#word count anon my beloved

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hello dear!! I have a request for the Radio Demon

Do you mind writing sub!Alastor? Imagine your in lobby of the hotel with your beloved Alastor (on his lap) and you decide to do some frisky cockwarming with him.. well in the beginning he has control but then maybe Charlie or Lucifer u walks in.. you decide to tease him until he can't take it anymore and ends up having to cover his moans as he gums in you..

Welp! That's my request🎀 you can delete this ofc but do as you will ~

from windigo anon🦌

i’m drooling, frothing at the mouth, going insane, i love this idea!!! eeeee thank you so much i hope this was good enough i struggled a bit with cockwarming so i hope i did well

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, cockwarming, SUB!Alastor/DOM!Reader, creampie, possible breeding kink, exhibitionism, Lucifer knows what you’re doing, he’s the devil, and you use him to tease Al, jealous lucifer, lucifer is a cuck lowkey, reader wears a dress but no gendered terms or anything, maybe threesome elements?, OOC ALASTOR, NOT proof read, LMK what i missed! xo

word count: 1.9K

You and Alastor have been a thing for a very long time, and throughout the years he’d become rather comfortable with sexual intimacy. Alastor always held the reigns no matter where in life he was, that is excluding the bedroom. Alastor had made a foolish deal with you long ago, he wanted your soul and you were a fairly powerful demon at the time so there was a sit down conversation about such endeavours. You agreed to sell your soul and tie yourself to him, complete all tasks he needed done, so long as he was your bitch. Well, that wording wasn’t used back then, nor was there any sexual innuendos in the mix.

Before it simply meant he couldn’t try to place fear into you, he always had to speak truthfully when it came to you, and if plan involved you, essentially to the outside world he was allowed to look like the boss but behind closed doors he wasn’t allowed to pull that stunt. You two ended up getting along quite nicely as the years went by, your magic side of the deal made it so if he broke his promises, the deal would be off and more then likely fatal to the both of you, so it wasn’t too surprising things went well.

What was surprising was the relationship you developed, Alastor was unable to lie to you about most things due to your deal and most of the time you approached him as a peer lacking judgement. Even when you disagreed with his plans you still still gave your genuine advice and thoughts which made him trust you. Slowly through this weird bond of trust and leaning on each other, Alastor developed romantic feelings and thank god you felt them back.

Alastor was slow to warm up to affections, which meant you normally took over, letting him keep his poise and smile you’d always make the first move, asking for consent to push further whether it was a simple hug, kiss, or a little more frisky. Eventually though, things got to the point they’re at now, where Alastor craves you like his lungs crave air. He is ravenous for your touch, your kiss, your head surrounding his cock. It’s a tough couple months during mating season because he begs and begs for you like a starved man.

Because of his eagerness for you, and to please you, he’s very kindly broadened his horizons leading to absolutely tasteful trying of kinks. Recently the two of you have been planted at the hotel, Alastor called upon you the day he got there, and privately when alone explained his plans with the Devils child, your man had always been an ambitious one, but you couldn’t say no to him. So of course you stood alongside his plans, and now you’re not only dealing with the Devils child, but the devil himself.

Lucifer moved himself in after the big ol’ brawl, and thankfully things have gone somewhat smoothly between Alastor and Lucifer, as in they haven’t killed each other yet, but Lucifer made it his absolute mission to try and “steal you away,” like he did with Adam. Obviously you were committed to Alastor, but your mind would wander to sinful places about all the ways you could show Lucifer how much you loved you deer man. Oh and you just knew how.

Alastor sat in the lobby, looking through a newspaper as he sipped his coffee, music humming softly in the background. The whole lobby was vacant, even Husk was gone for the moment, you made sure of it. Walking into the lobby from the kitchen, your dress flowing around your legs, you walked up to Alastor with a warm smile on your face. “What’re you up to my dear?” You ask softly, making him hum eyes shifting from his newspaper to you, dragging up your form. “Just a little bit of reading, nothing much my doe,” Alastor seemed sleepy almost in the state he was in, his voice was soft and lacking his usual enthusiasm, however it wasn’t a state you were unfamiliar with knowing him for so long.

Slowly you lowered yourself sideways onto his lap, he complied with your actions wordlessly by whisking his newspaper away with his magic, allowing you to scootch yourself right up on him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you played with the short hairs at the base, causing him to visibly shiver. Alastor smiled down at you softly, watching you tenderly. “I feel,” You whispered with a pause, mimicking somebody taking a thoughtful breath. “Needy.” You breathe out with a cheesy smile plastered on your face. Alastor jolts a bit still entirely not used to forward language such as that, but he didn’t say anything simply blinked at you.

“I think i’m gonna lift this dress up, and your gonna unbuckle these pants, and i’m gonna seat myself nice n comfy on ya,” You purred hands messaging all around his chest as you spoke, trailing down to the button of his slacks and back up to his shoulders. You felt him twitch against his pants, the blood obviously was already flowing to his groin. “Dear we’re in public.” Try as he may, Alastors words were wobbly and his smile looked more like a grimace.

“No baby, we’re in private, in our new home, at the hotel, where no one can see.” You cooed condescendingly, pulling your hands away to hike up your dress. Alastor dared to looked down as you bunched your dress at your hips. Alastor closed his eyes, head falling back at the sight of you bare, nothing but your dress skirt keeping you covered. Turning yourself around, you put your back to him, grinding yourself down on him teasingly.

“Y’know what to do, don’t make me say it dear.” Your voice was stern compared to the tone you held before, Alastor blew out air at your words, head still thrown back at rest on the back of the sofa. Finally he brought his hands from the resting position next to him, and freed himself from his slacks and boxers. You sighed happily as you slowly inched your way down on him, Alastors hands gripped your hips harshly, and his legs kicked out and spasmed every inch you took down.

Once buttoned out, you fixed your gown to flow around you, and backed yourself up against his chest, head rested on his shoulder. Brining his head up to gaze down at you, Alastor gave you a questioning look, sweat already gathering on his forehead. “Dear please-” Alastors words got caught off by a boisterous call, and the front door swinging open. Fixing his posture, Alastor snapped into position, positioning his legs up right feet on the floor, straightening his back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up with him.

“Hellloooo everybody! Just had an amazing meeting, everything went in my favour, as always.” Lucifer waltzed in swinging his cane. He briefly paused scanning the room to see only you two sitting stiffly. You were more relaxed, eyes littled with an easygoing smile, Alastor however was tense; his smile was tight and unfriendly, with his eye twitching. “Well hello there you two, lovely to see you here.” Lucifer smiled happily plopping himself on the couch next to you, making you two shake.

The small bit of motion from Lucifer throwing himself down, made you clench, your arousal leaking down Alastors cock and onto his pants. Clearing his throat to suppress a moan, Alastor then gave a tiny ‘hello’ to the devil. Turning your body more toward the devil, you made sure to pick yourself up off Alastor a bit, and lower yourself back down, making him sink his nails into you.

Wrapping one arm around Alastors neck, you leaned sideways against him, facing Lucifer, your skirt successfully obstructing the entire view of your sin. “Do tell Luce.” You urge pretending to care, Lucifer caught on to the strange behaviour immediately however he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it yet, so he pushed on shrugging and explaining his meeting. You coyly moaned occasionally throughout his explanations playing it off as “oh”s and “ah”s to his story rather than Alastors twitching cock.

Leaning forward Alastor stuck his blushing face in your hair, breathing heavily into it. “Is he doing okay?” Lucifer asked suddenly, quirking a brow at Alastor. Around your waist Alastors arms tightened, and his legs once again spread and splayed out a bit allowing him more space. Alastor felt pitiful, but in a way he loved it, only you had this power and nobody else, he could live with that. Alastor was too blitzed out to realise he’d subtly humped up into you, needing some sort of release. Playing with Alastors hair, you shrugged your shoulders at the devil, your poise still in tacked.

“Yes, I do believe he’s a little sickly.” Lucifer noticed the twitch in Alastors hips now, his eyes growing in size every so slightly. “Yknow i just want to stay something Lucifer,” You begin to say, eyeing Al from your peripheral, seeing his eyes closed. “I really think we ought to stop with the battle, Alastor treats me very well, very good,” You purr fixing your posture, making Alastor groan into your hair.

“I think it’s time to stop with the whole ‘i could take your partner’ shtick.” You say sharply, with finality, Lucifers eyes at this point were flicking back and forth between the two of you, a prominent blush on his face. You grinned cheekily once again and shifted again trying to fix yourself to face forward again, as you did so you heard Lucifer take a breath to speak, but it got interrupted by a guttural groan from Alastor.

Without warning Alastors legs flexed his hips jerking involuntarily up against you, it caught you off guard and made you gasp and moan. It didn’t stop after one thrust, Alastor sunk his teeth into your shoulder jerking his hips up into you, panting and groaning without care. With one forceful thrust and growl, you whined feeling him force himself against you fully, cumming far up into you, stealing your breath. Lucifer watched bug eyed and taken aback, he never saw Alastor so pleasured, now he felt a ping of jealousy; before this moment he wanted to steal you away to show you how much better he can fuck you compared to Alastor, now he wanted you to fuck him and make him feel the way Alastor felt now.

Alastors form grew demonic, stretching and contorting, you still in his lap. You didn’t move an inch as he contorted, not afraid of Alastor what so ever. Alastors neck snapped inhumanely to Lucifer. “You are to never speak of this again.” Alastors voice didn’t sound like his own when he spoke, and whether or not Lucifer was truly scared didn’t matter as he fumbled, stuttered and then stumbled off covering his eyes and apologising. With the snap of his fingers, Alastor magicked the two of you in the safety of his radio tower, where no one dared to enter unwelcomed. “Dear, that was unacceptable. But amusing, you get away with this little fiasco only because it was Lucifer you did it in front of.”

Alastor growled at you demonic form on display, smile stretched, he had your cheeks tightly pinched in between his nails. Shrugging your shoulders, you tiptoed up to give his teeth a coy kiss. “Whatever maybe now he’ll leave us alone.”

[mickandmusings]

sincerity & sonnets

-

pairing: anthony bridgerton x f!reader

word count: 2.1k

summary: anthony bridgerton is blessed with many things-a warm, loving family, a well-funded lifestyle as a viscount, a beautiful wife. more notably, he is cursed with a short fuse and a sharp tongue, which might lead to his demise.

(based off of this request! to the anon who requested, I sort of wrote the argument as more of a sharp remark, but i hope it is still angsty enough for your liking! <3)

warnings: angsty->fluffy, no other warnings

-

As Anthony sat at his desk, scribbling away at his numerous piles of papers stacked in front of him, he noted the unusual quietness that had fallen on his study. He first thought that he had shut the door, but one quick look at the doorway contradicted his beliefs. Anthony's eyebrows furrowed in confusion-his home was never quiet.

Between his own family, and the families of his four sisters and three brothers, his home was full of life: laughter bounding off the walls, his wife and sisters' voices chatting over tea, the stampeding footfalls of his hoard of nieces and nephews assured his ears would never grow accustomed to utter silence. Even in the rare occurrence that the house was empty save for Anthony and his beloved wife, he'd often hear her humming to herself as she attended to her own business in their home, or she would join him in his study, writing her own correspondences at the smaller desk next to his own. Which is why, now, as he sat at his desk this afternoon, the silence stunned him. Anthony frowned, lifting his pocket watch to assure himself he was not entirely losing his mind. As the gold clock stared back at him, the small hand signaled it was midday.

He chuckled to himself, his wife must have chosen to sleep in entirely too long. Y/N was a chronic night owl, often keeping Anthony awake with her bedside chatter and comments on the appearance of the night sky through the window that faced their bed. Anthony would indulge her, but would still wake before the sun. His wife, however, would not budge for several more hours. He grinned and pocketed his watch, pushing himself up from his chair to wake his sleeping beauty of a wife.

Anthony bounded up the stairs two at a time, nodding curtly at any house staff before reaching their shared bedchambers. His dark eyes peer into the empty bedroom-his wife certainly was not here. He noted the dutifully made bed, the open curtains allowing the sunlight in, and, most importantly, his wife's absence. Anthony shook his head briefly before dashing back down the stairs, nearly stumbling into one of his wife's handmaidens.

"Pardon me," he addresses the woman with a sigh, a bit breathless from the unexpected goose chase his wife has taken him on. "Do you know the whereabouts of my wife?"

The younger maid looks at Anthony almost confused, but quickly takes on a professional tone:

"The Viscountess is reading in the garden, she's only just gotten back from tea with the Dowager Viscountess and the Duchess."

Anthony nodded in thanks, hastily departing for their expansive garden, his mind racing. Seeing his wife was an afternoon ritual-she would come bounding into his study after tea with his mother and respective sisters, spouting off all of the new ladies' gossip as he listened intently, all while pretending he was entirely disinterested. He enjoyed seeing her eyes grow wide with the shock of scandal, or her smile at a sweet interaction she witnessed at the park. If you were to ask Anthony Bridgerton, there was no sight more splendid than his wife in all of her extraordinary, everyday beauty. Not that he would admit that aloud, at least not to anyone but her.

Frankly, he was missing her presence today more than he cared to admit. He spotted Y/N almost instantly, her periwinkle gown shining in the sun. She sat in a chair politely under a shady tree, the book on her lap seemingly forgotten. Her expressive eyes locked onto the treeline in the distance, her face solemn. Anthony's heart seemed to fall in his chest, the sinking realization of why his home had been so soundless for the entirety of the day. His chest felt tight as he thought of his actions last night...

-

It had been a very, very long day for Anthony. With Francesca's upcoming debut to society, his mother had been harping on Anthony for nearly a fortnight about every minute detail. His patience for his mother was infinite, but sometimes she did manage to test its limits. Atop this hurdle was the never ending stacks of paperwork littering his desk, waiting to be looked over and signed off by his barely legible scrawl. He had neglected to write Colin back for weeks-his younger brother writing about his travels in Greece. The house staff had been in and out of his study all day, the incessant knocking severing his nerves. The heavy weight of life as a viscount was falling on Anthony, making him irritable and exhausted. His dear wife had settled his discomfort around lunch, bringing his nearly-cold meal into his study to make sure he ate. She had left him with a chaste kiss and a better mood, but Anthony had returned to her worse for wear.

Dinner in their large dining room had felt unnaturally dreary, only the sound of utensils clanking against china plates filling the air, only to be stifled by his wife's chatter. Normally, Anthony would've listened attentively, enjoying hearing about trips to the modiste or how Portia Featherington had driven his wife to near madness. Today, however, her voice had him pressing his nails into his palms to aid his irritation. He sipped his wine and shuffled his food on his plate to avoid making eye contact, he would not want her to see the frustration lingering in his eyes.

"Eloise was completely beside herself, I had never seen her so embarrassed! Madame Delacroix-"

"Must you talk so incessantly?!" Anthony's voice spat out in a low growl, dripping with fierce vexation.

Y/N's eyes grew wide, looking at her husband as if he had sprouted an extra arm and slapped her with it. She said nothing, only cowering in on herself, staring down at her lap as she fidgets with her hands. After several moments of Anthony's intense silence, she lifts a shaky hand and wipes the tears forming in her eyes as she hastily made her way out of the room, attempting to put as much distance between her and Anthony as possible.

Anthony followed suit moments later, feeling angry at himself as he slammed the door of his study shut, falling asleep at his desk hours later. Y/N had slept on her side of a bed far too large for one, her eyes tender and cheeks splotchy, her mind racing. Did she truly talk too much? Had he been annoyed by her daily talks for all these months? Her mind weaved small details into a full blown breakdown, and she quickly settled on being Anthony's perfect, quiet wife as she caved to her drowsiness.

-

The wind blew his wife's curls against her shoulder as Anthony approached her in the backyard, her back still facing him. He wasn't sure she had even heard him approach, her eyes still focused on the landscape sprawled before them. Anthony shuffles nervously, his hands behind him as he stands at her side, only the wind and birds chirping aiding the suffocating silence.

"Splendid weather we're having," Anthony's voice finally spoke, awkward and fumbling into casual conversation as he sank into the chair across from him. Y/N said nothing, only blinking in the same direction she had been staring at the entire time. Anthony nodded, mostly to himself, resigning himself to her silence, it was what he deserved at the moment.

After several moments of dead silence, Y/N turned her attention back to the book perched in her lap, and Anthony sat silently, wanting to spout out his apology in a hurried, bumbling manner, but he knew his wife, she would simply nod and continue reading, allowing herself to stew in prolonged silence.

He rose quietly, leaving with a small kiss landing atop her head-a touch that burned Y/N's skin. She watched Anthony leave out of the corner of her eye, sighing heavily as his presence was back inside their home. She was a myriad of feelings: angry at Anthony for being so blatantly cruel, his words had stung and left her reeling for hours. She was sad, as much as the words had fired her up, they had torn her heart, leaving her chest heavy with dejection. Y/N was nearly bursting at the seams to just apologize-even if it wasn't her who needed to apologize-just so the awkward encounters would come to an end. She wondered if Anthony even felt remorse at all.

In his study, Anthony ran his hands through his hair for the hundredth time, attempting to focus on the business papers in front of him. His efforts were fruitless-all he could think of was the empty look on Y/N's face. He had never seen her this lifeless, like her glow had been snuffed out, and it was entirely his fault. Anthony's mind raced with a million different scenarios of how he would make this up to her, ranging from flowers to begging on hands and knees, but despite his blunders, he knew his lady well. His Viscountess had never been one for showy things or frivolous purchases, she would only want his sincerest apologies. He would do it tonight, over dinner, he decided. He only hoped when the time came, she would at least spare him a glance.

-

Hours later, at the dining room table, Anthony found himself sitting in his chair at the head of the table completely alone. The kitchen staff came and left with plates and glasses, but his wife had yet to make an appearance. Anthony's foot tapped against the floor in anxiety, his eyes shooting up to the closest staff member, nearly shouting:

"Where is the Viscountess taking her dinner?"

The head of the kitchen staff looked at Anthony wide-eyed at his outburst, replying politely:

"Viscountess Bridgerton took her dinner in the library tonight."

Anthony said nothing, rising from his seat and walking down the hallway, coming to the door of the library and knocking lightly.

"Come in."

Anthony nearly burst into a fit of tears, happy to hear her voice.

He pushed the door open, Y/N's eyes meeting his before they dropped back down to the open book in her hands. Anthony felt guilt press heavy on his chest. He settled into the plush chair opposite her, separated only by a small end table. Anthony looked over at her, his brown eyes all but practically begging her to say something to him.

"Y/N..." Anthony's voice is small and timid, trying to coax her into at least hearing him out. Y/N's voice came out a whisper, cutting him off.

"I am sorry."

Anthony furrowed his brow, that was certainly not what he was expecting to hear. He looked over at her, her gaze locked on the moonlight coming through the window, her eyes glassy with tears.

"I am sorry I have become a burden, Anthony. I did not realize I irritated you with my ramblings. I thought you wanted to hear of my daily activities. I know my day as a woman is not nearly as riveting as yours as a Viscount, but-"

"My dear, your apologies are not necessary," Anthony's voice dripped with sincerity, his eyes warm as he looked at her, ready to grovel for forgiveness. He stuck his hand out for her to take, which she did. He pulled her towards him softly, his gentle touches coaxing her into his lap. Y/N's eyes grow soft under his gaze, her limbs melting in his strong hold. "I am the one who has been a fool. I look forward to your ramblings, no matter if they hold what you consider to be valuable or not, they brighten my day. I wait most ardently for news of trips to the modiste, or my mother's ramblings over tea-" He pauses, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, his thumb wiping away the stray tears on her cheeks.

"I don't want you to be silent. Your voice is more pleasant than any other sound," Anthony cuts himself off, sighing, before starting again. "I should not have spoken to you in such a manner. I should not have raised my voice at you. You have my word that it will never happen again, I cannot go another day surrounded by your silence, it is torture."

Y/N smiles slightly at her husband's words, his transgressions forgiven with his sincere words. His face is close enough to hers to brush her nose against his, their lips close enough to meet.

"Are you certain you were not a poet before we met, Lord Bridgerton?" Y/N's voice is a whisper, the moment feeling far too intimate for anything else.

Anthony chuckles as his hand grasps the side of her face lightly, bringing her closer, speaking before he kisses her deeply:

"Only for you, my beloved...you inspire sonnets."

-

[seokgyuu]

You might have a thing for Seokmin’s hands. Seokmin, your best friend. Who you definitely do not see as anything else! Really. Not at all! And he obviously doesn’t see you as anything else either. Like, for real! … Right?

Pairing: Seokmin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Best friends to lovers, Smut (MDNI!).

Requested: yes, thanks sweet anon!!

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Going through my requests right now and this one stuck out because I too love Seokmin’s hands. I mean… look at them!! Thanks for the request lovely anon and sorry that it took literal months for me to finish this (yikes).

tagging: @wongyuseokie, @the-boy-meets-evil, @multi-kpop-fanfics, @onlyseokmins, @dkakapizzaboy, @honeykyeom, @drunk-on-dk, @cheolism, @wooahaeproductions <3 just because i want to, hihi.

Smut Warnings under the cut!

Smut Warnings: masturbation (f), finger sucking, fingering, dirty talk

In your many years on this planet most of these have been spent being best friends with Lee Seokmin. 

At this point you probably knew him better than he knew himself and vice versa. There was nothing the two of you didn’t share, sometimes being mistaken for a couple when in reality all you feel for each other is nothing but platonic admiration. You love each other, but platonically! You sleep in each other's arms most nights, but platonically! Sometimes you wish he would hold you a little tighter and sometimes he wishes he could touch you in places he shouldn’t, but it is all, of course, platonically!

In fact, your relationship is so platonic that you are currently holding your beloved vibrator to your throbbing clit staring at a picture of his hands. His beautiful hands, his long fingers graced by rings you had gifted him because, fuck, did you love seeing him with jewellery you had given him. Especially rings. 

The high you’re craving as much as you feel guilty is nearing and you arch your back, hips chasing the feeling of the vibrations on your bundle of nerves - and when the thought of Seokmin above you with his fingers fucking you open, rings on and all, occupies your mind once more, not leaving any space for a guilty conscience, you finally come undone. You sigh his name over and over, riding out your orgasm and once your vibrator is off and your panties are back in place, you slowly start to realize what you’ve just done. Again. How many times have you told yourself you wouldn’t do this again? How many times have you sworn that Seokmin was your best friend and nothing else? 

Best friends don’t think about the other when they get off. Best friends don’t crave the other’s touch when they aren’t around. Best friends don’t want to get finger-fucked by the other! 

Maybe, you think, you aren’t Seokmin’s best friend after all because all of these points apply to you. With a groan you lock your phone and swing your legs off the bed, still feeling a bit dizzy from your orgasm. Just when you are about to head to the bathroom, you hear knocks on your front door. 

Frowning, you look at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. It’s one o’clock in the morning, who would ever- another knock. More vehemently this time. You blink a few times, not even registering that you’re wearing nothing but one of Seokmin’s shirts and your panties when you open the door. 

Glossy brown eyes look at you, reddened cheeks and lips on the face you think about more than you should. 

“Seokmin?!” 

“You’re- you’re wearing my shirt.”

He is inside your apartment with the door closed behind you in mere seconds. His hands somehow landed on your waist and you are now stuck between him and the cold wall, your eyes big and round looking up at him.

“What are you doing here, what- what’s going on?”

“I kissed someone,” he breathes and you hate that the words make your heart drop, “I kissed this girl when I was at a club with Mingyu and- fuck, I kissed her and I somehow realized that I don’t want to kiss her.”

“Okay, that’s okay, Seok. You stopped kissing her then, right?”

When he shakes his head, you feel another pang of pain inside your chest.

“I kissed her some more, she asked me to go home with her and I was already on my way out, ready to get into the cab and let her take me to her place, but…”

The way he looks at you, the way his fingers dig into your skin. He doesn’t say it, and you don’t want to ask. 

“You’re drunk.” You somehow stumble out, freeing yourself from his grasp and instead walking over to the kitchen, to get your best friend some water.

“I didn’t even drink that much.” You hear the pout before you see it, turning around to face him, your eyes settling on his body leaning against the doorframe. 

“You should still drink some water, Seok, alright?”

He doesn’t try to stop you when you hand him the glass and he even takes two big sips before putting it down.

“Why didn’t you call before you came here?” You ask then, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Phone’s dead.” He explains and you sigh, pulling a hand over your face.

“So, you didn’t tell Soonyoung you’re not coming home tonight?”

“I-,” Seokmin starts but then realizes he, in fact, hadn't told his roommate he was going to be gone for the night. 

“Lee Seokmin,” you shake your head at him, “get my phone from my room and text him, I bet he’s dying of worry right now. You know how he is.”

As much as Seokmin wishes it wasn’t true - it is. Soonyoung his (other) best friend and roommate is overbearing as much as he is kind. Pouting once more, he turns around to walk into your bedroom, seeing your phone laying on top of your bed. For a split second he feels guilty - had he woken you up? Gnawing on his bottom lip, he rids himself of his coat and hangs it over your desk chair, also taking off his shoes in the process and putting them next to yours by the closet, before finally grabbing your phone and unlocking it with the code he just so happens to know. 

He stops in his steps. Stares at the screen. Then, he blinks a few times and feels his body react right away. Electricity shoots through him and explanations as of why he is seeing what he’s seeing, explanations that have his stomach flip and his heart triple in speed, that have his imagination go wilder than he’d usually allow himself around you.

“Y/N.”

“Did you not find it?” You call back from the kitchen, getting out a pot to make some late night ramen, only to turn around and look at him and feel your face fall. He is holding your phone up for you to see the screen, his zoomed in hands still on your display. Fuck. 

Coming up with an explanation as of why the fuck his hands are on your screen at almost 2 o’clock in the morning leaves your brain blank. There is only so much you can say that isn’t totally weird - and even then, it still is. 

But something about the way Seokmin is looking at you isn’t even allowing you to open your mouth and stutter out a lame excuse. 

“I want you to be honest with me,” he begins calmly, slowly walking over to you now, “why are my hands zoomed in on your phone screen in the middle of the night, darling?”

The pet name bolts through you and leaves your brain even more blank. Suddenly, you don’t know how to speak, how to think. Yet, Seokmin seems to know that he caught you in something he didn’t even know it was possible to find you in. 

“Y/N, be honest,” he repeats when he is back in front of you, when you’re caged in between him and the kitchen counter, when all that’s between you is the little space he has left, “do you have a thing for my hands?”

Shit. He’s so close now, your phone discarded on the counter next to you and you still don’t remember how to speak. It’s stupid, you know it is, he’s probably just teasing you, just trying to get a reaction out of you before he laughs it off. 

Just that he doesn’t. 

Seokmin doesn’t move, instead he comes closer, one of his insanely pretty hands softly grabbing your chin, turning your head to make you look straight up at him. God, his eyes are sparkling. Everything about him seems to be sparkling. 

“Answer me, love.”

You wish you could, really. But your mouth is dry and your body is burning and all you can focus on is the hand on your face. So, instead of verbally answering you, very slowly, nod. The smug smile that spreads on Seokmin’s face is something no one could have prepared you for. 

“Interesting. Let’s see.” He moves his hand up just slightly, thumb brushing against your lips and you can’t help but drop open your mouth, sucking it right into your wet heat. The moan that escapes him catches both of you by surprise and has you pressing your thighs together. Seokmin doesn’t speak, he just looks at you, letting you suck in his thumb with wide eyes that have his cock twitching wildly in his pants. 

He begins thrusting his thumb into your mouth, saliva building up and beginning to trickle down out of the corners of your lips, his eyes glued on your face. When you begin to swirl your tongue around him, he breathes out a strained sigh, quickly replacing his thumb with is middle and index finger. 

Now it’s you who’s moaning. How many nights had you stayed awake with your fingers inside your cunt, with your vibrator against your clit, with you humping your pillow, imagining exactly this. Sucking on his finger’s as he fucked you senseless with either his other hand or his cock. 

“Fuck, baby, you really do have a thing for my hands,” he mutters, perhaps even more to himself than you and he instructs you to suck on them, his free hand sneaking around you, pressing you against him flat on your ass. 

Nothing has ever been as much of a turn on as this. Seokmin’s fingers in your mouth, his other hand squeezing your ass as he is very obviously rubbing himself against you, his erection visible through his pants and hard to miss against your lower stomach. He doesn’t speak for a while, just enjoying the feeling of having all the power over you, something he had never thought possible, bathing in the knowledge you want him just as much as he wants you. 

When he deems it enough, he pulls his fingers out, thick saliva connecting them to your red lips and he groans at the sight, quickly bringing the fingers down and straight to where you need them the most. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t tease, instead he slips his hand into your folds and feels them, coating the two fingers he just pulled out of your mouth in your juices, reveling in your small noises. 

“Want them inside of you, don’t you, baby girl? Want me to fuck you with them?” 

It’s merely a whisper coming out of his mouth and you whimper, nodding your head yes once more, Seokmin chuckling as he leans forward, his breath hitting your face.

“Need you to use your words, okay?” He says, lips touching your cheek and you swallow hard, hips bucking to meet his fingers.

“I-,” you stutter, “I, f-fuck, Seokmin, please-,”

“Please what, darling?”

“Pl-please p-put them i-inside,” you cry out, your hands gripping the material of his shirt, eyes begging him to do as you asked. 

“God, you’re so desperate, might just make me cum in my pants. Gonna fuck your pretty pussy with my hands while you’re wearing my shirt, fuck,” his voice is breathy against your ear and you’re just about to beg him again, when he finally does what you’ve been dreaming about for years. 

The second he breaches your hole, you already feel like the gates of heaven just opened up for you. His fingers are like the drug you knew you’d get addicted to once you’ve got a taste of them and the second they are fully inside you, you fear nothing will ever come close again. Your body reacts by shaking uncontrollably, your pussy sucking him in as far as possible, Seokmin’s moans in your ear the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard. As his fingers begin to thrust inside of you, his lips begin to kiss your neck, up to your cheek and finally your lips, both of you sighing in relief when you finally take one step further. Because somehow this is more intimate than his fingers fucking you. 

This could have easily been mistaken as a tipsy Seokmin helping his best friend blowing off steam by finally giving into her desire for him, but the second he kisses you both of you know this is going to be so much more. 

Your arms move to wrap around his neck as you spread your legs further for him, giving him better access and more room to move his hand as he continues his thrusts, your whimpers against his lips skilfully getting caught by his tongue.

“So fucking wet and tight, such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He mumbles against your mouth and you nod, pulling him closer, lips back on his to begin yet another heated kiss. The two of you make out, one of your legs around his waist as he picks up his speed, thumb finding your clit no problem, causing you to arch your back and pant into the kiss.

“Seok- so- so close!” You cry out and he chuckles again, kissing down your neck, sucking harshly on your skin as he pulls his fingers out only to come back with one more. 

Three fingers fuck you open for more, your moans getting louder, fingers digging into his nape as you chase his fingers with your hips, tears behind your eyes threatening to spill because of how fucking turned on you were. You’re dripping down his fingers, down your thighs, your panties shoved to the side by him, probably cutting into his fingers, but he doesn’t seem to care. 

“Yeah? Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Cum on my fingers? How long have you wanted this, hm? How long have you dreamt of my fingers fucking you until you make them drip in your cum?”

His dirty words are so out of character for your usually so bright and sweet best friend, but they do their job perfectly. Accompanying your whines is your pussy clenching around him repeatedly, throbbing against his fingers and Seokmin really thinks he could shoot his load just from this. 

“Faster, pl-please!” Your hips are moving at rapid speed and Seokmin meets your efforts, thumb pressing down on your clit and letting his fingers quickly pump in and out of your perfect pussy, already feeling your nearing climax around him. 

When he kisses you again, his tongue finding yours, circling it skilfully and sucking it into his mouth, you feel your orgasm rush over you, cum soaking his whole hand as he fucks you through it, your moans landing right in his hot mouth. 

“That’s it, darling, cum on my fingers, soak them in your cum, show me how good I made you feel, fuck.” 

Tears are rolling down your cheeks, tears of pleasure and happiness, tears of desperation as you ride out your orgasm, almost crying more when he pulls his fingers out of you to lick them clean like a starved man. Your head spins at the visual and you let yourself fall against the counter, sure you could probably count the stars floating around your head currently.

“Delicious, so pretty and delicious.” Seokmin hums when his fingers are out of his mouth and he smiles at you like the soft puppy you know he is. 

“Seokmin…,” you don’t even know what to say, still in awe and still recovering from the best orgasm you’ve ever had. He shushes you, both of his hands on your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“Later, love. Now, I need you to ride my cock, how does that sound?”

Smiling at him you think that nothing had ever sounded sweeter.

[moonlinos]

A dwindling, mercurial high

♡ Pairing: Bang Chan × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood best friends, angst

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), cheating, both Chan and Reader are morally gray characters, mentions of smoking, drinking, fingering, hand job, unprotected sex

♡ Word count: 10.1k

♡ Synopsis: Despite his love for you since childhood, Chan silently watched from the sidelines as you fell in love with your mutual friend. Your happiness has always been his priority, even at the expense of his own. But he can only endure the pain with a smile on his face for so long. With your growing realization that your fiancé is no longer the man you once loved, his longing to finally escape his torment and confess his feelings becomes unbearable.

♡ A/N: Based off a request by anon! Thank you for requesting 🩷 Cheating is bad, kids, this is fiction. Sorry to my boy Changbin, I used a random wheel to decide who would be the other member 🥲 I’ll focus on lighter stories now ‘cause I feel like this one turned out heavier than I anticipated lol

Chan has known you since he was ten years old.

He’s sure he has been in love with you for just as long.

