groans.

“Did I know that my granddaughter goes to her godfather’s special camp for the sport that her mother plays and she’s obsessed with?” Katie says slowly and Paige can tell she’s holding back a laugh, “nope, didn’t have a clue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“And ruin the surprise?”

“What happened to telling me to take things slow?” Paige hisses.

“Well if I left the two of you two to your own devices y’all wouldn’t go slow, you wouldn’t even move at all,” Katie defends.

“So you’re meddling?”

“I am not,” Katie protests, “you were always gonna help with the camp and Stephie’s already been going to the camp. I just didn’t let you stress out about it. Really you should be thanking me.”

“Thank you Katie,” Paige bites out mockingly.

“You’re so very welcome Paige,” Katie sing-songs, “by the way, come over for dinner soon okay sweetheart. Love you honey. See you later darling.”

She hangs up before Paige can say anything and the blonde saunters back into Steph’s office, trying to corral her facial expression into something more neutral.

“All good?” Steph asks.

“Just peachy,” Paige hums in response, “we gonna head over to the court soon? It’s almost 4.”

Steph nods, “yeah they’ll be done setting up for us. Azzi usually brings Stephie to say hi to me right before cause no favoritism in front of the other kids you know? But maybe she’s running la- oh no wait there they are!”

Paige freezes, heartbeat erratic, as Steph walks to the door in anticipation.

“UNCLE TWIN,” Stephie screams and something in Paige’s heart starts to fix itself at the sound of the younger girl’s voice. She’s scared to turn around, unsure if she’s more scared to realize it’s a dream or find out that it’s reality.

“TWIN NIECE,” Steph yells back with equal vigor and Paige can hear Azzi’s laugh now too, each giggle acting like a needle, stitching up the parts of Paige that had felt broken since yesterday morning. She turns around deliberately slowly. Stephie is cradled in Steph’s arms and Azzi’s watching them with a fond smile. And it’s ridiculous to be jealous of a happily married man who’s practically Azzi’s brother if not her uncle, but the sense of that should be me, weighs heavily on Paige’s lungs anyways.

It’s Azzi who sees her first, smile slowly fading as dark brown eyes clash with light blue ones.

“Paige,” she whispers softly and there’s a multitude of undecipherable emotions wrapped in that one syllable and Paige thinks she could spend forever just trying to uncover them.

Stephie’s ear perks up at the mention of Paige’s name as her own little eyes finally land on the blonde, shuffling her feet nervously in the corner. Her bottom lip trembles, eyes watering as she forces herself down from Steph’s lap, racing to Paige. It’s instinct the way Paige falls to her knees, ready to catch the bundle of limps that practically falls into her waiting arms.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers, “I missed you so much.”

Paige’s own eyes water as she buries her face in Stephie’s hair, “me too sweetheart. I missed you so, so, so much.”

In front of them, Steph looks beyond confused as to what's happening and Azzi’s determinedly looking away, even if there’s a lone tear waterfalling down her left cheek.

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Stephie confesses, voice choked up as she tightens her grip on Paige’s neck, “and I begged and I begged Mama to let me call you but she said you were busy. And then I yelled at Mama and it made Mama cry too and I hate making Mama cry.”

“I know. I know sweetheart,” Paige soothes softly, running her hands down Stephie’s back as the little girl continues to babble. They stay like that for a long time and Paige thinks if she could ask the world for one thing that doesn’t belong to her, she’d ask for Stephie.

Finally Steph coughs, looking apprehensively between the three girls in the room, “so um- I take it you’ve more than just seen Stephie around then Paige?”

Paige lets out a watery laugh, finally letting Stephie go and turning around but still keeping a hand on Stephie’s shoulder, “yeah I guess that’s true.”

“What are you doing here Miss Buecks,” Stephie asks, looking up at Paige.

“I’m uh- well Mr. Steph-”

“Uncle Twin,” Stephie corrects immediately and Paige can’t help but grin at the nickname.

“Right. Uncle Twin asked me to be a coach at his camp and I agreed,” Paige explains, trying to catch Azzi’s eyes but the shooting guard seems determined to focus on a picture of Steph and Ayesha on the wall instead.

“You’re gonna be my coach,” Stephie squeals, turning around to hug Paige’s knees, “this is the best news of my life.”

Paige feels her heart soar into a sky of you’re the best new of my life Stephie as she bends down to kiss Stephie forehead, “let’s see if you say that when I make you run laps after you miss a shot.”

“You wouldn’t?” Stephie says, looking horrified at the idea.

“I totally would,” Paige teases.

Stephie is quiet for a second before a proud smirk blooms on her lips, “that’s okay ‘cause I don’t miss. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter. Right Mama?”

“Right baby,” Azzi says, finally letting herself meet Paige’s gaze.

“Well Miss-I-Don’t-Miss, how about you walk over to the court and show us how you don’t miss,” Steph teases.

Stephie waddles out of Paige’s grip and holds her arms up at Steph, a saccharine smile on her face,“I can’t be tired if I don’t wanna miss Uncle Twin, so can you please carry me over there?”

Steph rolls his eyes but it doesn’t stop him from hoisting Stephie onto his shoulders, “alright your highness, let’s go.”

Stephie’s giggles echoe down the hall as Steph runs towards the courts and Paige can’t help the fond laugh that escapes her.

“She gets that from you, you know,” Paige says softly to Azzi.

“Gets what?”

“Being a princess who gets everything she wants.”

“Not everything,” Azzi says wistfully, “not everything I want.”

She moves to start following but Paige wraps a hand around her wrist, “I didn’t know Stephie was a part of Curry Camp. I swear I- I didn’t do this on purpose.”

Azzi sighs, “I know. I know you wouldn’t Paige.”

“And I- I wanted to thank you for sending your Mom yesterday. I really- I really did need it even if I didn’t know it,” Paige’s thumb subconsciously rubs against Azzi’s skin, “but you- you always seem to know what I need.”

Azzi rips her hand out from Paige's grip, “you’re doing it again.”

“I’m not-”

“Yes you are. You keep saying things like that- things you shouldn’t say- things I can’t just listen to and be okay,” Azzi brushes her hand against her face, “I know the way I left yesterday was wrong and maybe I was projecting,” she admits in a whisper, “but you just- you make me feel too fucking much. And it's too quick and it’s scares me.”

“Scares you?” Paige scoffs, “I’m not the one who broke your heart Azzi.”

“You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I’ve lived with that guilt for the last 8 years? Jesus fucking christ Paige. I’m not scared of you. I’m scared of me,” tears stream down Azzi’s face as she paces the room, “I have never heard Stephie cry so fucking much in my life Paige. And you know who did that to her? Me, I did that. Apparently I’m really fucking good at making people cry but I don’t want to. I don’t want to break her heart, I don’t want to break your heart and I don’t want to break my own heart. Not again.”

“Azzi-”

“And so I’m stopping it before it happens. Before I ruin it again.”

Azzi tries to leave again but Paige is faster, wrapping her arms around the younger woman’s waist and pulling her flush against her chest so she can’t escape. It’s a terrible idea because now all of her senses are consumed by Azzi as they both become acutely aware of how close they are now.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers weakly, one hand pressed right against Paige’s heart, “let me go.”

“I think today’s the right time,” Paige says softly, hands grazing Azzi’s waist, “I asked you a question once and you said one day, when the time was right, you’d give me an answer. It’s the right time.”

“I don’t think so-”

“Azzi please,” Paige begs, “do you regret saying no?”

“Paige let me go,” Azzi wriggles against her grip but it only makes Paige tighten her hold.

“It’s a simple yes or no question.’

“Stephie’s probably wondering where we are-”

“Then answer the damn question and we can go to her-”

“Paige please.”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

“What do you want me to say?” Azzi bursts out finally, “you want me to say that I’ve never regretted anything more in my life? You want me to say the minute I said no, I wanted to rip out my tongue? You want me to say that I almost called you several times in the last decade to tell you how stupid I was? You want me to say that I flew to Dallas once to tell you that I fucked up but then I saw you with Olivia and decided you deserved better than me-”

“What?” Paige feels the air being snatched from her lungs.

“The answer to your stupid fucking question,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “is yes. Yes I regret saying no to you Paige. But it doesn’t matter. Because I said no and you found someone else who’d say yes and now it’s too late.”

And Paige thinks that Katie was probably right, that she should probably take things slow. But when it comes to Azzi Fudd, Paige Bueckers has never been one to do what she should.

“It’s never too late for us,” Paige whispers before crashing her lips against the woman, who’s always been the reason for her biggest, brightest, most real smile.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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hihellomy · 4 months

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SAHSRAU IDEA

WARNING:Religious themes, cult themes, semi existencisl crisis, Boothill leaks(backstory)

Now listen ever since Boothill leaks dropped of his backstory i hated the IPC, and then i went on to learn more about them and damn. If Sahsr were real theyd be dead by now.

Like i take my hatred seriously, i just started Topaz's quest and i was nitpicking the most humbling options and the ones that were most pessimistic towards IPC, i decided to not pull ANY IPC CHARACTER, Topaz, Aventurine, Jade, Im not pulling any of them, f the shield and f the treasure, and my love for Boothill is visible, hes the reason i redownloaded (i was still very much in the tutorial part) and kept the game this time, and while my saving could have been bigger(i got a bit greedy on standard pulls) their at 110 with no pity on both character and weapon banner, i am getting that mf

And thew self aware lenses the Astral express is debating, the IPC arent perfect, yes, but they have friends there, they DID help places, but their grace refused to have anything even remotely positive towards them, should they...cut off all ties? If it pleases their grace maybe, and they cant deny how valid your concerns are, they are bad people, they have disapointed their grace, in fact youd be happy if they got wiped wouldnt you? No, youd want them alive. To torture them, and then... For their last breath will serve as a suficient offering

The IPC meanwhile are sweating bullets, some of them are aware of how rotten they are, some genuanly believe they are good, Topaz unfortunatly falls into the second category, she and Numpy are reaching high and low for only the best treasure for your offerings, pleading, begging you to forgive their actions, and maybe you could, if she felt and never looked back, burning away what was left, Aventurine's hands better off being choped off, its vibrating from panic, hes pacing back and forth, chewing on his glowes, can he even leave if he wanted to? who would he turn to? what would he do then? He may have been blessed by Mama Fengu but you... You are anything else, he doesnt like the IPC either but he knows that if you could, youd travel back in time and give him the coldest responses, and death threats behind that beautiful, safe screen. Jade, Miss Jade, Powerful and in control Jade, knew she was the most screwed from the three, it was no secret, what she did to Aventurine, her slaves, they held their usual expressions but she knew they were smilling on the inside, awaiting your rescuse from her hands, she knows turning over a new lief wasnt an option, youd just laugh at the idea she could reddem what she did, all she can do is call Diamond and seek a solution, what else is there

Boothill, Ive never seen him happier, he cant wait for hes release, for you to come pick him up, get him a brand new gun, give him all those thingamagics to make him stronger, to better make you happy, you care so much about him, hes your favorite, he hopes youll be happy w ith his trial and still choose him, hell do his best there! Oh he can already hear and see it all when the prophecy comes true, for when that stupid, cage breaks.... The wedding bells... The little rascals.... He already has a few names planned! Isnt he so great?

#sahsrau #honkai star rail #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #boothill #the IPC #Sahsrau boothill #yandere hsr #yandere boothill

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ladybyakuya · 1 month

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| BE SWEET TO ME. + soshiro hoshina, gen narumi, reno ichikawa, izumo haruichi.

+cw. — f!reader,explicit smut, canon typical elements, established relationship, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, s&m themes, s&d dynamics, oral acts. +syn.— sometimes missions take days, even months but when they return home to find you in a very awkward position; you never knew that being caught while touching yourself could be so exciting. +wc. — 2k

+notes. — i became a lil bit selfish and pushed my hubby!hoshina agenda. | redirect to blog navigation.

• soshiro hoshina.

The shared bedroom of you and your husband is now filled with yearning, stifled moans, and cries seeking his presence. It has been a month. A month without your freshly wedded husband, a month without his touch, a month without . . .

The house is mostly empty with both the brothers being at work. The ground floor is as usual bustling with servants and staff that work specifically for the clan but in this wing, on the second floor where you and your beloved husband reside, there is nothing but you, your yearning, and loneliness. One of your arms travels down in between your legs. It is almost instinctive, curious even. The hand that you hold against your face after it has just grazed your entrance is glistening with proof of your yearning for him.

At the very next moment, your hand slips under your kimono again your middle finger finding its way inside you. You could feel yourself clench around your finger but as you slowly start to move your fingers, in and out, your folded legs start to pull away from each other. You lean back against the heap of pillows stroking your finger in and out. Head now arching backward while your finger movements have changed, trying to find the pinnacle of this insanity whilst moving up and down, to and fro, each stroke slightly stronger than before yet you can not seem to place a finger on it, like hoshina did on wedding night.

Click! Your body jolts, sitting up straight, legs rested one over the other toes almost touching your butt as your thighs aligned as you sat sprawled beautifully like the arch of the neck of a Swan. It is a good thing that you are wearing a house kimono, so easy to carry, so swift to hide the lewdity. My God! Oh, how Hoshina has missed his beautiful wife!

Still, he acts curtly.

“C’mon, why did you stop?” Hoshina walks towards the bed and sits at the edge of the bed. His body facing away from you yet his head is turned towards you. You could not speak. You could not think. You might have been holding your breath. Yes, you must. For how long has he been standing there? Since the moment you closed your eyes or . . .Hoshina extends his hand to cup your face. His touch is rough, and full of strength on your skin. As he squeezes your cheek a little bit while running his thumb over your slightly parted lips, you curl like a cat under his touch. “You’re here. I — I was just surprised,” you whisper.

“Go ahead. Finish what you started,” You suck in a breath upon hearing his demand. It is not like he has not seen you. But touching yourself while he is still here, getting yourself off while he is all ignored . . .is not right by him nor is in accord with the duties of a wife. But Hoshina happens to think otherwise. Seeing you like this, like a flower in blossom, unaware of what to do he could not help but grab the wrist of your arm that was underneath your robe a few minutes ago. He licks your slick-soaked fingers clean off whispering, “C’mon make those wet again!”

• gen narumi.

“Why did you stop?” Narumi interjects as all your senses and movements come to a halt for moment. His lips are practically thread away from your mouth. There is a visible tent in his underpants yet he refuses to pay attention to it. He would rather focus all his attention on you, who is currently sitting on his thigh without any underwear but the short tee is still intact. Narumi could see how aroused you are. Your nipples are prominent even through the cloth. You have been practically humping his thigh since he walked into the room. How dare you? How dare you use a dildo in his absence while he has been holding himself back, keeps playing games so that he just does not end up giving in to the urge of jacking off in the toilet late at midnight, especially after stressful meetings. That thing? That cylindrical thing— he takes that an insult to him on his manhood.

“Weren’t you humping the plushie I gave you?” You were desperate. He was gone for a whole month, leaving you all alone with your yearning and that damn plushie that reminded you of him everytime you hugged it or barely glanced at it.

Gen goads into you further. .. .his head arching, eyes landing on your nape as he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue thinking of, yeah, just thinking of kissing you, marking you. “Narumi please.” you plead hands being clammy due to being held by him at the back of your waist while his other arm rests on his thigh. He grabs the dildo that he kept it on the side table and turns it on. It starts to vibrate in the air and the buzzing sound is nothing but a sound of shame for you now. “How many times . . .” Narumi takes it closer to your entrance and he can feel your skin flexing upon his thighs. “Just how many times did you use it?”

You can not answer that. Not that he would be angry or disappointed if he knew the number but its just that it was his fault that you are here in the first place, so close to your orgasm yet feels like a foreign dream. You just wanna cum while Narumi refuses to give you that until you answer. The only touch between him and you is his show case of strength on you while you drag your lower body up and down his thighs.

“When you send a selfie.”