He wouldn’t be able to give an exact date; loving you has simply always been a part of his life. Your smile that’s engraved in his mind, your laughter he’s memorized, your mind which still fascinates him after so many years — it all wraps around his heart like a vice, making him a willing captive to this one-sided love.

For Chan, love is selflessness; sacrificing anything for the happiness of the one he loves. He doesn’t know anything but loving you, and his unwavering dedication to your happiness has led him to sacrifice his own for years.

Unbeknownst to you, Chan has been withering away slowly as you’ve grown happier.

But your happiness and his unrequited love never truly hurt him until the age of twenty.

It was Minho’s birthday, and he played the best friend card to convince Chan to buy fake IDs from a sketchy guy at their university. Your friend group drove to a deserted parking lot after buying far too much alcohol — Chan remembers the recurring thought inside his fuzzy mind was how much that situation would validate your parents’ scorching hatred for him if they were to find out.

You had your head on his shoulder, sitting on the bed of Minho’s truck, watching as the rest of your friends suffered the consequences of their indulgence. Chan’s face lit up with a smile at the sound of your giggle when Miyeon yelled at Changbin for being so loud, threatening to destroy his beloved girl group albums if he didn’t shut up.

Chan’s emotions always mirrored your own; so long as you had a smile on your face, he swore he could find joy even in the worst situations.

Even when you unknowingly shattered his heart into a million pieces, your happiness still brought him joy.

“I never got around to finishing my story,” you told him, words slurred and voice hoarse from singing at a noraebang earlier that night. “I only said I had a crush, but I never elaborated.”

Chan didn’t want you to elaborate.

But he knew how much you loved talking to him. Be it the weight of your indecision about your path in life or the lightheartedness of your romantic endeavors, you shared everything with him. You always said Chan was the best listener because he knew when his silence was better than any word. He knew that once your heart was set on something, there was no use trying to untangle your mind from the roots of that conviction.

So he hummed, prompting you to continue. “It’s been a while since you had a crush.”

“It sounds so lame, doesn’t it?” You scoffed, “Aren’t we too old for crushes?”

“No one’s ever too old for that,” he shrugged. “I think if you don’t allow yourself these light-hearted feelings, love will only become heavy. That’s never good.”

You placed your hand in his, playing with his fingers as a smile spread across your lips. Chan always hoped you couldn’t hear the way his heart thumped loudly against his chest whenever you touched him. 

“You’re so weirdly wise for your age.”

“And you’re so weirdly avoiding the subject,” Chan pointed out. “Come on, you never hesitated telling me shit like this. Hell, you proudly admitted to your crush on that old ass teacher when we were sixteen.”

You sat up straight, groaning at the unwelcome memory, and Chan huffed a laugh at the pout on your lips.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Just?”

“It’s someone you know,” you offered, and Chan furrowed his brows.

“That wouldn’t be a first.”

He noticed the way your hands tensed up, their grip on his fingers tightening and fidgeting nervously. You were anxious, and Chan wasn’t sure he wanted to know the reason why.

“It’s someone from our group.”

The way he froze was obvious, and your hands stilled on top of his. To this day, he hates everything about that moment: how you were so apprehensive about sharing something so trivial with him, how he selfishly felt a twinge of jealousy, and most importantly, how he could tell you were upset.

Chan promptly put aside his own feelings, having mastered this skill to the point where he could effortlessly do it. You seemed happy whenever you mentioned this crush, and he didn’t want to be the reason that happiness faded away. He laced your fingers together and offered you a smile, hoping you would reciprocate the gesture. You did, and he felt his chest blossoming with a blend of relief and melancholy.

“It’s Changbin,” you confessed, and Chan’s face remained unchanged. His smile didn’t so much as falter at your words. It often scared him how easy it had become to feign something as significant as his own emotions when it came to you. “I don’t know when it started, but I just… I really like him.”

Chan had seen you go through a couple of short-lived relationships and countless crushes that usually led nowhere; the sting of seeing you infatuated with someone else was an ache he’d long grown accustomed to. He often struggled to understand why your heart had chosen to love the people it did. It was easy to tease you and cope with the hurt when Chan knew it was only a matter of time before you realized you deserved more.

But that situation was different. This time, he could understand. Changbin was one of his best friends, after all. How would he endure the hurt when he knew Changbin was practically a mirror image of your ideal type? He was always in a good mood, always fun to be around and never failed to make anyone laugh. Chan had no doubts about how he would bend his back just to care for his friends — the day he failed his first class at university, Changbin paid his bill at the bar and carried a drunken, crying Chan home on his back.

Unlike it had been with Chan for the past ten years, your parents immediately fell in love with Changbin.

As he heard you eagerly talk about your crush on your friend that night, Chan kept his facade of the perfect best friend. His laughter and words perfectly matched your enthusiasm. Among the rain of anguish, the drop of bliss that fell onto his heart as he saw you smile again, your worry thoroughly gone, was enough to soothe his aching heart.

Because Chan’s emotions mirrored your own, and so he made it his mission to make you happy.

Even if it was with someone else.

Chan never would have guessed that you and Changbin would go beyond a simple crush.

He never would have believed if he was told your relationship would evolve beyond just hooking up.

And never in his wildest dream did he imagine that you would become engaged to him.

Yet, here he sits, six years after initially finding out about your crush, helping you choose flower arrangements for your wedding.

“I think Bin would definitely want some pink flowers,” you comment with a hum, the florist nodding along with a smile. Chan holds back a sigh. “But wouldn’t that look weird with the light blue theme?”

“I think blue and pink go great together!” The florist assures you, her excitement palpable when she starts rambling about different shades and flowers that would beautifully complement your dream wedding dress.

Chan zones out, blurry eyes focused on a single red rose that rests on the wooden table. He was understandably taken aback when you chose him as your man of honor. Miyeon had always been your closest female friend, so it was only natural that he assumed you would choose her as the maid of honor. Despite disapproval from both you and Changbin’s families, you remained unwavering in your decision. Chan knew you better than anyone in the world, you argued, therefore he was the best possible choice. The sentiment was sweet, but it didn’t lessen the ache in his heart.

As if watching you marry another man wasn’t punishing enough, he now had to help you plan the ceremony.

Your laughter brings him back to the present moment, and he quickly rises from his chair, realizing you’re already heading towards the door. Chan clears his throat, shooting the florist a small smile before walking out with you.

As soon as you step onto the streets, you ask, “You were spacing out the entire time, weren’t you?”

Chan feigns offense, clutching at his chest. “What? Of course not!” He shakes his head, and you let out a chuckle. “I was totally paying attention. Blue dress, pink flowers. I got it all memorized, don���t worry.”

“So you noticed how she was shamelessly ogling you the entire time, right?”

Absentmindedly, Chan cocks his head to the side, furrowing his brows in confusion. You narrow your eyes at him, and his expression immediately shifts into a grin.

“Ah, that. Yeah, I noticed,” he shrugs. “It was your choice to have me as your man of honor.”

You bump your shoulders together, chuckling. “I guess I should’ve known. Since you’re not my fiancé, you’ll have to endure a lot of women flirting with you.”

As your words hit him, Chan clenches his jaw, suppressing the foolish pain that wells up in his chest. He is not your fiancé; he is well aware of that, but he can’t help the sharp twinge of hurt that washes over him whenever you remind him of that fact.

He silently drives you to the gym that he and Changbin opened two years ago. It was a last-ditch effort to create something that was their own rather than succumbing to a soulless office job. Starting out in a small rundown house on a sketchy street, with barely any money for proper equipment, they could never have predicted how perfectly everything would work out.

As Chan parks in front of the building, you beam while taking the notes from the florist out of your bag, eager to share them with Changbin. You two scour the gym from top to bottom, but he’s nowhere to be found. Upon asking their receptionist, they’re informed that Changbin had left a couple of hours earlier, not giving further explanations. Chan hates the familiar sight of your smile dropping, your excitement ebbing away as you carefully tuck away your notes into your bag.

Changbin has become unusually distant lately — not only toward you but everything in general. He rarely sets foot in the gym nowadays, only popping in to ensure everything is in order before hurriedly rushing off to who knows where. Chan hopes it’s only the pre-wedding nerves getting to him, and not something that will leave you shattered and heartbroken on what is supposed to be the happiest day of your life.

But that’s all he can do — cling to that hope.

Because, deep down, Chan’s mind is filled with worries that run deeper than he will ever let on. Changbin has always been an absurdly impulsive person. The fear that his friend might be regretting his decision to propose is always lingering in the back of his mind, like a persistent echo, tormenting him and gradually eroding his heart.

He doesn’t know if he can bear to see you hurt.

He certainly doesn’t want to think about what he would do if Changbin ever dared to break your heart.

Chan hates the way you easily brush off your disappointment even more, turning to flash a bright smile at him as soon as the notes are out of your sight.

“I’ll just see him at home later tonight anyway,” you simply say. “There’s no rush.”

Over the past months, Chan has seen you dismiss your own feelings regarding your fiancé countless times, so much so that he can’t even count them on one hand. From Changbin’s constant broken promises to his complete indifference toward anything related to his own wedding, the way it upsets you is evident. Still, your dismissal of it all makes him hesitant to even mention it.

Helplessly, he can’t do anything but watch, just as he has been doing for the past six years.

A week later, the sound of the doorbell jolts Chan awake at 2 a.m.

Right after getting home from the gym, he collapsed onto the couch and dozed off before he realized. All the work he had to tackle alone left him drained. It was yet another day when Changbin vanished in the late afternoon without so much as an excuse.

Chan rushes toward the door, expecting an emergency, only to find you standing alone in the dimly lit hallway. His initial reaction was confusion; you had a spare key, after all. But as the light from his apartment hits your face, red-rimmed, teary eyes meet his own, and Chan instinctively wraps his arms around you. 

You two remain in a silent embrace for a while, with Chan selfishly reveling in the feeling of your body pressed against his. Despite your vulnerable state, he can’t help but run a hand down your back, savoring your warmth and intoxicating scent that surrounds him.

You used to hold each other frequently when you were young, thinking nothing of it and simply seeking comfort in each other’s arms. But as you entered your late teens, the tension between you became almost palpable. You no longer sought his arms solely for comfort, and that was obvious to Chan. It was obvious because he was the same. Innocent hugs evolved into wandering hands and limbs tangling in ways that were anything but platonic.

At that time, he almost thought he had stood a chance.

Until graduation day, when you two hid away inside an empty classroom, with you sat on a desk and Chan slotted between your thighs, holding you against his chest as you cried. You were always terrified of change, and school ending was an unavoidable one that had been looming over your head for a while until it snapped.

That day, you almost kissed him, your lips mere inches from his as he gripped your waist nervously, his eyes foolishly fluttering closed in anticipation.

But you pulled away, pushing him back with a whispered apology.

After that day, that habit Chan loved so much slowly faded away.

Chan hates how he has every curve of your body memorized, but rarely has the privilege of feeling you this close to him anymore.

You pull away abruptly, much like you did when you were eighteen, clearing your throat and entering his apartment without uttering a word.

Closing the door behind him, he joins you on the couch, where you sit nervously, bouncing your leg.

“What happened?” He asks, although deep down, he already knows the answer. Your only answer is a half-hearted shrug, so Chan hesitantly continues, “Is this about the wedding?”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes well up, but you swiftly blink away any tears that threaten to spill over. Once again, Chan takes your dismissal of your own emotions as a sign for him to keep quiet.

Except this time, you don’t.

“Changbin asked to postpone the wedding,” you simply tell him.

A surge of anger washes over Chan like a tidal wave, pushing him to walk out of his apartment right now just to punch his friend in the jaw. You’re sad — Changbin made you sad. No matter how hard Chan tries or how much he sacrifices, moments like these always serve as a sour reminder that your happiness isn’t solely dependent on him.

He despises these moments.

“I feel like he’s so different. Even before proposing,” you murmur, lowering your head and focusing on your nails, nervously picking at your chipped nail polish. “We hardly ever go on dates and he never makes jokes or does silly shit to make me laugh anymore. I know it’s stupid and even a bit selfish, but I miss those things.”

You let out a heavy sigh and slowly looked up to meet Chan’s gaze. He silently wishes he could absorb all the hurt you feel.

“That’s the man that made me want to stay for six years, and he’s just… gone.”

Chan nervously gnaws on his bottom lip, as if that will consume the words in his throat before they slip out. But these words have been lingering on the tip of his tongue for over five months. Ever since you gathered your little friend group in your living room on a rainy Sunday evening, beaming as you and Changbin announced your engagement.

Tonight, these unspoken words finally escape his lips.

“Why did you accept the proposal, then?” He asks softly.

You let out a bitter scoff and sink lower into his couch.

“Guess I thought that man would magically come back the moment I said yes. But he didn’t,” you shake your head. “So I ignored it, assured myself he would come back once I said ‘I do’. Now, I’m not even sure…” You trail off, pursing your lips as the sentence dissipates into the air.

He remembers the early years of your relationship with Changbin. You would call Chan just to swoon over his charming personality and jokingly scold him for keeping your boyfriend at the gym until late at night. He recalls how you used to melt at his sweet gestures, like bringing you a cup of coffee after your shift or carrying you up to your apartment when you dozed off in the car. A few months ago, he noticed your avoidance whenever Changbin was brought up, and your usual long-winded stories about him were now replaced with short answers.

But he remained quiet, like he’d always done.

A few minutes pass before you speak again, and your words strike him like an unexpected left hook, knocking the air out of his lungs.

“I thought about ending things a lot,” you confess, “When I noticed this change wasn’t wavering, I was ready to leave.”

“But you didn’t,” Chan counters.

Your lips curl into a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes as you slowly nod. “But I didn’t,” you simply say. “I was afraid of what that would do to our friend group. It’s stupid, right?” You rhetorically ask.

When your gazes meet, your eyes are devoid of any emotion, a stark contrast to the usual spark he’s always loved. It’s as if you’ve abandoned any hope you had left inside of you, and his heart sinks.

“I didn’t want things to change because of me.”

Chan sighs. “You shouldn’t sacrifice your own happiness for the sake of others,” he tells you, and the irony isn’t lost on him. He inwardly grimaces, because isn’t that exactly what he has been doing for most of his life?

But it’s different, he rationalizes. It’s different because it’s you.

“You know me, Chan,” you huff out, wrapping your arms around yourself as frustration slowly consumes you. “I hate making people sad, hate knowing things are worse because of me.”

That’s just another of the many things Chan hates — how fucking similar you and he are.

“That’s why everybody says you shouldn’t date your friends, huh?” You let out a bitter scoff. “It never works out. Just fucks everything up.”

Chan bites down on his bottom lip so hard he swears he tastes blood on his tongue.

“That’s not always the case,” he’s quick to add. “Remember when Jun and Miyeon dated? They broke up and things were awkward for a while but—”

“They were together for a few months, Chan, not six years,” you interrupt him with a scowl. “If Changbin and I had broken up, our little group would’ve been just as affected as us. People would pick sides, try to place the blame on someone, and things would inevitably change.”

“Things are bound to change at some point,” he reasons. “We’re not in college anymore.”

Chan is certain there’s something more stopping you from ending your relationship, but he’s afraid you’re also unsure of that reason.

“I love Changbin,” you suddenly say, turning your body to face Chan. “This is stupid, I’m sorry I came here in the first place. He’s just stressed, he’s gonna come back one day—”

“Stop talking like that,” Chan cuts you off, voice louder than he intended. You slowly tilt your head to the side, eyeing him with confusion. “Stop talking like Changbin isn’t here, like he’s distant because he has no choice. He hasn’t gone anywhere. He’s still here, and he’s still distant.”

You divert your eyes, focusing on a spot behind Chan, making him wonder if he crossed a line. When the seconds tick by and you remain silent, he braces himself to watch you leave.

Instead, you whisper, “I know.”

“I would never treat you like this,” he absentmindedly says, his own eyes wandering aimlessly around his living room, looking anywhere but at you. If he tries hard enough, he can almost pretend that he isn’t saying these words to you, that he isn’t essentially confessing his repressed feelings to his best friend, who is already engaged. “Would never propose to you and have you plan the fucking wedding only to ask you to postpone it,” he lets out a scoff, his face contorting with disdain. “Fuck off. Postpone it? Changbin’s a coward.”

“I feel so alone,” you admit, seemingly ignoring his unprompted soliloquy. “You know I hate feeling alone. If I were to end things with Changbin now, after all these years, I know this loneliness would kill me.”

And you’re right; Chan knows better than anyone how much you hate feeling alone. Whenever your parents had to leave for business trips or vacations, you would seek refuge at his house to avoid being alone. When your roommate kicked you out of your dorm during university, you begged him to sleep with you in the study area so you wouldn’t be alone in the dark.

The thought of you spending your days alone in your apartment and sleeping by yourself at night makes Chan feel as if his heart is being trampled on.

“You’re not alone. I’m here,” he assures you, his eyes finally lifting to meet your gaze. “I’ve been here since we were kids, and I’m not going anywhere.”

A giggle suddenly escapes from your lips, and your hand rests on his arm. Your gaze shifts to where your fingers delicately trace patterns on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Remember when we were thirteen? We promised to get married if we were still alone when we were adults.”

Chan nods slowly, and an uneasy feeling washes over him. It’s been years since you’ve been this physically close to him, toying with the fabric of his shirt and saying words that foolishly make him think you might be flirting with him. Why must you bring this up now? Now, when you’re certainly not alone, but very much engaged to one of your mutual friends.

“I feel like every childhood friend makes that silly promise,” he tries to deflect, a forced chuckle leaving his lips. Nevertheless, the small smile on your lips lingers as you dismissively shrug at his words.

“It wasn’t silly to me,” you argue. “I meant it. Especially when I realized you were the only one who always stayed, even when everyone else seemed to leave me.”

He only now realizes how you’ve inched even closer to him, your foot softly brushing along his leg and your fingertips now delicately gliding along his arms, causing goosebumps to ripple across his skin. The small voice of reason inside his already clouded mind desperately urges him to back away, but his body refuses to move.

And then you gently intertwine your fingers with his and finally meet his eyes. Chan instinctively closes the small distance between you, his shoulder brushing against yours as you shift on the couch to throw your legs over his lap like you used to do when you were kids — except now, the gesture is anything but innocent, the air almost suffocating Chan with a looming sense of anticipation.

“Y’know, my mom was so happy when I told her I was dating Changbin,” you huff out a laugh at the memory, and Chan’s lips twitch into a small scowl. Although you speak as though this is news to him, he’s fully aware of what you’re referring to. He was sitting in your bedroom with you the day you told your mom. He knows what you’re alluding to, and he knows it’s wrong, but he finds himself simply nodding along to your words. “She was laughing about how scared she was that I would pick you. She was so sure we would end up together, and she hated it.”

It was never a secret how much your parents disliked Chan, although he never understood their reasons. Your mom always treated him with just enough feigned kindness that it wasn’t a glaring disdain, but you were quick to tell him all the things they would whisper behind his back.

Chan gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips then gliding along your face, tracing a path from the curve of your ear to your cheek. His eyes carefully follow his movements, and you suck in a breath, leaning into the touch.

“I also kind of hoped for that,” he mutters, barely audible.

“I’m so lonely, Chan,” you whisper back, and he feels every corner of his heart shatter into a million little pieces. The way your eyes glisten with unshed tears in the dim lighting of his living room finally has his resolve crumbling.

“You’re not alone,” he reiterates. “I’m here.”

Before he can stop himself, Chan closes the small distance between you and crashes his lips to yours. Just as guilt begins to course through his veins, you tug at his shirt, pulling him even closer until you ultimately climb onto his lap. Chan’s lips delicately brush against yours at first, but the kiss soon grows feverish. His hunger for you has been building inside of him for an eternity, and now that he’s finally tasted you, the all-consuming desire to have you overrides any remaining rationality in his mind.

His tongue glides along the seam of your lips before slipping into your mouth, and he all but growls at the feeling. Your fingers tighten their grip on his shirt, digging into the fabric while you let out the sweetest sound Chan has ever heard.

You slowly grind in his lap, and his hands grip your hips tightly, his cock twitching even at the soft movement. A surge of clarity washes over him, and he wonders how something this wrong can feel so good. Wonders why Changbin was lucky enough to have you like this whenever he wanted, while he was left to pine and yearn for years.

“What are we doing?” He asks between kisses, and you let out a shuddering sigh, shaking your head.

You whisper, “I don’t know. Just want you.”

A small part of Chan wants to push you away, knowing you’re simply seeking solace in him, desperately searching in him for what you no longer have with Changbin. But a bigger part of him has been yearning to have you for far too long to refuse your request.

He drowns out every faint whisper of reason in his head and slots his lips over yours once more, your soft moans traveling straight to his cock. Slipping your hands underneath his shirt, your palms raise toward his chest, nails lightly grazing his skin before trailing down the tense muscles of his abdomen. Chan whines when your fingertips brush against his clothed cock, already achingly hard in the confines of his pants. It was almost pitiful how effortlessly you made him desperate, his thoughts consumed with only you.

You break the kiss to pull down the straps of your dress, unhurriedly, eyeing him with a grin while he watches the thin fabric pool around your thighs.

“Y’know I always wondered what it’d be like,” you breathe out, and Chan’s lips fall open as you gently palm him through his sweatpants. “Always thought about what it’d feel like to have you fuck me.”

“Fuck,” he rasps out, cock swelling further in your hands when you squeeze his length. “Don’t say shit like that.”

You simply giggle, and Chan lets out a low groan, grinding his hips into your hand, desperately seeking more friction. He doesn’t want to think about the weight of that statement — not when your fingertips brush against his lower stomach, teasingly toying with the waistband of his sweatpants before finally pushing it down, gripping his cock in your hand. Chan hisses, his hold on your hips tightening while you glide your hand along his length, finding a slow, tantalizing rhythm as you begin to stroke him.

He feels as if his hands are tied by silent guilt, as if touching you any more will somehow make everything too real. But you press your lips to his like it’s second nature, swirling your tongue in his mouth just as your thumb swipes across his slit, gathering a drop of precum before smearing it down his shaft. It’s too much, and Chan groans into the kiss, finally allowing himself to touch you.

Carefully, his hands travel from your hips up to your stomach, caressing the soft skin. The way you feel underneath his fingertips has him drunk with lust, like a flood of long-awaited desire and longing finally being released.

“Touch me,” you whisper, words almost muffled by his lips. “Please.”

And Chan’s never been able to deny you.

His fingers skim over your breasts, trembling hands squeezing through the delicate lace of your bra. Your body eagerly responds to his touch, your nipples pebbling beneath his hands and a soft sigh falling from your lips. It feels like heaven to know that he’s the one coaxing these sounds out of you, and it’s enough to snuff out any trace of guilt Chan had remaining inside of him. As he pinches your nipples, rolling them gently between his fingertips, a surge of pleasure shoots through your body, making you jerk on his lap, your grip on his cock tightening.

Chan grins. “I thought about it too,” he admits, words softly whispered as he leans closer and presses his forehead against yours. “Thought about fucking you so much it almost drove me insane.”

These confessions are only half-surprising if Chan were completely honest with himself. He knew exactly where his mind wandered whenever you two got tangled up in his bed when you were teens, and he convinced himself you were the same. At that time, it was merely an attempt to alleviate the guilt he felt for having those thoughts about you.

But this confirmation was all he needed to truly surrender to his selfish hunger.

His hand slowly moves down your stomach, edging closer and closer to your panties. Your eyes remain locked on his, your heavy breathing brushing against his lips when his fingers tentatively slip beneath the soft fabric.

“Can I?” He whispers, and you nod, stroking him almost feverishly as your eyes become completely lust-clouded.

Chan’s fingers slide between your slick folds, a guttural moan reverberating through his chest, his cock twitching under your fingers.

“Holy shit, you’re soaking wet,” he groaned, his thumb softly pressing down on your clit, causing you to grind your hips into his hand.

“Chan,” you breathe out.

Your once deliberate strokes fizzled out into languid touches, but Chan couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when you were this fucking wet, all because of him.

“Tell me what you want,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your open lips. He grins when your only response is a whine, rolling your hips forward once more. “Tell me.”

“Want you, Chan,” you choke out, “Want anything you wanna give me.”

Chan bites back a growl, slowly sliding a finger inside of you, your walls greedily clenching around it while your hips begin rocking in his lap, his thumb circling your clit. He can feel your arousal coating his finger, curling the digit before pulling away only to push back in again, two fingers now gently pumping in and out of you.

Pressing his lips to your throat, Chan grapples with the overwhelming need to mark you, bite and suck on your sensitive skin until it bloomed in hues of red and purple when you moaned so sweetly for him. The thought of Changbin coming home only to find you claimed by him had Chan groaning against the pulse of your neck, his cock throbbing in your hand just as your palm languidly circles the swollen head.

“Wanna make love to you,” he murmurs against your skin, leaving soft kisses up your throat until his lips are pressing against yours. Love — as if this was anything like love. “I need to,” he all but begs, and you hastily nod, tugging his shirt over his head and crashing your lips together.

Chan pushes your body down onto the couch, his heavy-lidded eyes dark like the shadows that covered his living room as he stares down at you. He’s wanted this for so long, dreaming and fantasizing about it to the point of pitifulness. Yet now, he hesitates. It’s almost as if everything else you have done tonight could be forgotten — maybe even forgiven — but the moment the images from his daydreams stumbled out into the real world, everything would truly be ruined.

“Chan,” your voice brings him back to the moment, his gaze softening at the way you looked up at him. “Don’t overthink this.”

He bends his face to yours, huffing out a breath. “It’s kinda hard not to.”

“Worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes,” you whisper, and Chan smiles. He slides a hand through your hair, brushing a stray piece from your eyes.

His focus is quickly brought back to the scorching heat of his cock resting against your lower stomach, precum dripping from the tip and gathering on your skin. Gently brushing against your lower lip with the pad of his thumb, he fits himself between your open thighs, and you press a chaste kiss to his fingertip.

Chan effortlessly lifts you, blunt nails sinking into the soft skin of your ass as he watches you slide your panties down your thighs before he aligns your hips with his. He glides his cock along your folds, teasing your clit with each movement. The heat from your arousal coating him seems to sear into his skin, and he immerses himself in his desire even deeper. He carefully studies your features when you squeeze his shoulders, eyes tracing a slow path down your face, and Chan is certain he wouldn’t mind waging a war against every inconvenient obstacle that kept him from seeing that glint of bliss on your eyes every day.

His tip grazes your entrance as he pulls back, lips tracing along your skin before slowly pushing into you. As much as Chan wants to take his time, savor the experience and explore every inch of your body until it becomes seared into his memory, he knows he won’t be able to do that tonight. Years of yearning and longing finally came pouring out, consuming him with the want to selfishly chase this long-desired feeling.

When his hips meet yours, he takes your hand in his, guiding it to press on your lower abdomen. Your lips fall open slightly, the feeling of his cock pressing against your belly causing your eyes to flutter shut, and Chan’s arousal becomes almost unbearable. It was almost like a false testament, fooling him into believing you were finally one, even though it was nothing but a pretty lie.

“We’re a perfect fit. Shit,” Chan hisses, your inner muscles clenching around him at his words.

His thumb pressed firmly against your throbbing clit as he began rolling his hips, falling into a gentle and steady tempo. Your legs wrap around his body, hips rolling up and silently urging him to move faster, matching the rhythm of his unspoken longing. 

“Chan, please,” your voice chokes out. You intertwine your fingers together, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, eyes looking at him almost pleadingly. “Need you to fuck me.”

He snaps at your soft plea, pulling back and thrusting into you harshly, barely retreating from your wetness before plunging back in. Your nails dig into his skin, scoring lines down his chest while your other hand squeezes his. Chan winces at the sting but revels in the fact that you’re marking him — something he could only ever dream of doing to you.

He reluctantly lets go of your hand to firmly grasp your ass, forcefully lifting your hips to draw you even closer to him, fingernails etching crescent moons into your soft skin in an almost petulant attempt at claiming you as his. At least for tonight. Chan’s thumb rubs circles around your clit, bringing you closer to the edge of your orgasm. His grip on your skin tightens, pulling your body toward him almost desperately. His thrusts soon grow sloppy, his once deliberate rhythm long forgotten as his control quickly ebbs away.

“Got no idea what you do to me,” Chan grunts, pressing his forehead to yours. “If you were mine— fuck,” He hisses when you clench around him at his words — at the idea of being his. “I’d be so good to you. Fuck you like this every night.”

You attempt to call out his name, but the sound dies at your throat with a whine. Looking for purchase among his forceful thrusts, your hands travel up his chest and clutch at his shoulders with a tight grip.

“Then fuck me like I’m yours,” you choke out, hooking your ankles behind him to keep him as close to you as possible. Chan’s only response is a low, guttural growl, which is soon swallowed by your sighs as he crashes his lips into yours.

You arch your back, breaking the kiss with a cry, muscles tightening while Chan continues to plunge into you at a merciless rhythm. Your cunt throbs around his length, the relentless pressure of his finger on your clit sending shivers of euphoria through your entire body, drawing out your climax. Chan feels lightheaded, the beautiful sight of your orgasm enough to drive him to the edge.

As his cock twitches inside of you, he reluctantly leans back, rising to his knees and wrapping his fingers around his length, stroking himself over your body while you watch him with half-lidded eyes. A low sound rumbles within Chan’s chest as his hips jerk against his fist. His release spills from his cock and paints your stomach with milky streaks of his cum, finally marking you as his.

At least for tonight.

Even though it’s nothing but a pretty lie.

As you wake up, the unfamiliar sensation of sunlight streaming through the window hits your tired eyes. Panic washes over you for a beat as you take in the feeling of an unfamiliar bed, but a familiar scent soon envelops you, instantly soothing you. Not waking up alone also feels unfamiliar, but it’s a welcomed unfamiliarity. You turn your body towards the person next to you, and you’re greeted by Chan, peacefully asleep with a small smile on his lips. A grin slowly spreads across your face too.

It had been so long since you were this close to him, even longer since you woke up beside him. Sleepovers were common during your childhood, but they naturally stopped as you grew older. You were nineteen the last time you lied next to Chan like this, drunk on cheap beer and cramped next to him on a worn-out couch of some fraternity house. You remember how his chest slowly rising and falling somehow felt like home, and how his soft snores lulled you into sleep.

Your love for Chan has always been greater than you’ve let on.

Your vicious need to please those around you hindered your ability to express how much you loved him. Your parents hated him since you were fifteen. Catching Chan smoking with a group of boys from your school behind the mall cemented their opinion of him. Despite his ‘bad influence’, they reluctantly allowed your friendship to continue, with the condition that you wouldn’t be swayed by his bad ways.

If only they knew what you did last night.

If only they knew how you were the one to incite him, letting your own bad ways tarnish him.

As your eyes flutter closed, memories of the night before flood your mind; Chan’s hands on your body, his hungry kisses, and the way he fucked you until you felt intoxicated. But the feeling of bliss swirling in your chest quickly dissipates, replaced by the weight of guilt, crushing your ribs and knocking the air from your lungs. Your eyes snap open, and you sit up on the bed with a shuddering sigh. Even the feeling of Chan’s clothes clinging to your body makes you feel dirty.

Beside you, Chan groans, your sudden movements having disturbed his sleep.

“What time is it?” He rasps out. The sound of his voice alone nearly makes you flinch. As his fingertips graze your arm, you instinctively withdraw as if his touch scorched your skin. Chan sits up as well. “What’s wrong?”

You almost scoff at his words.

“Nothing,” you lie, throwing the covers off your body. You frantically search his bedroom until your eyes land on your dress draped over a chair.

You take off Chan’s shirt in haste, spitefully throwing the fabric on the floor as though it embodied your every sin. As if removing it from your body would somehow absolve you from what you chose to do last night. Just as you reach to undo the drawstrings of his sweatpants, his touch lingers on your skin again. You can’t help but flinch once more.

“Hey, calm down. Please, talk to me,” Chan’s soft voice only intensifies the anguish in your chest.

“Don’t touch me,” you mumble, tears gathering in your eyes as remorse gathers in your throat until it feels as if you’re suffocating. Chan removes his hands from your arm but remains beside you. “What the fuck did we do? We betrayed his trust, we betrayed…” you trail off, because you can’t even bring yourself to say Changbin’s name out loud. Finally, you turn to face Chan, shaking your head in disbelief. “He’s our friend. He’s my fucking fiancé.”

Chan stays silent. Tears stream out of your eyes, cascading down your cheeks and onto the floor. Your shoulders tremble, and each breath you take cannot fill your lungs enough to ease the weight on your chest. Chan stands in front of you, his tear-filled eyes mirroring his own heartbreak, evident in every corner of his face. He reaches out to you several times, but his hands only clench into fists and drop by his sides every time.

He helplessly watches as your tears fall over something that was a choice. A momentary bliss, a whim that has proven to be unnecessary, even though your feelings for Chan have always gone beyond platonic. How you wish you could go back in time and prioritize your own happiness instead of constantly sacrificing it for the sake of others. But you can’t, and the once beautiful love you had for Chan now only feels tainted.

He watches you silently, unmoving until you finally swallow enough tears to choke out, “Please hold me.”

And Chan does, cold hands wrapping around your trembling body as fresh tears pour out of your eyes, cascade down your cheeks and onto his shirt.

  You cry the entire afternoon, guilt becoming a ghost that haunts you as you pad around Chan’s apartment. Yet you can’t bring yourself to leave his side. Soon, his clothes stopped feeling like a vice tightening around your neck and transformed into a soothing embrace.

The only words you exchange are over cold leftover pizza. Chan says it’s best to just pretend the previous night never even happened. You’re quick to tell him you don’t want that.

“It was a mistake,” he quietly told you.