Narumi’s hands drop like a withered petal of an old flower that is way past from its bloom. The dildo hits the ground and its still vibrating. Yeah, probably you could have answered that question better it seems.

“I was barely naked.” He said with such a flat face as if that skin tight suit with mask on, droopy eyes with such a morning face would not turn you on.

“Oh! Shut up,” You finally snap breaking free from his garb and before he could counterattack your lips were already on his, no resistance, no fighting for dominance just wanting.

• reno ichikawa

There was no funny business for Reno when it came to you. He has informed you earlier that he would be home today so that your heart and body fills with hope and want before he decides to take claim of both But when he saw you through the slit of the door it made him a little dizzy. The drawing room was dark and the light coming from your room was the only source of light. He would have stumbled upon the plant pot if he had not been so habituated with coming home to you after every mission. He takes slow but eager steps to see if the sounds that are coming from your room is really what he thinks it is. Ren stands against the shadow of the door for a while letting the fact sink in that you actually gave in, that you actually listened to him.

Reno did not think you would. He did not think you would be ready to listen to him without him nagging for it till you give in. It has always been like this so why would he expect anything different this time? But maybe being away from home, for whole thirty days and that too due to mission sure affected you in ways that went far and beyond his imagination. Sure, he thought you would miss him, call him late at nights despite your share of workload, even send pictures maybe nudes sometimes but he never thought you would be busy in your room preparing yourself for him. He suggested the idea just an arrow in the forest but he had no idea it would reach you yet it did.

It did reach you and now you are on bed trying to suppress your moans by cupping your mouth and legs apart from each other as you push and pull the dildo he parceled while he was away. Seeing you like this, so eager and ready for him has already spiked his heart rate ten times than his normal heartbeat. He opens the door and your lust-filled gaze, glazing sweaty skin is now only for him to soak in.

“Reno—” you moan his name in between working the dildo into your pussy. “What are you waiting for?” Those unrefined movements of your hand, the posture, and the lingering tears in your eyes suggest nothing but the fact that you are new to this.

“Did I make you too long?” He asks letting his bag hit the floor with a thud and getting on to the edge of the bed. You barely give him a nod with a ‘hmmm’ and the next thing you feel is his lips on yours, soothing the wait, rewarding the ‘good girl’ in you while pulling out the dildo out of your pussy. Your muscles flex around the air as Reno deepens his kiss. He then straightens up, undresses himself, and throws the shirt somewhere on the floor before getting on his knees to hook his arms on your inner thighs. He laps his tongue against your pussy once and peers at you and since you don’t say anything he puts his lips to work this time.

• izumo haruichi

Izumo thought he would surprise you with his return but his plan had a boomerang effect on him instead. Indeed, you were never the one to be fond of surprises to being with so it already seemed like a gamble to him. But just when he was about to enter the shared bedroom, he heard you: moaning and whispering. He would not mistake your voice even though it has been a month since he properly heard you, heard you like this, calling out his name voice laced with lust.

The way you are moaning he could imagine in which position you are touching yourself, even how close you are. He hesitated to ruin that approaching high, after all he hates it when you do it with him.

Now, he is standing outside the room leaning against the wall while you are inside the room. The presence of wall has never been excruciatingly painful before. The door of the room is slightly parted giving him enough access to hear your voice as he zips down to take his member and relieve himself from the pain while you are drowning in pleasuring yourself.

“Fuck,” Izumo hisses under his breath as he clamps his fingers around his cock, his thumb lightly tapping on the tip of his cock. His pleasure stems out in strings, sticking onto his hands. A month full of missions, thirty days without touching himself, saving himself for you so that when he returns home to you he is all you can have, he is all you could imbibe. Of course, there were times when he was tempted to touch himself and it was always in thought of you. But he did not rather he wanted to save himself for you. It is always about you, always has been but standing outside the room while jerking off as he hears you calling out his name mind warped in insanity, desperation, and pleasure. He can enter the room if he wants. Albeit! he can barge into the room and give you what you need and in that process subside the tide that was high in both of you.

But seeing you so desperate, so needy, and that too for him fills him with immense love for you, reminds him of his days during the mission where he would find himself submerged in the thoughts of you, unable to touch you, unable to hold, and not wanting to channel it through him by getting himself off. It must be frustrating, right? To be consumed by need so much that you forget everything but the source. You just need to hold on a little longer. He can tell that you are just a few strokes away from reaching the peak. He is too. . .he thinks . . . he has now sat down on the floor with his legs sprawled apart as he strokes his cock in quick and rough motions. He wants to cum with you, not after, not before but when you do.

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senascoop · 19 days

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DREAMSCAPE ☁︎ M.LIST !

WELCOME to the DREAMSCAPE MINI ENHYPEN series— a collection of seven unique fanfics that blur the lines between fantasy, crime, comedy, and romance. Each story dives deep into intricate plots, so if you were hoping for simple FLUFF or SMUT, you might want to look elsewhere. But if you're here for thrilling twists, complex characters, and captivating worlds, you've come to the right place! BUCKLE UP; it's going to be a wild ride!

WORD COUNT MIGHT RANGE FROM 10K—20K,

MINORS, please steer clear of the SMUT fanfics. However, don't worry—you’re more than welcome to dive into the fluff stories! They’re just as captivating and enjoyable, offering all the heartwarming moments without the mature content. Enjoy responsibly!

IF YOU’RE INTERESTED IN ANY OF THESE FICS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHICH ONE YOU'D LIKE TO BE TAGGED IN!

JUST REPLY WITH THE PREFERENCE, AND I’LL MAKE SURE TO KEEP YOU UPDATED. THANKS!

﹙ 🕊️ ﹚ ぃ ──── SHE HAS LOST EVERY CASE, HOW COULD SHE WIN MINE?

EXCUSE ME !

READ HERE

SUSPECT ! HEESEUNG × LAWYER ! AFAB READER

MATURE THEMES, LAW BASED & SMUT !

Heeseung is unexpectedly thrust into the center of a murder investigation, accused of killing an old school friend. The truth, however, runs deeper than it appears, leaving everyone questioning whether he's truly the suspect. Enter you, his defense lawyer, notorious for losing every case you take on. Against all odds, you're handed Heeseung's case, and let’s just say…it’s a recipe for disaster for both of you. As you dig deeper, unraveling layers of deception, you’ll have to confront your own doubts and insecurities. Will you be able to prove Heeseung's innocence, or will this case be another tally in your string of failures?

﹙ 🧊 ﹚ ぃ ──── DID I REALLY DESERVE TO BE CAUGHT UP WITH SUCH A TROUBLE?

OOPS, WRONG ERA !

READ HERE

TIME TRAVELLER ! JAY × STUDENT ! AFAB READER

20TH CENTURY AU, SLIGHTLY FUTURISTIC & FLUFF !

Jay was the epitome of a perfect student—charming, intelligent, and utterly dedicated. The only catch? He was a time traveler from the future, marooned in the 20th century and trying to blend in as a normal teenager. When you discovered his secret, you seized the opportunity. You blackmailed him into becoming your personal homework and assignment writer, using his advanced knowledge to help you ace your classes. Jay’s attempts to navigate high school life while fulfilling his unexpected new role provided endless amusement and challenges for both of you.

﹙ ☁️ ﹚ ぃ ──── WHY WOULD YOU SHOW UP WHEN I MOVED ON?

WINDS CHANGE ☁︎

READ HERE

EX ! JAKE × EX ! AFAB READER

ANGST & SMUT !

It's been five years since you and Jake called it quits, each going your separate ways. Life seemed fine—until the dreaded wedding invitation arrives from an old friend. Reluctantly, you decide to attend, only to find Jake, your ex, waiting there like a storm on the horizon, ready to turn your calm into chaos. With unresolved feelings and past memories looming, the wedding becomes a battlefield of witty exchanges, accidental encounters, and a slow unraveling of what truly ended between you two. Are the winds of change blowing in favor of a second chance, or will they only serve to remind you why you broke up in the first place?

﹙ 🍁 ﹚ ぃ ──── I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT, BUT I WANNA MAKE IT BETTER!

GET WELL SOON シ︎

READ HERE

RACER ! SUNGHOON × ORPHAN ! AFAB READER

MENTIONS OF CRIME & ACCIDENT, SLIGHTLY SUGGESTIVE & OVERALL FLUFF !

You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.

﹙ 🦄 ﹚ ぃ ──── CAN'T YOU TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF BY YOURSELF?

LIKE PINK !

READ HERE

GUARDIAN ANGEL ! SUNOO × CLUMSY ! AFAB READER

FANTASY & PURE FLUFF !

You’ve always believed you were cursed with the "unlucky girl syndrome." From tripping on flat surfaces to losing your keys every other day, it seemed like misfortune followed you everywhere. But was it really a curse, or just bad luck? You never quite figured it out. When a guardian angel was sent from above, you hoped your luck would finally turn around. Instead, you got Sunoo—a messy, clumsy, and utterly unhelpful angel who seemed more like a walking disaster than a divine helper. All you could think of was asking God for a refund, because with Sunoo around, your life was about to get a lot more chaotic… and maybe a little brighter, too.

﹙ 🔥 ﹚ ぃ ──── I KNOW A TRICK TOO!

SIZZLES OF HIM ᯾

READ HERE

CLASSMATE ! JUNGWON × AFAB ! READER

FANTASY ELEMENTS, MAGICAL AU & SMUT !

There was always something about your quiet, mysterious classmate Jungwon that piqued your curiosity. You couldn't quite put your finger on it—until the day you accidentally peeked into his room and saw him hovering mid-air, surrounded by sparks of electricity. It all made sense then; he wasn't just your average student. Little did he know, you were hiding a secret of your own—one that mirrored his in more ways than one. Two forces of nature, each with powers as different as night and day, destined to collide. As they say, opposites attract, but in your case, they might just ignite.

﹙ 🍫 ﹚ ぃ ──── THIS MIGHT SOUND CRAZY BUT TRUST ME IT'S TRUE!

TIED UP IN YOU !

READ HERE

PHONE GUY ! NIKI × STUDENT ! AFAB READER

CRACK (?), PURE FLUFF !

Niki was a good guy, no doubt about it. The only problem? He was your phone. How, exactly, did your phone transform into this strikingly handsome guy? It was baffling, frustrating, and, honestly, a bit overwhelming. Here you were, trying to navigate a world where your device had somehow become a charming, infuriatingly attractive human being. And to make matters worse, he was as stubborn and endearing as any person you'd ever met.

﹙ 🍒 ﹚ ぃ ──── THANK YOU FOR READING!

Sena’s note: I’m not sure when I'll finish these seven fics, but I hope it’s soon. I’m unsure if anyone will be interested, but this was a preview of what’s coming.

main masterlist.

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catsteeth · 2 months

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The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 14 ✿:+ I Am His And He Is Mine

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Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it.

CW: MDNI, SMUT, NSFW themes, Sandor “my wife” Clegane, Unprotected P in V sex, Oral sex (M rec), multiple reader orgasms, grinding, spanking, biting, headlock (during sex), misogyny, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage, mention of family deaths.

A/N: Hey siri play bewitched by laufey

Word Count: 8.5K

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The day had not even passed yet, and you were already attempting to find a septon to affiliate the marriage. Sandor said that he would, but you were he would have threatened the poor man into it. Besides, Sandor now laid in your shared chamber in a deep sleep after being fucked so well after so long of not having any of you.

So you took the opportunity to seek out a septon. However, Winterfell lacked one after the battle of the Bastards. You were half prepared to simply perform it yourself when you overheard Jon speaking about the men who had arrived in Winterfell to aid in the great War that was soon approaching. One of the men was a priest of the Lord of Light, Beric Dondarrion. It wasn’t the religion you or Sandor were raised in, however you didn’t care. If it eased the minds of Lords and Ladies that you and he were wed under a priest or septon you didn’t care what religion it was.

You found the man easily, his description wasn’t hard to remember. A man with one eye.

You approached the man somewhat nervous that someone would overhear your inquiry or that he would refuse it, “Hello.” you spoke respectfully and gently.

“My Lady.” The man said with a smile and a soft bow of his head.

You smiled in return, “Beric Dondarian if I am not mistaken?”

He shook his head, “You are not. And you are Lady Arryn.” He pointed to the falcon embroidered onto the blue velvet of your gown that Sansa had made for you.

You looked down at the embroidering and smiled, “Is it that obvious?” You chuckled, “Would you walk with me?” You asked as you tilted your head towards the path you wished to follow. Beric willingly followed you, “I- I apologize if this is asking too much, but I am to be married and Winterfell lacks a septon.”

“I am not a septon, my Lady.” He said as he shook his head,

“No, but I hear you are a priest, or close to one.” You said gently attempting to coax the man into marrying you and your betrothed.

“I speak the Lord's words, that is all.” He said humbly

“We wish to be wed before the war. Tonight in fact.” You said cutting to the point.

Beric smiled, turned to face you, “What God do you follow?”

You faced him, “Well, my intended has no real interest in it, and I admit I pay little mind to it as well. But we were both brought up in the faith of the seven.”

He sighed, “Not the Gods I follow, I am afraid. Who is the lucky man if I may ask?” He asked, attempting to divert your mind to something more pleasant.

“Sandor Clegane.” You said softly, disappointed.

“Sandor Clegane?” Beric asked with wider eyes,

“That’s right.” You nodded, looking at him with narrow eyes, unsure of his reaction.

“I’ll do it. Not the Gods I follow, but I can manage it.” Beric conceded, with a smile.

You stepped closer to him, “You know him? Sandor.” You asked with even more narrowed eyes.

Beric chuckled to himself softly, “I think you and I have much to talk about.”

And talked to you and he did. He told you all of he and Sandors journey, and Sandors clear devotion towards you. It only solidified your commitment towards this engagement.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later that evening, after everyone had either taken to their chambers or flocked to the taverns, you and Sandor met in the Godswood. You saw him before he saw you. He wore black leathers and an old and tattered black cloak in an attempt to remain discrete. As if his large size wouldn’t have given away who he was.

You wore an ivory gown, with a blue lace trim. You were less concerned with remaining discrete. Come the morn you and he would be known as husband and wife, lord and lady throughout the realm. You’d have Ser Leon responsible for sending word around the realm, including Winterfell.

As Sandor turned, his deep brown eyes widened at the beauty of your appearance. His mouth twitched as he held back a smile as you approached him.

“You sure you want this? You can’t take it back.” He said softly as you came face to face with him.

“You’ve said that before.” You jested, remembered when he gave you the same lecture just before taking your maidenhood. Sandor sighed as his mouth twitched with annoyance. You smiled and placed a hand on his, “Yes, yes I’m sure.” You said sweetly, “Are you?” You asked, searching his deep brown eyes, he nodded as his hand came to caress your cheek. You smiled and he graced you with a soft smile in return. Your eyes quickly went to a man standing by the Heart tree, it was Beric, waiting for you and Sandor. “I found someone who could do it,” You said, still looking over to Beric.

Sandor looked in the direction you were looking in. As his eyes fell upon Beric he huffed. “Fucking hells…” He said as you and he approached Beric. Beric smiled at the both of you as you came face to face with him. “The fuck you doing here?” Sandor grumbled, making you smirk.

Beric smiled, “Wedding you to the woman I separated you from.” Beric looked around, noticing you and he were alone, “No witnesses?” He asked,

“Does it matter?” Sandor asked,

“Suppose not-” Beric began,

Sandor interrupted, “Then get on with it.” He huffed.

You and Beric smiled at one another, amused. “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.” Beric said. Normally the groom would have had a cloak. Embroidered in his house's sigil, colored in his house's colors. But because he’d no time to have one made, nor did he have any desire to make you a Clegane, no desire to bring you closer to the horror of his family tree he wrapped you in the black cloak he wore. His protection would be fierce and loyal. Beric began “We stand here, in the sight of the Gods and… ourselves.” He said, noting the lack of witnesses, “In thanks and praise, to join two souls as one. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” You and Sandor looked upon one another, his eyes were beautiful, and his gaze was warm. “Father, Mother, Warrior, Smith, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…” Sandors hand slowly and discretely found yours, “In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Hear now their words. Look upon one another and say the words.” Beric instructed,

You turned to Sandor, peering into his eyes, your eyes filled with emotion “I am his, and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days, whatever may come.” You said, placing a hand on his scarred cheek.