“It was a choice,” you corrected him. “And I’m happy I did it.”

And that’s the worst part of it all; you don’t regret having sex with Chan. You regret the cheating, the pain this would cause Changbin if he knew, and you especially dread the scrutiny you would face if people were to find out. But not even for a second do you feel any regret about Chan.

Before you know it, it’s already dark out. You find yourself staring out the window, pulling at the hem of Chan’s shirt that still hugs your frame.

You don’t want to go back home.

Four messages from Changbin apologizing for not coming home last night greet you every time you unlock your phone.

Changbin: hey baby, sorry Changbin: there was a huge fight at the bar, seungmin was bloody on the floor before i knew it Changbin: had to stay and take care of him after i took him home Changbin: i’m so sorry. i’ll make it up to you. love you

You ignore them every time. You don’t feel bad about it.

“I don’t wanna go back home,” you mumble to yourself. Behind you, Chan hums softly.

It feels like an eternity before he finally breaks the silence.

“Then don’t go.”

So you don’t.

Time slips away from your hands, and suddenly a week has gone by. You stay at Chan’s apartment, working from his computer, eating his food, and wearing his clothes. He makes love to you and you sleep in his bed every night.

You avoid every mirror and close every curtain as if that will shield you from your sins.

For so much time, it felt as if you were crawling through endless days, constantly brushing aside the things that upset you, things you fruitlessly wished you could change. All while forcing a smile that long stopped being sincere. This week, your smile was tightly bound to a warmth in your heart that had been absent for far too long.

Cooped up inside Chan’s apartment like a fugitive from your own mistakes, you were finally happy.

You have always lived a life driven by the desire to please others. From the university you attended to the man you chose to be with; everything was carefully thought out to ensure the happiness of those around you. Was it a wonder you were so soulless?

Is it a wonder you found bliss in doing something so selfish for the first time in your life? Every time Chan touched you, it was like a small light was ignited inside you.

Changbin’s messages sat unread in your phone; the only ones he sent you the entire week. 

  You chose to return home the day your mother called you to ask about the wedding. Chan drove you in silence while you clutched his hand.

As soon as you step into your apartment, it’s as if all the light Chan brought back into your life the past week is snuffed out. You glance around the dark living room, your eyes then traveling toward your bedroom, only being met by more darkness. Seems your fiancé still hasn’t come back.

Changbin going to that bar was the catalyst for your spiral of mistakes. He’s often gone to bars, and you never thought much of it, until he started prioritizing his time with his friends over time with you. That night, you had asked him to stay in for a change, suggesting you could watch a movie and order too much food like you used to do when you first moved in together. He said he would love that, but that night was really important. Apparently, Jisung needed help chatting up the bartender, and that was crucial in his road to getting over his ex. Apparently, that was more important than spending time with you.

You were arguing before you knew it. Although you did most of the talking, so it felt more like a helpless monologue than a proper fight. Changbin hated fights, and had mastered the art of dismissing things and never addressing them again. He was out the door right after nonchalantly asking you to postpone the wedding.

“I’m not in the right headspace to deal with shit like that now,” he’d said, and you scoffed at how he referred to your wedding.

“Flower arrangements, color schemes, guest lists… I’d rather do anything else but that right now. My friends need me,” Changbin continued after you remained silent, because you knew you would only end up arguing with him again if you were to speak. He spoke as if you didn’t need him.

“Jisung is finally taking the steps to get over that shitty ex of his and you know Chan can’t run the gym without me,” were the last words he muttered before pressing a kiss to your forehead and leaving you alone for yet another night.

The mention of his name was all it took for you to run out the door and into Chan’s apartment.

After dragging yourself toward your bathroom for a quick shower, you berate yourself for feeling disappointed in the feeling of your own pajamas against your skin. After a week of being enveloped in Chan’s scent, the smell of your clothes seems almost foreign.

Even as you lie in bed, it somehow feels even colder now than it did during all the countless nights when you were alone. Just as you had grown used to the empty space beside you, it now feels wrong not to feel the warmth of Chan’s body pressed up against yours.

You shudder at that thought.

It wasn’t just anyone you missed in your bed. It was Chan.

In a way, it had always been him.

As you drift off to sleep, the sudden shifting of the mattress jolts you awake. Changbin is home. You inwardly curse yourself, as you won’t be able to feign sleep after being startled by his presence. He chuckles softly, slipping under the covers and pulling you close, a strong arm tightly wrapping around your waist. The dim light of your bedroom hides your grimace as he pulls your body flush against his, but you can’t help but flinch.

It feels wrong.

Just as much as Chan’s body had felt perfectly aligned with yours, Changbin’s mere presence feels out of place.

“Didn’t mean to scare you, babe,” Changbin apologizes, planting a gentle kiss on your shoulder. You mindlessly nod. “Though I’m glad you’re awake. I missed you.”

His soft kisses soon travel up the column of your throat, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Changbin effortlessly moves your body so you’re lying on your back, a soft smile playing on his lips as he leans in to kiss you.

And it feels wrong.

His tongue swipes against your lower lip, soon pushing against yours, and his taste has you clutching your fists. He slots himself between your thighs like he’s done countless times, and the weight of his body on top of you has your face twisting into a scowl. He slips a hand underneath your shirt, and the feeling of his calloused fingers across your skin has you instinctively pushing him away.

Changbin looks stunned for a beat, but his lips soon curl into a playful grin.

“Not in the mood?” He simply asks, and it makes you want to cry.

Because Changbin has always been the perfect man. He was gentle, never demanding, and always so caring to you. Even after his sudden change, his only flaw was how distant he’s become.

He is completely unaware of how you callously hurt him in the worst way possible, and the weight of that realization erases any urge you had to cry. You don’t deserve that relief.

After pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, Changbin sits up on the bed. You remain motionless, focusing on how the moonlight casts shadows on the ceiling instead of how your heart twists painfully inside your chest. You only break out of this trance once he hums beside you.

“Your mom called,” he tells you, his fingers swiping across his phone screen when you face him. “Forgot to tell you. I had to tell her we chose to postpone the wedding,” he chuckles casually, and you tightly clutch the covers.

Fuck.

“I didn’t wanna tell her yet, but…” you trail off with a shaky sigh. “I guess it’s okay.”

Changbin shrugs dismissively. “Yeah, she told me you avoided the topic when she called you. She was upset, though I don’t get it,” he scoffs. “We’re still getting married, just not now.”

Those words are enough to have your heart shatter completely.

Sadly, the happiness your selfishness brought you that week is nothing compared to the sorrow that envelops you for disappointing your mother.

Chan gave you the space he knew you needed.

Even though you gave him the happiest six days of his entire bleak existence only to leave him alone and wondering, he gave you space.

The way he forgot about everything else during those days with you was almost like a fantasy. Inside the little atmosphere you created, it was just the two of you and the love he had kept hidden for so long. He needed nothing more.

And then you left, and he gave you space.

Until the days turned into weeks, and he watched as two months slipped through his fingers like sand. Even though Changbin hadn’t visited the gym in over three months, Chan’s heart still clung to the hope that he would show up, longing for the chance to ask about you. He also hoped you’d reach out, even if it meant you’d ignore everything that happened in your little world and simply talk about the weather.

Every day, his hopes are shattered into a million little pieces.

He’d take anything over your silence. He would take you as a friend over as a familiar stranger in a heartbeat, would take his heart being broken over not having you at all. He endured that for over a decade, and he would happily ruin himself for you every single day.

And so Chan finds himself knocking at your door, his shirt clinging to his chest after a relentless afternoon of punching the sandbag in his office, futilely hoping to escape thoughts of you. He eventually walked out of the gym, heart pounding in his chest as he sprinted to your apartment as if he was scared you would disappear. Because he was.

As you slowly open the door, he finally stands before you. Your eyes widen as you take in his appearance — his ruddy cheeks, labored breath, and shaky hands that fumble to fix his disheveled hair. But Chan swears you’re the sole culprit for his heart hammering against his ribcage.

“What are you—”

“I want you to pretend it never happened,” he exasperates, “Pretend we never said anything, never did anything, just pretend. We can pretend together, I don’t care. Just don’t cut me out of your life like this.”

“Chan,” you murmur, pursing your lips before continuing. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“You said you didn’t wanna pretend that nothing happened between us. You said that,” he argues, trying but ultimately failing his attempt at keeping his voice down.

Chan feels as if his mind is unraveling. Every emotion he kept nestled inside his chest for years had finally spilled out the moment your lips touched his, and trying to bury this love again felt like a cruel punishment.

“Back in my apartment, I told you we should just pretend nothing happened, but you…” his voice dissipates into a sigh, the words dying at his throat, replaced by a lump that swelled in his throat.

He feels pathetic, adverting his gaze simply to blink away the tears that have gathered in his lashes. But when he turns to look at you again, your eyes are already pouring.

“I’m sorry,” you bawl, fingers gripping the doorframe until your knuckles turn white. “Chan, I’m so fucking sorry, but I can’t do this.”

Chan gnaws on his bottom lip, his eyes fixed on you as you turn and walk away, leaving him alone by your door. As he watches your figure disappear into the hallway, he realizes he cannot bear the agony of only helplessly watching you any longer.

“You said you were happy,” he yells out, following after you like a phantom you carelessly disregard. The sound of his voice echoes behind you, ignored as you enter the kitchen and resume drying plates and cutlery. Chan continues, “You started it. You chose to cross that line, chose to stay, chose to keep letting me make love to you every damn night—”

You drop a plate on the counter with a scowl, the delicate porcelain chipping at the edge. “Love?” You scoff bitterly at Chan, shaking your head. “That wasn’t love. That was a mistake.”

“That’s not what you said,” Chan retorts, and your eyes soften. He breathes out a heavy sigh. At this point, he knows he’s gone beyond desperation. He still continues, “Tell me you weren’t happy.”

“Chan…”

“Tell me,” he insists. “Tell me and I’ll gladly pretend with you.”

“I was scared!” You blurt out, “That week with you was the happiest I had been in so long, and it terrified me. But maybe that’s love, huh? Being selfish, putting myself before everyone else and acting like a fucking teenager. That’s surely love,” you scoff, words dripping with sarcasm.

A heavy silence falls between you. Chan is back in that familiar place, watching you engage in a silent battle within yourself, distant eyes almost boring holes into the chipped plate in your hands. Deep inside, he knows you’re right. It is selfish to want you to abandon everything you built for a dormant love you both buried so long ago.

But maybe being selfish is exactly what you both need. Maybe love isn’t selflessness, maybe it’s the complete opposite.

“Maybe that’s the love we deserve,” Chan breaks the deafening silence, carefully stepping closer to you. “After all these years of stupidly sacrificing our own happiness, maybe selfish love is the kind of love we need.”

But you remain silent. Your eyes wander around, almost as if you’re taking in the life that reflects the choices you’ve made. The walls of your hallway, adorned with polaroid pictures telling your story with Changbin, from just friends to the night of your engagement. Your fridge, where colorful magnets hold up little notes from Changbin, filled with sweet nothings and inside jokes. Chan notices the date on the most recent one, realizing it was over seven months ago.

As the minutes tick by, Chan braces himself for your words. He’s ready to be called insane, for you to yell and rightfully reject any notion of continuing your friendship. He knows there’s no going back to the way things were. That possibility died the moment you stepped into his apartment that fateful night.

Instead, you gaze up at him and whisper four words that leave him completely stunned.

“Run away with me.”

And Chan’s never been able to deny you.

Before you two can even make sense of anything, you’re already in your bedroom. Chan packs your bags while you kneel beside your bed, hastily jotting down words on a piece of paper. Your sudden giggle has him biting back a smile that blossoms on his face when you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him into a deep kiss. He sighs into your lips. Your love was unearthed, dirty and tainted, but still breathing. It was sinful and borderline cataclysmic, but it was yours.

Since you were both ten years old, it has always been yours.

Your letter to Changbin hangs alongside the love notes he’d left for you over the years; selfish words nestled between sincere ones.

Inside his car, Chan’s hand intertwines with yours, and he watches your lips curl into a smile that finally reaches your eyes. It’s the first time he’s seen that expression grace your face in years.

And Chan’s emotions mirrored your own, so he made it his mission to make that happiness everlasting.

Even if it was through a selfish love.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie, @vlctorriaa, @redstayrosie, @binniesbabygirl, @pynchkilledme, @chansbabygirlsstuff, @pheonixfire777, @yongbokkiesworld, @kiensecent

[hunny-beann]

I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3

Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.

That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.

She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.

That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.

Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

ao3 link

[candysunoo]

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Lee Heeseung as a

Bridgerton story ❀❀ ◦ೋ•

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ೋ◦dearest gentle-reader ◦ೋ•

❀my name is lady whistledown. you do not know me, and rest assured, you never shall. but be forewarned dear reader, I certainly know you.❀

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ Lee Heeseung x F!reader - Queen Charlotte ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: unedited with run on sentences, strangers - to kind of friends- to lovers, traditional gender roles, 1700’s societal expectations, arranged/ forced marriage, bitchy mother-in-law, mentions of parental death, mentions of mental health ( mainly illusions to bipolar disorder and hallucinations ) and feeling like an outsider, medical malpractice, mention of feeling unloved and trapped in a marriage, SMUT, sex (like 2 scenes + illusions to more ), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, put that wiener in a blanket), loss of virginity, slight breeding kink , praise, body worship, fingering, mention of pregnancy and birth, angst and fluff, idiots in love, ❀❀◦ೋ• lmk if i forgot anything

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: 11.8k ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀ story starts under the cut! please enjoy! - Kei ❀

❀ also i deeply apologize for acidently setting the release date on auto post wring plz forgive me. Also i will be releasing a message to the rude anons i got because there is a certain way to conduct yourself and that was not it 💕 regardless please enjoy and ignore my awful formatting 😭- kei ❀

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to enha bridgerton au masterlist ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to total masterlist ❀❀◦ೋ•

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Today felt different. The air around you felt stiff, and it seemed as if all the staff’s eyes had lingered on you for too long. Their eyes filled with pity.  Looks that you knew all too well. After your parents had passes away those looks were all you got for the longest time. Pity for the beloved daughter of the king and queen. A young princess of ten and two. A princess made to rely on her older brother, of only ten and five, a young man who now was taking over the throne as the head of the country. Your country was small, a speck of dust in the seemingly never-ending universe of other counties. Compared to the massive land-locked nations around you, your island was quaint and for the most part rather peaceful and not to mention almost two months’ boat journey away from any other country. You loved your country and took great pride in being its princess, going to charity events and doing all that you could with what little power was given to you. Nevertheless, things couldn’t stay peaceful for long. As you neared your twentieth birthday it seemed as if your quiet little country had gained attention that you never thought it would. People from neighboring nations had made their way over and found joy in the culture and life your country provides. Some a little too much. Your brother, however, had told you not to worry as it was beyond you, and you shouldn’t have concerned yourself with it. So, as much as you despised leaving it be you did, as your trust in your brother outweighed that of anything else.

As you walked down the cream and white hallways of the palace, decorated with paintings of people you hardly knew and busts of people long passed, you heard your brother speaking quietly with someone in his study. Approaching the wide door, you pushed your long-hooped skirt back, leaning forward at your waist and peaking your head into the doorframe being careful not to be seen or draw any attention to yourself. Your eyes settled on your brother and a tall, pale, dark-haired man standing at the corner of his desk peering down at several documents. The tall, pale, dark-haired man was dressed in a well pressed white and red suit. “… And once you sign here everything will be confirmed and finalized. A ship will be ready to set sale in the next few days.” The man’s deep voice whispered quietly as he traced the lines of script messily written down on the parchment paper placed in front of them. Your brother silently nodded, eyes darting across the paper, reading carefully, hesitating to sign. Finally, your brother looked up at the man, “and I have word that she will be taken care of? That she will not be harmed and forced to live a life unbecoming of her?” The man simply gave a curt nod, “by word of the queen of great Brittan and Ireland, yes, she will be taken care of and provided a life fit for the future queen and mother of a future heir.” In hearing his response your brother nodded, placing his quill into the jar of ink and signing the documents.

Your heartbeat quickened and your breaths became short. Your brother the only man, person really, you could rely on had just sold you off to some random stranger. Well not entirely random, he sold you off to the king. King Heeseung. You whipped up, stumbling back and slightly knocking into a bust behind you, rocking it off its collum and crashing loudly on the floor. The maid passing by jumped at the noise. Rapidly you regained your posture and ran away swiftly as your brother and the man made their way out of his study. Your brother sighed, putting his head in his hands and sweeping his hair back. The man accompanying him looked at him with disbelief as your brother assured him everything would be fine and the two of you would arrive at the port in the coming days to make the log journey to England. Silently the man once again nodded, collecting the signed documents and making his way out of the palace.

With quick haste your brother followed after you, desperately calling out your name. With deep breaths you turned to face him, your skirt flipping around as your body turned. “How could you? How could you sell me off? Sell me off to a man you’ve never met? For what brother, what did you sell me off for?” your eyes pleaded with him as your voice began to crack, tears brimming on the edge of your lashes. Your brother looked at you, hand gently coming up and wiping away the tears that had finally been released. “My dearest sister, you know that never in my years would I ever imagine hurting you or leaving you in a position to fend for yourself” he breathed in deeply “ I did this for us, you must understand that we are not in a good position, every day the larger countries around us send more soldiers and I fear that we are one step closer to becoming just another victim. In marrying you off not only have I secured your future. One where you will be treated with respect and dignity. One where you will live the finest life and be able to have beautiful children. But also, one where we have the support of one of the largest nations in the known world. Where our tiny island can become peaceful once again. And yes, perhaps we do not know much about the king, however, I have on good word that he will be nothing but kind towards you.”  Your brother pulled you into a hug, gently stroking the back of your hair, “You will be perfectly fine, dear sister I will be with you until I can no longer.” Nodding you hugged your brother back, deciding that it is something you must do for not only your brother but the country you love most dearly.

Various thoughts swam around in your head as the carriage made its way down the cobblestone path. It had been a long journey at sea, but you had finally made it to the mainland. You had to admit as much as you admired your country, this one was nothing like you had ever seen before. There were larger buildings and so many people surrounding the streets. You groaned quietly and sat the book you were reading down in your lap as the carriage bounced roughly once again. “What is it this time dear sister?” your brother asked not looking up from his own book. “If you must know, I am uncomfortable.” You complained. “We have been on the road for hours now, it is hot, and I am sat here in a dress made of the finest blue silks and a corset made of whale bone. The slightest jostle pushes it deeper into my skin. Do you know what happens if it penetrates too far? Humm, do you?” you questioned, voice growing irritated. Your brother let out a small huff, placing his book down on his lap and tilting his head towards you, ‘No dearest sister I do not, but I assume that you will so kindly inform me.” You gave him a tight-lipped sarcastic smile, “It can snap and stab me dearest brother, and you will have no one to deliver to the king. Only my dead body in the finest blue silk covered with my dark warm blood.” Your brother only rolled his eyes at your dramatics and picked up his book again, “You will be fine, you have made it thus far” he said as you began to look out the small carriage window.

After a few more long hours your carriage had finally stopped in front of the main church on the palace lands. Thousands of people had made their way inside as you were being escorted out of your carriage and through the doors to a small drawing room on the top level. Inside stood a beautiful woman, dressed in a fine and pristine cream-colored gown. She handed her tea off to a maid as she stood up from the small couch on which she was sitting upon. Several of her lady’s maids ushered you onto a small platform in the center of the room. “Let me get a good look at her.” The woman declared as the maids all fled to the edges of the room. She circled you as if you were prey, poking and prodding at you.” Now what is this getup you are wearing? It is simply too much!” she exclaimed. You looked down at her, “only the finest silk of what my country has to offer.”  She let out a exasperated hum lifting your arms, “Yes, she will do just fine. She has a nice complexion and hips well suited for childbearing. If only she was in something a little more traditional.” The woman looked to your brother who was standing in the entryway of the room, “Does she know how to read? Does she know how to mind her manners?” Your head snapped over to him, an irritated look growing on your face. Your brother simply smiled, eyes begging for you to calm down. “Of course, my Queen. She is well read, can speak several languages, is proficient at both the piano forte and homemaking skills such as needle point.” The queen nodded along as your brother listed off attributes. “Very well than...” she turned her head towards you, “and what do you have to say?” Casting another look to your brother you gently cleared your throat, “It is such a pleasure to be here today my Queen. Thank you for allowing me this opportunity.” The queen once again simply nodded. “Ah yes humble too.  Get her into a traditional gown and prepare her for the wedding. We mustn’t keep the people waiting.” A series of ‘Yes Ma’ams’ went across the room as the queen left. As the lady’s maids dressed you, you tried to ask them questions about the king. Simple things like who was he really and if he was at all kinds. You got short answers all along the lines of “Well he is the king of course”. Nothing that truly satisfied your inquiries. Before you knew it you were stripped and placed into a boring white and cream ball gown.

Finally getting a break from all the hands on you and people around you, you wandered the halls. Silently you heard footsteps behind you. Turing abruptly, you found a man five paces away. Once again you began to walk, and the man followed. This occurred several times before you stopped and faced the man completely. He bowed to you, staying silent. ‘And whom might you be?” you questioned. He gave you a half-hearted smile and introduced himself as your valet and told you that wherever you went, he would be not but 10 paces behind you. You simply nodded, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Making your way back to the drawing room you looked behind at the man, ‘So you follow me wherever I go?” He simply nods. “Yes, Ma’am”. You purse your lips, “And if I were to need to use the chamber pot?” The man cleared his throated and looked at the lady’s maid that was left, ‘please go fetch one for the future queen”. The maid nodded leaving to go fetch a chamber pot and the man silently walked out of the room and waited. Quietly you tiptoed out of the room, carefully sneaking past your shadow and the lady’s maid that was waiting.

You made your way out of the large church, running into the maze-like garden. Taking several twists and turns you found yourself at a beautiful garden wall made with stone, covered in moss with vines growing up the sides, various breeds of roses covering them. Gripping into the strong vines you found a chip in the wall. Attempting to push yourself up and over it you ground as you failed. After several more attempts you stopped, taking a moment to breathe in deeply. On your next attempt you jumped as you heard a man clear his throat behind you. Fearing that you had been caught by your new footman you turned slowly, wincing as you did. Much to your surprise a young man stood behind you. Dressed impeccably in a white suit with decadent jewels decorating the edges of the jacket. The man was nothing less than breathtakingly gorgeous. His eyes captivated you, beautiful and lively. Like no others you’ve seen before. However, the smile he wore was even more heartwarming. Beautiful and kind. That was the only way you could describe him at that moment. “Might I inquire as to why you are trying to go over that garden wall” the man questioned, light hair that was perfectly styled now flowing gently in the breeze. “If it is any of your business it is because I fear he may be a beast, or perhaps a troll.” You stated looking down at your hands, gently wiping them against each other, “And who might you be referring to my lady?” the man continued. You rolled your eyes letting out anther huff and giving the man a side glance before trailing your eyes back to the garden wall, “As impertinent as that might be I am speaking of the King. No one will speak of him. Everything is so rehearsed no one has anything real to say. So clearly, he must be a beast or a troll.” You brought your hand up to the wall, finding a perfect spot; now if you’ll ever be so kind, I believe that if I grab it here, I might be able to get up. Yes! You can assist me by lifting me up here!” you exclaimed, looking back slightly at the man. The mans smile faded slightly, “So no beast and no trolls, his looks would matter to you?” “Well of course not, his looks don’t matter to me, but his heart does, and I cannot get any answer on that either” you answered curtly before speaking again, “Now come, make haste, grip me here…” you explained gesturing to your corseted waist, “... and just lift me, I believe I can make it over the garden wall.” Still looking up at the wall you don’t notice than man approaching you.

“I must be honest my lady,” you turned to look at him. “I have no intentions on helping you over the garden wall.” His smile came back, teeth white and glistening in the sun. The light of which highlighted his handsome feature. You threw him a questioning glance, “So you refuse to help a lady in distress?” you countered. The man just let out a low chuckle, “Only when said lady in distress is trying to go over a garden wall in order to not marry me.” Your face fell as you felt your heartbeat picking up again. Just like the day you found out you were to be married. You backed away from the man, taking in a couple deep breaths. The man followed, stepping closer to you. Smile reaching his eyes and his nose crinkling slightly, “Hello y/n. I’m Heeseung.” You began to apologize to him, getting ready to curtsy “Your majesty- “, however, he grabbed your arm, hand gently sliding down to hold your hand. “No not your majesty, Heeseung, just Heeseung.” Before you could speak again you heard a pair of footsteps. Your brother came rushing around the corner. “Y/n, where on heavens earth have you been? We have been looking everywhere for you” he hissed before quickly bowing to greet Heeseung. Heeseung gave a polite greeting back, “No need to be worried here, I was just chatting with Y/n. She was deciding whether she wishes to marry me.” Your brother looked between the two of you incredulously, “Well of- of course she wants to marry you” he stuttered. Heeseung simply shook his head, flipping is light hair back, “Is that truly what you wish Y/n?” He hummed at you. “Yes, your majest- “, his eyes flickered over your face making their way to your eyes. “Yes Heeseung, I do wish to marry you,” He nodded, giving you a charming smile, “Vey well then I shall see you in the wedding hall.”

After changing into a wedding dress more becoming of you, you made your way into the wedding hall. Your brother walking you down the long and narrow isle as the orchestra played in the background. Looking towards the end of the isle you saw Heeseung standing. He was in his pristine white suit; his white light hair was pushed back. Not a single strand was out of place, he looked absolutely perfect. Your brother handed you off to Heeseung before going to sit down. Heeseung smiled at you gently as he held your hands in his.

The wedding ceremony was quick. It seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. Before you even knew it you had said your vows of promise and celebrated rightfully with the people in attendance. After the sun had set you and Heeseung began to say goodbye to your guest before being ushered out of the large church and into a carriage. Heeseung held your hand the entire way back to the palace, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “You will absolutely love it, before you came, I had the whole palace of Kew redesigned and made just perfect for you” he chimed. You looked at him quizzingly, “will you not be there as well?” He paused for a moment before ignoring your question. He continued about the newly designed palace. As the palace quickly approached, he finished up his explaining about everything he had done. He exited the carriage first turning around to assist you out, leading you to the doors he escorted you inside before letting you go. “Now that you shall find yourself settled, I shall return to my observatory” he nodded letting go of your hand and briskly walking away from you. You frowned deeply, “Is that how it is to be? You are there and me here alone?” You asked the question. Heeseung looked exasperated, “Yes, it is easier that way.” “For whom?” you questioned back at him “For you or for me?” He looked at you, cheeks reddening and his breaths becoming unsteady, “I will not debate this” he hissed, as you opened your moth to speak, he cut you off, “I have decided, I am your king!” His voice boomed throughout the room. Silently you clenched your teeth, wondering how it all could go wrong in a matter of minutes, “Very well, it was my mistake. I thought you to just be Heeseung. Good night your majesty.” You curtsied before turned, ignoring his small calls to you and making your way deeper into the palace walls.

Days had passed and you were beginning to grow bored in the empty palace. Your footman was of no help as you were not allowed to do anything or be seen in public since it was supposed to be your honeymoon. The longer you were alone the deeper in your thoughts you fell. When you first met Heeseung he was so charming. His award-winning smile swept you off your feet and you were so happy to marry him. The sweet way he helped you and the gentle way he had first spoke to you made your heart throb with hurt of his actions when you first came to the palace. Eventually You had grown tired of being alone, unable to do anything, only being with your footman. One day at dinner as you were struggling to cut up a piece of meat you threw your silverware down on the plate; startling your footman and the servants that were posted around the room, “Joong?” you questioned the footman, “Yes, your majesty?” “Ready the carriage.” You stated as you started smoothing out your dress. “Very well your majesty, might I ask to where we’re going?” You nodded, stepping away from the table as your chair scratched over the floor, “Were going to see my husband.”

The carriage ride was short, however it felt like a lifetime to you. Once you reached the observatory Heeseung’s footman came out. “The king does not wish to see you your majesty.” He stated firmly. You looked at him, eyes narrowing. “And if I WISH to see the king?” you questioned. The footman let out an exasperated sigh, having nothing more to say. You pushed past him and into the doors of the observatory. As you entered you were stunned at the sight of it. There were several dinner plates everywhere; along with stretched out rolls of parchment, all with various sketches of stars and planets on them. In the middle of the observatory sat your husband. His shoulders bare and exposed in the soft moonlight coming from the opening on top of the observatory. His skin glistening and smooth. Before you spoke you took a moment to look at him, wanting to commit his figure to your mind. He was tall and rather lean but at the same time, he was muscular. You had witnessed him do farm chores around the palace grounds but seeing him relaxed and in his own head was something else. Before you had a chance to alert him to your present, his footman busted in. “Your majesty, Queen Y/N has arrived to see you.”

Heeseung turned around and once again you found yourself falling into his gaze. Something was different about his eyes this time. It seemed as if he wasn’t all there. As if he was somehow here on earth in front of you and up somewhere in space. “Ahh my dearest Y/n, why have you come to me today?” he babbled, turning back to his telescope. You scoffed face contorting, “Is this where you have been the entire time?” You snapped. “Sitting in here all alone, while I writher away lonely in Kew?” The king scoffs and spares you but a glance, “Would you rather me be out visiting a whore house?”. You gasped at his harshness, “I would rather you be with someone else than to come second place to some stars.” You murmured, walking around so he could face you. He looked at you, eyes traveling over your form. “Go. I don’t wish to see you; I don’t wish to be near you. Go back to your home.” His voice is eerily quiet and calm. “Why must I go? Why must I have to spend my existence alone and with only Joong and my ladies in waiting to keep me company? Why can I not have time with you?” you questioned trying to get closer to him. He pushed you away gently, “I do not know why it is so hard for you to understand y/n. I do not wish to be near you, I do not wish to see you. I do not wish to speak to you. So go.” He seethed, voice becoming louder after every sentence. With a quiet sniffle you let out a sigh and walked out. Calling out for Joong and making your way back into the carriage.

After you had left Heeseung got up from the floor, cleaning up some of the parchment around the observatory. His footman came towards him and began to help. “Do you think I am wrong for what I am doing?” Heeseung questioned him. His footman cleared his throat, ���It is not my place to say, however I do believe you could be kinder to her majesty. From what I hear it has been exceptionally hard on her…” His footman trailed off not wanting to overstep his boundaries. Heeseung sighs, shoulders bending inwards, “I know that, but you of all people know why I am not to become close with her. I could not live with myself if anything were to happen. If I were to lose control. But perhaps I may have been too harsh on her.” Heeseung confessed, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He looked over towards his footman, “Find out what she likes, I wish to get her an extravagant gift” Heeseung’s footman nodded, finishing his task and going to find what was requested of him.

The next day you woke up earlier than usual. Instead of altering your lady’s maid you allowed yourself to lay in bed. After finally deciding to get up and allow yourself to be dressed you made your way down to breakfast. Another day alone, could it possibly get any worse. Shortly after you began eating Heeseung’s footman came into the large dining room carrying a small basket wrapped in red ribbon. “A gift from the king to you, your majesty, he would like to gift you a dog of the finest breed our country can offer.” You look at the footman incredulously as he sets the small basket down and a small dog comes tumbling out. “What is that?” your question. “Well, a dog of course your majesty. “That is nothing more than a deformed bunny. Regardless, as it is from the king I will accept it graciously” You nodded to the footman and signaled for Joong to take the dog. “Clearly it will be my only company in this palace.” Quickly you finished your breakfast before leaving the dining room with Joong and the dog.

After meeting with your ladies in waiting and venting to your newly trusted confidant Jiyun, you had settled down. She explained to you what your present in the palace has done for the people and how it has affected the way others are seen. Confiding in her feeling good, you felt the relief wash over you as you talked to her about everything that had conspired behind the high walls of the palace. In return she told you the rumors circulating about the possibility of an heir and the things your new Mother-in-law had said about you. Things from you being a bad wife and queen to you being un-pure when you arrived on shore. When you shared the truth about your nonexistent escapades with the king she gave you a look of pity, asking you if you had known what was to happen when Heeseung would eventually bed you. You had told her just what your lady’s maid told you, there again the look of pity crossed her face as she got up and got the supplies to inform you what was to happen.

Over the next few weeks Heeseung sent more gifts, including more dogs. You had enough to have each of your ladies in waiting carry one around for you. One day you woke up, going through your morning routine of getting dressed and pampered by the maids and going to breakfast. Much to your surprise Heeseung was there waiting for you. He seemed perfectly chipper as he enjoyed his breakfast. You sat down in front of him, eyes gliding across the room. The servants who usually seemed much more relaxed were now on guard and stiff against the edges of the room. “And what are you doing here?” You asked, easing an eyebrow slightly. He chuckled deeply, putting his for and knife down, “isn’t it obvious, I want to join my wife in our home.” You drew in a quick and deep breath, “Our home? No this is my home. A home you left me too alone.” He’s eyes soften looking at you, “I apologize for how I have been acting, but please give me a chance.” Without a second glance you got up, telling Joong that you would that your breakfast in the drawing room before walking out of the dining room. How could he think after weeks of ignoring you for the stars and sending you useless gifts you have no need for, he could come back and pretend as if everything was fine.

Over the following weeks you and Heeseung fell into a routine. Eventually you agreed to at least share one meal together and converse a little. At dinner Heeseung says across from you, eyes following you closely. “I would like to show you my observatory...” he spoke softly. Your head snapped up to him, eyes widening slightly, “Really?” He nodded, “yes I feel it’s only right that I show you what has kept me away from you for so long.” You smiled at his stately finally feeling like you were getting somewhere with the distant king. When nightfall came the next night Heeseung, and his footman came to get you from your room. You smiled softly as Heeseung gently took your hand, placing a small kiss on the back of it. As he led you out of the palace you had begun to feel nervous. What was so important about this observatory that it kept him away from you. The road to the carriage had felt like it took years. Stepping out carefully with the help of Heeseung you both made your way up the wide cobblestone steps. Entering the observatory, he opened the top to the telescope, guiding you to look inside.