Sandor held the wrist of your hand that held his cheek, “I am hers, and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days, whatever may come.” He recited,

“Now the pledge.” Beric said, assuming Sandor would know what to do.

Sandor however did not know, “Pledge?” He asked looking back at Beric

“The pledge of love.” Beric explained, Sandor was still confused and narrowed his eyes.

“It’s the kiss.” You explained further.

It finally clicked, “In front of him?” Sandor asked with wide eyes. It was as if you had said he was to bed you in front of him.

“Come on, Clegane-” Beric huffed,

You turned Sandors face towards you, “I’ll say it with you.” you said trying to comfort him. Sandor sighed.

In unison you both said, “With this kiss, I pledge my love.” “With this kiss, I pledge my love.”

The kiss you and he shared, was soft, gentle, and smooth. It was covered in love and felt like a form of worship. As you pulled apart.

“Hold hands,” Beric said as he began tying a ribbon around your hands. “Now the vows.” Beric said hushly, pushing you to continue the ceremony,

You smiled as you looked up at Sandor, “And I take you for my Lord, and Husband.” You said sweetly, and softly.

Resting his forehead against yours, he spoke his vows, “And I take you for my Lady, and Wife.” His words filled with you a bliss you hadn’t felt in so long. No more could anyone force you into a marriage you did not want. No more would your love be a secret. And forever more would you be his and he would be yours.

Beric finished tying the ribbon around your clasped hands in union. “Then in the presence of Gods and Men, I proclaim (Y/N) of house Arryn and Sandor of house Clegane, to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who seek to tear them asunder.” Beric smiled, as the both of you looked upon one another, at loss for what to say, “You are now, husband and wife.” Beric said less formally as he began to walk away, “I have mended what I tore apart.” He said leaving you and Sandor at the heart tree. Without a moment of hesitation once left alone Sandor grabbed hold of you by your arms.

Pulling you up to meet his starved mouth. As his lips clashed with yours he pushed you against the tree, his hands roamed your body lustful, prideful of what was now his. You moaned into his lips, it was near torment to pull away, but you knew well enough this wedding alone would be scandalized. Being caught coupling against the heart tree within the Godswood would only add to that scandalization.

“Not here,” You held his face, “In our own chambers. We’ve fucked enough in the woods.” You said recounting your brief days of freedom after the blackwater.

Sandor nodded, and wasted no time rushing you off to your chambers.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

In the beautiful light of the fire, Sandor unclothed before you, you watched mesmerized. You pressed your thighs together as he laid on your now shared bed. He looked upon you sweetly, as you took hold of your chemise and pulled it over your head. His eyes trailed over your naked body, he swallowed hard as he attempted to restrain himself from ravishing you right then.

You crawled towards him on your bed. You ran your fingers down his hairy and broad chest. Taking in all of him. You ran your hand over his scars, no doubt earned in battle, valiantly. Your hand stopped at one large scar that was just above his pelvis. Laying across his lower stomach. You thought of how deep it must have been to create such a scar. How his life could have been taken- without thinking of it you leaned down, and kissed the scar. Your soft warm lips made Sandors muscles tense.

His hand came to pet your head, running his hand through your hair, “Say those words again.“ He said, his voice so deep it rumbled in his chest.

“What words?” You asked, looking up at him, resting your chin on his stomach. The view made his arousal grow.

“You are mine.” He whispered,

You smiled sweetly at him, “I am yours,” You ran your hand down his stomach, “Only yours.”

“Mine-“ He began but was cut short by a groan that he tried to hold back behind gritted teeth as your hand found his tenting arousal.

You palmed it, with expertise, knowing just how he liked it, “And who do you belong to?” As asked, your voice is still gentle despite your clear power over him.

He smirked slightly, looking at you with love, “You.” he said, “Only you.” He said as his hand came to your chin, pulling you to his mouth. Almost immediately his tongue found yours as his hands found your body. Caressing your breasts gently, contrasting his calloused and rough hands.

You continued to palm his cock, cherishing the moans and groans that left his lips and poured into your mouth. Unable to resist it, you pulled his length out from his small clothes. Stroking it, slowly, almost teasingly.

“Fuck-” He hissed into your mouth with another sweet moan. You began to straddle his thigh as you rocked yourself against him as you continued to stroke his cock in your hand. His muscles tensed, only making it all the more pleasurable for you to grind yourself on his thigh. Making you buck your hips uncontrollably.

You had to stop yourself, as an uncontrollable desire washed over you. You seized your movements, making Sandor near whine if he hadn’t stopped himself. Instead he grunted, “What the fuck are you-” He asked as you lowered yourself between his legs. He sat up, unsure if he’d be able to control himself if you began what you were about to.

“Let me,” You said sweetly, “I’ve not done it properly to you.” You said gently as you stroked his length again, causing him to submit. He laid back into the cushion of your bed letting out a soft groan.

And so, you began. Taking his cock into your mouth, just the tip was enough to make Sandor grip onto the blankets, he grunted as you worked your way lower and lower. Careful to take your time. You worked your tongue along as you sucked.

He was large, thick and long, it was indeed a challenge, but one that you were set on. And his moans only encourage you. Masterfully, somehow, you were able to navigate what he liked most simply by listening to his moans and soon you fell into a rhythm. As you did you felt your core beginning to ache, almost painfully. So you slid one hand into the wetness of your cunt as you sucked your husband's cock. His hand came to your head, not harsh or forceful, just tangling his hand in your hair. Wanting to be close to you.

Once he noticed your hand, working you, his knuckles practically turned white gripping the sheets. “Fuck,” He hissed, “I can’t-can’t last long.” He said holding back pathetic moans. “I need your cunt.” He practically growled.

You’d be lying if you didn’t need the relief either.

So you released him, your lips swollen and your cunt aching.

Sandor pulled your face to his own, kissing your wet lips. “Such a pretty fucking mouth” He said into your lips. As he was distracted with your lips, you straddled his lap, beginning to push yourself down onto his cock, only making him kiss you with more fury as he and you moaned into one another mouths.

There was practically no burn, his cock was so wet, and your cunt was too. He could have slid in with ease, but you didn’t want him slowly. You plunged him into your cunt. Making him grip the plush of your hips. So tightly you knew it would be leaving a mark the next day.

Your lips parted from him, wanting to hear his moans, the moans you were working so hard on to produce from him. “You’re mine.” You said in a breathy moan as you rode him.

“Don’t forget that.” He said, as Your pace did not let up or slow. Moaning and not caring who heard it. Your hips rocked against Sandor as he moaned and groaned behind gritted teeth.

Without warning Sandor sat up, wrapping his arms around you as you bucked against him. His mouth ravaged your breasts, chest, and your neck.

“Sandor!” You moaned, making him buck his hips up into you. His cock was hitting that perfect spot in your cunt, and mercilessly pounding against your cervix. You clenched around him harder and harder, pulsing, “Gods! I need to-Sandor,” You called out to him pathetically, “I need to-I’m going to-” You plead desperately.

“I know birdie,” He said as he kept bucking into you, “Cum on me,” He said as his mouth went to your nipple, sucking at it as he bit slightly.

The bite sent a shock wave through you and you couldn’t help it, clenching down on him you felt the tension in you snap and you felt yourself shake. He held you as you reached your peak, “I want to fuck my seed into you.” He groaned deeply against your hot skin. All you could was nod, blinded by your orgasm. But soon you were shot back to reality as his seed shot deep within you. You felt the heat painting you from inside.

The only thing you both could do was collapse into one another arms as you laid there recovering the euphoria.

Panting against one another, laying in one another arms, feeling the others hot and sticky skin.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・

That was nothing like the wedding you were always promised. You were always told you were to marry a highborn lord, maybe even the prince. You were going to wed in a great sept, with all the lords and ladies of the seven kingdoms in attendance. Your father would give you away, and then you’d be shipped off to live with that lord for the rest of your days. But this wasn’t the wedding others wanted for you, this was the wedding you wanted for you.

Sandor had carried you off to your bathing chamber. After drawing you a bath he lowered your naked form into the warm water. He only in breeches, bathed you. Washing water over your hair, careful not to get any in your face.

“I want to know more.” You said, your eyes half lidded, in pure bliss at that moment.

“About what?” He asked gentler than normal.

“You. Your life.” You said sweetly, as you looked into his eyes. His eyes looked like a baby calf’s. Deep brown eyes, with long thick lashes. They made you smile.

“What about it?” He asked, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

You smiled and shook your head, “I don’t know, that’s the issue. What of your family?”

Sandor sighed, “Father was a Knight for the Lannisters, Mother was a bastard of Crakehall.” He looked down, thinking back to her, “I don’t remember much of her. She died giving birth to a sister I don’t remember either.” You placed a hand on his, you didn’t know that you’d had that in common, “My father died hunting with Gregor. He says it was an accident but I know it wasn’t.” His tone got darker, “The day he died I left our keep and Gregor inherited it all. I went to King's Landing. I became the Lannisters' sword, their dog. I never went back to the keep.” He said, returning his attention back to you.

“You never want to go back?” You asked, with narrowed brows.

He shook his head stoically, “I’m just a second son. That land isn’t mine.” He said as he began to clean your nails with a washcloth.

“Your brother is a Queen's Guard now. He has given up his land.” You said gently.

He stopped, and looked at you, his eyes filled with... Fear? “I don’t want to go back there… I don’t want you there. When Gregor attacked me, it took three men to pull him off. Three fucking men to pull him off his own little brother.” He began to rile himself up,

“Shhh…” You said as you caressed his face, rubbing your thumb against his cheek.

He put his hand on top of the hand you caressed his cheek with, “I don’t want you near him.” He said earnestly, “My brother has taken any family I have ever had, he can’t take you.”

You sat up in your tub, getting closer to his face. “He won’t.” You said just as earnestly. As you sat back, you directed the conversation more pleasantly. “You are much more than a second son. What do you want?” Sandor looked at you confused, “My ambitions can’t be all we attend to. What do you want?” You asked gently

He thought for a moment, then answered, “Peace. I want to lay in a bed with you, after a day of eating, drinking, and fucking.”

You smiled, and took his hand, “I think we can accommodate that.” You said as you playfully bit onto his hand.

He smiled at you slightly, “I thought for fucks sure, you would marry some cunt lord right in front of me.” His tone darkened again,

“I wouldn’t have been able to.” You said as you kissed his hand.

“You wouldn’t have had the choice.” He sighed, “I don’t believe in fairytales and holy vows. But… here we are.” He looked at you in awe, as if you’d hung each star in the sky. “What's this vow? The one you promised to your mother. I never asked.” He asked, realizing he should have asked long long ago.

You looked down, fidgeting with your fingers, taking a breath before beginning. “My mother tried to give my father a son for as long as I could remember. Always on her childbed. And each time, she lost the babe. I was the only living babe she birthed. You can imagine the disappointment my father felt.” You sighed a laugh, attempting to make light of the pain you felt. Sandors eyes however felt the pain you did, “But with each birth it was more and more difficult.” You continued, “Her last babe came early… far too early. The maester wasn’t even in the Eyrie, he was below in the Moongates. It’s miles from the Eyrie.” Your eyes stared off somewhere distant, as if you were there as you retold the horrible tale. “My father left to retrieve him personally, as my mother labored. She didn’t want any of the handmaidens touching her. The pain was too great. She laid there bleeding and screaming. She only allowed me in. All her handmaidens were huddled in a corner of the room, watching in horror.” You shook your head slowly, thinking back on it, “When the babe finally came, my mother had lost so much blood, she knew she was dying. She held my face and made me promise that I would keep her son,” You took a deep breath fighting back emotion. “and her house, safe.” You looked back to Sandor, “I held that boy in my arms for hours. Edmure, I called him. He was so small, and fragile. I didn’t let any of the handmaidens touch him. I just sat there on the floor holding him. Rocking him back and forth. When the maester finally came, he demanded I give him the boy. So I did.” A single tear fell from your cheek as you finished, “He died right then.” You wiped it, and looked down. “My father named me heir, maybe to mend our broken bond, maybe to mend his favor to the Gods for he’d done to my mother. But not until he agreed to marry my aunt.” You said, your tone deeper.

After that. The truth was that if your father wasn’t beloved by you, or already dead in the ground, Sandor would’ve beaten him to a pulp for what he’d done.

Sandor forced you to look at him, pulling your gaze to his by holding your chin up. “I’ll help you get it. If anyone tries to stop you I’ll kill them. Anything you want I’ll bring it to your feet.” He vowed, as you rested your forehead onto his.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

The next morning, you were missing in attendance at Jon’s small council meeting. What they didn’t know was that you were sound asleep in your chambers with your new husband.

Jon sat there, annoyed as he said, “Where is (Y/N).” He looked to Sansa expecting she’d know, “She is part of this council, she should be here.”

“Unwell I presume.” Sansa said stoically.

“We must allow her some grace. The morning after your wedding night is often tiring or so I hear.” Varys, Tyrion's spider said. The air in the room was sucked out, Varys looked around “I surely cannot be the only one to know. They did it in Godswood last night.”

“Married to who?” Jon asked with furrowed brows,

“The Hound.” Varys said.

“The Hound?” Jon asked in disbelief.

“The Hound.” Sansa said, unphased by the news.

“You knew?” Jon asked Sansa, angrily.

Sansa shrugged, “I assumed it would happen.”

Jon scoffed, “How would you assume that? A man like that-”

“I shall retrieve her.” Sansa interrupted Jons ramblings, as she stood up ready to retrieve you.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

That night you fell asleep in one another’s arms. You were holding him close to your naked form. Rocking your hips slowly, with his cock still in you. When you finally drifted into sleep, neither of you moved from one another. So when you awoke he was still in you.

“Mmmphm.” You groaned as Sandor slid out of you,

“Sorry.” Sandor said as he brushed your hair from your face.

“It’s alright.” You smiled softly, “I’m just happy to sleep beside you.” You rested your chin against his chest looking up at him, he kept staring at you. “What?” You asked with a sweet smile.

“Beautiful.” He whispered as he caressed your face.

“I am a mess.” You said, and you weren’t wrong. Your hair was tangled from sleep, and you were half naked as your chemise was falling off of you.

“No.” You asserted, as he pulled your face close to his, kissing you sweetly.

“Handsome.” You said rubbing your nose against his.

“Fuck off,” He grumbled,

You raised your brows at him, “You don’t believe me?” You asked offendedly. When he shook his head you leaned down and bit his arm. Not deeply but enough to leave a pretty mark.

“Ah!” He moaned, “Fuck are you doing?” He asked,

“You think I’m a liar?” You said offendedly,

“Look at me.” He sighed, confident that he were not handsome.

“I am.” You said softly, confident that he was.

Just as you were about to kiss and most likely fall into another hour of fucking, a knocking at your chamber door interrupted any plans you may of had.

Sandor groaned as you in haste flew out of your bed and found a robe to cover yourself.

As you walked to the door you opened it slightly to see Sansa standing there.

“Is there something needed of me?” You asked softly,

“Your presence in the council meeting.” She said a bit annoyed.

You quickly stepped into the hallway with Sansa. Closing the door so no one would see your naked husband in your bed. “I am sorry, last night I could not find sleep-”

She interrupted you, “I am not stupid. The dragon queen's spider saw you and the hound wed last night.”

You sighed, “Well, I suppose that makes things easier.” You attempted to jest.

“Why did you not tell me?” She asked, earnest and hurt.

You stepped towards her, “No one was to know, not until afterwards. Then I would have told you, of course.”

“I would have made you a gown.” She said finding it hard to stay upset with you.

“I’ve no doubt it would have been the most beautiful in the realm.” You smiled, and she smiled back in return. You placed a hand on her arm “I am sorry.” You said earnestly. She sighed and nodded. Soon turning her attention to the state of your hair.

“What happened in there?” She asked

“Many things.” You said with a smirk.

“Many things?” She questioned.

“Many things.” You restated

Sansa huffed a giggle, “Rest, I’ll mend your obligations.” She said as she left.

You did as she asked,

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As you rested your husband, now taking his duties seriously, set out to find you something to eat.

Not before finding trouble in the courtyard.

Word had traveled fast since one of the spider's informants had seen you and the Hound wed. And Sandor was not a fan of the new looks he was getting. They were different from the fearful looks he was used to.

Some man, a knight of some minor house in the North approached Sandor, “They call you the Hound. What noble lady would marry a Hound?” He asked unreasonably confidently. The other knights around him began to snicker, “Tell me, did you fuck her like a Hound, that why she was forced to marry-” The man couldn’t finish his insult before the Hounds fist met the mans jaw. The man hit the floor, his mouth bleeding and his jaw more than likely broken. All the snickering ceased.

Sandor looked around at all the men and said, “Any more words come out of any of your cunt mouths about my wife, I’ll take your head.” He began to walk before Tormund stopped him.

Tormunds eyes were wide and hurt, “She’s your wife?” he asked,

Sandor looked at him with pride as he leaned in, “Aye. She’s my fucking wife.” he said in a deep and low voice, as if it were a warning.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

It didn’t take long for Sandor to hear another person's opinion on his new betrothal. As he was leaving the blacksmith, after getting his dragon glass ax, he was approached by Jon.

“You married (Y/N), In the late hours of the night?” He asked angrily.

“Aye.” Sandor sighed, already tired by the interaction.

“Why?” Jon asked, clearly upset by the entire situation.

“Fuck do you think?” Sandor said, walking past jon.

“Why her, why my cousin?” Jon asked, following him.

“You share no blood with her.” Sandor said, his tone much calmer than Jons.

“Answer the question.” Jon commanded,

Sandor stopped and stepped closer to Jon, “She’s a strong woman.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed, “Aye, a strong woman who’s run from every betrothal that’s been offered to her-“

“Offered?” Sandor scoffed, knowing all of your other betrothals were against your will.

“Why her?” Jon finally asked.

Sandor stepped enough closer to Jon, making Jon take a step back. “We both know ‘Why her?’ What you and I both want to know is ‘Why me?’. And for fucks sake I don’t know.” He said earnestly

Jon searching for a reason could only find ones that weren’t true, was she pregnant, was he forcing her? “Did you- did-“

Sandor, knowing where his accusations were going, stopped Jon. Worrying if he finished his sentence he’d have to beat the cousin of his wife. “You’re protective over your own. Over her. I appreciate that. But she’s my own now too. And I protected her fuck lot better than you did in Kings Landing. Protect your sisters too. Don’t believe me? Ask her.” Sandor’s tone was softer now. Understanding Jons confusion because shared it too. “Dont think she’s some lost fucking babe in the woods. That fucking woman is more clever than that bald cunt you cling to. The only reason you have this bloody castle is cause of her. Without (Y/N) those Bolton animals would be here. My wife knows what she’s doing.” He said with pride, “Now, I’ve got to find something for my wife to eat.” Sandor said as he left Jon to stew in his anger and confusion.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You however were no longer resting in your chambers. You were now walking with Ser Leon, around the battle preparations. You saw the men creating the armor for your knights

“You should be plating their armor with leather.” You said the man creating the armor.

“The Vale is known by silver and blue, My Lady.” The man said,

“The Vale will not survive this war if their soldiers die from the cold. Then they will not be known for anything. Plate them in leather.” You corrected the man.

“Yes, my Lady.” The man nodded his head.

You turned to Ser Leon, “And I want each man equipped with dragon glass swords, as well as daggers.” You said confidently.

“A wise choice my Lady.” Ser Leon said.

“When the time comes, Brienne of Tarth will lead the Knights into battle. You will lead our archers at the castle walls, Ser Leon.” You said

“My Lady, If I may…” Ser Leon said, and you nodded allowing him to express himself. “A Knight of the Vale should lead the Knights of the Vale.”

“Ser Leon, you have stepped up the challenges that Ser Cole left behind. And you’ve done a wonderful job at it. If we win this war I want you alive for the next. Is that clear?” You said with the cadence that of a queen.

Ser Leon nodded, “Yes, my Lady.”

You smiled, “Good, on with it then.” You dismissed him. As he left you noticed behind him was your Lord Husband.

“Husband.” You said smiling.

“Wife.” He said in return as he walked towards you.

“Did you get your ax?” You asked. Sandor held up the ax, allowing you to examine it, your pretty fingers gliding across the blade, “A pretty weapon isn’t it?” You said as you looked at the deep black color of the dragon glass.

Sandor smirked, “You know about weapons now do you, birdie?” He asked strangely seductively for a man who was hesitant to kiss you in front of another man just that night.

“I’ve become accustomed.” You said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Sandor leaned in closer to you, “I like watching you bark at those men.” He whispered,

You smirked, “I like the way you look at me when you watch.”

“Well…” He said, stepping even closer to you, “Some of your pretty knights keep following me around.”

“Does my Lord Husband not wish for this?” You asked, Sandor shook his head with a smirk. You looked behind him, noticing the two knights in question. “Ser Máximos.” You said,

“Yes, My Lady?” Ser Maximos said,

“You and Ser Agustin are dismissed. And let it be known my Lord Husband needn’t any protection. He does well enough on his own.” You commanded,

“Yes, my Lady.” Ser Maximos said as he and Ser Agustin left.

You looked back to Sandor, seeing his eyes hungry and lustful “Come Husband, I’ve a gift for you.” You said sweetly as you led him back to your shared chambers.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

And a gift you did indeed have. You had black armor made for Sandor, now that his last set of armor was ruined after he and Brienne’s battle.

“I had it made.” You said as you helped him put the armor on, “You cannot fight in a war without armor.” Sandor looked at you like you know that he could fight a war without armor, “I would not send you into one unarmored.” You explained.

“No bird?” Sandor asked as he looked at the armor, noticing that you did not brand his armor with your house sigil.

“You aren’t a knight of the Vale. You’re not owned.” You said clasping the last bits of his armor onto him “You’re a true warrior, in your own right. I wouldn’t brand your armor.” You said as you looked him up and down, as all of his armor besides his gloves were on, “Do you like it?”

“It’s armor.” Sandor huffed, not caring for the aesthetics of what he wore, “Thank you.” he said softly.

“The men who made it said it was quite difficult to get it right.” You said running your hands along his armor, admiring his body.

“That’s cause I’m a big fucker.” He grumbled,

“Yes…” You said lost in the filthy thoughts you were having by simply laying your eyes on his form in the armor. Your eyes found his, “It’s a good thing.” You clarified. Your hands found his, as you looked down you noticed his right hand knuckles were bruised, “What happened to your knuckles?” You said, running your thumb along them.

“Mhpm… The man's jaw was harder than it looked.” He said with a shrug, trying to blow it off completely.

“And why did you feel the need to hit another man?” you questioned,

“Because I didn’t have a blade.” Sandor said, you tilted your head at his response. Your face obviously showed that you were not satisfied with his answer. “The fucker had it coming.” He said frustrated, and angry thinking back to what the man had said. “Said some cuntmouthed shit about you.”

“What?” You questioned gently,

“Some old maid horseshit.” He huffed. You still stared at him waiting for more information unsatisfied with the answers he was giving you. “You were forced to wed me because I defiled you, there.” He huffed.

You smiled at Sandor. You hated to admit it, but it aroused you. That he would hit a man over an insult. His armor didn’t help calm your arousal either, you trailed your fingers against the skin of his neck, “I wasn’t forced. And I like it when you defile me.” You said seductively. Sandors hand came around your throat gently, about to ravage you, until, just like this morning, a knock fell on your chamber door.

“Who is it?” Sandor barked, angry someone dared interrupt.

“Ser Leon, my Lord.” Ser Leon said from behind the door.

“Fuck does he want?” Sandor rasped, low enough just for you to hear.

You smirked at his frustration, “What is it, Ser Leon?” You asked loud enough for Ser Leon to hear from beyond the door.

“Queen Danerys, Lord Snow, and Lady Sansa have requested your council, my Lady.” Ser Leon said.

You sighed, kissing your husband once more, sweetly before making your way to the council room.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As you sat among the council members, Jon, Sansa, and Daenerys, your Lord Husband stood behind you, acting as your sworn shield.

You and the council heard the plea of Jaime Lannister, begging for him to be allowed to stay and fight in Winterfell. It was clear that Daenerys was not happy with the prospect of having the murderer of her father stay. And that you could understand.

However when it came time to decide whether or not he would be staying, Brienne of Tarth defended Jaimes plea.

Sansa, trusting her own sworn sword stated, “I trust you with my life. If you trust him with yours, we should let him stay.”

Daenerys, unhappy with this judgment, turned to Jon, “What does the warden of the North say about this?”

Jon, painfully conceded, knowing it would upset her. “We need every man we can get.”

Daenerys, still unhappy, in a last stitch effort turned her attention towards you. “And the East?”

Unafraid with your husband behind you, you stated confidently, “I trust the judgments of Lady Sansa, and Jon is right. If the threat is as great as you say, we need every man we can get.”

She looked upon you with angry eyes, “Very well.” Dany conceded, angrily.

As you rose from your chair, your Husband stood behind you. You and he walked down the hall together,

“I don’t think she likes me.” You said to your husband.

“Then she’s a cunt.” Sandor said,

“Saved your life did she not?” You questioned.

“Eh.” Sandor said, not disregarding any of that.

You smirked, and you looked back to Sandor, “How do you feel about it? Having another Lannister here.” You asked, genuinely wondering if it had made him uncomfortable.

Sandor shrugged as you and he walked, “Least that one didn’t try to fuck you.” He huffed.

“Fair point.” You said as you and he entered the library where you and Sansa were to discuss further battle plans with Lord Royce.

Not long after, Daenerys entered the library. You and Sansa stood in her presence.

“I would like to speak to the Ladies alone.” Daenerys said, looking at Lord Royce and Sandor.

Sandor stood his ground behind you. Unwilling to take any command from anyone other than you. You looked at Sandor, “It’s alright.” You said softly. Sandor nodded and left you, Sansa, and Daenerys to speak in privacy.

“I thought we were all on the verge of an agreement about Ser Jaime.” Daenerys said as she stepped towards you and Sansa.

“Brienne has always been loyal to me. I trust her.” Sansa said, in her tone it was clear that she did not trust Daenerys.

Daenerys smiled, “I wish I could have that kind of faith in my advisors.”

“Tyrion is a good man.” You said, attempting to defend your former betrothed, “He can be arrogant but has been nothing but decent.”

“I didn’t ask him to be my advisor because he was good. I asked him to be my hand because he is good, intelligent, and ruthless when he needs to be.” Daenerys said as she stepped closer to you and Sansa. “He should have never trusted Cersei.”

“Neither should have you.” Sansa said, boldly.

“I thought he knew his sister.” Daenerys said, with a smile.

“Families are complicated.” You said, sitting down.

“Ours certainly have been.” Daenerys said as she sat down as well.

“A sad thing for us all to have in common.” You said, trying to bridge a commonality between the women in this room.

“We share more than that. We all know what it means to lead people who aren’t inclined to accept a woman’s rule. And we’ve all done a damn good job of it, from what I can tell.” Daenerys said, kindly. Sansa smiled at her words. “And yet, I can’t help but feel we’re at odds with one another. Why is that?” She asked softly.

“What happens afterwards?” Sansa asked earnestly, “We defeat the dead, we destroy Cersei. What happens then?”

“I take the Iron Throne.” Daenerys said, you felt the tension in the room rise once again.

“What about the North? It was taken from us, and we took it back and we said we’d never bow to anyone else again. What about the North?” Sansa reasserted. You admired her boldness but knew she was choosing a dangerous path.

“Excuse me my Ladies-“ Lord Royce announced as he entered the room.

“What is it?” Daenerys said angrily at the interruption.

“Theon Greyjoy has arrived, my Lady.” Royce said.

“Theon?” Sansa said in disbelief.

She and Daenerys left the library in haste. You however, overwhelmed with the interaction, stayed behind. You cleaned up the books that you and Sansa were using. As you did, Jon entered the chamber.

“So, you’re a married woman now.” He said,

“Said the vows willingly.” You said in a sigh, not wanting to explain your love.

“The Hound?” Jon questioned you sharply.

“Sandor Clegane, is his name.” You corrected him.

“And you? Lady Clegane, now?” Jon asked, almost taunting you.

“I’ve kept my name.” You said calmly.

“He’s alright with that?” Jon questioned.

“According to law, If a Lady born in a higher station than her betrothed she keeps her name. Besides, he doesn't care about names.” You said as you put the books you were using back on their correct shelves.

“You sure he’s… right for you?” Jon asked, calmly.

“Why do you care?” You asked, turning to face him head on.

“You are my cousin-”

You interrupted him, “That’s not what you said when I arrived in Castle Black.” You said defiantly.

Jon sighed, “I was wrong. We might not be blood but I care. I do not wish to see you harmed.”

You scoffed, “And you think he will harm me? Why? Do you place a judgment on him because of his name?” You asked, walking towards him.

“I place judgment because of the brutality the Cleganes have inflicted.” He said, as if he knew better than you did.

“You’re playing the role of a protective brother now?” You held in a laugh, amused by how ridiculous his accusations were. He did not know him at all.

“Just heard stories is all.” Jon said

You signed, “He isn’t like his brother. He has committed dishonorable acts in the name of the King. But what was he to do? Besides, he has long atoned for them.” You said, attempting to ease Jon’s worries.

“You don’t think he’ll harm you?” Jon asked softly,

“I know he won’t.” You said confidently, “He is my Lord Husband, my sworn shield and sword. He serves me with faithfulness, valor, devotion…” Your strong headed and defiant demeanor dropped, replaced with a more soft and earnest one, “and love.” You said with a smile.

Jon sighed, and nodded “Alright then. You’re an intelligent woman, a strong one too. If you trust him-”

“I do. More than anyone.” You asserted,

“Then I’ll stand by him.” He said, finally giving in.

“Good. You've got a war to prepare for.” You said sweetly, with a smile.

Jon smiled softly and nodded “I’ll ready my men, you ready yours.”

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈

As you went down to observe your Knights training, you noticed one much larger than the others, dressed in black armor. Your Lord Husband.

“Ah!” Sandor shouted as his sword clashed against the other knights.

“Well struck, Lord Clegane.” Ser Leon shouted from the observation deck. Sandor rolled his eyes at the new title the Knights had given him.

“Ser Leon?” You said as you approached him.

“Yes, my Lady?” Ser leon asked,

“How well do you believe my Husband will fare in the war?” You asked as you watched how savagely your Husband fought.

“Your husband?” Ser Leon asked, “The Lord Clegane will fare very well. Most men need to use two hands to hold a sword that big. Forgive me but I have never seen a man fight as he does.” Ser Leon said with a hint of intimidation in his voice.

“Neither have I.” You said with a smirk as you watched your Husband from below fight. You hated to admit it but it was making you wet, watching him brutally swing his massive sword, and land each blow.

“Excuse me, my Lady-” Ser Leon said as he left your side to correct another Knights training. “Ser Meryn! Do not hesitate-” You tuned out the rest of what he was saying as you watched your husband.

“Ah!” He shouted as his sword turned the knight's shield into a pile of splintered wood.

“I yield! I yield!” The knight shouted, Sandor dropped his heavy sword to the ground and walked off panting and huffing.

You smiled, biting your lip. “Very good, Husband.” You shouted down to him from the deck.