“I’ve always found the planets interesting. I think it’s amazing how we can be so small and insignificant compared to the world. I have never been one to want to look at the darker side of things. Though ever since my father died at war it has been hard for me. Taking over my father’s place was the only thing I was created for. It was my only life’s purpose. I am to bear the burden of every mother, father, and child in this country.” He glances down, “Life is never easy, and I would not have expected it to be. But this crown is pressure on my head, a constant weight and reminder that I am not allowed to crack, that I am not allowed to be anyone other than who the people need me to be. I cannot just be your husband; I cannot just be my mother’s son.” His jaw clenches, eyes still cast upon the floor. You look at him, sorrow and pity finding the way to your eyes, as he continues “No matter how much I want to be, I must always be king. A king first, a king of the people, one who must take into consideration everyone. I wish to just be your Heeseung. I wish to just love you every day, to just stand by your side every day, to just be with you every day for the rest of my life… “You approach him, hands finding their way to his arms, gently tracing down them, “but you don’t have to do it alone, I’m right here, I too simply wish to be with you. In every way, with joy and with sorrow. I just want to be with you.” He looks at you, eyes soft and a charming smile making his way to his face. Gently he takes your face in his hands, leaning down and brushing your lips together ever so slightly.

Your heart jumps into your throat, another nervous feeling washing over you. This time it makes you feel giddy and excited rather than anxious. Slowly you lean into the kiss. Finally pressing your lips together. His hands find his way from your face softly sliding down before settling on your waist, pulling you closer into him. The world itself seemed to pause as the kiss went on. Lips against lips, and breaths interchanging with each kiss. As you leaned into his embrace, he pulled back resting his forehead against your hands still gripping at your waist. “Let’s go home.” The simple statement from him made you flustered, you could feel your cheeks warming up. Nevertheless, you nodded, and he once again led you out and to the carriage, holding onto you the entire way back to the palace.       

Once you go to the palace Heeseung once again helps you out of the carriage, holding on to you ever so gently. Making your way inside through the large palace doors you both stop in the foyer, your maids coming up to assist you in getting ready for bed as it had become quite late. You look around, eyes finding Heeseung, he gives you a smile and allows them to take you away, “Go and get comfortable, I’ll find you later” he smiles at you once again giving you a small kiss. Simply nodding you allow yourself to be taken up the grand staircase and ushered into a bathroom, the ruby and gold encrusted tub sat in the middle with heaps of steam rolling off the top of the water inside. “We took the liberty of drawing you a bath Ma’am” your maid said, you nodded at her in thank you allowing her to undress you from your corset and large gown before getting in the bath. After being thoroughly scrubbed down by your maid you had finally gotten out of the bath. Your maid dressed you in a white button-down night dress. Making your way back to your room you let out a sigh, rolling your shoulders as the maids opened the door for you.

You stopped in your tracks as you walked into the large opulent room. Sitting on the large bed in the middle of your room was Heeseung. Leaning back on his hands, clad in just a pair of night pants and an unbuttoned night shirt showing off his chest. He glanced over at you as you entered the room, pushing himself up and walking towards you. He takes you hands in his, binging them up to his mouth and kissing them softly, “You look simply mesmerizing, y/n”, your cheeks heated up once again at his complement, looking down at your intertwined hands you smiled. “Thank you…” You unlaced your fingers bringing your hand up to cup his face, bringing your faces closer together. You leaned in close to him, softly pressing your lips together. Before you could go any further, he stopped you, “Are you sure this is something you truly want?” His question caught you off guard and you thought back to what you were told by one of your ladies in waiting. “Of course I want this, I want to be with you” you whispered to him. He smiled, kissing you gently, “Do you know what is to happen?” you nodded silently, “I have been told… however I did not enjoy the part where my head is to hit the wall repeatedly” he let out a low laugh and caressed the back of your head, “That okay my love, we can stop that.” You took note of how his eyes crinkled at the side as he leaned down and kissed you.

You pulled away, reaching to start to unbutton your night dress, “I fear I may have made a wrong choice of wardrobe” you said as you struggled with the various buttons. He shook his head, “no do not worry about it, I’m very good with buttons.” His hands followed yours as he pulled you closer to him, lips pressing against the sides of your neck. With little effort he popped the buttons down your night dress. A small moan escaped from your throat as Heeseung continued to trail kisses down your neck, biting and sucking gently. Slipping the dress off your shoulders and allowing it to fall on the floor leaving you completely exposed. He leaned back, admiring you, “you are beautiful, you are everything I imagined you to be and more…” your ears began to ring, and you felt the heat crawl up your neck. You thanked him with a kiss, running your hands up his sides sliding them under the top of his unbuttoned shirt, slipping it off his shoulders. “As are you” he shook his head, turning and softly pushing you down onto the plush bed, “I can simply never match your beauty, you are ethereal.” His statement made your heart race. Your breath quickened as Heeseung once again began kissing down your neck, hands gripping harshly at your sides, “you are ever so perfect my love.”

You let out a whiny moan hands coming up and gripping his hair as you reflexively arched into his touch. His lips found their way to your chest. Another soft moan escaped your lips as his hot mouth wrapped around your pert nipple, his other hand coming up and gingerly tweaking the other one. It was a new sensation to you, one that sent shockwaves of heat throughout your body. You bit your lip letting out small puffs of air but concealing your moans. Heeseung’s eyes trailed up to meet your as he switched from one nipple to the other, “Do not hide your beautiful sounds from me I wish to hear them. To know that I am making you feel the upmost pleasure.” You nodded silently a gasp leaving your mouth as you felt his hand train from your breast and down to your thighs. Heeseung had stopped his assault on your chest and nipples; allowing himself to slide further down into the bed. You felt the same surge of heat flood through you. Both of his hands fell onto your thighs, gently pushing them apart and exposing you to him. You shivered as his fingers gently spread your folds. Without holding back, he licked up from your entrance mouth circling around your clit and sucking on it harshly. Your hips jolted, hot pleasure brining through you at the new sensation. A whine left your throat as your hands ran through his hair pulling on it. Heeseung moaned against you, dipping his tongue into you and savoring your taste on his tongue.

Slowly he begins to trail his hands up and down the inside of your thighs before slipping two fingers inside of you focusing his efforts back on your clit. The stretch of his fingers is a bit uncomfortable but still pleasurable. He waits to let you adjust to the feeling before slowly starting to thrust them. A gasp leaves you at the feeling.  Clenching down on his fingers you start to follow his movements, pleasure seeping into every limb as you pull at his hair. With a breathy moan you cum, legs trying to close at the newfound feeling. Heeseung’s hand grips your thigh, forcing your legs to stay open as he licks up what he can of your arousal.

Heeseung moves back up in the bed, pulling his fingers from you and sticking them in his mouth. Your face burns at the sight, Slowly Heeseung pulls of his pants, your eyes trail downwards to his exposed cock. It was long and hard, leaking precum and red, slowly Heeseung starts grinding gently against you, “Are you doing okay my love?” he asked, his voice gentle and caring. You let out a nod slightly spent from the previous orgasm, Heeseung shook his head, “No, I need words dear.” Breathing heavily, you once again nodded, “Yes, yes, I am doing so good please continue.” Heeseung nodded, bending over to give you a deep kiss. Slowly he lined himself up, rubbing his tip against your clit before he pushed into you, although he had thoroughly stretched you out there was still a slight burn. Your hands moved up to grip his shoulders, nails digging into them as he stopped moving, allowing you time to adjust. After a brief pause, he looked down at you, waiting for you to allow him to continue, you pulled him down, giving him another kiss, “I think I am okay now...” you mumbled against his lips. He nodded, gripping your thigh and pulling your leg up onto his waist pulling out slightly before thrusting in again. After a few experimental thrusts he started to speed up. With a loud moan you through your head back, mouth open and hands gripping tightly at him. “You look so beautiful, so perfect for me” he huffed continuing to bury himself deep inside you. You whine, eyes clenched shut in pleasure. “You feel so good wrapped around me” he groaned, thrusting relentlessly into your velvety walls. You moaned loudly, small pleads of pleasure leaving your lips. “You’re going to look so good with my seed dripping out of you, humm would you like that my queen?”

His filthy words draw you closer to your impending orgasm. You nod, your brain fuzzy, the only thing on your mind was the way his thick cock dragged against your walls. A loud moan rips from your throat as you clench around him again, “That’s it my love, cum, cum for me beautiful” Heeseung whispers, moaning lowly. You orgasm rushes over you, and with one last thrust from Heeseung he comes as well, painting your walls white with his seed, dripping and causing a mess.  You trembled coming down from your high, cringing at the feeling of sweat and hair sticking to your body but stayed beneath Heeseung anyway. He gave you a final gentle kiss before pulling out and lying next to you, arms wrapping around you and pulling you tightly into his chest allowing you to lay your head down on his chest. “You were absolutely perfect y/n.” You smiled stretching your neck and giving him a short but sweet kiss as a thank you before you finally relaxed in his arms, the both of you falling asleep in a pile of intertwined limbs.

The next morning you woke up alone. You got up from bed feeling slight discomfort as your lady’s maid came in to help you bathe once again and get dressed for the day. As your maid scrubbed you down in the tub, she looked at you with a pained smile. “I was informed to let your majesty know that the Kings mother has arrived and will be staying for the day.” You clinched your teeth together simply nodding and allowing her to finish washing you off. As your maid tightened the corset and placed you in the large, elegant dress you couldn’t help but space out. You wondered by you mother-in-law would choose now of all days to visit you. It was no secret, the things she said of you, but even so you did not imagine that she would go as far as to hound you in your own home. Walking down the large hall you had a wide smile on your face. Looking in each room for your husband your footsteps softened as you heard his booming voice, followed by the screech of his mother.

You were brought back to the day you found out you were to be married, sneaking around and peaking from the corner of the doorframe you listened to them intently. “I have done everything you asked. You asked me to get married. I let you choose, and I got married. You asked me to stay away from her and keep hidden for as long as I could, and so I did. You asked that I bed her and try for an heir and so I did. What more could you want from me?” He yelled sharply, clearly trying to maintain his composure. “I want results, I want the next heir and I want news of her falling pregnant soon. You are to remain here and continue to try until we get the next king to this country.” You could hardly hear her reply as your heartbeat thumped in your ears. Utterly heartbroken and angry you stepped into the door frame, pushing it open wider. Heeseung looked at you, his face falling as he realized you had been standing there for far too long; hearing all the things he had to say about you and his thoughts on your relationship. “Y/n- “Before he continued you cut him off; breathing in deeply, you started to speak, turning towards him and bowing down, “I apologize your majesty, As I must have misunderstood our situation and the way you truly felt about me. Now that I know I will refrain from seeking companionship with you.” Yu looked towards your mother-in-law and bowed again, “I will of course continue to try for an heir, I will not fail. I will perform my duty as it has been laid out for me.” His mother looked satisfied with your answer, nodding her head and looking between the two of the, “Well at least she is not completely useless or incompetent.” Hearing the spiteful comment from your mother-in-law, you turned on your heel and walked out of the room.

By nightfall his mother had left, and you and Heeseung were alone. He had tried to talk to you several times throughout the day, but you had simply ignored him stating that you would see him the next time you were to try for an heir. As the weeks dragged on you had been trying. Eventually the day after next it was time for you to once again try for a heir. You found yourself walking into the bathroom as Heeseung was taking a bath. Stripping yourself of your bed coat you stood in front of him. Quickly he told his footman to get out. “Just get in…” he demanded, and you followed. Dropping down on top of him in the tub you pulled his face to yours, connecting your lips in a hot kiss. His hands found their way to your thighs rubbing up them and lifting your now soaking dress. You felt him harden as you ran your lips down his neck grinding down gently. Heeseung sucked in a breath allowing his head to fall back and for you to continue your ministrations. You had never been this confident before, Heeseung just had to wonder where it came from.  Before long he found himself wanting even more of you. Stopping you from going further down his chest he gripped your chin, bringing your lips back up to meet his as he untired your bed coat. His fingers went back to your thighs, ghosting across them and then into your dress, pulling it over your head and throwing it to the floor. Grabbing at his hard cock in the water you line him up to your entrance, sinking down onto him with a brief pause.

No matter how many times you have done this the slight stretch is always there. A moan rips from Heeseung’s throat as you begin to ride him, bouncing up and down quickly. Your own moans were just as loud, acting as music to Heeseung’s ears. His fingers dig into your hips allowing him to set the pace.  Your thighs started to burn as Heeseung slowed down your bouncing, kissing you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth, “You’re so perfect for me,” he praised moving one hand down in between your legs, fingers pressing harshly against your sensitive clit, rubbing it in small circled. A high-pitched moan left your lips, as your hips jolted slightly from the pleasurable friction, “Heeseung please” you begged quietly already feeling your orgasm impending as your legs had begun to shake. Heeseung didn’t stop, “You do not have to ask my dear go ahead, come for me” he moaned out into your ear, starting to thrust up into you faster. You whined, clenching tightly around him, as you came his fingers still rubbing on your clit. Heeseung followed shortly after you, his warm cum filling you up and leaking down his cock.

Panting heavily, you collapsed on top of him, sighing at the relief of your burning thighs, allowing yourself to relax into the now cold bath. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head, “I’ve missed this you know; I’ve missed the intimacy between the two of us…” he mumbled. You nodded your head, “As have I but it is not my fault that it had disappeared” Heeseung let out a sigh nodding his head as he place it on top of yours, “I am aware and for that I am sorry. I am always so caught up in who I must be as a king I forget that somedays I can just be Heeseung and no one else.” You gave his neck a gentle kiss, “It is okay, let us just move on, what has happened has happened and there is nothing we can do about that. It is what happens from here that matters now.” You spoke softly into his neck. “Oh, how wise you are my dear queen.” He praised you as he pulled away to get out of the tub. ‘As much as I love laying here with you, we must get out, it is rather late, and I fear I do not like the feeling on my fingers and toes wrinkling.” You agreed with his statement allowing him to get out of the tub and dry off, dressing himself in clothes that were already laid out, before he came back to help you. Ever so gently he pulled you out of the tub, wrapping you in a bath towel and drying you off gently. His eyes fell to your soaking dress on the floor, “I fear that you may not be able to wear that one again tonight my queen.” You giggled at his response. “And who shall be at fault if not you my king,” he smiled widely at you, “Nevertheless I do agree, I shall call for a new one.” After a short wait a maid brought you a new dress, helping you change. Heeseung took you into his arms, walking you to his room and laying you down on the bed, joining you shortly after. “Stay with me tonight please?” He asked. You simply nodded, allowing yourself to lay in his arms as you finally dozed off.  

You were awoken by the sound of a crash coming from outside the palace, in the garden. You looked around the room noticing Heeseung was nowhere to be found. Hastily you jumped out of bed, putting on your bed coat and walking out to the palace garden. There you found Heeseung stripped naked in the rose garden, rocking back and forth quietly singing about the planets to himself, hands out in front of him as if playing an imaginary piano. You knew he had been going through something over the past few weeks, but you could have never imagined it to end with him like this. His footman was standing in front of him, trying to get ahold of his attention. As you approached them his footman turned to you, “You should be inside your majesty the king would not like you to see him like this.” You shook your head at him, “Absolutely not. I will not abandon my husband in his time of need.” You made your way closer, pushing the footman out of the way and crouching down in front of Heeseung grabbing his hands. “Venus has gone away, will she come out to play?” You heard his quiet singing. “Heeseung, Heeseung my love, are you okay?” His eyes finally found their way towards you. You smiled at him, moving a hand to caress his face.  He shakes your hand away from his, grabbing your face, “Venus you are not in the sky, have you come to play with me?” You bit your lip at his question shaking your head. “It’s me Heeseung. It’s Y/n. I’m your wife.” He smiles widely, laughing loudly, “Yes of course you’re my y/n. You are way too beautiful to just be Venus. She could never hold a candlelight to you, my dearest.” His ramblings brought you worry but you kept calm for his sake. “Of course, and you are my dear husband, Venus has gone away, so we must go inside now.” Heeseung nodded in agreement. You pulled him up and took off your bed coat, wrapping it around him and leading him to the bathroom. You instructed his footman to bring you water and a cloth. When his footman came back with the warm bucket of water you gently scrubbed the dirt off Heeseung, assisting in getting him dressed and back in bed. You turned to look at Heeseung’s footman once you got him settled, “You must make sure that none of this leaves the palace grounds. Make up what excuse you have too but no one must know.” His footman nodded bowing to you with a quick, “Yes Ma’am.” before he left. Laying down next to Heeseung you gently stroked his hair back, kissing the top of his head, begging whatever deity would listen that he would be okay in the morning.

When morning finally came you once again woke up alone. You got a dreadful feeling as you got flashbacks to the last time you had woken up alone after sleeping with Heeseung. You had hoped that today would be better for the both of you. You also had hoped that Heeseung might finally be open about what he was going through. Making your way to the dining room a shy smile came over your face as you noticed he was sitting down at the table. You sat down as you were served your breakfast. “Are you doing well this morning?” you asked him quietly. His head snapped up from looking down at his tea, “You must already know the answer to that.” He stated. You nodded your head, “I do but it never hurts to ask, you gave me quite a fright last night. I was worried about you.” He looked you up and down, trying to find any sign that you were lying and stayed silent. Finishing up your breakfast you gave him a nod, deciding not to say anything else and allow him to sit in silence. Before getting up to leave you cleared your throat, “I have an appointment with the doctor today, so we shall see if anything comes of it.” Heeseung remained silent as you left. In that moment he knew that if you were to have finally fallen pregnant, he would have to make himself start to visit his doctor again. He would have to get himself under control, no more episodes and no more mod swings. Shortly after your doctor’s appointment word reached Heeseung that you were indeed pregnant. When he read the letter, he felt his heart stop. His heart hurt for you and for your future child. However, it also swelled with joy, as hard as adapting to this marriage has been he was so proud to finally have something to share with just you. As for you, you were elated with the news. You had finally achieved what was thought to be your only role in life and you could not wait for your baby to come.

It has been several weeks since you got news back from the doctor regarding your pregnancy. You knew he hadn’t been back to his observatory, but he had seldom been seen in the halls of the palace. Now several months pregnant you couldn’t stand not knowing where he was. You had tried sending him letters and even getting Joong to harass Heeseung’s footman to try and find out where he could be hiding. Even through all of that you still had no idea. Though as time went on and a few months passed you began to grow suspicion about the chatter from the servants. You had heard some of them talking about hearing screams being concealed deeply in the underground chambers beneath the main palace for several days and nights. Others talked about how it must have been someone who betrayed the crown, and though you wouldn’t have doubted it, with your husband missing you just had to think otherwise. The rumor mill led you to none other than your mother-in-law. Walking into her large drawing room you ignored the woman that was sitting with her. “Where is he?” you demanded, slapping a hand down on the gold marble table. Your mother-in-law jumped as the sound, giving you a glare before turning to look at the woman sitting with her, “I suppose we will have to catch up some other time, I fear the queen’s pregnancy has gotten to her.” The other woman let out a giggle, muttering something about having been there before as she curtsied and walked out of the room, allowing the servants to close the heavy wooden door behind her. “You must’ve lost your manners, girl” she hissed at you, “You have no right to demand to see the king, let alone know where he is. It is none of your concern.” You clenched your jaw, teeth grinding down against each other as you huffed out, “No right? No right, you say. I have every right, even more so than you. I have every right to demand to know where my husband is and what he is doing. I have every right to see him!” Your mother-in-law simply shook her head, “He would not want you to know where he is.” She sucked in another breath but before she could begin to talk again you cut her off. “I know. I know that the king is mad, I know that he is sick.” Anger flared in your mothers-in-law eyes as he looked at you, “The king is not, and I repeat, is not mad. He is simply burdened.” You shook your head. Voice breaking as you spoke, “You do not understand, I know that he is, I have seen it firsthand. Yet I choose to love him anyway, I choose to stay by his side.” As much as this woman had hurt you, made you feel inferior and alone you couldn’t bear to see her do the same to your husband, her own son. “So please, I will do what I must but please let me see him.” However, it seemed as though your pleads had fallen on deaf ears as your mother-in-law walked away. You only had one other option, to go to Heeseung’s footman and convince him yourself.

Following a short ride to the main palace you met Heeseung’s footman. You glared at him as Joong helped you out of the carriage you had arrived in, being extra careful of your pregnant belly. “I am demanding to see the king.” You spoke out calmly. Heeseung’s foot man looked at you. Before he could begin speaking back you shook your head, “I am demanding to see the king. As your queen you are required to allow me to see him. As his right hand and aide, you are sworn to protect him. With that being said, you must take me to the king.” Heeseung’s footman sighed, not saying a word but casting a long glance to a lone cellar door on the side of the building. Without saying another word, you took off, Heeseung’s footman and Joong following closely behind you. “Your majesty you mustn’t enter there, he does not wish for you to see him in this state.” The footman pleaded with you. “He is my husband; I shall see him in whatever state I wish.” You responded as you threw open the cellar door. Immediately after its opening you heard terrifying screams, one that could only be riveled by women in labor. Quickly making your way down the three small steps and into the leaky dark cellar you followed the sounds of the screams. They become louder and more deafening as you near a door at the end of the long tunnel, light being cast through the cracks. The guards outside of the door moved to stop you, nearly grabbing you up before Joong or Heeseung’s footman came to stop them. Silently the guards turned to Heeseung’s footman with questioning glances. The footman sighed, “Let the queen in, she wishes to speak with the king.”  Without any further instructions the doors were pushed open by the two guards. The sight of the room made you sick. It was dirty and there were rats and roaches everywhere. Just barely standing in front of a throne-like chair in the middle was Heeseung, head down and nodding out. His feet were plunged into a vat of steaming water. He was clothed in simple white sleeping bottoms, a thick sheen of sweat covering him as his hair stuck down to his forehead. The palace doctor stood over him, two electrodes in hand and a sick smirk on his face, while two more guards held him up by his arms. The doctor pushed the electrodes into Heeseung’s skin, causing him to scream out in agony. You let out a curdled scream, causing all the men, apart from Heeseung to look over at you. “Release the king this instant!” You demanded, edging closer to the men. The doctor let out a hiss, demanding you to be removed. “No, I demand that you release the king. I am your Queen, and as such you will do as I say or face the consequences.” The guards holding Heeseung up let him go, allowing him to stumble out of the vat of water. You moved quickly, allowing him to fall into you. He looked up, eyes hazy, “y/n my love is that you” His voice was hours no doubt due to the torture he had endured. You nodded, whispering out a small yes as you stroked his head, “Just rest, it’s okay, you’re okay now” You spoke softly to him. Heeseung’s eyes closed as he finally allowed himself to completely nod out. You looked towards Joong and Heeseung’s footman signaling for them to take him. They did so quickly, carrying him out to the carriage with you not far behind. The doctor ran out following behind you, “Your majesty you must understand. All I was doing was trying to cure him.” You whipped around at the careless doctor’s comment, “Cure him? What exactly were you trying to cure? He is just fine as he is. He is a great king and husband. You should be lucky if you are allowed to practice medicine in this country ever again. I’ll have you tried for your crimes against the crown, and it will only be by the king’s hand whether you make it out alive. So, whatever it is you supposably tried to cure him of you best hope he is grateful for it.” You threatened him, before returning to the carriage and being taken home with Heeseung at your side.

 It had been several days since you had dragged Heeseung out of the dungeon that the deranged doctor kept him locked in. Your due date was coming up soon and you were stressed and worried about him. You knew that he blamed himself for the way you found him, no doubt from the manipulation of the doctor. Your mother-in-law had continued to tell you to leave him be and allow  him to stay by himself, but you simply could not bear the thought that he was alone and hurting. So, when night fell, and your mother-in-law retired for bed you and Joong set out for the observatory. The giant doors scratched the marble floor as they opened. Walking in you spotted Heeseung, much like he was the first time you found him here, shirtless with things scattered all around him, newly minted scars forming on his upper body. “Is there a reason you have yet to return home?” you questioned hands coming up around your obviously showing bump. Heeseung looked at you, eyes wide. He stayed silent for a moment and shook his head, “Nothing that is a concern of yours. You need to leave Y/n” he spoke coldly. You mimicked him shaking your head “No. Not until you tell me you do not love me” Heeseung opened his mouth, ‘What does that have to do with anything?” You stared at him incredulously, “It has everything to do with it. I have heard you say that you wish for me to go, that you wish for me to leave, even going as far to say that you wish we had never married. But you have never said that you do not love me. If you truly do not, then tell me. Because if you do love me then I will continue to come here, every day to bring you home.” Heeseung’s face fell, frown becoming deeper. Instead of letting him speak you continued, “Well what do you have to say? Tell me? Tell me you do not love me, and I will go. I will never return; I will have our baby on my own and only come around when my position calls for another one. We can spend the rest of our lives apart.” Heeseung’s eyes clouded, and he stood from his position, drawing closer to you. “My heart is only for you; it calls your name day and night. It yearns for you whenever you are away. I cannot breathe without you here. I have loved you, desperately, so from the moment I first seen you in the garden. You are the only one for me, but you don’t need my broken parts. You don’t need the me that cannot give you a perfect man to love.”  Your head snapped up as you responded “And do you believe that mine does not? Do you truly believe that I would not love every single part of you? Do you think so lowly of me?” Heeseung cuts you off, “Of course I do not think lowly of you, you are the most magnificent person I have ever had the pleasure to known. But- “you shook your head, grabbing him and pulling him to you, being careful of you protruding belly, “Then that is all we need to know, I love you and you love me.” Kissing him deeply you speak again, “I will forever be by your side, I will love you through your good days; and I will love you through your bad ones too. I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that I love you, all of you, if you let me.” Tears cloud your eyes as you stare up at him, blinking them away they trail down your face. Heeseung looks at you, face fallen and eyes sad. He snakes his hands up to your face, wiping your tears away, “Only if you let me do the same.” With a nod you kiss him deeply again, hugging him tightly to you as his arms wrap around you. Finally, you feel at ease with being in his arms.

The day had finally came. Sharp pains shot through you as you laid down in bed, your lady’s maid beside you gripping onto your hand tightly. Another lady’s maid sat at the end of the bed, instructing you to keep your legs up and opened as she carefully checked on the baby. You heard your husband screaming at someone for a doctor, telling them that is what you needed. With each second the searing pain became worse, crying, you called out to your husband. In a matter of seconds, he came barreling through the door a doctor in tow. The doctor took over for the lady’s maid down at the foot of your bed, proving his own check and giving your husband a nod. Heeseung kneeled at your side, allowing you to grip his hand as hard as you needed. Effectively taking place of the First Ladies maid. “You are doing splendid my darling, there is no need to be panicked. Just relax my dear girl, relax.” Heeseung hummed into your sweat drenched hairline, placing a gentle kiss when he finished, “Just give it time, our child will soon see the world all thanks to you.” You gave him a halfhearted smile before another scream of pain left you. The doctor took a deep breath, “your majesties, it is time. You need to start pushing. The baby is ready.” With a nod you started, the pain becoming worse than before. Heeseung sat by you the entire time and made sure you were taken care of after the birth. When you were finally done the doctors and ladies maids took the baby and cleaned him up. Several minutes later you were met with your newborn being laid out in your chest. You smiled at Heeseung, looking over and seeing his eyes filled with so much love and joy. It was at that moment you knew that you would do anything for the two of them. And you wouldn’t change a thing.

Only seven months after your first baby had you gotten pregnant with another one. You and Heeseung were very excited. You were happy to say the least that your little family kept growing with nothing but love and support. One day you were in the garden, watching as Heeseung threw around weeds and dead flowers, helping with the landscaping. Your now five children had sat below you at your feet begging for a story. You giggled and picked up your oldest, nuzzling into him causing him to giggle back. “Now have I ever told you about the princess and the king?” You asked knowing what the several children’s answers would be. Little hands raised up as they all nodded, “yes yes but we want to hear it again!” Their little voices boomed across the garden. Heeseung head peaks up, nodding to you as he came and took a seat down next you. “Well, you see there was this beautiful princess who was set to get married. She was deathly afraid that her new husband was going to be a troll or a beast,” you started, sniffing your laughter. Heeseung rolled his eyes gently before continuing with your story, “but before she could escape, the king had found her trying to go over the garden wall.” “Of course, the princess didn’t know it was him at first and even tried to get him to help her escape” you interrupted him.  The children nodded along with the story, their smiles becoming wider as they watched you and Heeseung stare at each other. Heeseung took ahold of your hand as he continued the story, “but it was too late, as it was from that moment that the king knew she would be very special to him and he to her. He knew that she would be the one thing to save him from all else” Heeseung eyes glanced around the children taking in their wide and beautiful smile as he kissed the back of your hand.

Sure, your story was not perfect. It was filled with ups and downs, tragedy and pain. But over everything else it was true and the love you held for one another would never die. It was an eternal flame flickering even in the strongest of winds. It was the light that peaked out of the door at the end of a dark and damp corridor. It was hiding together and living together. It was understanding and compassionate. But most importantly it was yours and that’s all that truly mattered.

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

❀❀❀ taglist (for enha as a bridgerton story) - @lol6sposts @signed-manny @peonywon @rayofsunshineeee @renchai @lwavander @jaeyunzlovr @eneiyri @moonchild-moonfairy @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @strxwbloody @yeonjinnie @firstclassjaylee @laurradoesloveu @smouches @baekxo07 @channiesdarling @microwavedstrawberr1es @jjaeyuns @penny44224 @sseishiross @heesitation @jakedoxxenvasion @jaklvbub @sunus-sun @sunwoniie @hybeboyenthusisast @dollschan @randomanothercreature @nctislifue @nanaheex @addictedtohobi @wolfhardbby @papichulomacy @monstaxdirtywonk @koizekomi @august25 @yaksokhaley @sofesyoongi @pinkkami @peytonthedino @onlyseungkwans @hotchwheels @icedtealeaf (i think i got everyone lmk if i missed you!!)

‼️‼️ ©️ @candysunoo 2024 DO NOT copy, repost or translate without permission ‼️‼️

[lvlyghost]

Hello do you take requests cause I had this idea in my mind but I suck in writing

how bout a ghost x reader where he had a bad day and takes it out on his beloved reader who he's been in a really long relationship with, by starting an argument and maybe saying some really mean and bad things that break the reader. Like the reader is only a shell of herself and completely ruined by ghosts words and just crying or sitting completely still staring off the wall or just staring at nothing just being numb.

What would be interesting is Simons reaction when he realizes the damage that he's done, maybe he would cry/break down idk when he sees the usually happy reader being so dull and almost lifeless yk

But Pleasee don't do this to our hearts and write some comfort and a happy ending please I couldn't handle too much angst❤️😭

The Weight of the World

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: You promised to always lean on each other but sometimes love isn't enough.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

TW: heavy angst, literally got some mid anxiety writing this🥴 swearing, self-doubt, hurt-comfort and slight fluff towards the end. lmk if i missed any.

A/N: finished this in one sitting lol, also not proofread and poorly edited, i've been having a shitty week so expect more angst lol. meet me in therapy. Enjoy anon!🤍🌟🫶🏻💕

Masterlist✨

You hesitate right outside Simon's studio, the place where he secludes himself from everything and everyone. Ever since he came from his last mission he seemed to be on the edge constantly. The usual softness that he reserved specifically for you was... absent.

Still you wouldn't let that stop you from approaching; having dating him for a few years now let you know so much of that. You knew when he was hurting. When he was sad, angry, jealous or even happy. Little to no people could say that.

Somehow this was different. He wasn't even letting you in, constantly keeping you at arms length and that hurt. How were you supposed to get to him this time? Get him to talk to you?

To look at you again with that same glint in his eyes, the spark that you ignited in him and that won't fade away even years after.

The sound of a chair creaking startles you, the same time the timer in the kitchen goes off. You walk back, turning the oven off, and sticking out the apple pie you so happily baked for both with hopes that you'll get him loosen a bit that dark cloud that's been looming over Simon these past few days.

The door of his studio is yanked open the heavy stomp of his boots resonating across the small apartment you two share, then his bulky frame appears just to grab the keys to his black motorcycle.

"Simon!" You call him, burning your hand in the process. He stills halfway through the living room, waiting for you to say something else. Wetting a cloth hurriedly and wrapping it around the burnt skin.

"I made something for us... maybe," standing behind him you leave a reasonable space between the two. You swallow down hard. "Thought we could have it together and just, you know spend...-"

"I don't have time for that now." His voice is cold and monotone. "Don't wait for me."

"But Si-" he turns on his heels, eyes hard and unyielding. He approaches slowly, making you gulp. "What's gotten into you, Simon?" You fight back the tears, this was the man you loved so dearly, the man you knew loved you back; there was a reason for the golden engagement ring on your left hand. "I..-"

"Fucking hell would you stop that? Please just..." he notices the wetness in your eyes. "I can't do this. Not anymore."

"Whatever it is I promise we can work it out together!" your lips quivered. "Just talk to me!"

"I don't need to talk about anything girl!" He seethes, one finger pointing at you. "Think some cheap counseling with you will make things right? Bloody hell no. Neither some homemade bread, this isn't fucking working and it won't until you learn how the bloody world works."

It breaks your heart into a tiny million pieces, breathing becomes a challenge and the injury in your hand can no longer be felt. Simon's words were worse than any physical pain. Where was the man you loved? The man who used to lift you up and kiss you on the forehead? The man whose hands couldn't stop roaming your body late at night? The man who'd helped you reach out for things he probably put away in the highest shelf so you'd ask for help. That same man that had proposed to you no long ago, right before he was deployed to a special op God knows where. The fabric of his mask moves when he keeps talking but you don't listen. You can't. Just like you can't stop the tears dribbling down your cheeks and the tremble of your hands. Simon's jaw clenched, brows furrowed as he takes a step back and leaves.

You walk sluggishly to where the dessert awaits. It's when your knees buckle that you finally let out a loud cry.

-

Simon knows he isn't a good man. He's done quite questionable things that he could never say out loud. He knows he's fucked in so many ways. But he also knows that there's one thing that kept him from spiraling further down into an abyss of death and self-loathing.

You.

The woman he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl that didn't care about his past, the bad moments and his complicated persona. You who would selflessly love him without asking for something in return. What had you seen in him in first place? Even now after three years he can't wrap his head around the fact that he has someone who waits for him.

Simon knows how much he loves you, but what he doesn't know is how—or in what earth—he deserves every part of you.

You've been avoiding him ever since that horrible night. Words he can't take back. Looks that haunt him every time he closed his eyes. He hears you cry when you go to sleep or when you're taking a shower. Muffled sobs and wails that will come for him until the day he dies.

You avoid him like a plague, when he walks in. After all he's the one to blame. He wanted to ask you to tear him apart maybe that'd feel less painful.

The last remaining of sanity that was left in him came crashing down when he began to notice how you stared off in a haze, numbly looking at the window. He was losing you. Destroyed the one good thing he had. So, a few days later, despite his own demons. Despite the things that broke him all irreparably during the last mission in Moscow, he comes to find you. Sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes set on your left hand.

The engagement ring was gone, forgotten someplace unknown. Simon felt the panic wrenching his guts.

It's all on him.

He whispers your name, calls you softly. Slowly sitting in front of you, the coffee table creaks under his weight. Words get caught in his throat.

"May I take your hand?" He pleads, not getting an answer. Simon sighs, lowering his head as silent reigns yet again. "I don't deserve you." He murmurs, eyes bored into the floor. "I... I ruin everything I touch. Just never thought I'd ruin my girl."

Your eyes flutter shut, wet tears clinging to your eyelashes. Simon watches as you stand and leave without a word, he follows close behind to your shared room.

"Love..."

"Don't call me that!" the hurt in your voice... the resentment in your eyes, he's earned it.

Simon reaches out for your arm, grabbing you firmly but gently, mindful not to harm you.

"Right I deserve that." If there's one thing Simon regrets it's being the reason that your eyes no longer shine. "What I said... what happened I...-"

Shaking your head and biting down your lip.

"You never gave me the chance, I thought we said we'd always find a way."

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry baby." in an instant he's pulling you close, although you want to push him away, scream at him, slap him for the calvary he made you go through. "I'm not good with words, and I'm no good person." You feel his body shaking with anxiety as your eyes widen in shock. "I tried... I can't forgive myself for my mistakes."

"Simon..." he hushed you, cradling your head with his big hand. "I can't sleep knowing I can't protect you from what's out there, couldn't bloody protect that kid in Moscow, or my family."

You guide him to the bed, sitting down side by side and holding onto each other.

"Said I would always be with you Simon, why the hell did you push me away?! Have I not given my everything to you? We promised to always make it work!" He grabs your face staring intently into your eyes. "What happened there?"

He blinks, deciding how much to say. There was no need for you to know the entirety of it. He wanted to shield you from the horrors of this world, and he would as long as he lived.

"A young lad whose life's was cut short because I wasn't there on time. How can I come back to you, be happy when someone else just lost their kid..."

"That wasn't on you! Simon Riley you stop that now." He inhales, cinnamon and vanilla flooding his senses. It's you all of you. "Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We do that together, yeah?" Your chest hurts from how hard it's beating. "You've done far so much. You won't lose me."

A rumble in the sky and cars passing by outside your home is all you hear. Brown eyes like honey stare back into your soul.

"You took it off..."

"I burnt my hand, it wasn't healing properly. And you know what?" He quirks a brow. "It wasn't homemade bread. It was an apple pie, you silly."

"You'll never forgive me for that one won't you?" He doesn't chuckle but the air feels lighter.

"No. Probably won't." Simon takes your burnt hand bringing it to his lips, they're soft against the marred skin.

"But we're still getting married, yeah?" He asks.

You smile fondly, humming when he kisses your forehead, tears have now dried.

"Yeah. We're still getting married."

[comfortless]

The way you write König makes me cry and dry heave cuz you balance his loser unhingeness and his heartbreaking tenderness is✨ ART✨

Now I feel like you would be able to EAT this prompt up but imagine König as Frankenstein’s creature that is this big ass hulking mass of body that immediately makes the town grab their pitchforks but he can DESTROY them in seconds. But inside he is just a little guy who just wants somebody to hold and love (and other activities if ya know what I mean

Keep doing what you do❤️

A Place For Us

Frankenstein’s creature! König x fem! horologist reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. discrepancies!, reader is implied to have anxiety, angst & fluff, non-malicious stalking?, loner/loner dynamic my beloved.., brief mentions of previous murders and religious imagery, codependency, smut; masturbation, unprotected piv.

notes: receiving this ask was so funny to me because @melancholic-thing and i have been bouncing this idea around forever (i simply could not have brought this any justice without ghost’s input— if you see this please know that ily dearly). thank you, anon for your kind words and finally giving me the push that i needed to write it! 💘

wc: 10.6k

You’re good at fixing broken things; tinkering with them with a set of well-polished tools until they begin to tick, or chime, or cuckoo.

Some take longer than an afternoon sat before the wooden desk, weeks or months— a year, once. Oiled parts and small cogs, the three arms that jerk and glide over a face riddled with numbers that all lull you into feeling that your work is not just some monotonous service only the rich buzzards could afford, but as if you were a healer of sorts; a little cleric stationed to bring life into whichever jagged, broken thing has been dropped or kicked at her doorstep.

This one, however… you’re convinced it’s as good as dead.

No matter how many times you take apart the little, gray pocket watch, the arms refuse to move. Its ticking sounds less like that of the beating of the heart and more like the grinding of dry teeth, a corpse begging, pleading to let this attempted resurrection come to an end.

Your tweezers wrench the face free, and all at once it proves too much— bending and warping beneath the metal grip until it cracks, a split right through it, down to its very center.

“How…” Your voice fills the void of ticking, pseudo-silence surrounding you. A word slipped out in frustration and unknowing before you finally toss the wretched little thing onto the desk with a clatter and step aside.

The house is as dark and brooding as always, too large for a woman on her own and a workshop that hardly counts as a proper business. Shelves of broken clocks serve as decor where potted plants and well-loved photographs should sit in their stead. Books of study for modern devices such as these in place of the poetry and worn love letters other women seemed to have in abundance.

This place was starved out of light, even with the flickering glow of candles and the electric humming of the unnatural yellow one above.

The sun is no stranger, either, your curtains neatly pulled aside to allow for it to filter through like an invited guest. Only it doesn’t, not on such a melancholic gray day.

You need a walk, a distraction, or this hungry home would be certain to rip away your work from the shelves and swallow you whole instead.

Isn’t it such a tragedy that, someone who pours her creativity and all of her love into time, all she seems to do is waste it?, the gaudy wallpaper seems to taunt, all the colors of filthy maroon and darkened blue flowers seeming to make it feel more imposing and less of a comfort.

Your hand curls around the handle of your umbrella, a sturdy thing, but just as drab as the rest of the home. Then, the package you’ve been putting off delivering to the elderly woman in town. Best to get it done with now, maybe upon your return the hands that fix could do so once again.

Shame about the clock face though. You would certainly have to patch together another and pray the pocket watch’s owner wouldn’t notice.

The wind is not what you had anticipated.

Outside is different. The howling of it past the windows and shuddering through the attic felt perfectly at home in your shoddy little house, but as the door swings shut behind you, it feels entirely alive. Cold and bitter and angry— the things you keep repressed that nature lacks the tact to.

The trees bend and sway from its invisible yet incessant pushing. The hand containing the package falls down to the lap of your skirt to keep it from flying up just as your other clutches the umbrella ever tighter to keep it from billowing out into the air to be left discarded miles away.

It isn’t a short walk to town, but with the wind and the drizzling rain, it almost seems as though you’re in more tender company than the lumber and the ticking clocks.

The path through the forest is overgrown as always, branches are pushed aside and your skirt is lifted to avoid burrs and thorns.

You should have had the sense to bring along a coat, because when the thunder does strike up and the rain finally begins to fall in heavy, hurried drops, you find yourself shivering terribly with the package guarded against your chest.

Lamplight would have done well, too.

You would have almost happily allowed yourself to toss aside the umbrella and be battered by the rain if you could only see. The forest is dark on days like this, with the canopy of thick branches and their dense leaves blocking out any sliver of light cast down from overhead.

It’s only by sheer luck that you don’t manage to trip, toss your delivery into the shadow of a tree and lose it entirely before you do make it out. When the trees finally part to the barren hill overlooking town you breathe a sigh of relief, a quiet thanks for the grayed light above.

Your steps are hurried as you make your way through the quiet town. The shop windows are all lit aglow with the silhouettes of people inside, strangely dancing like shadows through a fog. A place you can not be, can not touch.

The stares the townsfolk give you make your skin crawl, as though they are so close to being what you are but not, only tied down to your world when they think themselves lofty. Their eyes always seem to question, scrape under your skin with sharpened arms, ticking and flaying, always asking: Why?

You face forward as your skin begins to prickle, not from the wet or the chill but a subdued sort of fear that nestles burning into your chest, sets your heart rushing like a rabbit.

The streets are silent enough, a small blessing; any passing strangers are hurriedly skittering through the rain and muck to hide away in their homes, children ushered with a hand to their back by flustered looking mothers, complaining in hushed voices about the rain. You only smile at them and step aside when your paths cross.

They never smile for you.

It’s why the broken clocks are delivered to your doorstep rather than brought inside, addresses and names from muffled voices calling out beyond your thick wooden door, coins and bills pushed through the mail slot to lie cold on the welcome mat. The bell above the door never chimes, and you only make your deliveries on days like this, when the rain or the dark blanket you up to keep you safe and eternally somber.

You leave the package on the doorstep, covered from the rain by a small, vermillion awning. One sharp knock is given and you’re back on your way, back to the old house, to the simplicity of the ticking, the comfort of the old cobweb on the vaulted ceiling and the drab gray of the bleakness.

There are puddles now, glistening with any light they can suck into their depths, threatening and taunting as the dull stares and that rickety old desk you really should fix. You think for a moment, that perhaps no one would even notice if one of those dark pits of rain water pulled you in entirely, only to splash through it with ease, dirtying the ends of your skirt.

The rain lessens when you crest the hill, the forest less a tangle of clattering limbs and now only a gentle sway reaches the tops of the trees, light filtering through them, as if to guide you on your way. It doesn’t lessen the bushels of thorns, the tree limbs downed and scattered over the path. In some small blessing, you’re able to scramble over them without having to plan a visit to a tailor to repair a ripped gown; scrubbing the mud from it would surely be tedious enough.

The droplets splatter against the dirt and fallen leaves in hushed bursts, the forest alive as always with the cooing of nesting birds in spite of the rain. The only thing that seems out of place is a sudden, soft thud, the snap of a branch underfoot. Just one footfall, and things return to a placid state amidst the sky’s tears.

You raise your head to glimpse in the direction, gaze sweeping over the figure of a man some paces off to your left. Beneath the shadow of a broad, twisting pine layered in thick branches, his details are mostly obscured, a thin trail of silver light only casting aglow the glimpse of a blue eye.

He’s only large enough to notice, shoulders slumped and chest rapidly rising to fall like a frightened animal; as his silhouette shifts just so you even consider that he’s shivering.

There’s something in that stare of somber blue that splinters at the wall of discomfort; it is not accusing, not bitter, worn and cold. Curious. Something akin to your own.

Damn your sweetness, your inability to simply let things be even as that ache twists around in your chest, clawing at a cage of bone and hissing that you keep silent. Be on your way. Don’t look back.

Instead, you extend your umbrella outward, toward him.

“Awful rain, hm?,” you chime.

The figure visibly tenses, seems to shrink into himself for a moment before straightening and giving one solemn nod.

“You can take my umbrella. I’m almost home, anyway.”

That seems to spark something, not much, but the stranger does take a step forward. Your eyes catch on the wet, matted hair clinging to his head, cascading down to shroud a face you still can’t quite make out.

The poor thing stirs something in you, a deep sympathy that clouds even the judgment of that flighty, skittish thing resting deep inside.

Even from such a distance it’s clear that he’s been neglected, likely cast off by the town even less favorably than you have. His scent carries on the breeze, like dirt and wood and misery.

You extend the umbrella again before realizing he won’t come any closer with you being there. So, you lower it to the ground, avoiding the mud as best you could and leave it. If he took it, fine. If not, you travel this path so often it would be collected in time.

The figure mutters something as you rise, a low string of foreign words that you can only interpret as being spoken out of surprise, perhaps even gratitude.

You smile toward him as you wipe fat, slithering raindrops from your brow.

“You don’t want to catch a fever.”

With that, you’re back on your way, thoughts of the rugged stranger weigh heavy on your mind as the roof of your home comes into view, stilted and in the same drab navy as the flowers on the wallpaper.

You could have done more. It had been instilled into you to not to open the door for someone you did not quite know, yet a part of you longed to take care of something not simply fed by oil, something only capable of telling you how much time you’ve sat alone as thanks.

Surely it was best not to let it distract you.

This was good enough.

The key is produced, the door opened, and just like the many times before that you have forced yourself from this place, the house seems less unsettling upon your return.

As what little daylight remains fades away into night, you find yourself seated, toying with the old pocket watch once more. It’s the only one that doesn’t make a lick of sense, a puzzle that can not be solved. For all the polished parts and meticulous tinkering, it still won’t work properly.

It grates and growls as though rusted, the cogs shifting inside with each movement of the arms are well-polished yet seem to do little but hiss and spit.

This is the fourth time you have taken it apart only to put it back together with no improvement.

There was little to be known about the man who owned it, some pompous, arrogant creature that you had only seen in passing. He had turned his nose up to you, you were sure of that, only to deliver this dying thing to your door the following day.

Your work had always been compared to your father’s. Though you possessed a similarity in skill, you were not what the townsfolk had deemed to be respectable. An unwed lady out on her own, biding her time repairing what they had broken rather than feeding hungry mouths delivered from her very womb, how terribly scandalous.

The pocket watch is set aside as you busy yourself tailoring a small sheet of metal for it. The graduations are carved in with a sharp razor, impeccably angled. Then, the Roman numerals, just before it’s slotted back into place.

The likeness to the former face is nearly uncanny, it’s only sturdier and less susceptible to ripping from the mere touch of tweezers. The rust s gone from the casing, and at long last— it ticks; no grinding growl as the second hand begins its revolution. The fickle thing just needed a touch up, you supposed as you flick off the desk lamp and rise to your feet.

The curtains are drawn as they always were when you step into the bedroom. The muddy dress is finally peeled away as you change and slink into the covers, and just for a moment, you almost think that you feel the animal between your breasts begin to settle too.

———

There’s a letter stuffed into the mail slot: crumpled with no postage stamp, scrawled across some scrap of paper that surely was plucked from a garbage bin.

You marvel at the lack of care for a moment before your fingers do find themselves pawing at it, unfurling the worn edges to find the words: Thank you.

Written in thick black ink, there’s a clumsiness to it, the dance of a quivering hand holding pen. You think back to the elderly woman you had made that delivery to only yesterday; had she trudged through the mud and muck just to bring you this?

Her thanks was only needed in the blessing of payment, and she had already generously done just that when she left her little humming wall clock at the door.

You flip the note over, inspecting it carefully. There’s a line there, too, hastily scratched out in the same black ink, the lines crossing and digging leaving little pinprick holes in the paper.

Holding it to the light, you can just barely make out the words: I have been alone.

Your mouth dries at the sentiment, tongue flicking out to try and force a wetness to your lips. The animal begins its keening howl, a chain rattling as claws sink into your innards; the very same agitated fear that starved you out of comfort day in and out.

The man in the forest, perhaps. You were sure that you would have remembered seeing someone so disheveled and tall about town, and if not for a certainty that he had not followed you home, you would have assumed it was him. Gratitude finally said, and well on his way to someplace else.

There’s nothing here for him or anyone else, surely he could see that. Even you could.

The walls around you seem to bulge, the room shrinking once again as every little thing held within begins to taunt and yowl. Safety was only a temporary luxury, it always has been.

The letter is discarded onto a table, as you opt to hazard a peek out of your curtains instead. The gray from yesterday remains as thick clouds crowd above, threatening another storm. The treetops and tall grass dance in the breeze, freeing leaves and breaking flower stems. There’s no one standing there to greet you, to explain themselves for the strange message that they had left.

The town had probably already driven you to madness, picturing things that were not there while old fools jab you with ominous letters and jeering stares to see just how long it would take to watch you fall apart.

Another delivery day it would be, then; best to get it out of the way before the rain begins to fall.

Maybe you could even retrieve the umbrella along the path, discarded, battered from the rain and likely unused.

You don’t bother packaging the pocket watch, choosing to hastily stuff it into the pocket of your coat instead. Courtesies be damned. Tea and a warm bath would do well when the house was sated by your absence, when you were finally given time to breathe.

In your haste, you nearly kick over what’s been left on the uppermost stair leading to your door.

You find a table clock covered in a thick black fabric, a little note attached to it giving the owner’s name and address, and a small bag containing payment.

It’s all securely placed inside, next to the ugly letter on the table.

Your umbrella doesn’t wait on the path, but you’ve hardly the mind to care. Your hand tightens around the pocket watch as you cord your way down the path and back into town, rushing amidst the foliage until the sounds of your footfalls are dulled by the street.

Reaching the house, a towering narrow building that smells like tobacco even from outside, your hand curls to knock at the door in the same breath taken as the chain is plucked to place it on the knob, intent on scurrying away immediately to avoid the disgusted gaze of the man that waits inside.

You don’t quite make it far enough before the door swings open and you’re greeted by a round face, nose upturned and lip curled into a sneer.

That isn’t imagination.

There’s a genuine hate in this man, seeping down into his bones that makes him almost seem to reek like sulfur through the cloud of cigarette smoke that wafts around him. It’s the face of someone who would love nothing more than to see your own damnation, watch the earth suck you in until your wails fall silent and a fire roars upward in your wake.

“This isn’t my watch, dear.”

“Parts needed to be replaced,” you explain, voice tight and keening like a wolf in a trap, “I assure you that I—“

“It’s shoddy work. Any clocksmith up north would have done better for half the price..”

It goes on like this for what feels like at minimum thirty revolutions, but it must have only been five or so. His droning voice makes it hard to keep track, buzzing as he examines your work, hours wasted upon aiding such an awful creature.

He only seems to grow bored of his chiding when you fall to silence. He wants a reaction, not a wide-eyed fretful stare and pursed lips caging in any sound that may bubble up from your throat.

In one final act of detestation, the watch is tossed to the ground, stomped in repetition until the hands snap, the ticking quiets, and you see months of your work brought to ruin in a mere seven seconds.

He storms back inside and slams the door shut as you stoop to collect the little, broken thing, cradling it in your palms. Maybe it wouldn’t be fixed again, but you’ve hardly the mind to let anything be left abandoned like this.

Though the anger builds, white bitter smoke billowing through your veins, it remains tucked away inside eventually communing with the animal, all but entirely snuffed out when your steps lead you to the front door of the house.

The window to the right is open, not broken. The curtains were pushed aside as though to allow a breeze to enter. A muddy footprint, vast and long scales the siding, but there’s no exiting one to join it.

You stare and listen, taking one quiet step towards the open window to strain your hearing. Nothing. Inside, it’s quiet, only the sound of the breeze rattling that note left on the table, the ticking and the familiar creaks and groans of the house settling.

So, you enter.

With the poker from the hearth in tow, the rooms are investigated one by one. Each and every one of them clear of any intruder. Even the attic, for all of it’s imagined ghosts sits empty, stale and silent. There’s no one here, nothing out of place or broken that hadn’t already been cast out from the world and delivered into your hands.

Strangely enough, it’s more peaceful like this; the leaves could be heard rustling outside, birds calling, even the chirps and strumming of crickets too late to flee the onset of chill seeping through this purgatory, filling the mundane void with sounds of life and peace.

You leave the window open.

The pocket watch is left on the desk, the kettle filled with water and placed upon the stove to heat, all before your eyes trail over to that little table beside the front door.

The only thing amiss is there, your intuition roars at you: “Look, look. Just look.”

The table clock from this morning sits there, the wood casing dusty and the hands perpetually stuck to sit at six o’clock, easy to enough to break, and easier still to fix. An overworked battery and a little oil would be its saving grace; if only things could be so simple for yourself, for the thousand or so others that surely must feel the same— clawed, fretful little rabbits.

Your eyes narrow momentarily, vaguely recalling that the damned thing had been covered when it was dragged inside. Something sable and thick, a scrap of a heavy dress shirt perhaps, verily stained. Odd that someone would have broken in merely to steal something so useless, but stranger tales have been told. For all you cared, the perpetrator could keep it.

You entertain the idea of the wild man in the trees, thick and sturdy as one. Perhaps he left the note, stole warmth from your home and found comfort in that useless old shirt after leaving that roughly scrawled note. Though the idea would horrify others, it only sets your ceaselessly racing pulse at ease.

Toying with the idea that someone so very much like you lurks the hills, found a home in your eyes and paid a visit, kind enough to wait until you were in town as to not scare you… and the kettle begins to whistle.

———

You had forgotten to close the window last night. Or maybe it was left as an invitation, a silent offer of your companionship for the unknown thing that occupies your already haunted mind these days. Something in your subconscious dared you to simply forget, see what happens, and you’re not entirely disappointed to find out that yes, something has happened.

There are three flowers laid out there in a row, smushed by the weight of a heavy palm: a daffodil left golden and proud despite the way her petals fray and wither, and two others wild and unnamed with blue and white colors leading to vibrant green stems. And roots. He hadn’t the time to pluck them proper, nor had a sense of gentleness to his touch in doing so.

It’s the first time you’ve laughed in months, a giggling that makes your chest ache from a sudden mirth through all of this wretchedness. Who knew it would only take three flowers and the appearance of someone so disconnected? You take them and place them in a vase in the same spot, careful to add just the right amount of water to keep them living for a time.

Someone brought you flowers— actually brought you a gift, not a job. You remember those eyes, too. His hands may not have been gentle, but that look was.

Though darkness still creeps internally, you’re resolute in what you must do when you prepare for the day. You’ve never really worn this dress— a soft, white thing with billowing sleeves and tight cuffs that brings a swell to your breasts and cinches your waist. One of the women about town had given it to you in lieu of payment for repairing her husband's watch, left a note prattling onward for three pages about how a woman should dress to find a man. Three!

You’ll find him, thank him for the flowers, bat your eyelashes just a little and retrieve your umbrella. That’s all. The rain would be back, more deliveries would have to be made, and if you could manage a friend from all of this well… surely things could work out for you, just this once.

Your steps are less hurried and more tentative this time around. You don’t barrel through the woods like a galloping mare, mindful of your dress as you lift the fabric at the hips to avoid thick, slickened mire. There isn’t much to do about the thorns nipping at your ankles, leaving little scratches like cat’s claws in their wake.

The thought that maybe this was a ridiculous idea only settles in your mind after an hour of searching. You don’t even have a name to call him by, not an idea on just where he may be or what his intentions truly were, all further punctuated by the fact that you’ve found yourself in the midst of a wild orchard, the yellowing grass nearly reaching your knees as you reluctantly allow your dress to flow free. Thick clusters of apples hang above your head, each nearly ripe, some even fallen to leave a fragrant sweet smell in the wake of their rot.

Thunder roars above, distant but loud, cruelly threatening the wake of a downpour that would so easily sully the delicate thing you wear. Your chest aches from exertion, from whichever horrid fear it's settled on today, and you’re nearly fully convinced of your own madness when something does finally catch your eye.

There’s a cabin, nestled between the trees, old and lacking glass panes for the windows. The roof is covered in moss, walls creeping with the old green of vines and nearly hidden away entirely by the tall grass that rises above its face.

You could wait out the storm in the dark there, rethink your steps until you find a way back home and the prospect of actually entering a building that wasn’t the very picture of your own agony stirs something within you.

You don’t bother to knock, only waltz right in and let the door shut softly behind you. It creaks as it goes, whining from the rust laden over its hinges. As expected, the cabin is mostly barren; a set of dust laden chairs sits on opposite ends of a table missing a leg, a large bookshelf housing only a torn copy of Paradise Lost and a journal, a few dirtied dishes are left on the floor, and in the corner…

There are a lot of things that make you feel small.

You couldn’t live up to your father’s name in town. The thought that you were not an equal to the other ladies with their fine jewelry and dresses, rings wrapped around their fingers, that was a sore spot despite the way you refused to admit to it. Even the hounds lurking about the butcher’s shop on lonely night deliveries, baying and growling when your feet carried you too close.

None of those things could even compare to how you felt now.

The rug he lies beneath is large on its own, but your flower-giving, grateful titan seems even more so. It’s as though walking into a bear’s den and expecting a mere squirrel. Even curled into himself in sleep, he seems impossibly huge.

You couldn’t see much of him that first night, but now… where the rags that make up his clothes reveal a series of long scars along his legs, the hairy arms that seem far too thick: all of him, all of him is massive.

Your rabbit heart does not claw or fight you now, it only flutters, placated by the sight of something so… was there really a word for it? The idea that someone so imposing could strike the match of attraction within you. Feelings were strange, each comes sharp and new like the deliberate twist of a knife through a body, soft like warm bread.

You smile as you wander to his side, recognizing the cloth he wears over his head immediately as the one stolen from your house. Your dress is smoothed at your rear as you lower yourself to sit on your knees at his side, quiet and slow.

“Hello,” you whisper, placing a hand on a shoulder that dwarfs it entirely, feeling the bulge of muscle beneath the ripped shirt, the ridge of keloid scars from deep cuts laid into his skin.

The titan’s eyelids flutter for a moment as he begins to stir, staring up at the ceiling, teetering on the edge between waking and dreaming. Then, those cold blue eyes lock onto you. A flash of disbelief crosses them, just for a moment before something flips and from the holes ripped into that makeshift hood you see an expression that seems almost agonized.

“Hello,” he rasps after a long moment, shifting onto his side to prop himself up and raise his head to level with your own.

His breathing is shallow, almost panicked and you finally think to bring your hands to your lap instead, avoid touching him and potentially startling the poor man further.

“I wanted to thank you… for the flowers. They’re beautiful.” You pause as you study what little of his expression you can make out through the mask, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners only giving a glimpse of a smile. All teeth, probably, an excited one that even the imagination of warms your heart. “I put them in a vase. I didn’t want them to die.”

“I should not have…” His voice is softer than you ever imagined that it could be, well-spoken as the words are pulled from his throat. You find yourself transfixed, almost, praying that he continues if only to hear the delicate strumming of his tone, the soft sigh of breath that leaves him afterward.

“Es tut mir leid.”

The apology is followed by a low sweep of his gaze, slowly crawling from the peek of your cleavage to your hips to rest where your hands lay clasped in your lap.

He hardly seems to know what to do with himself, what to say, and all at once the realization dawns on you that no, he isn’t merely paying his thanks and seeking conversation. Perhaps that was part of it then, but now… he seems almost entranced.

You recognize those looks, from men in passing when they leered, but from him… from this weary, haunted stranger. It only seems a silent sort of reverence; as though longing for something he’s been deprived of.

“No, it’s fine, it made me happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes, it was sweet.”

He falls silent at that, conflicted if the pinch of his brow were anything to go by. Then, sudden, he takes your wrist and jerks your hand toward his face, thumb brushing over the small calluses over each pad of your fingers. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails, even more scaring along those massive hands and you shiver. It’s not fear it’s… something akin to it, opposite by the way it dances and writhes in warmth rather than the cold.

“You have the hands of a maker.”

Strange, sweet Goliath.

His words are spoken somberly, as if there is more to say that he holds back. A part of you warns that you’re not prepared for it anyhow, so you let him continue that motion, brushing over your palm with a featherlight touch until it begins to tickle.

Your giggle prompts him to raise his head, watery eyes threatening tears when he hears that sweet sound bubble up from within you. His hand curls over your own, trapping you in his grasp as though little else matters to him more than the need to touch you in some way.

“You have kind eyes.”

“I am not kind.”

You shake your head at that, flicking your thumb across the top of his burly hand, marveling at the smooth skin of his scars and the rough texture of the hair that dots his knuckles.

“You’re sweet to me, and that’s all that matters.”

It could have been a mistake, how easily you’ve taken to this bizarre titan. Any lady with proper regard for her standing and womanhood assuredly wouldn’t have said something like that to a beast that has the stature and the scent of something wild.

Still, the words leave your lips far too quickly to draw back; he responds with an urgency.

You find yourself pulled ever closer by the iron grip on your hand, tugged into the rug-turned-mattress by this man as he cages you in to meld against his chest. He’s everywhere, warm and burning against the chill of your skin with flesh touched by hellfire.

You only sigh pitifully when his arm wraps around your waist. When was the last time you had even felt an embrace? You couldn’t recall, and even if you had, it would have paled in comparison to one such as this. You breathe him in like a summer’s breeze, tasting a hint of the apple orchard beyond on your tongue when you open your mouth to speak once again.

“See..?”

The tension in his muscles seems to melt away; if your heart is like a hare then surely his must be more akin to a bull. It takes some time before he softens entirely against you, despite his initiation. His breath is almost a pant when his hand trails upward along your back, feeling every ridge and dip and curve, breath catching in wonder as you allow it.

“You are soft like…”

His head dips to press into your shoulder, breathing you in, humming his approval at the mingling scent of clock oil and tea leaves that lingers on your skin. Even from beneath the hood, you can feel the way his lips brush over you, his mouth parted in a voiceless plea.

“… like one of the flowers.”

It’s almost torture really, how someone could be so comforting, so endearing.

His hand trails further, drifting over the backside of your dress to curl against your thigh threatening something if you don’t conjure the sense to stop him. It stokes the fire within you, glowing ember in place of a brain, it seemed. You feel weak, lost in a foreign touch and sweet, clumsily spoken words.

If the townsfolk could see you now, herded up in this stranger’s arms, surely they wouldn’t dare to cast any disapproval your way. Not one of those meek little devils would have a word to say… not now or ever again.

“You’re like… a tree then,” you whisper as you finally will yourself to twist away from the grip, already mourning the loss of warmth as a cold wind filters through the openings in the cabin.

He doesn’t sulk as you pull away, only seems content to have been blessed with that much. That mist remains in his eyes before they shut again, willing himself to rise to sit up just as you do.

“Will you stay?”

You glance over the cabin again, with all of its dust and cobwebs. Your umbrella sits in the corner, propped upright with its handle leant against the wall, out of place amidst the dilapidation prevalent here.

This wasn’t a home at all, just a quiet, cold purgatory. Though the halls of your own may mock your solitude, this place seems to echo his very being: alone, broken, rotting and so, so very cold.

Your heart bleeds as you weigh your options, expression growing sullen and torn. He notices, tentatively takes your hand again in an almost practiced way of providing comfort. Had he ever even…

Your thoughts begin to drift again, and you force yourself to settle on a choice. It’s not your heart that should be damned, but that horrid seed of doubt constantly burdening, stealing from, and clawing at you.

“I should get home, before the rain.”

“Verstanden.”

“You can come too.”

There’s an audible hiss of breath through his teeth, that peculiar look of agony crosses his face again… and finally, he weeps.

———

König, you think to call him.

He teaches you German from time to time, in turn for you allowing him to watch as you work away at the clocks. It feels fitting in a way. Not because he harbors the self-importance of a noble figure, nor his stature; he’s simply become something impossibly important in the week long span you’ve spent together now.

You’ve decorated the guest room properly for him, and in turn he’s brought you firewood, foraged and hunted so that neither of you have had to bother with the town. The fire raged in the hearth as the cold continues to set in, and your walks to town have been enjoyable now. He accompanies you to the hill on some nights, draws you a bath when you come home, even cooks.

So… maybe a king was not entirely appropriate, but calling him a servant certainly wasn’t either. Even with the way he seems to melt and become docile at the slightest brush of your hand, the way you know with a certainty he would die for you if you spoke the word.

And still, you call him König: the king of your heart.

There are flowers at your windowsill each morning, still clinging to their roots. You bake the bread while he cooks stew with herbs gathered from the little garden just beyond the walls of the home, one he’s graciously told you he’s wanted to expand for you. Books you’ve overlooked for years have been read end to end by him, and he especially seems to like those with art of flowers drawn into their pages, always seeking you out to show you, explain their meanings, expressing the beauty that he sees in them and within you.

You don’t know where he’s come from, what his life was like before this, and with the same respect that he gives to you… you don’t ask.

“We’re starting a new story,” you had said the first morning over a breakfast of hastily made apple dumplings. To which he had agreed, with a somber hum, nodding his hooded head.

Though you do wonder about his secrets, his face. Seeing him now is all it really takes to make you smile.

He comes through the door, hauling in the massive grandfather clock that a carriage had left only this morning. The bob and the lyre both appeared broken at a glance, but your heart sinks when you read the name on the note left attached to it.

The same petulant little man that had stomped that poor watch to pieces right in front of you, no doubt he had broken this one too in some sort of tantrum. What was it now? Had the poor clock chimes a bit too loudly during the night? Was that deserving of a foot lodged right into its heart?