Sandor waited for you at the bottom of the deck. Once you finally reached it you and he began to walk back to your chambers. “Those knights keep calling me Lord.” Sandor complained,

“You are a Lord now.” You said, amused by Sandor’s hesitation to the role.

“I’m no Lord.” He said, huffing still out of breath from the training.

“You are now that you married to me. If you didn’t wish to be then you shouldn’t have.” You said sarcastically.

However Sandor did not find the jest funny. He pulled you into your chambers as soon as you reached them.

“Enough of that.” He barked,

You ignore his words, mesmerized by his armored body, and the wetness between your legs. “Your armor suits you well.” You said as your eyes trailed over his form. “I want to you to take me,” You commanded, “I want it hard.” Your hands grasped at the breastplate of his armor, pulling him closer.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice is dark and deep.

“All day I have been arguing, and commanding other men. All day I’ve been preparing for a war.” You said removing your shoes, and your socks. Rolling them down from your thighs, it mesmerized Sandor. “I’m frustrated, and aggravated. And now all I want is for my Husband, to fuck me hard enough I don’t have to think of any of it for just a moment.” You practically pleaded,

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He said, gently.

“You won’t, my love.” You said sweetly as you walked over to your bed.

You lifted your skirts presenting your ass to him as you bent over the side of your bed. You looked back at him with sweet and longing eyes.

Palming his hardening cock, Sandor walked over to you “Whatever my wife wishes.” He said as he landed a firm spank against your ass, making you yelp. “What you fucking get for biting me.”

“Do it again-“ You asked, and he obeyed, “Mphm!” You moaned,

“You like that?” He asked as his hand fondled your ass, soothing the spank he landed on it just a second ago.

“Mhhhmmmmm” You bit your lip, and turned yourself onto your back, looking up at your husband.

“My wife is a dirty little bird.” He said with a smirk,

“You make her one.” You said as you began to palm at breeches.

He grabbed your wrist taking it away “Ask nicely woman, I’m not one of those knights you bark at.”

“Please, my love-“ You begged, as he wanted you to, “fuck me- fuck me like a warrior in battle.”

He smirked, and grabbed ahold of your dress by your neck line, “This dress has been teasing me all fucking day. Pushing your perfect tits up just begging for me to fucking rip this open.” He said as he ripped the fabric with ease. As your breasts came exposed his eyes trailed over them, “Fuck…” He continued to rip off your gown until it was ripped clean from your body. Leaving you in your small clothes. However, that only aggravated him more, “Give me these.” He said as he ripped them off of your body, making your gasp. He looked at your small clothes, at how wet they were. “Seven fucking hells, birdie. You don’t need prepping do you? You’ve been this needy for my cock all day?” He asked, and you were so wanting that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak any words. All you could do was nod. Sandor smiled, “Show me. Show me how needy my wife is for me.” He said stepping closer, between your legs as you laid against the edge of the bed.

You began to rock your hips, rubbing your bare cunt against his clothed erection. “Please, please, please,” You begged, so desperate you tried to press the tented bulge of his pants into you. Sandor looked down and saw the visible wet mark you were leaving on his breeches. Without warning he pulled his hardened length out, and plunged himself into you, “Ah!” You cried out, He continued to push himself in and out of you at a brutal pace. “Harder!” you commanded. He hesitated for a moment, but soon flipped you over onto your belly. Continuing his brutal pace he wrapped his arm around your throat. Putting you in a headlock as he hammered his cock into your weeping cunt.

As he held you close to his chest, you held onto his strong arm as it was wrapped around your throat. Choking only slightly. Sandor licked and kissed at your ear as he moaned and groaned into it, “You feel too fucking good-fuck-keep clenching around me!” He commanded, as if you had a choice. It felt so good your cunt was spasming uncontrollably. “That’s it, that’s it, taking it so fucking well for me.” He encouraged you as his other hand pinched at your nipples, then roamed down towards your cunt, rubbing at your clit just as brutally as he was fucking you. He couldn’t help it, normally he’d wait for you, normally he could wait as long as he needed to but you were moaning so beautifully, and you were clenching around him so well he without any warning, spilt his seed into you.

The feelings of the heat was everything you needed to push you over the edge. You shaked hard, as you felt yourself cum on his cock, feeling your juices flow out of you and onto him.

Sandor laid you down gently, leaning over you, he brushed your hair out of your sweaty and flushed face, “Are you alright?” He asked, out of breathe,

You smiled up at him, “I am going to fill your belly with wine and chicken.”

Truth was, he had gone easy on you.

NOTE:

BIG SHOUT OUT TO THE GIRLS WHO GAVE ME SMUT SUGGESTIONS LMK IF YOU WANT CREDIT— I am growling and snarling behind the bars of my enclosure. Also I have such a good idea for a new fic and yall aren’t getting it for so long lol. Anyways….. enjoy..

Bambi

Beloved Tags:

@dontfollowjuststuff @merfic @broadsdrinkwhisky @vikingswhore0

@the-queen-of-sorrows @eddiesbongwater @not-neverland06 @symonedoesart

@wyvernnest @bdudette @frosch-thefrog @patrick-hockstutter @vikingswhore0

@drymushroomfics @dream-a-little-nightmare @lavenderbreeze3

@spookymicrowave @caldrien

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truetogaia · 1 year

Text

I JUST WANNA GRAB AT HIS SHOULDERS

pairing: husband!miguel o'hara x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+

synopsis: Miguel is just so so happy to have finally married you, and hes prepared to show you that with his ****

warnings: smut w a lil plot, foreplay, p in v, unprotected sex, depictions, mature n explicit themes, no pull out sorry lolz, size kink, marking kink, biting, choking, lovey rough sex.

word count: 1.3 k

MIGUEL MASTERLIST I REQUESTS: OPEN

Your newly wed husband had practically thrown himself over you the second you stepped foot inside the hotel the two of you had chosen to spend your honeymoon at.

After a few minutes of him trying desperately to get you out of your big wedding dress, you let out a quiet giggle, reaching back to undo the zipper of the dress and letting it fall to your ankles. He stared for a good while, the two of you had decided to keep the wedding garter on, not wanting to do such intimate things in front of friends and family, and he was so happy you had settled on that decision. His large hands gripped at your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist as he carefully laid you down on the huge, honeymoon bed.

Miguel was hovering above you, pupils blown with lust. He impatiently grabbed at the plush of your thighs, desperate to get to the sweet, sickly treat stashed away in your core. His gaze wandered all over your soft body, appreciating all the curves, the stretch of your skin, embedding it deep within his memories. You gently placed your hands on each side of his face, eagerly pulling him down into a sloppy, wet kiss.

And here you were, trapped beneath the muscular, brawny body of your husband. He caged you in with his strong arms, lips ghosting over your exposed neck and the hickeys that adorned your skin. You clawed at the clothes that kept your skin from meeting his, feeling awfully exposed compared to his fully clothed figure. A slight snicker escaped him as he slowly lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing the toned abs of his abdomen. You let your digits run over each pack of muscle, your eyes glued to the exposed skin.

A whine seeped from your lips, resembling that of a plea. A smirk tugged at the corners of Miguel’s mouth when the sound reached his ears, and he was more than thrilled to give you exactly what you wanted. His shirt was on the bedroom floor in seconds, the metal of his belt klanking as his fingers quickly worked to get his pants off.

Your skin was burning up, sensitive to the touch, tingles following each tap of his digits. He chuckled, although his mind was as hazy as yours, filled with lust for his new wife. His hands snaked down your waist, toying with the hem of your special lingerie.

“So, so beautiful..” he mumbled, bringing his head down to kiss at the exposed skin of your chest. Your increased whines only fueled the hunger he felt for you and soon he tore the fabric off of your form. His hands quickly placed themselves on your hot skin, traveling up to grope at your breasts and further down to grab at the tender flesh of your thighs.

His breathy voice made your pussy clench around nothing, “Shit.. you look delicious.. All mine now, yeah”

He snickered and a gasp escaped your soft lips as his digits made contact with your folds, already soaked in your overflowing arousal. Miguel groaned loudly as the wetness coated his thick fingers, the sound sending shivers up your spine, making you even more impatient. His hands wandered to your garter, moving a finger under it and letting the elastic band snap back in place.

“Gonna keep this on for later, how does that sound, mi vida?”

The look on your face made him feral, eyelids heavy and eyes hazy as you nodded. You cried out as two of his long, slender fingers sank into your cunt, immediately setting a steady, rhythmic tempo. Your soft moans filled the room as his digits pumped in and out of your pussy, senses heightened euphoric feeling left after the wedding.

You felt an all too familiar knot start to form in your abdomen, moans increasing in volume the closer to the sweet release you got, but when you clenched around his fingers, he stopped. You looked up at him, pouting at the denial of your release.

“Ah ah, you deserve to cum under even better circumstances.” He cooed, hastily moving his hands to the hem of his, painfully tight, boxers.

“Be patient, princesa. I'll be stretching you out in no time if you’re just patient, alright?” He cooed, voice soft and reassuring. You nodded lazily, the pretty updo of your hair now messy and ruined. “That’s a good girl,” sighing, he brought a hand to your mouth, gently tapping your lips with his thumb, “now, suck for me, yeah?” You did as he said without hesitation, gliding your wet tongue over his rough digit. He hummed in approval, watching your perfect lips enclose his finger.

He suddenly removed the digit from your mouth, moving his hands to pull his boxers down. You propped yourself up on your elbows, leaning back to observe your husband, pupils the size of jupiter. He suddenly grabbed a hold of your waist, turning you around to expose your behind. His soft palm stroked the plush of your ass, circling it before traveling further down to prod at the hole of your sweet cunt with his soaked fingers.

You felt him shift his weight to his knees, positioning his heavy tip, aligning it with your desperate, fluttering entrance. Both of you sighed as he pushed in, reveling in the feeling of something filling your needy cunt. He slowly inched himself deeper into you, sinking into the tightness of your core. You felt the girth of his hot cock stretch you out, filling you perfectly.

As soon as he was certain you were comfortable and ready, he set a loving, steady pace. The volume of your moans increased as he hit that special place over and over with each languid stroke.

“Yeah? Does it feel good, hm?” his voice was breathy in your ear, toned arms securely wrapped around your waist. You nodded as his thrusts hit deeper, you could barely form any coherent sentences, feeling completely dazed from the immense pleasure you were receiving.

“Aww, princesa, you love being stuffed don't you..” Your cunt clenched around him, “Yeah, I think you do, tell me how much you love it.” He placed a hand on your throat, gently guiding your head to the side to look at him. His hair was disheveled and you swore his eyes wore primal resemblances.

The words caught in your throat as the head of his fat cock continuously grazed against your cervix, “Come on, cariño, answer me when I'm talking to you y/n.” A particularly rough snap of his hips knocked the air out of your lungs, making it even harder for you to express your thoughts.

The sound of skin slapping and the constant plunging into your sopping cunt made Miguel’s head spin.

His strokes got frenetic, erratic snaps of his hips against your own followed by deep groans and strangled noises. He was suddenly chasing his own high, buried in the warmth of your drenched cunt. Hungry for release, whilst also desperate to give you yours, he gently nipped and sucked at the skin on the curve of your neck, leaving occasional marks.

You cried out as his fangs made contact, tearing through your tender flesh. You could feel your release starting to build up in the pit of your stomach as your husband kept hitting the perfect spot, thrusting relentlessly.

He moved one hand down to play with your swollen clit, rubbing circles on the bundle of nerves with the coarse pads of his fingers. The tension in your stomach finally snapped with one last, quick thrust of his hips. He followed soon after, collapsing on your back before pulling out with a groan.

You turned over to cup his face, smiling when you saw his worn out expression. He smirked lazily and kissed your swollen lips, chanting the word mine in between sloppy kisses. “I guess this pussy officially belongs to me now.. I can have you quivering and trembling under me every night… mi bella esposa.” The beautiful smile that was plastered on his face carved itself into your mind, never to be forgotten.

His large, warm hand wandered down the plush skin of your thigh again, letting his fingers ghost over the material of the only piece of.. Clothing.. Left on your sweaty body.. Your garter.

“Time to take care of this, hm?”

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slytherin-pen · 2 months

Text

The Nesting Fox

After five years of being mated, you and Lucien are eagerly awaiting the arrival of your first litter. As you enter the seventh month of your pregnancy, Lucien returns home from his Emissary duties to find you meticulously rearranging the baby's room, consumed by the need to prepare the space for your growing family. Sensing your stress, Lucien takes it upon himself to ease your worries by drawing a warm bath for you and offering comforting words to soothe your nerves.

pairing: Lucien x Reader

word count: 3.7k

all ACOTAR related credit goes to SJM

warnings: none/ fluff vibes only 🤍

A/N: i had writer’s block for a bit so i missed Elucien week but i started this with the theme in mind last week 😭 anyways, i hope you enjoy fluffy future-dad Lucien

As the warm afternoon sun painted the cottage in a golden hue and gently streamed through the windows, you hustled about, checking off tasks from your never-ending to-do list. Your little kit wasn't due for another two months, but time seems to go too fast and too slow while pregnant. You know you have all the necessities and have their room prepared, but that doesn’t stop the nagging feeling that there’s still more to do, leaving you restless.

Your best friend Mor has been taking you shopping for baby items and garments to replace your weekly pre-pregnancy coffee dates, and despite your complaints about the extra laundry, you do love spending time with her, however it may be. With your family living in the Night Court and you being heavily pregnant in the Spring Court, it’s easy to feel lonely, but Mor winnows in and catches up with you as if you never left. Aside from her visits, you keep busy preparing for the baby’s arrival by repeatedly cleaning and shuffling things around until it's just right.

Today's list of tasks includes organizing the new clothes in the baby’s dresser, dusting—a task that seems pointless in the Spring Court—and baking snickerdoodle muffins because the baby wants snickerdoodle muffins.

Lucien has had to remind you numerous times to take it easy. He frequently comes home to find you doing something you are not supposed to and swiftly ushers you to a chair. Pregnancy has not been the kindest to you, but you haven’t let it slow you down yet. You wouldn’t be his relentlessly energetic mate if you just sat around doing something mundane like knitting.

Before discovering you were pregnant, you and Lucien spent your days outdoors or traveling across Prythian and the Continent. You were far from being a passive couple. Besides, the basket storing away the yarn and needles became riddled with dust ages ago. It was a lovely gift from a Lord in the Day Court after your wedding ceremony inside the palace, but the longest you’ve sat still was when your previous High Lord, Rhysand, let you hold his son Nyx during a casual meeting in the River House. Babysitting Nyx occasionally has helped ease some of your worries about becoming a mother. Still, your mind was in a constant war between being confident in your abilities and thinking the absolute worst would happen and you would fail at being a mother.

Lucien has been your unwavering support during the most challenging days, helping you combat negative thoughts. He reminds you to breathe and trust that both of you will be loving, nurturing parents. You don’t know if it’s just everyday prenatal stress or the hormones making you an anxious, compulsive mess, but Lucien has remained his kind, witty, and ever-attentive self. He always knows what you need, whether you are cleaning the house inside-out until your feet swell or crying and raging about being out of sugar, and now ‘the baby will be sad.’ He bites down his retort about the baby's inability to conceptualize anything about the situation every time. Instead, he holds you, massages your feet, and goes to the shops as soon as they open.

When you first found out you were pregnant, it was after a trip to the Summer Court with Lucien as his plus-one on an emissary trip. The two of you had dined on shrimp and pasta among Tarquin and his courtiers. After dinner, Lucien attended a private meeting with Tarquin, Cresseida, and Varian while you returned to your shared suite. As you bathed and got ready for bed, you noticed you felt nauseous but thought you must have overindulged during dinner. You had just opened your nightly read when the urge to vomit was too strong to swallow down. You ran to the toilet and heaved until there was nothing left. Afterward, you brushed your teeth and requested a servant bring you a cup of ginger tea. You didn’t initially tell Lucien for fear he would fuss over you instead of focusing on why you were in the Summer Court. You had hoped an ingredient just didn’t settle well with your stomach and you would feel better shortly.