“König, do you mind just leaving it there?” You gesture toward the middle of the room, watching as the muscles beneath his shirt don’t even seem to ripple from exertion.

“Natürlich.”

As you set to work, pulling away parts, straightening out bends and replacing what’s broken, he kneels at your side watching with rapt attention. There’s no fixing the pendulum bob entirely, it’s far too bent and scraped, but you wouldn’t be replacing that with work of your own either. The bastard gets what he gets and that will do.

In truth, your work since having König here has only improved, and perhaps you’re showing off a bit, but the way he watches you tinker with the dusty old things as if mesmerized fills you with pride. You could fix anything, yes, with him at your side you wanted to.

The house doesn’t echo wasted time anymore, only that crowding feeling of something buzzing and chirping, budding up in the spaces where shadows should crawl: love. You wouldn’t trade it for the loneliness to return, not ever. A new sort of fear that stings just as much as it does caress.

So you work in silence, only breaking it to answer the sparse questions that he throws out.

When the clock is shoddily finished, you wipe the oil from your hands on a rag, and take König’s own large arm as it’s offered out to you to stand.

“I will carry it for you tonight,” he suggests, delicately brushing a bit of dust from your sleeve. His touch does linger, always lingers, trailing up to massage at your shoulder and cup at your neck. The swell of heat that arrives at your face then, the press of your thighs beneath your skirt… it’s always the same.

“I thought that you didn’t want to go into town?”

Your shoulder meets his chest as you press against him, doing very little to calm your body’s frustrations. The blood within you stirs like a violent wave feeling him this near— cleaned up and dressed in some patchwork conglomerate of your father’s old clothes. He smells like a union between the earth and sea, salt and alder leaf, a hint of thyme and lavender.

His eyes glitter when his gaze roves from your face to chest, hand skittering down to curl at the small of your back. To anyone else, you would look the picture of husband and wife perhaps.

“I would go anywhere with you.”

A fresh normal, like the rise of spring, those words and touches that suggest more: threatening while you plead in silence for him to just give you a push, unlace your dress and finally feel and see him properly.

“Then… yes, let’s get the cursed thing out of here tonight.”

His grip tightens around you just for a moment, fingers curling and flexing into the soft linen covering you, bunching it up just so at your back before he relents, draws away.

“You dislike this one?” König sounds almost hurt, perhaps he favored it, being tall and similar to him in some way. Another odd thing, hard to place, but he’s never seemed to like you talking down about your own work, a habit that needed breaking.

“No,” you begin to explain, curling your arms around his middle as you both stare at the thing, ticking quietly before you, “its owner is just a pain.”

“I can tell. You seem nervous, meine geliebte.”

“You haven’t taught me that one yet,” you point out, not playing coy, despite the look he gives you that suggests you know.

There’s always that ache when his eyes narrow and that playful glint reaches them. How someone could look as though they’ve suffered dozens of lifetimes of pain and still have that look, you did not know, but it excites you. A furious, needy excitement.

“Beloved,” is all that he says.

The stare relents as he heads back out into the garden, leaving you to sort yourself out.

———

“You’re sure that you can carry it the entire way?”

It’s not that you could help, really. The thing must have weighed as much as yourself, strung up over König’s back with a rope he had found lying someplace in the garden.

“Ja, it’s fine.” He’s not out of breath in the slightest either. You realize then that if you put on all your charms bending, arching and delicately maneuvering your hands to fix the clocks, the assuredly this was his way of doing the same. You try to reign yourself in from staring at the damp spot on his shirt, clinging to his broad expanse of chest, the way that his thighs seem to tense with each step forward.

You can’t— you merely trail behind him until you take the lead to bring him right to the other man’s doorstep. Your hands find the ropes that keep the clock saddled to König’s back, carefully untying them as he stoops down to let its wooden legs rest against the ground below. It scrapes, the consequence of being so heavy and forced to stand on those four tiny legs, and only then does it decide to make a cacophony of noise signaling the new hour, a trilling sort of bong that makes even your ears ring as it breaks up the silence of the night.

You don’t even need to knock, because the door flies open immediately. The man stands proud, unperturbed by your giant companion as he shoves past you to inspect his clock. There are no greetings, no pleasantries, and if you were just a bit more careless with your reputation, smacking him would have only brought you satisfaction.

“Not good, but it will do,” the little man huffs, knocking at the glass casing over the clock’s face with his knuckle. “Be a dear and have your friend bring it in for me.”

You’ve no doubt that König senses your annoyance as he cocks his head at you, but when you give a curt nod in response, he does what’s requested. The clock is set in a large den. It’s not as opulent and gilded as you had expected, just a simple home housing a very infuriating man. You watch from the doorway, swaying on your feet as König rights the clock and pushes it where he’s directed. Just a few more seconds and the two of you would be well on your way, and perhaps he would even teach you a new curse for a man like that.

He comes uncomfortably close to König’s side, a smug look plastered over his face that only seems to exaggerate just how greasy and mousy that you know him to be. Something is whispered that you can’t quite make out, a dare, a mocking taunt, something that pisses you off even without the knowledge.

The hood is pulled off by thin fingers, cast aside to the floor beyond the pair.

The man’s face goes pale before you even get a glimpse of König at all. He backs away, mouth gaping as König calmly moves to retrieve the cloth. You think you hear the word “monster” mumbled amidst a slew of incoherent babbling, but when your companion turns to face you, you feel no fear.

König’s face is like patchwork, scars connecting all together. They run like small streams up from his jaw and over his chin, splitting his lip at the corner of his mouth and dancing up to his eye. The nose is broken in places, several times over likely, crooked with a bump that only seems strangely cute. The unkempt hair lining his jaw should be trimmed, but… there’s no monster here. Only a man who has seen and felt pains that you could not bring yourself to imagine.

His head dips when he notices your wide-eyes stare, a sort of shame hidden away behind strands of long, black hair. He shuffles out of the house and shuts the door behind him, standing rigid as he expects the worst, for you to wail and sob and gather a group of townsfolk to herd him far away with fire and stones.

You only take his hand.

“Let’s go home.”

He doesn’t bother to hide himself away again during the walk back, his hand remains in your hold, trembling every now and then and gripping you tighter as he struggles with the thoughts no doubt raging in his skull like a storm. You offer your comfort as you lean toward him, head pressed against his arm even as you turn the knob and step inside.

You warm a bath for him then, a task that is no easy feat. König does not offer his help, resigned to some belief that this is only a temporary pity.

He allows you to peel away his clothes, graze your fingers over his body, over the scars all with a barely contained creature scraping out from inside: the untamed bull that you can not see. You press a kiss there, over his heart, feel it’s beating against your lips, pulling away only when his thumb strokes your cheek.

Each new sight of him is just as wonderful as they have always been. It’s not that you take pleasure in seeing the way he must have suffered; the now healed bullet wound over his abdomen speaks volumes of just what people are capable of when met with the sight of something that they do not understand.

The questions burn at the back of your skull, bitten back as your jaw tightens.

You help him wash with soap and a soft cloth, carefully removing any patches of dirt and dust that have lingered despite his near-daily bathing since living beneath your roof. The rough beard is trimmed in full, until all that’s left is a trail of dark stubble lingering along his jaw, broken up by scars like thin spider silk that make up the entirety of his body.

His hair is a mess, too, matted and clinging to his skull in wild clumps. You’re gentle with the brush as you free the tangles, clipping at what can not be saved with sharpened scissors, and massaging at his scalp as he murmurs his approval. It’s such a subdued, gentle cooing from his chest, a purr almost that shatters your heart and forces it back into place instantly.

Whatever he was or was not, you were certain this stray had never felt a touch like your own, if he had ever been touched by human hands at all.

König seems to settle greatly once you’ve tended to him and it does seem to finally dawn on him that you’re not repulsed, you’ve touched most of his damaged body, and have only brought him the gentleness that should have been commonplace by now. This isn’t some elaborate torture method— it’s only tender.

“Your turn, hm?”

That, however, brings you pause. Your hands rest on his shoulder, carefully trying to loosen a stubborn knot when you abruptly still. As if that were all he needed for encouragement, his hands cinch your waist, pulling you up and over the rim of the tub as you whine your protests in hushed little hisses. All for naught, as you find yourself submerged below the waist.

“I’m still dressed,” you sulk as the water dampens your dress, now seated between his parted thighs.

König only gives a laugh in response as his arms encase you in another embrace, his head resting against the dip between your shoulder and neck as his chest is brought to press against your back.

“And you’re still mine.”

His fingers trail further down to the wet fabric billowing amidst the soft, lapping waves of the water, pulling it up until it rests just above your hips. There’s no tact, only a clumsy sort of desperation rarely seen upon men, especially not of his stature.

You allow him to loosen the strands of lace at your back, bring your clothing up and over your head to leave it resting and dripping over the rim, pooling below onto the boards of the wooden floor. Your undergarments follow to join the flooding pile of soaked linen and lace.

You’re flustered certainly, grateful for the water surrounding that conceals the warmth that echoes your fondness for this titan between your legs.

You even considered that he would be more shy, not… as eager to begin to wash you, and not with the cloth but with his own hands, nimbly moving over every dip and curve coating you in the slick residue of soap, leaving suds in its wake. He starts at your shoulders, breath growing heavy the more you soften and relax against his chest.

It’s only a matter of time before his hands find and cup your breasts, and you swear that you can feel the grin that splits his face as you melt further against him. König gropes at and massages you there, eager fingers deliberately stroking at your hardened nipples until you quiver and sigh.

You find purchase moving your arms to your sides to grasp at his biceps, muscles flexing as he works his way down your trembling abdomen to your mound, kissing at your shoulder as you purr your encouragement.

The praises that leave your lips come tight and barely restrained as a finger trails against your slit, moving up to circle your clit before diving back down to prod at you.

Your head is gently tilted back by his free hand, your face peppered in clumsy, messy kisses as a digit sinks into you. It’s lazy work, trying to find a rhythm with your squirming. He only seems satisfied when it presses further, curling against the spot that makes you mewl sweetest, and finally, he kisses you full on.

It’s delivered as sloppily as his fingering, any trailing thought left in your skull dims, fuzzy with sheer bliss as his thumb begins to pet at your clit in tandem with each push and drag of his index. It doesn’t help that you feel his own growing need, hard and hot against your lower back, throbbing with each sound pulled from your mouth, his hips jerking on occasion to drag his shaft against your backside.

“König, we should get out,” you murmur through a flood of heat that curls and urges and presses at your lower half to seek some satisfaction, have him bed you proper. “We can go to—“

His mouth meets yours again, hungrier and more determined than before, the water rolling with each flick of his thumb. In a mere moment you feel that heat stoke to an inferno, blazing from your stomach to cause your feet to kick out, water sloshing over the side of the tub as you ride out each passing wave of paradise crying openly into his mouth.

When your trembling does subside, he kisses your cheek and pulls you up from the water, wrapping you up in his arms. His stare remains ever burning, pupils blown to a coal black, dreamy in the way he slinks back just to drink you in further. You can’t keep track of all of the places his eyes seem to dart, which touch to settle on and relish as he paws at you from chest to rear, as if mesmerized that you are no mere illusion.

You’re giving him everything; no longer the king of simply a beating organ tucked beneath your breast, but your body, bed, wherever he chooses to conquer next, of all the things that he’s been deprived of.

“We will go to bed, beloved,” he rasps, sounding more present than ever. The nightmares lurking behind his eyes have long past now: all focus is turned to you. You’re the only thing that’s ever loved him in return. “We will… become one.”

“Have you ever…” Your own voice fails you now, the evident want between you two incapable of making this any less… tedious. It was tedious, a flighty feathered thing that seems keen on slipping out of your grasp at any moment. If it were to be his first, surely it should be special, somehow, someway. If it were not… you dreaded that thought, a bitter envy sours on your tongue until it’s shaken off.

“No,” he states simply, shrugging.

Though a sense of relief seems to flood you at that, you dare not show it. You will take him to your bed, climb atop him and show him how these things work, a slow sort of love and the rest could wait.

It was foolish to believe that König would settle for such a thing, wild and only temporarily tamed by your sweetness: he is entirely different the moment you’re herded into the bedroom. The desperation of his touches has faded out entirely, replaced with what feels almost like a rage.

He wouldn’t take out humanities sins on you, no, but he would years of brutal neglect have left him starved and it just so happens that you’re an outlet for it, something to feed from by way of spilling his soul and his seed all into you, taken back with the kisses and praises that would surely come after this union.

You’re unceremoniously pushed onto the bed, lying at your side as he climbs in behind you. He whispers his requests into your hair, even as his hand wraps to pull your thigh up before you can bless him with a nod in response. He struggles for a moment, parting your labia with the obscene, ridiculous thing that hangs between his legs. It drags over you in repetition, oiled like the clock cogs before the head of his cock finally finds the opening his finger explored only minutes earlier.

You almost expect him to break you right then, force you to take what your body— no body- had surely been made for, but he only thrusts the tip inside and gives you some time to adjust, roll your hips down centimeter by agonizing centimeter.

“You are… Does it hurt you..?” His voice is a breathless pant, trying to hold himself together despite the daze he’s found himself in, buried not even three inches into your cunt.

“No… you can move,” you breathe out, eyelids fluttering as you tilt you head to look at him over your shoulder.

König clings to you as he sinks further, grasping at your waist to pull your further down, sharp breaths hissed between gritting teeth as he delights in the way your womanhood grips at his shaft.

Just as before, there’s no rhythm to him, he takes the sounds that leave you as a direction, huffing into your ear words that your mind could not hope to translate. There’s an indulgence to it, shared between you both as his hand curls tighter against your thigh, spread open and accepting of the brutal pace he takes to have just a taste of what it feels to be a normal man.

His words falter at a point, when you feel your body tightening around him, sucking him in, closer, nearer as your head lolls back. The inferno from before pales in comparison to the blaze that overtakes you now, his voice strained with bliss as you begin to moan for him. With each drag and soar of his cock spearing you open, you’re only brought further to a glimpse of Eden. If this were the fall of man, you find you couldn’t question Eve for relishing in it.

“… you gave me a name,” he rasps, “A home…”

All at once that glimmer of heaven crashes down around you, bathes you in the glow of something lofty and holy as he pulls you close and drives himself to the hilt within you. The throbbing and pulsing of his length pulls you over just as his seed spills within, drips thick and flooding as your own sex drools in tandem, sharing a perfect rapture both clandestine and sacred. He gives you another generous thrust, ensuring that he’s carved a space inside no other man could ever hope to fill.

You fret when you find him weeping, quiet tears rolling down his pale cheeks to spill over your shoulder, but the gentle smile on his face is pacifying as you twist around to face him. “And now you have my love.”

“I’ll cherish it,” he murmurs, voice broken and pitiful as you’re maneuvered upward to rest against the feather-stuffed pillows against the headboard.

You curl against him, head resting on his chest, an arm draped over his waist. He takes your hand into his own, appraising it like the first time you properly met. Hands of a maker. Your mind wanders to significance in that statement, the things that needn’t be told are finding ways to curtain you anyhow when he speaks again.

“Could you fix me?” He asks, tracing over the calluses on your fingertips, still bathing in the afterglow.

The question, though you felt it coming, still hurts to hear him speak it: breathing life into a thought that should have never existed to begin with.

“There’s nothing to fix.” Though you speak true, though you know he feels your sincerity, his eyes are heavy when he looks to you again. “Why would you ask me that?”

The story that he tells you then is one of horror. From his maker down to the things he’s done, seen, felt: hated from the moment he woke into this strange world, the horrible loneliness that pushed and bedded down inside of him like acceptance never would. The people that he’s throttled in some desire to finally have someone like him; men, women, it made no difference. All of it is bared with only one message eternally prevalent: he has only ever wanted to be loved.

In truth, he was a monster. Not because he was given the instinctual urge to be, but because it was all he knew. Gnashing teeth from demons hurling that word out with every stone they threw, every shot and stab at his heart.

You listen, despite the way it hurts, pull him a little closer when he ends his tale with your meeting, how he knew you were the only blessing he would ever receive in his lifetime— however long that may be.

You were good at fixing broken things, but König never needed to be fixed. Only found.

———

“Now you’re supposed to say it,” you hum, as his hands reach to the hem of the hood— his- covering your face. They rove beneath the fabric, curling against the skin of your cheeks, tracing small patterns there, some rotations like the clocks, others the childish hearts scribbled into books.

“I vow to take you as my wife.”

“You’re bad at this.” You giggle when he does finally push the cloth up past your nose, above your eyes and further until it’s pulled back like a veil.

“I will love you endlessly,” he continues, returning your noise of elation with a huffed laugh of his own. “I already do.”

“I love you, too.”

No one in town would ever properly marry you two, not if one look could make a weak man fall to his knees in horror, but here, beneath the roof of a home once echoing the same voice that haunts him… it was good enough. The moon seems to echo your vows with dancing rays, stars twinkling in approval as the calls of night birds carry through the open window.

There are no rings, no written formalities to be stored away with dust-ridden papers, preyed upon by mites. It’s far more sacred, genuine than the flippant affairs and arrangements that go on with those that would so readily cast the both of you aside. In truth— the thought of them rarely comes; doesn’t even rile up that intense fear inside of you any longer.

Everything only seems easier with the blooming garden outdoors, and the man who gazes upon you like he sees divinity itself behind your eyes, in the softness of your flesh.

When you kiss, it’s something from a fairytale, flowers strewn at your feet and the veil removed from your hair by a gentle hand.

Eden doesn’t seem so much like a memory lost to time, after all.

[eggluverz]

STARS FADING BUT I LINGER ON, DEAR

PAIRING. dan heng x gn!reader; dan feng x gn!reader

CONTENT WARNINGS. torture and imprisonment but nothing graphic or in detail!! 

WORD COUNT. 5,332

SUMMARY. dan heng has been having dreams about you. they started off good—like a fairytale even. but soon he’s been getting the feeling something is wrong. you’re trapped and alone and can’t escape. dan heng wonders if his dreams are telling him something. and if they are…what is there for him to do?

SOF’S NOTE. *shoves this fic in everyone’s face* LOOK AT THIS! LOOK AT MY BABY!! PLS LOVE IT AND TREASURE IT!!! CRADLE IT GENTLE IN UR HANDS!!!! okay on a more serious note ahdjkdkd thank u anon for this amazing request i absolutely adored writing this 🥺🫶 idk where all the flower symbolism and dreams came from bc ik its not the in req but yk what it spoke to me for this story so i rolled w it HDJSKD i hope y’all enjoy!! :> 

“What are all those flowers for?” you giggled, watching as Dan Feng entered the room with a cart full of peonies in tow. 

It looked a little ridiculous; the elegant and renowned Imbibitor Lunae wheeling around an absurd amount of white, pink, and red flowers. But Dan Feng never cared about pretenses when he was with you. He always felt comfortable enough to be himself, no matter how ridiculous it appeared. 

As he approached, he held a small, blooming red peony out between his fingertips. “They’re for you, naturally.”

He brushed your hair aside and gently tucked the stem of the flower behind your ear, admiring how the deep red of the flower complimented your complexion. 

“Beautiful.”

You looked down at your feet with a small chuckle before meeting his gaze again. “Thank you. You’re beautiful as well.”

“Thank you, my love,” said Dan Feng, his hand resting on your waist as he planted a kiss on your forehead. “Do you like the flowers?”

You nodded, feeling the soft petals of the flower in your hair between your fingers as you stared at the bundles of peonies in the cart he brought in. Dan Feng walked over when he saw you staring and led you to each section of colors. 

“These are pink—to show my affection for you.” He picked a flower and kissed the petals before bringing it to your mouth to reciprocate. You obliged with a giggle and he smiled and hid the scandalous flower in his sleeves. “These are white peonies, to let you know I’m always thinking of you.”

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling the careful embroidery on the silken fabrics. “You’re always on my mind, too.”

“Good,” he jested. “As I should be.”

Without warning, he brought your body flush against his chest and captured your mouth with his own, softly tugging at your lower lip. You chased after his touch to give him a kiss of your own, but he soon pulled away with a teasing grin on his face. 

You pouted. “Hey!”

“Patience, beloved,” said Dan Feng. “I still haven’t gotten to the last color.”

“Oh, my sincere apologies,” you said sarcastically, knowing he was the very reason he hadn’t finished his own speech. “Please, carry on.”

“Since you asked nicely.” He cupped your face and stroked the petals on the flower behind your ear. The sensation of his light fingers brushing against the soft flower petals tickled the skin around your ear and you felt your breath catch in your throat. “This flower is a red peony, to symbolize just how passionate I am for you.” Dan Heng stared into your eyes before he spoke. “I hope you know how much I love you, truly.”

“I know,” you said, gaze not once meeting his. Your stomach tightened and your heart started beating faster as you placed his warm hand on your chest. “I love you, Dan Feng. Every part of my being is yours.” 

“And mine, yours.”

Dan Feng took your hand in his, leading you into your bed chambers. You had never felt more loved and wanted than in this moment. But when you entered the room and looked up, the hand you were holding was no longer Dan Feng’s. 

Instead, your hand was clutching an iron bar instead of your lover’s hand, shackled in chains on your wrists and ankles. Dan Feng was gone and you were stuck in here for eternity. 

You cried out, body racking with helpless sobs. Every fiber of your being—mind, body, spirit—missed him so much. The worst part wasn’t the torture, the solitary confinement, the lack of access to basic human needs. 

No, that was nothing. 

Nothing compared to knowing you would never see Dan Feng again. 

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

Dan Heng woke with a start, hair plastered to us forehead with sweat. His pillow and blanket were both strewn across the floor of the Archives and he found himself on his bed alone, a heavy pounding coming from the place where his heart should be. His heart hurt so much he wondered if it was even his. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to take a deep breath to calm himself down.

That was the third time this week Dan Heng had a dream like that. 

Before, it wasn’t terribly uncommon for him to dream about your experiences with his past reincarnation. Dan Heng thought it was strange at first— Why is he dreaming of your memories rather than Dan Feng’s? But the Archives had no answer, so he was forced to accept the fact with mild curiosity as he grew accustomed to the untraditional visions that manifested as dreams that he has been having. 

Still, the strange part wasn’t that he had dreams of you, the strange part was that recently, since the Astral Express left Luofu, Dan Heng has been getting bad dreams of you. Or, to be precise, he’s been experiencing bad memories you have gone through. 

Dan Heng thought the torture was the worst of it. As cold blades cut against your warm skin, Dan Heng felt each push. Each puncture. Each drop of blood they drew from your veins. He woke up constantly in pain, checking his own body to be sure it wasn’t happening to him. 

But he learned a new form of torture that came from the heart. The solitude and loneliness. The knowledge that the one you loved most has perished— Was forced to reincarnate and never see you again. 

The pain on his body was temporary. But Dan Heng felt the ache in your soul every minute of every day. 

He just doubted there was anything he could do to stop it. 

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

“Y/N,” came a quiet voice from outside the cell. “I came to check on you again.”

You looked up from your thin futon to meet Jing Yuan’s remorseful eyes. Your living conditions have been upgraded from those you’ve experienced for decades now. No longer were you in chains— You had access to a bath, and they even offered you books and enough food to sustain you. All while confined in a cell, of course. 

Perhaps they no longer viewed you as a threat. Not that they should have ever viewed you as such in the first place. You didn’t understand why you were punished solely for being Dan Feng’s lover. You weren’t a warrior. You didn’t hold any position of power. You were a scholar and lover of books and plants. But you’re an accomplice, the Preceptors said as they mercilessly chained you up. 

If you weren’t knocked into unconsciousness moments after, you would’ve spit at their faces as they took you away. 

“Y/N…” 

You snapped out of your thoughts, dragging your gaze to the man in front of your cell. Placing your book to the side, you smiled up at Jing Yuan. “Sorry about that. I was a little out of it there.”

Jing Yuan frowned and your heart moved, feeling the depth of his sadness. “No need to apologize. Tell me, how have you been?” 

“Good, I have to say,” you said, sitting up straight on your bed. “I’m almost finished with the book you gave me last time.” 

He smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m glad.”

“Is something the matter?” you asked as you stood and walked over to him, offering a hand of comfort through the iron bars. 

Jing Yuan took it, giving you a gentle squeeze before dropped your hand. The rush of human contact, despite how brief it was, coursed through you. It’s been so long since you felt the touch of another person.

“Dan Heng and his friends left the Xianzhou Luofu,” he said solemnly. 

Your eyes shut as you let your forehead press against the cool metal of your cell. A tear fell down your cheek but a smile remained on your face. “That’s… That is good. He should be free from this place. Dan Heng is happiest that way, correct?”

“That is how it seems,” Jing Yuan sighed. He held back his words for a moment, hesitant. But as he looked at you, he could not longer keep it in. “Do you still think it was the right decision to not inform Dan Heng that you are here?” 

You let out a quiet laugh, taking a seat on the floor and Jing Yuan soon followed suit. “What would he do with that information? What if he felt guilty—? That could hold him back.”

“Are you certain that is a choice for you to make?”

Sighing, you shook your head. It wasn’t your choice to make; it was Dan Heng’s. You knew that deep down inside. But what could you do when you were aware of Dan Heng’s aversion to his past—to any potential connection to Dan Feng? And thus, any connection to you? 

You felt it, you dreamed about it. Dan Heng’s hatred for his past reincarnation. You mourned for them. Both Dan Feng and Dan Heng. For the former, you knew it must be hard having no connection to your reincarnation. Was his soul no longer tethered to this world? Perhaps he felt lost, even in the afterlife. For the latter, you did not blame any resentment that came from him. You knew all too well that being judged and punished based off the actions of another person was unjust. You wouldn’t wish it upon anybody. 

And so, it made sense to you that Dan Heng wanted to accept his past for what it was, and then be free from it. You did not want to interfere with that. Especially not when he was so close to healing and making a good, happy life for himself. 

And now, after Jing Yuan told you Dan Heng and his friends finished their adventures in the Xianzhou Luofu, excited to take on the rest of the galaxies, you thought that maybe you made the right choice. You would be happy enough here, alone in this prison, if you knew your beloved was free. 

It was a decision you made yourself, for Dan Heng. 

And it was one you hoped you wouldn’t regret. 

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

“Foolish! No!” Dan Heng thrashed in his sleep, wanting to reach out and shake you to your senses. He’s had terrible dream after terrible dream, but this was one he couldn’t simply let go of. 

This one seemed more recent than any of the others. That was not a dream of a distant memory from long ago— No, the Astral Express that Jing Yuan spoke of in Dan Heng’s dream had only departed Xianzhou Luofu a few days ago now. That meant you were there, locked up right under his nose, for the entirety of his stay at the Luofu. And no one told him a thing.

Dan Heng had to control his fury. He felt hurt and betrayed, despite not having a true, personal connection with you himself. He wasn’t Dan Feng and, deep down, he recognized he didn’t have a claim to your thoughts, feelings, and emotions. But the pain he felt from knowing you were there, and that maybe, just maybe, he could’ve done something to help you sooner, was something Dan Heng couldn’t shake.

He knew what he had to do.

Perhaps it was bold, impulsive, and maybe dismissive of their current plans, but he had to do it. Dan Heng took a deep breath, not waiting for the night to turn into day. He was going to ask Pom-Pom to please turn this damn train around.

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

“Where are they?” 

Much to no one’s surprise, Jing Yuan seemed to know exactly what Dan Heng was talking about. What else could be important enough for Dan Heng to barge into the Seat of Divine Foresight without a word of warning? 

Jing Yuan quickly excused the meeting he was holding, biding a quick apology and saying they would reconvene shortly. Despite the newfound privacy, he still didn’t reveal anything to Dan Heng.

“Well, good afternoon to you as well, Dan Heng—”

“Stop. There’s no time for formalities right now.” Dan Heng folded his arms, hands clutched into tight fists by his sides. “Where are the Preceptors keeping them? And why the hell haven’t you done anything to help Y/N?”

With a heavy sigh, Jing Yuan took a seat in his chair, gesturing Dan Heng to sit across from him. A gesture Dan Heng pointedly ignored. He wasn’t here to sit down and take his time. He wanted to know where you were now so he could get you out of there. The torture, the poor treatment, the punishment for something you didn’t do... It wasn’t fair. He could hardly put up with it in his dreams. He wondered how it was possible for you to even be surviving all this time. 

“It may surprise to you here,” Jing Yuan stated, voice low, “but as much influence I have over Xianzhou, the Preceptors unfortunately remain untouched by that.”

Dan Heng’s grip loosened, momentarily feeling guilty for assuming Jing Yuan did not try to help you in any way. From what his dreams could see, Jing Yuan was one of the only people who frequently visited you— Which was already more than he could say for himself. 

His face hardened but he relented. “I’m sorry for suggesting such a thing.”

Jing Yuan gave him a half-smile through hooded eyes. “If you hold any recollection of Dan Feng’s time with them, I don’t blame you for having such a severe reaction. Y/N was—is…remarkable.” 

“I shouldn’t know that myself,” said Dan Heng quietly. “Yet somehow, I know you’re right.” 

He looked at the ground solemnly, suddenly frightened that he wouldn’t be able to do anything to help you after all. If the Cloud Knight General Jing Yuan couldn’t influence the Preceptors, what could he do? 

He shook the negative thoughts out of his head. Sure, Dan Heng wasn’t Jing Yuan, but he was the reincarnation of Dan Feng, the previous High Elder and Imbibitor Lunae. Dan Heng was the friend and ally of current High Elder Bailu. Dan Heng had the General backing him with a token of alliance. And Dan Heng would stop at nothing to free you from your shackles. 

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

The process was more painstaking than Dan Heng had originally thought. After informing Jing Yuan of his plan to speak to Bailu, Dan Heng soon realized that conversing with her would be the easiest part.

The Dragon Lady was kind and had a good heart. She cared for other people and didn’t want to see anyone in pain. The difficult part came from feeling the lack of respect the Preceptors had for her. They treated her as more of a child than a High Elder, even withholding her title of Imbibitor Lunae until they deemed she was “of age.” But Dan Heng thought she had more sense and knowledge than all of the Preceptors combined. 

It took negotiations, possible acts of coercion that broke many Vidyadhara laws, and even the threat of Dan Heng to follow in his past life’s footsteps and destroy the seal at Scalegorge Waterscape and many more places… But Dan Heng, along with the assistance and backing of Bailu and Jing Yuan, finally got the Preceptors to agree to release you without forcing a reincarnation. 

You had suffered decades for a crime you had no hand in committing. The Preceptors were simply scared your love for Dan Feng would influence you to be a main headpiece in carrying out the rebellion against the Xianzhou Luofu—hence why those in charge had originally agreed to keep you here. But Jing Yuan was the residing general now, and with his army at his side, he was able to voice that he no longer viewed imprisonment on this land to be befitting of you as a solid conclusion. Bailu stated, as a complete bluff that anyone could have seen right through, that if you were not released immediately and given the opportunity to be reconnected with Dan Heng, she would no longer be as willing to repair any seals, should they be harmed in the future. 

Somehow, instead of all three of them getting locked up for treason or whatever Vidyadhara laws they horribly crossed, they managed to succeed in their goal of winning your freedom. The Preceptors wrote in their official records the release date of prisoner Y/N and agreed to escort one of them to your cell.

Jing Yuan and Bailu, of course, both opted for Dan Heng to be the person who sees you first. But only after making him promise they would get to see you once you settled into your new life. 

Dan Heng smiled, thanking them for their part in this operation. And when night came, he spoke his vow to you under the endless stars.

He would see you soon. And this time, he would never let anything bad happen to you again. 

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

“More peonies?” you asked with a laugh, staring in awe at the field of flowers that were newly planted on the grounds of your estate. The bright colors of the petals flushed against the dark green of the leaves lined the gardens of your grand quarters. 

Dan Feng nodded, the trimmings on his sleeves detailed with the faint embroidery of petals dancing around the wind. Your heart warmed when you saw it. It was fitting for him, such a beautiful and caring soul. 

“I had them planted for you,” he said, gesturing at the arrangement around you. He smiled, his eyes glinting. “Because one cartful just wasn’t enough.” 

You shook your head as you went around the rows of peonies, touching the petals in awe of the spring bloom in the air. The smell was sweet and the wind was cool, providing the right amount of breeze to offset the heat of the sun. First, you went to the patch of white peonies, then pink, then red. Then, you noticed a shade Dan Feng hadn’t given to you before.

“Yellow peonies?” you said curiously, Dan Feng following along as you explored the gardens fit for royalty. Because, he had said before, to him, you were.

“Indeed.” He plucked one from the bush, careful not to ruin the stem of the plant itself. Slowly, he brought it up against the light in the sky. “Yellow. As radiant as the sun.” 

You stared up, shading your eyes as to not get blinded by the brightness. “It shines almost as brightly as you.” 

Dan Feng made a noise of amusement at your words. “I should be the one saying that to you.” 

“Perhaps you should speak faster,” you teased. 

You walked over to him, placing your hand in his and leading him to a field of grass. When you got to an area you liked, you sat down on the floor, gesturing for him to follow suit. Dan Feng brushed at the fabric of his clothes once before happily obliging. As you sat there, you looked over at Dan Feng and studied the look of serenity on his face. His expression was calm, his eyes were soft and the corners of his mouth tilted ever so slightly into a smile. In the hand that was not holding yours, he held the yellow peony still in hand.

“Does it symbolize anything? Like the others?” 

He nodded. “Yellow peonies are rare to come by. Only the most renowned of breeders can craft one to the perfect shade.”

At his words, you looked back at the abundant row of yellow peonies dressing your land. You wondered how much effort he went through in searching for the perfect shade to gift you.