The trip lasted for three days, and as per Summer Court, every dish contained seafood. After each meal, you found yourself in the nearest bathroom, throwing up what little you had eaten. Lucien became concerned, noticing that you would run off, but you assured him you were fine and that the spices were giving you an upset stomach. He gave you a skeptical look, not believing your excuse due to your frequent travels and exposure to various cuisines. Still, he accepted you were keeping your bathroom habits private, as any gentleman would.

When you touched down in the Spring Court, and Lucien ran off to meet with Tamlin, you found the nearest healer. Something was wrong. You loved seafood. Not every Summer Court dish is delicious, particularly the scallop omelet, but shrimp was one of your favorites, and you threw it up every time. The meals made you sick after you ate, and the smells began to nauseate you as soon as they appeared on the table.

You were shocked when the healer informed you nothing was wrong but that you were pregnant. Your mind became a torrent of different emotions: fear, excitement, hope, and more fear. You and Lucien had stopped taking contraceptive tonics years ago with the knowledge you could become pregnant, but something about it happening made you question everything. Were you ready for a baby? What if Lucien changed his mind and didn’t want children with you? Would you be a good mother? The internal turmoil had paralyzed you, rooting you to the ottoman before the fireplace. That’s how Lucien found you after he met with Tamlin, and he knelt by your side, asking you what was wrong. You hesitated initially, but Lucien whispered encouragement in your ear, and you eventually told him you were pregnant. His gold and russet eyes lit up joyfully and immediately soothed your worries. He assured you he still wanted children with you— lots of them, even–that you would be the best mother, and between his salary and both of your families, obtaining everything the baby would need would be no problem.

A few months into your pregnancy, you and Lucien went on ‘Tour De Baby,’ as he called it, celebrating the news with family and friends. The two of you attended a formal dinner with Tamlin, and Helion and Lady Autumn hosted a baby shower. Eris insisted on visiting him and the hounds so they could ‘learn the kit’s scent,’ and your family in the Inner Circle guided you and Lucien on a rare, non-alcoholic night out through Velaris. Seeing your families so excited to meet your little one made your heart swell with adoration and gratitude. Even if your family was spread across three courts, your baby has a formidable village of warriors and High Lords who loved them endlessly, and that was more than you could ever ask for.

The tantalizing scent of snickerdoodle muffins baking in the oven filled the cozy cottage as you set out to rearrange the baby's room. As you surveyed the room, you realized the crib was too close to the window. What if the moon's light wakes up the little one? You quickly decided to move it. Then, you noticed a framed picture precariously hanging above the changing table. You couldn't risk it falling and hurting the baby, so you made a mental note to relocate it as well. As you stepped back, you noticed that the dresser seemed slightly off-center, prompting you to adjust its position.

Lucien heard a distinct dragging sound across the wooden floor as he walked through the front door. Curious, he followed the noise and poked his head into the room. "Release the dresser immediately," he demanded, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly are you up to, my sly little fox?" A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he noticed your blush.

“I was just tidying a few things up,” you replied sheepishly, putting the dresser back on the ground.

With a playful smirk, he hoisted the dresser and carefully set it in its new spot, perfectly aligned against the wall. Sauntering over to where you stood, he took hold of your hands and teased, "Is destroying our poor floors your idea of tidying up?”

You inhale sharply, glancing around the room and blinking back tears. “I just want everything to be perfect,” you whispered.

Lucien’s face softened with understanding as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping one arm around your waist and cradling your head with the other. “I know, my love, but do you know what I want?”

“For your mother to send me her apple pie recipe?”

He chuckled before shaking his head. “I’m not opposed, but no. I want you to be healthy. I want our baby to be healthy. And then I want all of us to be happy. That’s it. That’s all I could ever ask for.”

The dam of tears you held back burst as you listened to your partner's sincere words. “I feel like there’s so much left to do. I know we have gotten so much done, but I can’t help but stress about what else we can do,” you whined.

“Oh, darling,” he sighed. He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Perhaps you subconsciously feel the more work you find, the more ready you will feel, but that is not how it works, unfortunately. We still have two months left, but I promise you we will be ready. You are ready. I have complete faith that you will be a natural once our kit is born. As for being physically ready, you’ve handled it all, my love. All that shopping with Mor and planning lists with Feyra paid off. I told you to leave some work for me,” he winked.

You snorted, smacking his chest lightly. “You’ve hardly let me do anything. You made me sit in that chair,” you pointed to the rocking chair in the corner, “while you built the crib, installed the bookshelf, and made me stay at Tamlin’s manor for two days while you painted the room.”

“Technically, it only took one day to paint and one more for the fumes to air out,” he quipped.

Before you could roll your eyes, the smell of burning cinnamon hit your nose. “Muffins!” You turned away from Lucien and waddled quickly towards the kitchen.

Lucien laughed as he followed after you. “I was wondering what sort of concoction you had brewing in there.”

“The baby asked for snickerdoodle muffins, and what kind of mother would I be to deny my child before they’ve even left the womb?”

“Ah yes, this telepathic connection between the two of you. Pray tell, what else does our little kit ask for,” he asked, leaning on his hands, watching you from across the island that separated you as you pulled the muffin pan out of the oven.

Placing the pan on the counter, you hummed before looking up at Lucien. “Well, since you’re asking,” you smiled deviously, “a nice warm bath complete with a massage. And chocolates.”

He licked his lips as he moved closer to you. “I can’t deny my child before they’ve left the womb, now can I? I shall run you a bath this instant.”

You giggled as he kissed the crown of your head and rubbed your belly before leaving the room. Staring at the muffins on the counter, you couldn’t resist eating one while they were fresh and steaming right in front of you. The crumbs of cinnamon and sugar crunched between your teeth as the bready muffin melted on your tongue, and an involuntary moan escaped you. Your baby may not be born yet, but they certainly have good taste in pastries.

“My love,” Lucien called. “I have a warm, lavender-scented bath ready for you.”

“Coming,” you mumbled, swallowing the last of the muffin before rounding the corner and trailing after Lucien.

As you walked through your bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom, you practically groaned in pleasure at the sight. Steam rose from the clawfoot tub, courtesy of Lucien’s heating powers, and bubbles covered the water's surface. You slipped off your clothes, and Lucien held your hand as you entered the tub. He quickly followed, chucking his clothes onto the floor next to yours.

You leaned back onto his chest as he sat behind you, thick, muscular thighs caging you in between them. “This is nice,” you sighed. The bubbles came up to your breastbone as your body slumped against his, but your bump protruded slightly out of the water's comforting warmth.

He hummed in agreement, grabbing a folded washcloth and submerging it in the water before gingerly running it across your arms. “It is the least you deserve,” he murmured. “I cannot thank you enough for carrying our child.”

You looked at him over your shoulder and smiled. “You don’t have to thank me, Luc. I love you, and I love our baby. I can’t wait to meet them.”

“I know you do,” he kissed the tip of your nose, “but I also know being pregnant is no easy feat. First, there was constant nausea and vomiting; now, it’s insomnia, swelling, and back pain. Not to mention the mental toll it takes on you, worrying day and night about what our baby will need, and as much as I hate that you’re so worried, your concern is how I’m sure you'll be a wonderful mother.”

“You can't know that,” you grumbled. “Preparing for it and living it is not the same thing.”

Lucien lathered shampoo in his hands and began to scrub your scalp. “Perhaps, but after believing Beron was my father for most of my life, maybe I’m just content in knowing we can love our child without that monster looming over us. Knowing I will never be like him and you, being an angel sent from the heavens, I think we’re quite set. All I ever wanted was for my future children to be safe, especially in their own home, and they will be.”

You sighed as he rinsed the soap out of your hair, one hand shielding your eyes from the suds. “That is a perspective I haven't considered. I’m sorry,” you murmured.

“Don’t apologize, my love. I only mentioned it because I want you to feel as content as I do. I don't want you spending your first pregnancy fretting over the little things when what's most important is that both of you are okay. We don't know what the future holds, and things could change in the blink of an eye, but in the meantime, I want us to love each other and enjoy ourselves while our kit gets ready for their debut.”

You intertwined your hands with his as you gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you. You always know what to say to bring me back to Earth. I don't know what I would do without you.”

“Oh, I have a few ideas. Starting with rearranging this house until labor forced you to stop, you stubborn female.”

A soft giggle escaped you as you leaned further into Lucien’s chest. “The day can not come soon enough. My back might break if my stomach gets any bigger.”

Lucien chuckled as he caressed your bump with his large palm. Despite how huge you felt, his hand could still cover the top of your stomach, reminding you that you were, in fact, not actually the size of a mammoth. “I hate to tell you that our little fox is not done growing and will get bigger, but-” he leaned over your shoulder to kiss the bump, “I can assure you that you are unbreakable, my brave and resilient mate. Pregnancy is nothing compared to the battles you’ve overcome, but after this battle, we will be blessed with a precious baby in return, and they will be ours to cherish alone.”

You craned your neck to gaze up at him. “We’re going to have to share them every now and then, you know that right,” you teased.

A soft growl rumbled through his chest before he nipped at your nose, eliciting your squeal. “We don’t have to do anything. We could hide in the woods and live like cave dwellers. No one could make us leave.”

“Well, technically, Tamlin could, being High Lord and all.” You trailed off as he began to leave kisses along your neck.

Lucien hummed, the placement of his lips on your throat sending vibrations coursing straight through you. “I’d like to see him try. I do believe he owes me, coming back to help him repair his court and all,” he teases.

“Would he be grateful enough not to mind his Emissary and wife living in his woods like animals? We might scare the villagers.”

“Darling, if the villagers can’t handle two Fae harmlessly prancing about the woods, they are in the wrong court. Their High Lord turns into a beast, for cauldron's sake.”

You laughed, clenching your eyes shut and squeezing your thighs together lest you pee yourself. “I can’t believe I forgot that. My stupid pregnancy brain has me forgetting everything, including changing out my slippers for shoes before leaving the house. I was halfway to town before I realized.”

"Was that the day you asked me to go to the shops for more strawberry jam after you had said you were going to fetch it yourself," he chuckled.

“Yep,” you grimaced. “I had to turn around. That was a whole trip in itself. No way I was walking back to the shops.”

“I’m glad you didn’t. I told you to take it easy, not run around town like a headless chicken.” You smacked his arm for referring to you as a chicken, and he kissed your cheek in apology. “I will handle the shopping from now on. You needn’t worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

“Oh, so now I have a head?”

“You’re a wicked thing when you want to be.” He rose from the tub, reaching for the towels before stepping onto the rug. “Come on out, love. The water is getting cold, and I still owe you a massage.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” your eyes brightened as you took his hand and let him wrap you in a soft, fluffy towel.

You held hands as the two of you walked into your bedroom, cast in the warm glow of flickering candles. Lucien changed into sleep pants while you slipped on a silk nightgown. You sat down at your vanity, and before you could reach for your hairbrush, Lucien grabbed it. “Let me,” he murmured.

Smiling at him appreciatively over your shoulder, you nodded and closed your eyes as he gently brushed through your hair. He was careful to start at the ends with light strokes and work his way up to your roots, mindful of how fragile hair can be while wet. Starting at your hairline, he separated your hair into three sections and began to tie your hair into a french braid. It became your favorite way to style your hair for bed due to all the night sweats you’ve had during pregnancy. Sleeping while pregnant was still uncomfortable, but getting all your hair off your neck helped tremendously with not overheating at night.

“So beautiful,” Lucien whispered, trailing his fingertips down your arms. You made eye contact with him through the mirror and couldn’t stop the blush that crept upon your cheeks. “Let’s get you in bed now, my love.”

You let him lead you to the bed in the middle of the room and watched him pull back the covers. He sat down first, to your surprise, and patted the spot between his legs. You giggled but situated yourself between his thighs and pulled the covers up to your waist.

“First, the chocolate I promised.” He handed you a bowl of small rectangles of dark chocolate. You moaned and popped a piece into your mouth as you grabbed the bowl and placed it in your lap. “Now for that massage,” he leaned over to the side table and picked up the bottle of oil, shaking a few drops on the palm of his hand and rubbing them together. You pulled your braid over your shoulder and let the straps of your nightgown slip down enough for Lucien to access your back. “Where does it feel the most sore?”

“Along my spine and lower back,” you replied, chewing another piece of chocolate.

He hummed in acknowledgment and began to massage your back. Starting at the top of your spine, he ran his knuckles down your back, releasing the tension with his motions. He moved on to massaging circles into your lower back with his thumbs, and the pressure was heaven-sent in such a sore spot.

You don’t know how long you sat there feeling every ounce of love and care he put into relieving your pain. Your eyes remained shut, and you’d never admit that you may have dozed off a couple of times, only once or twice, with a piece of chocolate in your mouth.

After the massage, you leaned back onto his chest, placing the chocolates and oil back on the table, and he wrapped his arms around your bump to lift it. He dipped his chin down to your shoulder and kissed your neck softly. “Does that feel any better, darling?”

Exhaustion consuming you, you could only hum and nod. Lucien chuckled, turned off the flames with a snap, and shifted your bodies so that your head rested on his chest as he pulled you into his side. “Goodnight, my love,” he kissed your temple. “And goodnight, my little fox,” he splayed his hand on top of your bump and rubbed his thumb in soothing circles as you fell asleep.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar #acotar fandom #lucien vanserra #lucien vanserra imagine #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien vanserra x you #lucien acotar #lucien x y/n #elucien week #elucien #lucien x reader #lucien vandaddy #lucien fanfic #pregnant!reader #fem!reader #lucien x you

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kingofbodyrolls · 10 months

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The Library of BTS fic recs - AUs

I love to read, and I love making lists and putting this into order/systems, so here comes my list of all my readings (does include fics of my own in there too).

These detailed sorted lists are all the BTS fics that I have recommended/reblogged— I hope you find something that you like in there, and please, if you do, don’t hesitate to let the author know, okay? 🥹🥰

Navigation → By AU (pt1 & pt 2) | By theme/vibe/pairing/reader (thank you tumblr for being an inline link limit dick)

By AU (part 1)

Soulmates // Star-crossed lovers

Wedding // Marriage // Arranged Marriage // Divorce

Cheating // Breakup // Exes // Second Chance // Exes to lovers

Best friends to lovers // BFWB // Friends to lovers // FWB

Childhood Friends

Neighbors

Coworkers // Workplace // Office

Brother’s best friend // Best friend’s brother // Forbidden Love

Enemies to lovers

Strangers to lovers

Established relationship

Roommates

Fake dating

Virgin

Single parent // Parents // Pregnancy // Secret Baby

High School // College // University // Fratboy // Fuckboy

Classmates to lovers

Travel // Time Travel

Camping // Road Trip // Gardening

Handyman

Social Media

Go to part 2 of the list -> [here]

Interested in my own personal favorites? Find them in my Hall of Fame 🥰

Interested in reading my own fics? Find them in my Masterlist ✨

*I’ll add more as I read, so you can save this and always come back to it, use it like you would a regular library!

Borahae— You nice, keep going ✨

#bts fic recs #the library #the bts library #library of fic recs #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fic #bangtan smut #bangtan fanfic #bangtan fic #bangtan library

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ereardon · 2 months

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Homecoming [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: Returning home to California after six years abroad in England, you found everything has changed. Jake Seresin, your father's former college roommate and lifelong best friend, is now a widower and has purchased a new vineyard in Montecito, only a few miles from your childhood home. Your parents’ marriage is on the rocks, your brother is struggling with what to do with his life, and you’ve grown up and are starting your own counseling practice. So what happens when you find yourself falling for the man your father calls his best friend? And worse, what happens when your parents find out he’s falling for you, too?

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Age gap, eventual smut, cursing, alcohol

Word count: 2.1K

Author's note: This fic references a significant age gap, as reader is the child of Jake's best friend. However, she's in her mid-twenties, and he's been only a small part of her life to this point as he spent the majority of his time traveling with his late wife. This fic does not depict grooming, but if you are concerned with any of the themes please read at your own risk.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

A part of you had forgotten what it smelled like, to breathe fresh ocean air instead of stuffy city smog. Six years in London had warped your senses. It had worn its way into your everyday life, from the coffee you drank (flat whites) to the way you asked for random items (bits and bobs) to the foods you now craved (sausage rolls and chips with mayonnaise).

You looked down at your ratty pajama bottoms and sighed. Even though you had spent the better part of a decade abroad, living a sparkling social life in one of the world’s greatest cities, you were still the simple girl next door from Montecito. You still lived with your parents, a fact that you were very well aware of as you stood at the french doors of your childhood bedroom, staring out across the backyard.

Below, you could smell the charcoal grill and your mother’s famous peach cobbler.

“Y/N!” Your father’s voice was nearly crushed by the sound of a car zipping up the circular driveway. You leaned out further against the Juliette balcony, trying to spy the car, the green back end of a shiny Jaguar coming into view. “Come downstairs for cocktails!”

“Five minutes!” you called back.

Ten minutes later, who was counting, you stepped barefoot down the spiral staircase, landing silently on the marble foyer floor. Voices carried across the expansive hallway through to the back of the house where the large iron doors leading out to the patio were propped open, a light early fall breeze wafting in.

Before you could make it halfway across the room, a ball of fur caught your eye and you were almost toppled by a shaggy golden retriever as he jumped on your legs.

“Hugo!” You bent down, rubbing your hands along the dog’s spine, over his head, ruffling his ears. “You’ve gotten old, buddy.”

“He’s aged like fine wine, just like his dad.”

You looked up. Jake Seresin was headed straight for you, a grin practically splitting his face, his favorite cowboy hat resting on his head. You gave Hugo one last pat on the head before standing up, flinging your arms open wide, letting Jake pull you tightly into a hug. He smelled familiar, like dirt and ripe stone fruit, and as you pulled away you noted that his left hand, typically adorned with a gold wedding band, was bare.

“Good to have you back, Sparky,” he said, stepping toward the back of the house, Hugo following on his footsteps.

“God, been ages since someone’s called me that,” you replied. “In London they just called me that California girl.”

He laughed. Jake’s laugh was always something you had admired. Deep, and whole. It practically had its own seat at the long wooden table that your mother had piled high with bowls of colorful salads and plates of dip.

“Y/N, can you pour the wine Jake brought?”

“Sure.” You grabbed the bottle. It didn’t have a label, just a simple green bottle with a red wax drip over the cork. You sliced it off carefully, sinking a corkscrew into the soft cork with ease. Jake watched with hawk eyes as you yanked the handle up seamlessly, pulling out the cork and sniffing it. A warm pinot noir. You poured yourself a fingertip in a glass and took a sip. “Damn that’s good.”

Your mother frowned. “Manners, missy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mother, I’m twenty five.”

“You’re never too old to be reminded that it’s nice to have manners.”

“She’s not wrong, Marla,” Jake said, his fingertips folding over yours as he took the wine bottle, filling everyone’s glass. “It is damn good.”

“You’re biased,” your father said, leaning back against his wooden chair. “It’s the best vintage you’ve had since you bought the place.”

“Good rain last year,” Jake replied, sliding the glass back over toward you. “And no fires.”

“Thank God,” your father replied.

“Where’s Colin?” You turned left and right, your older brother nowhere to be seen.

An uncomfortable silence settled over the outdoor table. You frowned. Colin had always been the wild card of the family, but you had complete faith in him. The two of you were Irish twins, born only a year apart, and he was the one you spoke to almost daily while you lived abroad. Colin was the one who called you when cousin Jackie ditched her fiancé two days before the wedding, and Colin was the one who tapped on your door late at night to sneak out and go swimming on balmy summer nights. It was Colin who you could depend on, even when no one else could depend on him.

“He’s out,” your father said finally, folding his hands on the table. “Shall we get started?”

“Yes, please, I’m starving,” you replied, leaning forward and taking a heaping serving of your mother’s famous quinoa salad.

“So Sparky, how’s it going, being back?” Jake leaned forward in his iron chair, picking at a piece of garlic bread.

“Well, the food isn’t all brown,” you replied, biting into a ripe tomato, letting the flavor burst along your tongue, “so that’s a plus.”

“I quite liked those potato triangle things they had in Scotland,” your dad replied.

You rolled your eyes. “Potato tatties dad. And yes, those are good. But so are vegetables.” You paused. “I have to say, the wine here is way too expensive though.”

“Ouch.” Jake smirked. “Speaking of wine, your mom said you’re looking for a job for a few months, while you get everything for your clinic organized?” You nodded. You had signed the lease for the clinic over Zoom while still packing up your flat in London, excitement worming its way through your limbs. It was becoming real. Six years of school and finally you were opening your own counseling practice in California. “Contractor said we’re about four months from finishing.”

“Come work for me.” You looked up, surprised. Jake had his hand dangling over the side of his chair, petting Hugo’s fluffy head. “I need a new manager. Someone with people skills and a head for numbers. You can work whatever hours you need, if you need to start late or end early to check in on the clinic.”

“That’s a really nice offer.”

“I sense a but coming.”

You nodded. “But I don’t know anything about business.”

Jake waved a hand in the air. There was a nonchalance about him. There always had been. He was the polar opposite of your father – a hard exterior corporate lawyer. No nonsense. Jake and your father had been friends for as long as you could remember. But he and his late wife Jenny were the complete opposite of your parents. They traveled the world. They hiked in Peru and ate at tiny sidewalk cafes in Vietnam. For the majority of your life, they had lived in the Bay area, and you would see them a few times a year, the two of them dropping by on the tail end of a trip or at the start of another.

It wasn’t until Jenny passed away that Jake decided to put down roots. He packed up the Marin house, settled into a beautiful ranch-style home on the edge of the new vineyard he purchased.

“Neither did I,” he said. “You’ll make it work. You’re a smart girl. Besides, there’s free wine in the deal.”

You raised your glass. “Well, who could say no to that?”

***

You slid your sunglasses to the top of your head, locking the car door and staring out at the vineyards stretched in front of you.

Jake had bought the vineyard, Carrboro Estates, three years before, right after Jenny died. In that time, you had only been home once, and even that was just a quick four days during Christmas break. This was the first time you were seeing the vineyard in person.

It was a Monday, the vineyard was closed to the public. As you walked down the stone path toward the Tuscan-style doors, you couldn’t help but see the resemblance between your parents' cliff-side house and the structure in front of you.

“Hello?” The entry was large, with swirled marble slabs on the floor, a two-storey tall wall of wine bottles to your left, a round table in the center of the entry area with a few sample bottles of wine. You stepped closer. A picture of Jake sat in the very center of the table, grinning and holding up a glass of wine, the sun setting behind him over the grapes.

He looked handsome. It wasn’t the first time you had recognized your father’s friend was attractive. But it was the first time as an adult you realized just how much of a commodity Jake must be, now that he was single.

“Sparky? I’m down here, staircase on your right.”

You followed Jake’s voice, down a hallway that opened up into a large staircase. Quietly, sneakers slapping against the broad steps, you made your way to the lower level, which opened up to an entire wall of glass doors, a patio sitting right outside.

“Pretty nice view, right?” You swiveled around. Jake was holding a glass in one hand, cleaning it with a white cloth.

You grinned. “Nice is an understatement.”

“Welcome to Carrboro Estates.”

“Fancy.”

Jake chuckled. “Come on, let’s do the tour and then have a drink.”

Jake walked you through the lower level, which held the outdoor patio as well as the kitchen. Upstairs, there was a private events and tasting room, as well as a bar. One half of the building had floor to ceiling windows with views over the vineyard, which cascaded down the hillside.

“I can’t believe you built this all.”

“Most of it was done by the time I bought the property,” Jake said as the two of you settled into a table at the edge of the patio. He uncorked a bottle seamlessly, tipping it into a wide mouthed glass, the red liquid dripping down the side leaving thin streaks. “I just made some changes, and then added on the house.”

“Where is it?” You looked around.

“About half a mile that way,” Jake replied, stretching one finger to your right. “Just below that hill.”

“Bet it’s lovely.”

“I’ll have you over some time for dinner. Hugo would like it.” You grinned. Jake set his wine glass down. “So the job. I’m looking for someone to be here when I’m not, essentially. You’d be front of house and back of house, which means helping with tastings, ordering supplies for the food menu, overseeing staff and helping me with some of the books. A little bit of everything.”

“I’ve never had a real job,” you confessed. “I mean, I was a TA at Uni, and a lifeguard that one summer before senior year, but that’s about it.”

“I’m looking for someone smart, that people like and want to listen to. You’re perfect for the job.”

You cocked your head to one side. “That’s it? That’s the interview?”

“I trust you,” Jake said and you looked up, surprised. His eyes were locked on yours. “What I don’t get is why you think you can’t do this.”

His words cut, but not because they were harsh. You found yourself shocked that Jake Seresin of all people could read you like an open book.

“What if I fail?” you asked quietly.

“At what, pouring wine?” Jake shrugged. “Open a new bottle. I don’t care if you break a hundred, fuck, a thousand bottles. Doesn’t matter to me, Sparky.”

“Not the wine,” you whispered. “My clinic.”

Jake nodded. “So that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Terrified,” you admitted. “Excited. Every feeling in the book.”

“I was so worried the night before we opened that I accidentally got rip roaring drunk in the kitchen,” Jake said and you laughed. “Woke up the next morning at five a.m. on the floor in just my jeans and boots, no shirt. And had to open and welcome all the employees.”

“Does it get better?”

“Starting your own business is terrifying,” Jake said. “And it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. You’re going to be great.”

You smiled. “I’ll take the job.”

Jake tipped more wine into your glass. “Honey, your name’s already on the books. You’re working your first shift on Wednesday.” You blinked and Jake shrugged. “I said I needed help, didn’t I? Besides, this place needs some warmth in it. I think you’re exactly what we’ve been missing.”

Tag list:

@lyn-js @seresinhangmanjake @bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @dempy @allbark-no-bite @teacupsandtopgun @na-ta-sh-aa @katiedid-3 @bradshawburner @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @rosiahills22 @emo @horseshoegirl @eminyourjeans

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snailsgoingdowntown · 9 months

Text

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister in Law!

Re-upload due to complications.

Chapter 1

Dion x Fem! Reader

Warnings: possible yandere themes, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, slight incestual themes due to the content of “Roxana,” blood, mention of murder

Nsfw warnings: Lost of virginity (both parties?), fingering, oral (fem receiving), spit, reader does NOT get to finish, vaginal pain, HEAVY DUB/CON.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the harmful and dangerous actions/behaviors that takes place in this piece of fiction. These actions/behaviors should not be normalized or romanticized as they are extremely toxic and dangerous.

Minors/blank/blogs that don’t reblog fanfiction dni and don’t span like my posts or you will be blocked.

Overall story summary: you reincarnated into one of your favorite novel-turned-webtoons. However, you didn't want to become the female lead's sister-in-law...

Word count: 4542k

===

“The Way to Protect the Female Lead’s Older Brother,” also known as “ROXANA” was a rather dark novel that was adapted into a webtoon. And as luck would have it, the webtoon wasn’t finished, and you don’t remember all the details of the fan translated web novel you found online.

Now, why would that be a problem? Simple:

You reincarnated into it. Not as a main character, or even a servant to one of the families. You weren’t a child of Lant’s or one of his many wives. You weren’t a friend to one of his children, either. Instead, it was worse than most of what was listed.

Whatever God you managed to piss off had a silly little, petty revenge plan that was straight out of a third-rate horror novel with teenage girls fawning over it. And truthfully, if written right, the non-existent novel would have been a banger – but no, instead it was anything but. Or maybe you only really think that because of your position in this world, where your birth was simple, but painful for your mother, and you were lucky enough to be born into a family that loved and cared for and about you.

It was a noble family, to boot. Wealthy enough to live a comfortable life. Two siblings – an older sister who was already married at the age of thirty with a child on the way. The other was a 12-year-old boy who made it his life mission to be the most annoying little piece of shit on earth.

But as you lay on your back, hands holding your nightgown in place, all you could think about was how small Dion Argece makes you feel. The wedding ceremony just finished up hours ago, and here you are, back pressed against silk sheets as your now-husband hovers over you.

(Name) Argece.

What a horrible name and cruel faith.

Inky black hair that falls into his carmine red eyes that held indifference. His wedding-tux was still on, even the outer jacket with the silly lone rose in his pocket. Oh, what a shame – to be married to such a handsome man only for him to be obsessed with his sister and emotionally unavailable.

God despises you.

“Close your eyes if you’re uncomfortable.”

He unbuttons his outer jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and tosses it to the side. You should close your eyes, you think, because his face was nothing but stone. Not even a condescending grin. He doesn’t comfort you, either – at least not in the typical sense.

“Keep still,” his gloved hands grab your thighs and you let him open them, creating space for him to get closer. You want to push him away and run. But what good would that do? Why couldn’t the man just slice something and claim that the blood on the sheets was from your first night?

“I’m scared.” You speak without thinking, becoming stiff as his hands traveled from your outer thigh to the inner, creeping underneath your nightgown. His gloves feel cold and uncomfortable, touch borderline rough. “I – I need a moment. Please?”

He tilts his head, giving it thought. After a moment he removes himself, but annoyance radiates off him. Your heart beats faster as the second’s pass. You remain on your back. The ceiling is painted white, no decorations and the room was bare saved for a dresser, closet, mirror and a random chair by the window.

You will be sleeping in here, from now on.

“Can’t do it? Then don’t.” he’s annoyed, surely, otherwise he wouldn’t look at you like you were an insect. What a wonderful way to start the newlywed life. But it’s not that easy to walk away, and while it sounds like he’s giving you a say-so, he isn’t; if you don’t consummate your marriage tonight, then…

“… I’m sorry. It’s my first time and I heard there would be pain.” You shouldn’t have to explain yourself. But Dion wasn’t exactly known for his… compassion. Or basic human emotions, either.

If this was someone else, would you be able to do it? Where did everything go wrong? This didn’t happen in the novel; Dion didn’t get married. There wasn’t a grand wedding with the Five Ruling Families in attendance. Nor was there a steamy scene with this man throughout the novel, not even in the side stories.

How did you end up here?

“Then relax.” If you weren’t scared of losing your life you would have run him over. It affects everything! Then again, it wouldn’t matter to him – this is a duty. Not something he wanted, you’re sure, and even if he did it would only have his best interests in mind.

“… I’m ready.” You don’t answer him, because it would only lead to a one-sided argument. Even a wall listens better. Despite your wishes, Dion does the same as last – settles in-between your legs, and this time, you close your eyes.

“Good. Try to relax or it won’t fit.” Your cheeks burn at that, mind already picturing how it would look. Many men say things like that, even in your old world. It’s just a thing they said, like with many things. It doesn’t really mean anything, because if it did then…

His gloves are still on, cold and grip tight on your thighs. You were hoping he would be gentler. But as his hands travel up and up until they’re pulling at the edges of your underwear to slide them down, you realize he won’t.

There’s no slickness down there, your underwear dry and vagina even drier. You peek through your eyelashes, watching as he inspects the article of clothing. He tosses it a few seconds later.

“I’m only going to ask once – would you rather keep your clothes on or off?” It seems that with every second reality just hits harder and harder. This was going to happen. Nothing could stop it. And if hypothetically, if he were to stop this, what then?

Even if he sliced an arm to fake the night, what about later? A baby, Lant wants Dion to have a child. No. You couldn’t do that to a child, especially yours.

“On. Please.” You expect him to just shove in a finger or two, watching as your body jerks in pain. Instead, he lifts your hips until your bottom was off the bed and flips the flimsy skirt up. And then there’s a glob of something wet and gooey, legs twitching as it lands on your bare cunt.