“They’re to symbolize my wishes for you,” stated Dan Feng, toying with the edge of a petal with his thumb. “I wish to bestow upon you luck and prosperity, for the rest of your life.” 

“I think I’ve used all the luck I possibly could, finding someone like you,” you giggled, bumping your shoulder against his before leaning your head on it. Dan Feng breathed deeply, resting his head on top of yours. “And the only prosperity I wish for is to be prosperous in love. With you.” 

He laughed, a deep rumble vibrating against your body. “So, all your wishes of luck and prosperity have already come true? What need was there for me to gift you these flowers, then?”

You held your palm out, waiting for Dan Feng to place the yellow peony at its center. He gently laid it there, letting his fingers linger against your skin. 

“I’m glad you gifted me these,” you reassured him. “Now, when I walk by, they will always serve as a reminder of the radiant peony right in front of me.”

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

The next morning, Dan Heng entered the dark corridor with a flower tucked into a hidden pocket of his outer garments. 

While he was nervous about how you might react to him going against your wishes that you expressed to Jing Yuan, his determination to assure your freedom was more than enough to counteract that. If Dan Heng truly wanted to be freed of his past and atone for the wrongdoings of Dan Feng, he would need to make sure no one else was being punished for his actions. 

He had helped repair the Ambrosial Arbor’s seal at Scalegeorge Waterscape, to atone for Dan Feng’s acts against the current High Elder and all of the Luofu Vidyadhara. Now, he would release you from decades of unjust punishment you suffered simply for being associated with him. 

“Y/N, you have a visitor,” one of the Preceptors said dryly, unlocking a cell. The hooded man could hardly hide the look of distaste on his face a before he rolled his eyes and walked away. “I’m sure you two must have plenty to catch up on. Leave here quickly before we change our minds.”

Dan Heng peered into the entrance, his gaze meeting your confused and alarmed face in an instant. 

You looked between Dan Heng and the open cell, not a Preceptor in sight. “Is this a test?”

He shook his head, showing you the official pardon signed by Bailu, Jing Yuan, and a representative of the Preceptors. You held the document in your hands, reading its contents and feeling the seal to believe it’s legitimacy, before giving it back to him. He felt your hands tremble as you made brief contact with his and he was overcome with the urge to comfort you. 

“This isn’t a test,” he promised, looking into your eyes in hopes you would see the truth in them. “You really are free from here.”

You let out an amused noise of disbelief, shaking your head. “Oh, Dan Heng… What did you do?”

He startled at the sound of his name coming from your lips. He was so accustomed to you only repeating Dan Feng over and over in his dreams that this felt almost refreshing. 

“Rather, what did Jing Yuan do?” you corrected, laughing quietly as you stood up from your seated position. Your robes, once beautifully crafted, were worn and tattered. But the light in your eyes never waned. “I told him not to tell you.”

“He didn’t,” said Dan Heng. He considered his statement before adding, “I suppose eventually he did confirm it, but I was the one who confronted him about it.”

You raised a curious brow. “And how, pray tell, did you know about this…situation?”

“From my dreams.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. For once, you were speechless. 

“I know it’s more normal to have dreams about your past reincarnation,” he stated, neatly folding the document in his hands before sliding it away into his pocket. “But, while I occasionally had dreams of Dan Feng’s life—bad ones normally, might I add—it’s been more common to have dreams of you.”

With a slow and shaky breath, you shut your eyes to think. “You’d had dreams of Dan Feng’s memories of me, do you mean?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re dreams of your memories. Some included your moments with Dan Feng from long ago, yes. Others were you in this prison. A recent one was of Jing Yuan visiting you and in it you said not to tell me about this.”

You chuckled helplessly. “What good did that do, after all?”

“Why didn’t you want me to know? Why didn’t you want me to help you?”

“It wasn’t that!” you protested, your eyes telling stories your words could not keep up with. You sighed. “Okay, it was.”

Dan Heng let out a sharp breath.

“However, it’s not for the reasons you might be thinking,” you corrected, arms folded over your chest. “I’ve come to accept my life being imprisoned here. It’s given me a lot of time to think and reflect. And, similar to you, I’ve occasionally had dreams of you, Dan Heng.”

He tilted his head to the side. 

“They weren’t long nor were they frequent. But what I have gathered from them, scarce as they were, is you resent Dan Feng. You don’t want any ties to your past. And you’ve accomplished so much growth and closure, finally freeing yourself from all that burdened you. What good would it be to drag you back here and make you relive this?” 

“You sound ridiculous.” 

His words were harsh and it stopped you right in your tracks. You stared at him, eyes wide as they peered into his, but he couldn’t let that stop the words of logic from coming out of his mouth. 

“You’re not a saint nor are you a martyr. You don’t have to try to be one. You’re a person, and for that you should be free in your own right. You’re a Vidyadhara, trapped and punished for actions that were not your own. I understand what you’ve been through— I’ve been there, too.” Dan Heng held his hand out to you from outside your prison cell, waiting for you to walk out and accept it. “Furthermore, you are a kind and loving soul, and you don’t deserve to spend a single moment in this place. Please, accept my help.”

Your cheeks were wet as you nodded your head. Slowly, you placed your cold, shaky hand in his. He felt your cool skin against his warm one and he enveloped your hands gently, brushing your knuckles with his thumb to share the heat in his body. 

“I’ve wanted to get out of here so badly,” you admitted through silent tears. “I hated being confined and alone. I felt helpless. Pathetic.” He watched with a heavy heart as you wiped your own tears away. Could he reach out and do it for you instead? He chastised himself. As much as he wanted to, he had no right. “But you suffered so much in your past life—in this life even. I didn’t want to cause you any more pain.”

Dan Heng shook his head. “What brings me the most pain is knowing you were suffering for so long, and I didn’t help you.”

“How could you help when you didn’t know?” you reasoned with a sad smile. “I’m sorry for making Jing Yuan promise to never let you know.”

His eyes squeezed shut as a sharp pang ran through his heart. “Please. Please promise me you won’t do something like that again. If you need me, I want to be there for you. Always.”

You gaze widened at his words before you recollected yourself. 

Dan Heng winced as he understood what he said. His mind and soul were confused. He knew he wasn’t Dan Feng, that this was the first moment he has ever had with you. But why does he feel like he’s known you forever? 

After a few moments of silence, as if you were giving him time to amend what he said, you finally spoke. “Okay. I promise.” 

He felt every muscle in his body relax at those words. He knew the promise you spoke was true to your heart. Dan Heng believed it with all his being and he let that console him. 

“Thank you,” he breathed. 

With one of your hands still in his, he slowly led you out of the corridor and up the stairs, away from your cold and dark prison. 

“What are you going to do now that you’re free?” Dan Heng asked, hating himself for hoping your future plans would somehow include keeping in touch with him. “Will you…stay on the Luofu?”

Your body tensed as a shiver went down your spine. You shook your head fervently as your expression twisted into one of grief. Dan Heng’s heart stirred at the sight. He knew that feeling all too well, and it pained him knowing you had similar conflicts to go through. “No, that’s the last thing I want to do. I won’t stay here. At least not now.”

“I understand.” 

You gave him a weak, but hopeful smile as he squeezed your hand softly. 

“And you?” you wondered, looking at him with thoughtful and eyes as you awaited his response. 

“I’m going to the Astral Express to continue on with our adventures,” he said with his lips upturned. “It’s a great place to call home, especially when you’ve lost the only place you had once called home.” He stared at you for a moment. “If you would like to join us—join me—I think you would very much enjoy it.” 

You teared up at his offer. “Can you really just invite people like that?”

Dan Heng briefly thought of the girl they picked us as an icicle and the boy who they found with no knowledge of the past. He considered your situation. “Yes, we really can.” 

The sunlight from outside finally started shining through the walkway, signaling that you were almost out as a freed person. 

“Also,” he said, before he could forget, “I, myself, would want you to come join our crew, even if it’s only for a little while. You can stay for as long as you want, and leave whenever you want as well.”

Your ears perked up at that. “I like the sound of that. If the Astral Express will have me, then I would love to join.” 

Dan Heng smiled as he patted the top of your head. Your body relaxed at his touch as you leaned into him, and he continued to hold onto you as you approached the exit. “No one will threaten your freedom ever again. That is my oath to you.”

You started at him, brows furrowed in determination. “And I vow the same to you. These new beginnings will bring only freedom and prosperity.”

At that word, Dan Heng suddenly remembered the small gift he brought for you. He blushed as he felt the soft petals of the peony in his large pocket. 

“I have something for you,” he said, slowly stopping in his tracks. He turned towards you and you followed suit, tilting your head to the side in question. “It’s nothing big. But it’s a token. A reminder.” 

He held out the peony in one hand, watching as your eyes lit up at the sight of it. Your mouth widened as you let out a noise of laughter, accepting his gift and holding it close to your chest. 

“Thank you, Dan Heng,” you said, tears of happiness filling your eyes. “I love it.”

It wasn’t yellow— He wasn’t the bright and radiant Dan Feng you knew and loved. It wasn’t red or pink, even. While he felt traces of love and attraction for you from his past memories, he knew in his heart that wasn’t really him developing those feelings for you. 

Instead, it was a white peony. 

You were always in his thoughts. It was both a blank slate, and a gentle reminder. He would never forget you, and as he got to experience life with you, who knew what dashes of color would be mixed in next with this pearly white. 

[marthawrites]

Hi Martha! Ooohh requests are open!!! I have a friends to lovers trope idea for Aemond.

Jealous and in love with his friend, Aemond and reader are fighting while he's driving her home and then bad weather forces them to pull over.

Love your writing!!!

OF COURSE YOU CAN! While talking about this request earlier on my blog, I discovered this anon is a beloved mutual! I will not out them in case they want to stay anon for real. I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS, MWAH! ♥

After The Closing Shift

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 4.6k+

Read part 2 here

About: You and Aemond have been best friends for years. The time is finally right for him to admit his true feelings. In the process of doing so, your cheating ex appears back in the picture. Unexpected events follow.

Includes: Mentions of divorce, cheating, some angst, adult language, and explicit sexual content featuring our pussy eating king, slight overstimulation, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is my first time writing friends to lovers trope. There's angst for added flavor and I hope you like it! I don't write it very often. This was SO much fun to brainstorm and create! All characters mentioned in this story are college age/in their early 20s. Aside from that, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy! ♥

-

Aemond Targaryen fell in love with you senior year of high school. He could still recall the exact moment it happened; a click somewhere in his brain that made everything in your friendship prior to that moment make sense. 

You and your parents moved to the area for a fresh start. Being a new student during the first term of twelfth grade was difficult, but luckily you and Aemond hit it off early and well. By the end of the year you two were inseparable. He was your best friend, and you, his. 

That summer was a hard one for your parents. And by proxy, you. Their marriage hung on by a thread you weren't sure existed anymore. One evening, during a particularly horrible fight, you left in your own fit of rage. Driving aimlessly eventually led you to the Targaryen's estate. You showed up unannounced and thankfully Aemond was home; quick to let you crash on the couch in his room like you’d done a hundred times before.

It was that night. He remembered it well. You'd been in the bathroom for some time and when he knocked to check on you, you quietly answered for him to come in. He caught you midway through brushing your teeth with tear soaked eyes, toothpaste messy around your mouth, and that was it. His heart. The moment he fell in love with you.

You skipped the couch and crawled into his bed with him and he held you all the while, letting you cry into his shirt until sleep overtook you.

The remainder of the year went by in an emotional blur. Your parents divorced, you started dating Jason Lannister, and Aemond started dating Ellyn Baratheon. Before you knew it you and Aemond were freshmen in college. And then sophomores. Double dates on weekends and trips to local swimming spots in the hot summer evenings had Aemond constantly wrestling with his feelings about you. Things didn't last much longer with him and Ellyn. Physically he was with her, but mentally he was with you. When the breakup finally happened, it was mutual.

Things with you and Jason were rocky too. He was handsome and charismatic which you adored. Though, he also had a wandering eye and taste for risk. He cheated on you more than once over the last year. And yet, somehow, you took him back each time. In your heart you were scared to be alone.

After the latest breakup you told yourself (and Aemond) this time would be different. You wouldn't fall for his tricks again. He was a cheating piece of shit who wouldn't change. You were done.

Aemond knew now would be his chance. As long as he eased into it, was careful with the admission, and took it slow, he knew he had a chance. The most difficult part being: he didn't want to ruin the friendship you two built over the years.

Now tonight, near the end of your waitressing shift, you got a ping on your phone for extreme weather. Great. Of course this would happen when your car was in the shop getting worked on. You really didn't want to Uber all the way home if you didn't have to. Despite the hour – 10 pm thanks to the closing shift – you texted Aemond.

Hey Aems. You up? There's a storm rolling in and I don't wanna Uber. Can you pick me up and take me home?

A minute or so went by and your phone dinged.

I don't mind at all. Give me a few minutes to get dressed and I'll head your way.

"Thank god," you said under your breath.

Thank you! You're the best

As if on queue you got another notification. You expected it to be Aemond with some sort of snarky response, but it wasn’t. It was Jason. Your heart, somehow, jumped and fell into your stomach at the same time.

The last couple weeks had been rough. Him and Aegon liked to party a little too much, and Aegon refused to be held down by one woman – he liked to have fun. Unfortunately, Jason would sometimes get a little too involved with that fun if whoever Aegon was smooching on had a pretty friend. That’s exactly what happened: you had caught your boyfriend red-handed. A furious fright broke out between you two and you broke up with him, swearing it was the last time he’d play you like some fool. 

And yet, here you were – now – allowing your ex-boyfriend to sweet talk you with pretty words and promises of never doing it again. He missed you. He loved you. He wanted to be with you. You were his best girl and he was just drunk that night. It was a horrible mistake. He didn’t know what he was doing. He was sorry. He missed you.

Butterflies filled your belly, eyes stary as you typed away on your phone, completely unaware of anything else going on around you. 

You didn’t even notice the headlights of Aemond’s black Mercedes Benz until he honked. Rolling the darkly tinted window down, he said, “hey bunny, could you at least pretend to be happy you're not stuck in the pouring ass rain?” You heard his smirk before you saw it. He laid on his horn a second time, a longer honk, until you flipped him off; blushing and smiling wide.

Only Aemond called you “bunny”: a nickname from high school that stuck over the years. 

“Rain and thunder. Let’s go!” You hopped in and were immediately enveloped by the essence of him. The interior of his car was all sleek and black leather. Clean. Scents of his shampoo, body wash, and deodorant washed over you; long silver hair damp and pulled back into a bun. You two had spent many nights in here talking about life and there were no shortage of good memories in it. By now you didn’t even mind the weird music he liked. Heavy metal. The kind that had organs and orchestras alongside powerful drums and electric guitars. Your favorites were the bands, or songs, that had males and females singing together.

“Did you make good tips tonight? You haven’t stopped grinning this whole time,” Aemond spoke up after a few minutes, casually glancing over at you. 

You stared at your phone and continued typing away. “Huh? Oh, yeah, not bad,” you replied, briefly flickering your attention over to him. Once again your thumbs flew across your phone’s keypad; completely absorbed. “Sorry, just about done here.”

An amused chuff of air is all Aemond replied with. You knew that sound. Without even looking you knew he rolled his good eye. Another few minutes passed with Aemond singing along softly while keeping beat on the steering wheel. You two were definitely driving into the storm. The night sky was black with angry clouds. 

Finally, you clicked your phone screen off. A happy sigh sounded from you. This time would be different. Jason didn’t mean it. He was only drunk and Aegon was a bad influence. This time, he’d do it right and keep it right. Again, you smiled.

“What’re you doing tonight, bun?”

“I think Jason is gonna come over so we can talk about things in person and not just on the phone,” you replied, mind buzzing happily.

That got Aemond’s attention. “Lannister? Please tell me you’re joking,” he nearly spat the surname, glaring between you and the road.

“No I’m not joking,” you answered. “I really think it’s gonna be better this time. We just need to talk about things, you know?”

“He’s cheated on you three times! Three fucking times. You really think this time is going to be different?” His grip tightened on the steering wheel, jaw flexing as if wrestling words on his tongue.

You blinked, taken back. “W-well, yeah. He said he was sorry.”

A single harsh laugh came from Aemond’s chest. “That piece of shit said the same thing last time, too. We’ve been together nonstop for almost two weeks! Study sessions, movie nights, ice cream trips, you finally learned how to do that fancy braid thing with my hair. You said you were done with him, bunny. You said you meant it for real this time. I thought we were getting through this together.” He was speeding, now, shoulders tense as he struggled to keep his attention on both you and the road.

“I thought I was too!” Your voice came out more shrill than you intended it to, body turned slightly so you were staring straight at Aemond. “People make mistakes and fuck up, ya know? I think he’ll change this time. He said he was sorry and I wanna talk to him about it seriously. I think he just needed time to realize what he did was super shitty and really hurt me.”

The rain came harshly and suddenly. Aemond might as well have driven through a wall. It was so loud that it drowned out the music. Naturally, your voices grew louder, too. “I don’t understand what you see in him. He’s not even that good to you!”

Anxiety gripped your entire nervous system. “Pull over, Aems. I don’t like this. It hasn’t rained like this in forever and the roads are gonna be slick as fuck. Pull over. Please.” Your pulse thumped in your chest and behind your ears. You wanted to cover your eyes but somehow resisted the urge. 

He did. With it now parked safely off the side of the road he could turn his full attention to you. Even in the car’s ambient light his eye was wild. The patch over his left eye reflected absolutely zero light. “Why do you wanna be with that loser so bad?” Fury smudged his cheeks pink. The tops of his ears. The sharp lines of his face were even sharper. Harder.

You'd never seen him this mad. Not at you. Not towards you. "Because, Aemond, I love him! Maybe if you and Ellyn worked through your problems you'd understand!"

Again, that same short, dry laugh. "You don't love him. And I couldn't be with Ellyn because when I was with her I could only see you! Because I love you. Jason's a fucking scumbag who can't even give you his loyalty. I'd give you the entire world and then some!"

Silence drowned out the downpour.

By now you were both wide eyed and breathing heavy; faces flushed with emotion. The tightness in his car threatened to suffocate you both. Did you really just hear him right? Did he really mean what he just said? Love? "You're lying," is all you managed to croak; believing and unbelieving alike.

"'M not," he said as he ran a hand through the roots of his hair. "Fuck. I've loved you as long as I can remember. I didn't want to tell you like this."

Outside it rained harder. Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked. 

Yet, still, inside the Mercedes silence rang louder.

Everything started to click in your head. Your best friend had always been more than a best friend – you knew it in your heart of hearts. You two never had the opportunity to act upon such things due to relationships you found yourselves in.

But, now?

Words bloomed and died on your tongue. What the hell could you say to him?

"Fuck," he spat, emotion rasping his single word. His hands squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles and tendons were taut.

Still, you said nothing. Just stared at him. Stupidly.

One hand moved to shift the car into drive as he said, bitterly, "know what? Whatever. Forget it. I'll take you home to your cheating fuck boy."

You had a single second to decide what to do; despite your pleas to pull over he was going to drive through the storm, regardless. In a flash of motion you didn't know you were capable of, you unclicked your seat belt and pounced over the center console. You had the element of surprise on your side and it worked. Your lips were on his in an instant. He smelled sharp; soap, shaving cream, hair product. He tasted spicy; cinnamon toothpaste. His chest was hard beneath the press of your much softer breast – both of your hands too shocked to yet roam. Heartbeat thundered in your ribs and core at the kiss, your closeness, and the eruption of sensation the intimacy brought. Begrudgingly, you pulled away to look at him. To gauge his reaction. To read the expression of his angular face. What you were met with was a swelled pupil that screamed more. Desire. Need. It oozed from every visible pore.

Amidst the downpower, thunderstorm, and heavy metal, Aemond growled at the loss of your lips. Wordlessly he crashed his mouth back to yours while he unclicked his own seatbelt – hands on your neck and jaw half a second later.

Heat pooled in your belly – and lower, still – his passion causing you to whimper against his soft mouth. "Shit, Aems," you whispered, unable to resist a moan as he bit at your bottom lip. Your tongues slid and teased against one another. It deepened and grew hungrier by the moment.

"Wanted this for so long," he said in a tone you'd never heard from him before; it sent shivers prickling all along your spine. Breaking the kiss, he dragged his lips and teeth along your jawline and neck. His hands roamed in tandem, palms pressing against your uniform clad body as if you wore fine lingerie. He squeezed the curve of your waist. The swell of a hip.

"A-ah!" You gasped, dizzy and lightheaded from the sensations his desperate affections hit you with. Each stroke of his palm, squeeze of his fingers, and slide of his tongue had you melting between his hands. "Oh my God… you're driving me insane. Why have we never done this before?" You panted, moving to crawl over the center console once and for all.

Aemond stopped you. "Not yet. I wanna be greedy with you. Will you let me?" He asked, eye dark and face mischievous as you two gazed at each other dreamily, lustfully, breathing heavy.

"Yeah," you answered, nodding with half-lidded eyes. "I trust you. Always. You know that."

"Good girl," he cooed – driving you further insane. "Lean back against the passenger door. Can you do that for me, baby girl?" 

Not your name. Not 'bunny'. Baby girl. You were in a pit of insanity now. Jason never made you feel like this. What the fuck had you been missing out on for the last two years? 

You nodded again and barely managed to swallow yet another whine of appreciation at his words. His tone. Fuck. You thought you'd heard every tone his voice could make. But no, you certainly hadn't heard this side of him before. As you leaned back, he leaned forward. His gaze never left you and the intensity of it had your belly flipping and flopping, breath shallow in your throat, as his hand slipped up between your parted thighs.

"If you want me to stop, that's all you gotta say and I will," he whispered, creeping higher. He kissed the inside of your knee and you hissed inwardly. He kissed again, this time the middle of your thigh, and you trembled. He smirked as he kissed higher still. You moaned softly, so, so, softly, and his cock ached. "Gonna pull your panties down and bury my face right under your skirt."

"A-Aemond… oh my God. Please. No, you don't have to do that. I've been running around the restaurant for over ten hours and–"

" –even better. Don't care." By now he'd pushed your skirt up as high as it could go without ripping it off. He admired your thighs. He'd always loved those; stealing glances whenever and wherever he could, even napping on them. Shifting his position, he leaned further and pressed a single hot, open mouthed kiss to your covered mound. He groaned. "You have no idea how long–" he paused, slipping a finger beneath the cotton to tug it aside, " –I've wanted to do this." He delicately traced over your slit, cock aching inside his sweats at the wetness he met.

Tension shivered all up and down your body and you thought you might actually pass out. You couldn't believe this was happening. When you looked down and saw Aemond there, between your thighs, with the most lust-ridden gaze you'd ever seen on any person, your hips arched closer to him on impulse. You opened your thighs wider and you swore you saw your best friend shiver.

He kissed your slit. Once, twice, three times, until his mouth hovered over your clit. There, he traced his tongue over that delicious bundle of nerves. He licked up the full center of your core with the flat of his tongue, a soft “mmm,” sounding from him. “Prettiest little pussy,” he half said to himself before diving his tongue back between your folds. He circled your clit, licking across it, alternating between the two. 

Each little sound you made sent Aemond’s blood roaring. He only wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

Your moans and whines picked up; he found your rhythm. With a small, satisfied moan of his own, he gently sucked on your swollen clit. “Ah!” You squeaked in surprise at that, body tensing as you tried to push his head away. “Too much… not so hard, please,” you said when he pulled back and looked up at you with a confused expression. You ran a hand down your face, blushing. “I…,” you started, trying to muster the strength to admit something you found embarrassing. “I’m.. I’m really sensitive. Jason doesn’t do this to me a lot.”

Aemond looked like you just slapped him across the face. “He doesn’t eat your pussy?”

You shook your head and shrugged a shoulder. “Not… not very often,” you answered, embarrassment flooding over you like a wave and making your blush all the redder.

“Oh my God, bunny…,” he cooed, fully tugging your underwear down your legs. He moved both his hands under your ass, now, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh as he leaned down into his previous position. “As if I didn’t hate him enough as is.” He was careful before, but now he was delicate and light with his movements. Instead of pressing, he feathered his tongue over you. Instead of dragging, he trailed his lips over you. Instead of sucking, he barely drew you into his mouth to his tongue. He found a new soft rhythm – never once hindering the sounds of his licking, slurping, or breathing – and you were putty in his hands. 

“So fucking good…!” You gasped in a breathless whisper, hands tentatively lowering to his hair where your fingers threaded into his pale roots. You held him there, tugging gently, as your hips grinded against his mouth. You were close. So close. Tension built in your belly and you weren’t sure how long it would last before it snapped. “Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kept going at the exact same pace, the exact same angles, and the exact same pressure. Over and over. Just how he’d been doing it before you started grinding your pretty pussy against him. When you tugged and pulled at his hair he moaned. When your fingernails scraped against his scalp he thought he might lose himself to his own pleasure right then and there. 

The full length of your legs tightened; toes curling in your shoes. Pleasure, so immense and lovely and all-consuming, washed over you, and in the next instant you were coming undone on your best friend’s tongue. Your back arched, hands gripped – the sounds of your peak filling his car amidst heavy drums, bass, and darkly poetic lyrics.

He guided you through your orgasm, his own pulse hammering. “I’m not done yet, baby. You taste so fucking sweet,” he said, barely audible to your pleasantly ringing ears. With his hands still under you he lifted your ass to give himself a better angle into you. While you were still sensitive from your first peak he pushed his tongue into your clenching walls. He fucked you with the warm muscle, absolutely uncaring of the lewd noises it created. 

It's not that Jason had never done this to you before, but compared to Aemond he was absolute dogshit at it. You'd never experienced this kind of high from a man's face between your thighs. Ever. Aemond made it seem easy. Soon, a second climax built in the low muscles of your belly. "Holy shit..! I'm gonna cum again, fuck!" You squealed, tugging his ears, hair, anywhere you could grab, harder.

"Yeah you are. Good girl, my good girl," he answered before dipping his face right back where it was. He came at you with a slightly different angle once again. This time, the tip of his nose nuzzled against your clit in tandem with his tongue fucking. 

It was too much. His name left your lungs in a desperate cry of bliss as you tensed and shuddered before him for a second time. When finally you relaxed, and when finally he had enough of your taste in his mouth, he leaned up into the driver's seat. Even in the low light evidence of your slick shone on his face. He looked over at you and smirked, wiping his mouth. "I won't be able to not see you there like this from now on." 

You were blushed and smiling from release. Despite the pleasure Aemond gifted you with, being in such a position really wasn't comfortable. "And I won't be able to look at you and not think of this," you replied in the same tone. As gracefully as you could in the confines of his car, you maneuvered over the center console until you were straddling over his lap. His length pressed against your bare core and you both hissed at the sensation.

"What are you thinking, bunny?" He asked, barely resisting the urge – no, the need – to slide right up into you.

"I'm thinking I wanna ride you right here in your driver's seat," you answered, kissing him with the remains of your arousal on his mouth.

"There's a condom in the glove box," he said, reaching in its direction.

"I'm on the pill and I'm clean. Promise. Are… are you?"

That stopped him right in his tracks. He groaned somewhere deep in his chest. "Fuck. Yeah, babe, I am. Gonna ride me raw?"

"Yes," you shivered. In a quick fumble of motions he lifted his hips and you both pulled his sweats down as far as they could go. His cock sprang free, solid and searing against you. Looking down between your bodies you eyed it appreciatively; big and perfect and flushed with desire. "Holy shit, Aems, I didn't know you were packing so much," you said, the playful teasing nature you intended to speak with crumbling away to a wanton plea.

Another groan, or growl, or something vibrated deep in his chest. Without hesitation he popped open the front of your button-up shirt and slid the straps of your bra off your shoulders. "Perfect tits," he praised as he pushed the cups away to expose your breasts, licking and kissing over your nipples with need. 

Leaning up on your knees you reached behind yourself to guide his tip to your eager cunt. You lowered yourself, slowly, saving the stretch of his cock into your yielding body. You both cursed. He felt so fucking good.

"So perfect," Aemond said up to you from the softness of your breasts. "So wet and tight. Fuck, I love how wet you are." 

Once your body adjusted to his size you began to grind against him. Began to bounce on him. His music still played in the background but you paid it little mind. All you saw was Aemond. Your best friend. His face a beautiful display of softness and intensity with pleasure. His dark eye was heavily lidded, mouth parted. You bounced more, now, as his hands gripped your hips to help guide you along.

The storm hadn't let up yet, and thank God for the dark tint on his windows because you weren't even paying attention to any other cars that might be driving by. 

He lavished your tits with attention; kissing, licking, sucking all over them. You pushed them against his face firmer, arching your back as you rode him with fervor. He worked beneath you all the while – rolling and thrusting up into you, meeting all your movements to increase the hot coil of bliss in your belly; at the base of his spine.

Amidst half-babbled curses and praises, smacking skin, and needy moans, your phone's ringtone barely registered in your brain. Whoever was calling could wait. When it rang a second time, you felt Aemond's attention shift to it. "Your parents?" He asked through a panting groan.

"No. Probably Jason wondering where I am." You grabbed his face and kissed him hard, uncaring. 

When it rang for a third time, however, Aemond broke the kiss and reached for your phone. Sure enough it was your ex. He looked at you and smirked, dragging your hips back and forth to grind on him harder. 

"Oh my God…," you whined at the way he guided you, eyes rolling closed. "Don't answer it."

He slid his thumb across the screen before holding it up to his ear. Jason's worried tone met your ears as Aemond continued fucking up into you through your grinding. You tried to swallow your panic. Tried to stay quiet through the bliss.

Tried to.

"She's done with you. Stop calling," Aemond said coldly. He glared at you, grinning.

You heard Jason's "what the fuck? Is that her? What're you doing?" Through the phone. He was pissed. Apparently you weren't being quiet enough. 

"She's got better things to do than worry about a cheating scumbag. Lose her number." Aemond sat the phone down on the center console and didn't bother to hang up. 

As long as Jason stayed on the line he'd be able to hear your moans of pleasure, wet skin slapping on wet skin as you began to bounce on his cock with renewed passion. "You're such an asshole," you said, a third climax quickly approaching.

"Just keep fucking me, baby girl. Don't worry about him, he hung up.” Honestly, Aemond didn’t know if Jason hung up. He might have laughed if it weren't for his own peak tightening his balls. He wasn't going to last much longer. "Squeeze my cock. Be a gold girl and soak my cock. I wanna feel you cum first," he groaned, voice bordering desperate.

"Cum with me. Fill me up with all of you," you whispered, moaning by his ear.

Goosebumps erupted on his skin. He didn't need to be told twice. Those words falling from your lips was all he needed to unload in you with twitch after mighty twitch, coating your walls with his seed. You crumbled with him. You rode your pleasure out on him, slowly easing once it all started to be too much. He softened inside you and you carefully moved from atop him.

There was a mess all over his groin and all between your thighs, too. If you thought you needed a shower before getting into Aemond's car, now you really needed one. Outside, the storm was finally letting up.

You both fixed yourself in partially stunned and satisfied silence – your underwear being the only thing to clean yourselves with.

It was Aemond who broke it. "Stay over with me tonight."

You looked at him and smiled. "Long as I can shower."

"Of course you can," he said, eye twinkling with more than mischief.

"And, long as I can sleep in one of your shirts."

"You already know the answer to that one, bunny."

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

Masterlist

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[normspellsman]

This Time, Let Me Take Care of You

pairing: neteyam x fem!human!reader

genre: purely fluff

word count: 1.0k+

warning(s): mentions of injury, nete being a sucker for you taking care of him, teyam calling reader angel (blushing frfr), the teeniest tiniest hint of tail shenanigans, & mentions of kissing + cuddling

taglist: @aonungsmate @dearstell @goodiesinthecloset21 @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @universal-s1ut @optimisticblazetrash @amortencjja @liyahsocorro @arminsgfloll @sweetirilly @blushhpeachh @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @ihave500hubbiez @bigdikzaddy @cheyehc @tigermoon3 @httpjiikook

request details: here!

word bank: ikran — four winged creature used for flying + hunting, yawne — beloved, oeyä — my (possessive), tiyawn — love, tanhì — bioluminescence freckle(s); star, & syulang — flower

note: i hope you like it anon! i wanted to keep it short & sweet. let me know if you don’t or had something else in mind :)

“Sit.”.

The sound of your demanding voice made Neteyam nearly drop to his knees and kiss your feet in apology. He knew that he fucked up. He knew that the words you uttered to him before leaving for the scouting mission was something he was supposed to take seriously, but as always, they flew out the window when Lo’ak dipped and landed his ikran on the battlefield to get a little bit of action.

Your silence following your demand didn’t ease Neteyam’s anxiety one bit. His eyes following your figure as you walked around the healing tent and gathered all the herbs and paste you needed to tend to his wounds. An all too familiar scowl painted onto your face as you did so, muttering curses under your breath.

Before your lover had left on the scouting mission his Father put him on, you told him to be careful, resting your hand above his heart before he kissed your knuckles and promised he would be. Liar, you internally seethed, shaking your head at the thought.

You knew how much Neteyam preferred to put others before himself, often getting in trouble or injured when he did so. You always scolded him on the matter, muttering how he should put himself first for once. It was frustrating to say the least. Really frustrating.

“Ah, yawne, gentle,” Neteyam hissed out, groaning at your rough application of the paste onto his open skin. He knew that you were angry at him for breaking his promise to you. He could practically feel the annoyance radiate off of your skin from behind him. He didn’t blame you for feeling the way you felt. Neteyam was angry at himself too for always thinking of others and taking care of them before himself. Although it was something that frustrated you to no end, you knew that your lover was a naturally caring person and it was instinct for him to do what he does. It was one of the things you loved about him.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, closing your eyes and sighing before dipping two fingers into the white paste and gently lathering it onto Neteyam’s azure skin.