“D – did you just… spit?” steading yourself on your arms, you look on in disbelief as your husband just spat on your pussy. A string of saliva hangs from his tongue.

Instead of answering you, much less look at you, his thumb comes into play and spreads his saliva over the surface of your cunt. It’s only when his thumb swipes over your clit do you let out a shaky breath.

Maybe he was feeling generous or maybe he was curious. Dion decided to rub the twitching nub over and over until your legs twitch and cunt clenched around nothing. The glove made it uncomfortable, but even so, you just tried your best to focus on the pleasure. You weren’t sure if he would give you pleasure like this again.

“You’re enjoying this,” he retreats his hand leaving your twitching and needy clit lonely.

A pathetic whimper escapes as you watch your husband take his glove off with his teeth. This man is everything you fear and more, a character that you should have never met. Yet the sight of him lowering his head to lick a long stride against your slit has your legs shaking.

His tongue is warm and slimy, causing your hands to clench the sheets as your head falls back. Another lick and another until it’s flicking your clit back and forth, sending warmth throughout your body. However, despite the pleasure he’s giving you, his grip is still tight, almost painful on your hips.

Your heartbeat doesn’t slow down as he continues. Your fear barely dies down in your chest, even as the tip of his tongue teases your entrance. You shut your eyes tight, a breathless gasp leaving your lips as he thrusts his tongue into your cunt.

“It feels – “a pause as you catch your breath, “weird, it feels really weird and – “

Dion repeats the action until you’re a trembling mess, sensitive from your mental state and the current oral sex you’re receiving. It’s hard to focus on either one, your mind constantly reminding you that you’re in a novel, about to fuck a man who’s jaded and possibly has a thing for his sister –

“Ah… wait, that’s a lot…” he decides to go further, bringing his thumb back and rubs loose circles into your clit. He’s still eating you out, but not like a man starved like you read in erotic novels.

Even so, your husband keeps at it. If it was a good or bad thing was up for debate – on one hand, while it does feel good, everything is moving too fast, your pleas for slowing down falling on deaf ears. It really is a lot, tongue fucking you while those loose circles on your clit become tighter, rougher. Should you just lay back and take what he gives?

Your mother would probably say so. Your sister would just pat your head and smile like it was expected. Normal. Take what he gives, especially if it benefits you in any way.

“…?” your eyes open at his tongue leaving your cunt with a saliva trail, his eyes glued to your twitching sex. His thumb also stops rubbing circles, instead going back to grip your hip as your back starts to become sore. Your ass is still off the bed and if he keeps you hosted up like this, then you really will snap in half.

But then he locks eyes with you.

“I thought you were scared.” Dion doesn’t let you respond, either because he doesn’t care or because it would ruin the ‘mood.’ He latches his mouth to your poor, abused nub instead. And sucks.

“H-hey!” one hand supporting you while the other grabs at his hair, you didn’t expect him to throw your legs over his shoulders. “That’s enough, really, no need to – ugh…” his mouth was warm and soft, but it sends your nerves on fire.

Good. Bad. Good. Bad.

Good, bad, does it matter anymore?

He sucks harder and your fingers tug harshly at his hair. You kick your legs but are unable to tell if it’s from pleasure or the flight or fight response he’s causing you. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t bat an eye, making it his life mission to suck you dry.

“Ah – wait, Dion – “

It’s at your whine of his name does he finally, finally stop, a ‘pop’ when he detaches his mouth from your sensitive and bullied clit. Your husband decides to lick one last long stripe from your entrance to your clit, all the while making eye contact with you. Your chest heaves as your mind settles, arousal overthrowing your thoughts.

“What is it?” Monotone, his voice is monotone and he’s not even out of breath. Your mother lied, there’s not even a hint of pink across those cheeks. It’s fine, though – no, it’s not, it’s baffling how steady he seems when your back is about to break, and you can’t even breathe.

Your eyes travel from his to his hair, where your hand is still grasping the strands. Mind still catching up to your body, you let go and draw your hand back, covering your eyes with it. Your entire body is shaky and legs sore. You’re not used to this position.

“It – it’s enough.” Your husband lets you pull your legs back, feet pressing against his broad shoulders as you bring them back down. The relief is almost immediate, a pleasurable and relief-filled sigh leaving your chest. You allow yourself to rest for a bit, your sensitive cunt and sore legs screaming for it.

“… O – okay, I think, I think that’s fine. Excuse me…” gently, you pull one leg up until your foot is flat against the bed. With a shudder, you trace your entrance timidly with two fingers, getting used to the touch. You’re not sure of how big he was, but you’ll use three fingers just in case.

You gape like a fish when his hand reaches out, grabbing yours roughly. You didn’t even notice the dip in the mattress as Dion got closer on his knees, face inches away from yours. Oh God, now what –

“What are you doing?” clearly annoyed, Dion doesn’t let you look away – not that you were going to – free hand grabbing your face, pointer finger and thumb on each cheek. It’s barely loose enough to leave no bruises. It hurts regardless.

“I – I was… prepping…” part of you wants to pretend that this man doesn’t know how to comfortably prepare you for pentation with his… but you know better. Because an inexperienced man wouldn’t know how to do things with his tongue like that, or where the clit was because –

“Are you still scared?” The hand that was holding yours releases it, opting to sneak its way to your cunt. His fingers were larger than yours, nimbler as they stroke your labia minora. Are the shivers washing over you from nervousness or arousal?

“… I’m scared of the pain.” By instinct, you knew he meant more than scared of sex – if you feared him. Still.

It doesn’t need to be said.

“Scared of the pain?” His eyes glow in the moonlight, bright red with absolutely no emotion. “Why?” he doesn’t break eye contact as his fingers inch closer to your entrance, stroking the opening, making your legs jolt. What a horrible man.

You remind yourself that this man only felt fear as a child – and even then, it probably wasn’t for very long. Nothing lasts for long, in this estate.

“Because I hate it.” You don’t break eye contact either, breathing in when one finger slowly sinks in, your walls now stretching uncomfortably. It’s not as painful as you thought it would be, your wetness mixed with his saliva making it easier. Your nails are about to rip holes in the silk sheets.

Like a curious animal, he tilts his head, curling his finger. It doesn’t feel good, it hurts, but you endure it even when you wince. Dion decides it would be a good idea to spread your legs a bit further, and like a bug, crawls between them even more. You hiccup when he adds a second finger.

They’re bigger than yours, they reach deeper. In your old world, did it feel like this too? You can’t remember.

“It’s going to hurt worse if you don’t let me finish this. Relax your legs before it hurts worse.” Pressure builds in your eyes, but you fight it off. “Save your tears for when it matters.”

You’re tired of him already.

He doesn’t move them, at first. It’s almost like he expects this, because as you adjust to something foreign inside you, he starts to rub at your clit, again. Softly this time, touch firm enough to feel but not hard enough to hurt. Or maybe you’re lying to yourself because you’re wincing, still.

When he starts to thrust them in and out, you force yourself to look at the ceiling, scared to see the expression on his face. You also don’t want to watch the show, scared it’ll already be bloody. Just a bit.

“It’s tight.” He states it like it’s the morning news. “And wet.” Your cheeks burn with both shame and embarrassment, shutting your eyes.

“… ugh…,” groaning, your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. “It hurts, a lot.” You sit up, back against the headboard, avoiding your husband’s gaze. Unfortunately, by doing this, your eyes land on your messy hole, light blood on his fingers as he pulls them out only to thrust them in again.

“It’s normal. The more you resist the worse it gets.” You give up, letting him do as he pleases, shutting your mouth.

The fingering still hurts as the minutes go by, but little by little the pressure eases down and when he arches his hand, he hits something soft and spongy. He’s rewarded the sight of your head banging against the headboard once, shoulder tense as you bite your bottom lip.

If only you could see that look in his eyes.

“Here?” He repeats the action, faster this time. You only nod your head, lips ajar, tongue swiping over them. Your hips have a mind of their own, raising as the heel of his hand rapidly smacks against your clit with his thrust of his hand.

You’re half there mentally and halfway in heaven, momently forgetting just who was here with you, who room this belonged to, and your entire situation to begin with. “Oh - wait, it’s a lot but – “

A third finger is added, and it starts to sting again. Another wince, another groan, but your arousal helps to keep the pain to minimum. All three fingers curl to hit that special spot that makes you see blacked out stars and pussy clench. All the while light blood coats his fingers, a sight he’s already used to due to his lifestyle.

It’s only when he pulls his hand away completely do you return from the skies, a small layer of sweet coating your forehead. Your hands are shaky as you look at him, only to be drowned back into reality when you’re met with those red, indifferent eyes that glow brighter than the moon.

“If you’re ready, lay on your back and spread your legs.” He undoes his pants while saying this, scooting back to give you some room.

With a heavy heart, you do so, laying on your back and spread your legs. You were fine just moments ago, so why is your heart leaping out of your throat rather than staying in your chest? Maybe it was because of the pleasure, or…

You’re scared, again.

You don’t look when something fat and heavy plops onto your pelvis. You don’t look when he brings you closer by your thighs. You don’t look as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds, catching on your clit.

“Relax or it won’t fit,” he reminds you before pushing the fat head in. At first, it’s a sting no bigger than an ant bite. But then another inch goes in, and you feel like a sword is cutting you straight up open, your legs tensing and hands grasping his forearms in a futile attempt to stop him.

Your nails dig into his sleeves, and you can feel the skin underneath. The tears build up as your face becomes hot, taking in deep breaths like it would soften the intruding body part.

“Big – it’s too big, it’s not going to fit – “

“… You look cute when you cry.” It’s sinister, teasing and everything that makes your stomach drop. His thumb wipes away your tears that’s already staining your skin. But he stops regardless, if only to shut you up if nothing else.

You think a few minutes pass but it’s hard to tell when he’s still inside, pulsing and you could feel every vein on his cock. It’s thick, it’s big and you don’t think you’re equipped to handle it, handle him. He’s everything that ruins your sense of self, that makes your dreams shatter and fear rot you from the inside out.

But he’s your husband…

But he’s your husband.

“Relax,” he inches in deeper, slower this time, but not letting you get a word in. Your nails dig deeper, and if it weren’t for his shirt, you would have drawn blood. Another inch, another gasp that leaves you breathless, grasping for anything that could keep you grounded. The only thing you could grab was him, however.

“Dion, Dion, you’re going to break me, I can’t – I can’t – “

“You can. You have to.” Was his voice raspy, just now? If so, it worries you, because you just remembered one very important detail – Dion Argece was, if nothing else, a sadist. Be it from his childhood trauma, or if he would be like this regardless of, he loved seeing Roxana cried.

It never occurred to you that he would love seeing you cry, too.

How deep was he? It feels you’re being speared open, his cock bullying its way into your virgin hole. You weren’t a virgin in your last life, but it didn’t hurt like this. It had hurt, felt like you were being ripped, but not enough to make you cry and breathless.

You think you can feel blood trickling down your ass crack. “Please tell me you’re almost there, please…” sniffling, you look up at your husband, the man taking your virginity in the name of ‘marriage.’ A mirror shatters in the back of your mind.

There was a flush across his cheeks. Pupils blown wide and a small grin on his lips. He was enjoying this. Your pain, your tears and perhaps even your fear – he was enjoying this.

It would have been better if he didn’t feel anything, you think. Just a stone statue that was performing its task. But even monsters had emotions, you guess.

“I’m not. Just endure it for a bit longer – I’ll stop once I’m at the hilt.” Was he a liar in the novel? You think he was, otherwise, the overtaking of the Argece family wouldn’t have happened. Lant wouldn't be dead. But things haven’t followed the novel to a T – this was proof enough.

“You’ll stop? Like, completely? You – you took my virginity, so that should be enough. Right?”

You hate it when he keeps wiping your tears away. Or when he slides in even more, your blood coating his stupid dick. You hate it when he brings one hand to toy with your clit, granting you pleasure that was just overthrown by the smothering pain traveling up to your belly.

He doesn’t answer. And that was enough for you to rake your nails down the back of neck, drawing blood in return. He’s making you bleed, so it was only fair if you could too, right?

Deeper and deeper until his balls rest against your bottom and pelvic meeting yours. Surprisingly, your husband keeps his word, letting you adjust to the new feeling. It feels heavy. It feels like a heartbeat, like a rod that was stuck. It felt awful.

How long did it take you to get used to it, in the past? No longer than fifteen minutes max, right? No, shorter than that. Then again, it didn’t hurt this much, but that partner was more loving, more caring, gentler –

“Who are you thinking about?”

The question breaks you out of your daze. You blink, once, before you question him back. He only glares in response.

Panic fills you when he pulls out, pain still there, blood still trickling down. “Wait, you’re – “

“I’m what?” he pulls out until only the head remained inside. You try your best to ignore the bruising grip he has on your hips. You’re going to be sore tomorrow. If you survive this, anyway.

God, if you’re listening, please let this night end peacefully.

“B-big. It’s going to hurt, please don’t…” dragging your hands down from his neck to his chest, your fingers dig into his shirt.

“Hm. A shame, really; you still must give birth, eventually. It’s better to get used to it now than later.” Your mind doesn’t catch up with your body, legs tensing when he slides oh so carefully back in, like he didn’t just push your worries aside like nothing. “Relax.”

“Dion,” hiccupping, you brace yourself, head nuzzling into his chest as your hold on his shirt tightens. When he pulls back out, you could feel every detail, every vein trail, his grith truly opening you. He graces you a mercy, going at a languid pace, minimizing the pain. His thumb never stopped rubbing your clit, either.

It goes like that, for a good while. Slow and steady, your hushed sobs dying on your lips, your husband careful with his thrusts, but not his grip. It was almost comforting, in a way. But you were still scared of him, and of what will happen after this.

“… I have a proposition.”

His hips stop and your ears perk up.

“You want me to stop, correct?” Dion pulls back until he’s on his heels, his cock dragging along your walls. You wince before breathing out. He doesn’t even try to hide the sadistic look in his eye as he sees the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. He almost grins in glee.

“Y-yes…” You don’t let go of his shirt. “Why…?” there’s hope inside you, but dread starts to rot it away.

“Jerk it.”

“…what?”

He was different from the novel. Extremely so, because you doubt that Dion would suggest a thing, much less give you a choice in the matter. That Dion would have either ignored you and this night or take you as is, no mercy, no humanity granted if this took place at the beginning at the novel.

When he doesn’t repeat himself, you pull yourself up until you’re resting on your knees. The sight of blood both on his cock and the sheets make you gag and thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it. Hesitantly, you take him into your hands, fingers barely able to close around it.

It throbs in your hand.

Your blood is coating your hands now, too.

Only silence is between you, your hands working him. Your thumb swipes over his head, circling it before stroking his dick up and down. Your other hand plays with his balls, massaging them. You’re not sure how long it would take him to finish.

Your core throbs in pain, and you become worried over the thought of peeing. It would probably hurt.

You want to sleep.

Without giving it much thought, just like your husband, you spit on it, a glob of saliva falling onto the staff. It throbs harder. And when you look at him, tired eyes and drool still dripping down from your tongue, still jerking him off –

“…Ngh…”

It’s almost cute, the way sperm spurts out and makes a mess on your hands. The very small and fleeting look of embarrassment on his feature is almost enough to comfort you. But when there’s barely a sheen of sweat adoring his forehead, unlike you was still recovering, you’re reminded that your husband was different from you.

There are no kisses, no sweet nothings shared between lovers. No stroking your hair or comforting your trembling form as your legs shake. Or even an offer to warm a bath for you, the warm water soothing your body. There’s none of that.

Not even a smile.

“Welcome to the Argece family, wife.”

Instead, all that awaits you is a restless sleep on a bloodied mattress with a husband who left after cleaning himself up.

Which God despises you so much and why?

#dion agriche #dion argece #Dion x reader #yandere dion agriche #deon argece #dion agriche smut #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #twtptflob #deon agrece x reader

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