You just wished that Neteyam had an equal balance of both. Of putting others and himself first. You hated seeing him like this, all bruised and bloody from trying to save his brother's ass.

“Oeyä tanhì,” Neteyam whispers, shifting his body to face you, taking your hand into his as he grazed his lips against your knuckles. “I am sorry,” he adds, “I know that I promised you to be careful. But, Lo’ak,” his eyes closed at his brother's name, sighing out a breath.

“I know, tiyawn, I know,” you cut off your boyfriend, understanding what he was trying to say.

You always tried your best at understanding the dynamic between Neteyam and Lo’ak. You didn’t have any siblings of your own, not including Spider who was the closest thing you’d get to a brother. So it was hard at times understanding just why Neteyam would risk his life for his brother and always take the heat from their Father. But, you really did try to grasp how much he cared for Lo’ak and that he’d do anything to make sure his little brother was safe.

All you want from Neteyam is for him to be safe and come back to you in one piece. But it seemed as if that simple request was getting harder and harder to ask for ever since the sky people returned to the planet of Pandora.

“Just…” you started, tears pricking your waterline at the thought of Neteyam not returning to you, especially after this mission, “Please try to be more careful. I would like for you to come home to me in one piece and unharmed.”.

The slight crack of your voice from emotion made Neteyam want to gather your face into his hands and place gentle kisses all over the skin before placing one on your lips, but that stupid mask you had to wear prevented him from doing so. Instead, he placed your hand onto his chest, right above his heart.

“I always do, syulang,” he responded, pushing some of your hair back as it fell in front of your mask. He leaned forward a bit to place a soft peck onto the exposed skin of your hairline where the mask had slightly slipped from.

You only hummed at his reply, quickly gathering yourself before sniffling, motioning for your boyfriend to turn around so you could continue taking care of him. “Turn around,” you ordered, hands pushing his shoulders to aid him in the action, “Let me take care of you.”.

Neteyam let out a small, gentle chuckle at your pushing, turning around so his back faced you. He’d never admit it, but he loved it when you took care of him. Whether that be lathering healing pasted onto his injuries or making sure he ate plenty throughout his day or dragging him to your room whenever he couldn’t sleep, knowing that he only got a full night's rest in your arms. He loved it all.

“After we’re done, we’re going back to my room and you’re taking a nap,” you said, seriousness laced in your words, leaving no room for objection from the blue teen boy sitting in front of you.

He loved how insistent you were to take care of him, pouting when you weren’t able to do so or when he got dragged away by his Father before you could. Neteyam always looked forward to your gentle touches and soft words as you took care of him, massaging his tense muscles or rebraiding his hair when it needed. He often thought about how you would take care of him when he saw you next whenever he got some alone time. He couldn’t wait for you to take care of him for the rest of your lives.

Neteyam smiled at your demand, tail wrapping around your thigh as you continued your task of covering his wounds in the creamy paste you held in your hand. “Of course, angel,” he replied, eager to get into your bed and cuddle up next to your soft and warm body for the rest of the night.

He really couldn’t wait.

[gingerbloof]

red (astarion x fem fighter!tav)

contents: light smut, fingering, tav getting injured, blood, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of other companions (Halsin, Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Gale), bathing/skinny dipping in a hot spring Astarion being an absolute sweetheart, use of safe word (hard stop), non-sexual intimacy

author's note: gahhh finally i got this request finished! this is a anon request from my smut prompt list (which you can find in my masterlist!) it's more fluff/hurt/comfort than smut, because i wanted to change it up a bit since its been rather smutty on my blog thus far, but regardless, i hope you all enjoy! (image taken from @dailyastarionpics) word count: 3,821

It was yet another excruciating day of traveling Faerun, and unfortunately with no leads on curing your ceremorphosis. You and your party drudged their feet sluggishly back into camp, wishing for nothing but the sweet release of sleep. Even though the sun was already starting to peak over the horizon and morning dew started to bead on each blade of grass your tired feet landed on.

Karlach, half asleep already, started the pointless fire as Shadowheart went around to heal everyone. Once she made your way to you, her eyes widened. She brushed silver bangs off her face so she could look at you clearly. Her face grew with worry as she spoke.

“Tav… How did that happen?” She asked, pointing to your ribs. Your face scrunched up in confusion as you looked down at yourself. You then see a horrific wound that wrapped from the front side of your ribcage that wrapped around to your back. You stare at it wearily,  blood dripping down your skin and mixing with the dirt under your feet.

You suddenly grew pale as you felt the adrenaline from your last battle start to wear off. You tried your best to keep your composure. Years as a fighter taught you that there was no use in submitting to any wounds you may have gotten from battle. Lae’zel admired that about you, which is why it surprised you when she looked over from her tent and raised her eyebrows in surprise and rush over to you.

“Tsk’va! Tav what the hells happened?!” She asked, a very rare worried tone in her voice.

You let out a sound between a chuckle and a scoff. “It’s just a… scratch,” The last word was soft and breathy, then you felt your body begin to sway, and your surroundings blur, until darkness clouded over you. The last thing you heard was your beloved fanged partner shout “Darling!” before you submitted to the pitch blackness of unconsciousness.

***

You woke up with a groan, pain shooting through your side. You open your eyes slowly, the world slowly coming back into focus. You were snug in your bedroll, shirtless, and caked in sweat. The injury you got must’ve infected you at some point and gave you a fever, which was now thankfully breaking.

You looked down at your injury and saw that it was quickly healing, probably thanks to the help of both Halsin and Shadowheart. Careful stitches held your broken flesh together, which you knew was thanks to Astarion, whom you barely noticed was right next to you reading a book. You started to sit up as he snapped his book shut and shifted so he was on his side facing you. 

“Easy, darling!” He said concerningly, laying you back down slowly. You looked up at him with sleepy eyes as you allowed him to lay you back down. “You’re still in a bit of bad shape, no sudden movement, alright?” He said soothingly, running his slender pale fingers through your hair and laying a kiss on your forehead.

You sighed softly with a bit of frustration, leaning into his kiss. “I’m fine, my love…” You said, your voice low and gruff. “‘Tis but a flesh wound, I promise.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “‘My love, I don’t believe a ‘flesh wound’ would cause you to collapse from blood loss and get… twelve stitches,” He said, glancing briefly at your injury and counting them quickly. “We also had to pull a rather big chunk of metal out of your side…” You sigh again and carefully cross your arms over your chest, pouting at him. “I’ve had a lot worse, you know,” You said in a snarky tone, pointing to the big gash in your face that you had gotten years ago.

He gasped and placed his hand over his chest in a sarcastic manner. “Oh, I’m so sorry! It seems I have forgotten that such a strong bodied fighter such as yourself doesn’t need any comfort,” He said cheekily, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk as your face flushed bright red.

“I-I didn’t say that!” You pouted even more, turning your head away from him. Regardless of your strong outer shell, he always brought out your very well hidden soft interior. He was the only one who could do it, and knowing that inflated his already massive ego.

He laughed heartily at your reaction, gently taking your chin in his cold hand and turning your head back around to face him. “You are utterly adorable,” He cooed, giving you a quick smooch on the lips. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up, darling. No offense, my love, but you smell like death.”

You frown and sniff yourself briefly, the smell of stale blood and sweat assaulting your nostrils. How embarrassing… You nodded, and he very carefully helped you up. He pulled off his own nightshirt for you to wear, and linked your arm with his so you didn’t stumble.

As you exit your tent, the assaulting rays of the afternoon sun almost blind you. You squint in the light and use your hand to shield your eyes as Shadowheart and Halsin quickly rush over to you both, relief washing over their faces.

“Tav! You’re awake, thank Selune!” Shadowheart beamed, cupping your face gently. You smile warmly at her and chuckle. As your best friend, other than Astarion of course, Shadowheart was always giving you sweet friendly touches. You adored having someone like her around.

Halsin was next to speak, his large frame thankfully shielding the sun from your still very tired eyes. “Thank the Oak Father… We were worried your injuries were far too grave for us to heal alone. Good to see we were wrong,” He smiled warmly at you. “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged as you leaned against Astarion a bit more. “I’m okay, it just hurts a bit. We’re going to the river to clean up quickly,” You respond, reassuring them that you were fine. “Of course if she’s alright enough to do so,” Astarion chimed in, lifting your shirt enough for the healers to take a look at it.

Shadowheart hummed and reached her hand out, chanting a soft “Te curo” as a soft blue light wrapped around your injury. This eased the pain quite a bit, and from the looks of it, her simple healing word seemed to have closed the gash up just a bit more. A sigh of relief left your lips as you said a silent thank you to her.

 “I think she will be fine, but I do recommend going to the hot spring, the warmth of the water and the healing properties of nature should make her feel good as new,” Halsin said. Astarion smiled at both of them. “Thank you, we shall take our leave for now, then,”

As you both turn to head towards the spring, Halsin spoke out to you once again. “Would you two mind if I joined?” A small but sweet smirk on his face. Both you and Astarion chuckled. You had both indulged yourselves with Halsin before, so it was always on the table when the time seemed right. Astarion looked to you to silently ask if that was alright, and you shook your head. You just wanted him right now…

Astarion replied on your behalf. “Mmm, tempting, but not tonight, druid. I hope you can understand.” Halsin nodded, fully understanding. “Of course. Enjoy yourselves, both of you.”

After walking for a few meters you found the spring. Neither of you have seen it before, so you both took a moment to soak up the view. There was a beautiful waterfall in the distance that led to the river, and mountains could be seen just beyond it. Moss covered rocks were placed conveniently around the steaming body of water, perfect to sit on to dip your feet in, and the trees hung low enough to lightly diminish the harsh ways of the afternoon sun from your view.

You smiled and sighed softly at the view. It was breathtaking. Astarion, however, was entranced by a different view. You.

You felt his eyes upon you and looked over to him, your eyes immediately locking with his. You tried to play it cool, looking back at the spring before you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” You asked softly. He stepped closer to you, gently placing his hand on your hip and carefully pulling you closer, minding your wound. “Not as beautiful as you, my love,” He purred softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. You flush deeply, and not just from the steam of the spring.

You both stay there for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. He sighed a contentful sigh as he pulled away from you briefly. “Come now, my love. Let’s get you all cleaned up,” He smiled. You nodded and started removing his shirt from yourself, but he quickly stopped you, taking your hands for a brief moment. “Let me, my dear,” He gently lifted the shirt off of you, careful not to let you lift your arms up too far. The shirt pulled off of you, revealing your bruised and injured body. Crusted up blood flaked over your skin, but regardless Astarion still looked at you like you were the most beautiful being in all the Relms.

Your small clothes came next. He slowly slipped them down around your ankles leaving you bare. Astarion soon followed suit, yanking down his pants and slowly stepping into the warm water. He reached his hand out to you and you took it, following him into the water.

You sigh in relief, the warmth of the water immediately relaxing your tired muscles. You stepped further into the pool, sinking down until the water was just above your breasts. Astarion went back over to the rock he left his trousers on and pulled out a bar of soap, which you hardly even noticed he grabbed. You raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Let me guess… Stolen?” You jabbed, crossing your arms lightly. Astarion half shrugged nonchalantly. “Only from Gale,” He responded with a chuckle. You roll your eyes and shake your head playfully. You weren’t surprised, he always took the opportunity to take anything important as he saw fit, especially if it was from Gale. He made his way back over to you, getting the bar of soap wet and lathering it in his hands. “Turn around, my love,” He said softly, taking your shoulders and spinning you in the water gently so your back was to him.

You comply and briefly dip yourself further into the water to wet the rest of your body. As you stood back up he placed a soft kiss on the nape of your neck and started his work. He scrubbed away the grime and flaked blood off the backs of your shoulders. You hum happily, wrapping your arm around to gently wrap your fingers around his beautiful silver locks. He wrapped his arms carefully around you, pulling you further into him. He placed soft kisses along the shell of your ear as the lather made its way to your chest and torso.

He continued to clean you innocently and sweetly for a few more moments until he turned you around. The way the suds of the soap encompassed your breasts and the golden rays of the sun making your wet skin glow flipped a switch inside of him. You were the most ethereal thing he had ever gazed upon.

You were entranced with him too. The sunlight bounced off of his beautiful pale skin, and he almost appeared to shimmer in it. His ruby eyes glinted as he looked at you, nothing but love and devotion filling them. 

“You know…” He started softly, tracing the backs of his knuckles down your arm, gazing down your figure. “I can think of some other ways to relieve some tension, darling,” His voice was a hungry purr now, honeyed words floating sweetly into your ears like a soft lullaby. You nibbled your bottom lip as you watched his movements as his hand creeped down to the front of your thigh. Once again, you tried playing it cool, despite the ever growing heat in your core. “W-What do you mean?” You asked softly.

A low chuckle left his lips. “Don’t be coy, darling. You know exactly what I mean,” A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as his fingertips gently grazed across your folds, making your breath hitch in your throat. “What’s the matter, my sweet? Cat got your tongue?” He hooked his index finger to part your folds and catch against your clit, brushing against it gently.

You grabbed his hand in an attempt to push his fingers against your swollen bundle of nerves more to get some much needed friction. He stiffened his hand, not allowing you to move it. He clicked his tongue in disapproval and shook his head, the corners of his mouth lifting in yet another devious smirk. 

“Patience, my sweet,” He purred next to your ear, his other arm snaking around and gripping your ass gently, pulling you further into him.

You stumbled a bit into him, clearly flustered by his bluntness. Uncharacteristic for someone of your class and background, but you didn’t care. Astarion brought a side out of you that you haven’t felt safe enough to channel in years, and you were very grateful for him for it.

He chuckled at your apparent shyness, placing soft kisses along your ear making you shiver. “S-Star…” You whimpered, making him groan. He loved that nickname, and you always knew the right times to use it. “Yes, darling? What is it?” He replied smugly, his feather light touches grazing your folds again, making you tense up.

“Please…” You mumble, making him groan in playful frustration. “My darling, we’ve gone over this multiple times… You must– say it with me now… use your words,” You shyly said those three cursed words along with him. As he said, you have gone over it multiple times, but you were much too stubborn to give in and actually tell him what you wanted. That was, until you were too desperate for him not to care anymore. Just like how you were right now.

“Astarion,” You said sternly, trying to keep up your strong facade. “I want you to touch me. Use your fingers. Please.” The last word you spoke was soft and breathy, your stubbornness bending like a hammer to hot steel. He grinned, his fangs glinting in the glow of the setting sun. Gods, he is beautiful…

“Of course, my love. Whatever you need,” He purred, his fingers finally placing soft pressure against your hard clit. You gasped softly as he used those two slender fingers to massage soft circles into it. You shivered, despite the hot steamy water that surrounded you both, and grasped onto his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He gently ran his fingers through your hair as he continued to stroke the fire in your core. To the innocent bystander, it might’ve looked like you were just having a sweet romantic hug in the water, but down below the surface, he was giving you endless pleasure, quickly bringing you to the point of no return.

With you being inexperienced when you started being intimate with one another, it never took you long to reach an orgasm, especially if he was the one touching you. He chuckled as he felt your body tremble against his. Your blunt fingernails gently dug into his skin as you felt your orgasm creep closer and closer. Normally, he would make you ask to come because he relished in the sounds of you begging. However, given the circumstances, he decided to play nice with you today.

“That’s it, my pet… Let go,” He whispered, kissing along your shoulder gently. His pace quickened, earning him a soft airy gasp from you. Your breath wavered as his fingers continued their quickening pace against your clit, your legs starting to tremble. “A-Astarion…!” You choked out, grasping onto him for dear life. He hummed in approval as his pace quickened once again, making your eyes snap shut and let out a delicious, loud moan.

Your orgasm crashed into you like the waterfall behind you crashing into the river, your whole body twitching and spasming. You almost fell over from how hard you came, but thankfully Astarion’s stiff body kept you upright. He slowed his pace, riding you through your orgasm and whispering sweet praises into your ear. “There you go, my sweet… What a good girl you are,” He peppered kisses along your neck as he slowly withdrew his hand. 

You panted as you looked at him. Your face was beet red, and your brow was starting to bead sweat from the heat of the spring and your orgasm. He smiled sweetly down at you and caressed your cheek. “Would you like more?” He asked, as you felt his cock throb against you. You nodded eagerly, slipping your hand down beneath the water to stroke him gently. He took your wrist and shook his head.

“Please, my dear… Allow me,” He purred. He gently guided you over to a nearby rock to the shallower end of the pool. “Bend over here, darling,” He gently coaxed. You were quick with your actions, yet careful. You didn’t want to reopen your wound. You gently bent over the rock, arching your back slightly for him. He came behind you and stared at your swollen cunt, dripping with ecstasy and still twitching from your previous orgasm. He ran his hands across the swell of your ass and down the sides of your thighs, groaning softly. “Beautiful…”

He took his cock and gently pressed the tip against your hole. “Are you ready, my sweet? Are you ready to be stretched by my cock?” He asked, his tone sweet and innocent despite the filthy words. You nodded eagerly, arching your back a bit more in an attempt to push yourself onto him. “Y-Yes… Please, I need you…” You replied, your voice full of desperation.

The eagerness in your words was all the confirmation he needed. He slowly started to roll his hips into you, pressing each inch of his cock further and further into you. You moaned loudly as you stretched around him and clenched. He hissed in pleasure at your tightness as he thrust slowly in and out of you, closing his eyes. You growled softly at the feeling of you. “Gods, Tav… You feel so fucking good,” He said, pressing into you harder, earning a loud yelp from you.

Sometimes, especially in moments of insatiable desire such as this, Astarion could be a bit rough with you. It was almost like he went feral from your sounds and the feeling of you pulsating around him. Thus, you have agreed upon a word that either of you could use if things got out of hand. Neither of you had to use it yet, but if he kept up this harsh, rough pace, you would have to use it.

His speed increased, thus his roughness. The pleasure started turning into a soft, manageable pain as the tip of his cock pounded against your cervix. He must not have noticed your body tense, because he kept going, wrapping his hands around your waist, accidentally touching your stitched wound.

That is what made you say it.

 “R-Red!! Astarion, red!”

His eyes snapped open as he stopped, pulling out of you quickly and turning you around gently, his face broken with worry. “Oh, my dear, I am so sorry… Did that hurt? Are you okay?” He asked, checking your wound briefly to see if he had accidentally reopened it. You panted softly, trembling a bit. You winced softly with pain. “I-It was just my injury… I think I’ll be okay,” You reassured him, feeling bad that you had ruined the moment. He shook his head. “No, darling… Let’s stop, I don’t want to cause any more harm to you. I-i don’t know what got into me, I-” 

You noticed he started rambling a bit and… Tearing up. You had yet to see him cry about anything, so this surprised you. Your face grew with worry as you caressed his cheek. “Hey… It’s okay, I’m okay,” You said gently. He leaned into your touch and shook his head again. “Gods I am so sorry…” He apologized again, his voice laced with guilt. You kissed him sweetly on the nose and smiled at him. “My heart, I’m okay. Thank you for stopping when I said it.” He chuckled at that. “Of course I stopped. I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable,” He said gently, placing a soft peck on your lips. You kissed him back and smiled warmly. You had never had anyone who cared about your safety and wellbeing as much as he did, nor him with you. You both felt so safe together, and absolutely nothing could ruin that.

He pulled away slightly and took the bar of soap again, coaxing you over with his finger. “Come, my love, let’s finish getting you washed up.”

After you both bathed, you stayed in the spring for a few hours, talking about everything and nothing and enjoying each other’s company. The moon had risen a while ago, bathing you both in its faint blue light. You stared up at the moon as you sunk down into the water to your shoulders. You barely noticed the wound anymore, and you felt relaxed and very well healed.

 Astarion had gotten out a few minutes ago to dry off. He stared at you and had a devilish idea. He smirked to himself as he slowly slipped back into the water, trying not to make too much noise. He snuck up behind you, totally oblivious. Just as he was about to splash you with water, you flipped around and got his face and hair soaking wet, making him groan in frustration. “Gahh, my hair! My beautiful hair!” He pouted, making you laugh hysterically. “Sneaking up on a fighter, really, my love?” You said through laughs. He scowled a bit, then started to laugh as well. “Foolish idea, I know…” He admitted, wading closer to you. “But you didn’t have to ruin my hair…” He whined. You grin evilly at him, lifting your hand to his head.

“No, no! Stay back, you!” He shouted as he tried to get away from you. You chased him around the pool for a bit, laughter and playful banter filling the night.

Halsin and Shadowheart were silently watching you both from the clearing just before the pool, smiling sweetly. “She seems to be doing a lot better now, doesn’t she, Halsin?” Shadowheart queried, making Halsin chuckle as he replied. “What can I say… Love certainly is the best medicine.”

[fairysluna]

the reward.

You come back home after two weeks, and with the victory in your shoulders. Cregan, who was still recovering from his wounds, is esger to thank you for what you've done.

MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Cregan Stark x Targ!Reader.

TAGS/TW — smut (clit play, praise, cunninglus, humping, public sex), cursing, mentions of murder, blood. If something is missing pls let me know!

AUTHOR’S NOTE — this is based on this ask (thx anon, ily). Just so you know, reader gave birth to Elion four weeks before this happened. I didn't proof read it, so if there's any mistakes I'm sorry.

WORD COUNT — 3.2k.

FEEDBACK, SHARES AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYS WELCOME!!

When the big wooden doors were opened, all eyes fell on the two silhouettes that walked inside the main hall in the castle of Winterfell. Cregan stood up from his chair almost immediately, his eyes widening with surprise at the sight, and feeling the relief calming down his senses after he finally proved you were not dead.

Two weeks have passed since the last time he heard about you; two weeks in which he was losing his mind for not being able to get up from the bed and go to search for you. Your letters had ceased suddenly and unexpectedly, creating worry not only on your husband but also in the castle. And yet there you were; your hair was covered in ashes and dirt, your face having traces of dried blood and sweat. You were wearing armor which covered your chest, leather pants shaping your legs, the scabbard on your hips was dripping with blood coming from the blade of your sword. By your side, the stern and serious frame of your beloved brother Aemond was standing in the same conditions as you.

But everyone’s eyes were fixed on the giant’s head hanging from your hand. You walked inside the room with pride, your chin up as everyone bowed for you. Your husband was taken aback, for there was too much information in front of him at that moment, it was such a bizarre scene.

Cregan took a sharp breath as he stared at you once you stood in front of him, only a big, long table separating your bodies. The giant’s head was dropped by your hand on top of it, and the man looked down at you with a weird glance on his face. He analyzed your whole shape, from head to toe; from your messy battle braids to your ash-covered shoes. Cregan caught himself feeling some kind of unexplainable sensation of lust in his veins; and you were the only one who was capable of recognizing it.

“My dear husband,” you started, and all the whispers shut down almost immediately. “I’ve brought you a gift. I’m not certain whether this was the one who harmed you, but take it as a symbol… no one hurts those who I love.”

He looked to the head, then at your brother, and lastly at you. He took a deep breath, as if he was about to utter some words, but Lord Karstark opened his mouth.

“Princess,” he said, shock reflected in his voice, “what- how were you able to-?”

“My husband gifted me a fine Valyrian blade a few years ago,” you explained, looking right in the eye of the tall man to whom you call your lover. “Giants are above the size of a regular man, which is what makes them easy to behead from a dragon's back. I couldn't kill them all, but I killed enough to make them yield.”

“They yielded?” Cregan finally spoke, to which you nod.

“Yes, my lord, they did,” the mere pronunciation of those two words almost sent Cregan to outer space. Your voice sounded so deep and seductive without even trying. The man was almost drooling because of you. “They returned beyond the wall as they promised to never cross it again. Those who dared to defy our terms died by the flames of Aegarax, which worked as a warning to let them know what would happen if they disobeyed.”

“We had a few losses, my lord” Aemond interrupted in the conversation, and still Cregan was unable to take his eyes off of you. “They were brave men, killed in battle by those savages. Allow me to present them with honor with a feast in celebration for our victory. It is also well deserved for those who survive.”

“Let it be done, brother,” Cregan said. "We might as well celebrate your bravery, and your efforts for bringing my wife safely back to my arms."

“Ser Aron, please put the giant's head on display for the people to see. It is a sign of peace now,” you ordered.

“Of course, princess,” he bowed swiftly before getting close enough to the head to pick it up and walking with it out of the Hall.

“My lord, if I may, I would like to go and spend some time with my nephews and niece before tonight’s celebration,” Aemond asked, using that polite and courteous tone that was so typical of him.

Cregan nodded, “of course, brother,” he said.

Aemond walked to your way and left a soft kiss on your forehead before squeezing your shoulder and leaving the hall towards the nursery room where you children were. The silence ruled over the room as everyone was expecting for either you or Cregan to speak further into the matter, but all they received was the comfortable silence you and your husband shared as your hazes would refuse to look away. The lack of each other’s presence these last weeks had clearly made a big impact in your lives, for there was an invisible magnet that was pulling you both closer and closer to each other. Your bodies craved each other's touch in a way that would even make you look desperate.

“We won the war, my lord husband,” you said, a slight smirk crossing your lips as you noticed his jaw clenched. “Mayhaps we should celebrate, don’t you think?”

Your eyes gazed upon his face, begging and pleading for something you knew only him could provide you. The nights in the camp were cold and lonely, making you long for your husband’s warmth. Your breathing trembled at the mere thought of his big hands roaming around your body in order to touch those places that he knew so well.

“Everyone,” Cregan raised his voice in order to be heard by all the people present in the room. His low tone echoed around the room. “Leave, now.”

The lords, knights and soldiers were soon walking towards the exit doors as Cregan walked around the table and reached your side. Your smaller frame looked so fragile in front of him even when your body was covered with that hard material which had some scratches in it. Cregan looked up and down to your state, and he inevitably bit his lip as his hand reached for your hip and pulled you closer to him. A small gasp left you, starting to feel his breathing against your skin. Soon you find yourself being a prisoner of his arms, for they surrounded your body and held you tight against his broad chest.

“The children have been missing you terribly,” he whispered, so close to your lips that you were able to feel his breath against them.

You gave a quick peak to your surroundings just when the door was closed and the last man left the room. Your gaze fell upon your husband’s face once again and a little smile appeared on your face. Your hands went to his broad chest as his started to go down your body until reaching your arse.

You were dirty, sweaty, a complete mess, and yet Cregan thought that you had never looked more desirable.

“Only them?” You asked, teasingly playing with the laces of his coat until it fell down surrounding his shoes.

“No,” he shook his hand, pulling you closer and making you feel his hardness through the fabric of his pants. You sighed, eyes already getting blurry with the aching lust between your legs. “I was scared… frightened.” His lips brushing against your jaw. “I thought I had lost you, I forced myself to heal faster only to go and look for you, my love.”

“No need, I’m already here…” You replied. Your eyes would not dare to leave his as your hand reached his growing erection. “I’m here, and I will never leave you again-”

You were barely able to finish the sentence before his delicious lips trapped yours in a lustful kiss that took your breath away. The missed touch had your heart jumping in your chest with excitement, love and lust. His hands grabbed your checks in order to keep your face close enough to devour your mouth with hunger and desire. He was craving for you as much as you were for him.

"Seeing you like this," he murmurs between kisses, his fingers going to the laces that were holding your pants. "I'm so fucking lucky to call you mine. My wife, my love, my princess."

"I did it all for you," you confessed in a whine, pulling his hair strong enough to make him moan. You pulled away as your fist was holding his locks with a bit of roughness that he loved to see in you. "I would make this entire world burn just for you."

His eyes sparkled with devotion as he softened his grip around your face. His gray eyes staring at yours with a glow you were already used to seeing on him whenever he laid eyes on you. The shadow of a tender smile appeared on his face before he leaned to kiss you again. It was softer, more delicate, leaving part of the lust of your bodies behind just to have a more intimate moment. His tongue entered your mouth elegantly, twirling against yours while you sighed and closed your eyes. The warmth within your chest gave you a feeling of comfort that you had not felt since you left Winterfell; gods, you missed him so much.

When he pulled away, he stared down at you. His thumb caressing your cheeks, wiping the dried blood out of your beautiful face. He could not help but smile, all of this was for him. You did it all for him. His heart would only beat faster on the realization of you unleashing the dragon inside you just for his protection.

There was something about that wild and dangerous side of you that made Cregan drool like a hungry puppy.

"I love you," he said, and you smiled.

"I love you," you replied.

But then the lust in his eyes returned, and you knew the soft moment had vanished. His hands went to your hips as he turned you around and bent you over the table. You chuckled softly at his action, feeling how he would rub himself against you as if he was trying to find some relief. You closed your eyes, leaning your head against his chest.

"My little dragon," he murmured against your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. A soft moan was heard from you. "Fuck- I missed those pretty sounds so much."

You felt how he suddenly stepped back, and it was impossible for you to retain the loud gasp that escaped from your lips once Cregan pulled your pants down, dragging your small clothes with it. The coldness of the air caused shivers in your spine, especially after you noticed him kneeling behind you and his big hands spreading your arse cheeks. His thumbs exploring and touching your folds as he could only growl at the sight, your cunt was already dripping, glistening with your arousal.

Cregan leaned, close enough to brush his nose against your labia, teasing as he smelled your sweet scent and his mouth waters. That sweet, so delicious smell had been missed by him, and he could not wait to let himself drink from you until his lips felt sore. At that point, your legs were shaking with the anticipation of his mouth devouring as if you were his last meal.

"You've been such a good little wife, my princess," he whispered, his hot breath reaching your moist folds and making you whine. "Taking revenge for your husband, and bringing victory to our home."

His thumb started to tease your needy clit, proving small touches that were far from being enough to cause the much needed sensation of relief. You bit your lip, sighing with frustration. Your hips moving backwards as you desperately tried to reach a more intense touch, but Cregan would make you wait.

"So, so good…" he muttered, dropping light kisses in the flesh of your ass, "I'm gonna give my wife the reward she deserves, how about that?"

"Oh, fuck, please, my love," you breathed heavily, closing your eyes as the despair only grew within you. "I need you so much."

"Shh… I should be the one begging," Cregan replied.

You felt the fingertips of his thumbs spreading your labia before his tongue lapped at your sensitive folds. A moan, much louder than the ones before, was heard, and your eyes immediately went close at the delicious feeling of his tongue licking all your slick. He was eating you like a hungry man, after being deprived of you for so long he was despairingly trying to make it worth the wait. He had missed your taste, your smell, the way you would clench around his tongue, and how prettily your moans would sound.

The sound of his tongue against your wetness as he drank from you was beyond obscene. A mixture of his spit and your slick would slip down your thighs, making it messier and filthier that it already is. Your nails were digging on the wood of the ancient table beneath you, and your whimpers were getting louder.

His nose was teasing your entrance, causing the pleasure to become almost unbearable. With the birth of your third child and the weeks you spent apart, you had not been exposed to this kind of pleasure for a really long time, and you almost forgot how good it felt when your dutiful husband took care of you.

Once his tongue left your clit and started to go to your clenching hole, his fingers went to your swollen pearl, indulging the pleasure and making you see stars. You were a mumbling mess, not caring about keeping it quiet because you knew how much your husband loved to hear you, and you loved to make him know how good he was making you feel.

"Fuck, I'm- I'm getting so close, love," you rapidly said, breathy words leaving your throat as you moaned. "Your tongue feels so fucking good- oh, fuck! just like that…"

Your words seemed to only fuel his desire, for his eagerness only increased. He shook his head from side to side, his tongue never leaving your folds. You were able to feel the tightness in your lower belly as your legs started to shake. His whole face buried in you in order to give you the pleasure that you needed and deserved.

With a squeal, you felt your juices oozing out of you and falling into Cregan's tongue. You were able to hear him moan, his heavy breathing against your cunt as he was eagerly trying to get all your release inside his mouth.

Your body fell on top of the table, your eyes remaining closed as you tried to regularize your unsteady breathing. Cregan stood up, caressing the exposed flesh of your thighs as he leaned over your frame to kiss your cheek.

"We have the best cooks in the North, and yet their dishes will never be as delicious as your sweet cunt, my love," you both shared a breathy laugh after his words, your cheeks inevitably getting reddish and warm. "Come here."

His arms lift you up without issue, so effortlessly as always. He shifted your position until you were facing him, sitting on the table and with your legs surrounding his hips. His nose brushed against yours, and your hands went to his pants. He immediately stopped you.

"We can't," he said, "the Maester said we need to wait at least three fortnights."

"I can please you in other ways too, you know that," you reminded him.

"No, I just wanted to thank you-"

"And I want to thank you too," you interrupted him, removing his hand and keeping untying the laces of his pants until you removed them, freeing his shaft from the tightness of the fabric. "For all that you've done for us…"

"My love-"

"Be quiet," you silenced him. Your legs pushed him closer to you until his cock was pressed against your pearl. You both moaned at the feeling. "You know what to do now… please, don't make me beg."

"You little, needy thing…" he muttered before starting to move his hips. His mouth dropped open at the feeling of your lips wrapping around his length, it felt so warm and good. "Fuck, my love, I can't wait to be inside you once again." He confessed.

You smirked, "yeah?"

"Oh, Gods, yes…" his face was buried on the crook of your neck as your hand went to his cock to press it against your core. "As soon as you heal I'll fuck another babe inside you. Would you like that?"

"Y-yes," you nodded, your eyes looking directly at him as he sped his movements. "I can't- fuck… I

I can't wait to feel you inside me again. Filling me up so- oh, fuck, so good."

Cregan moaned at your words, getting harsher with his movements. His sack hitting against your slick, as he kept rubbing himself against you, growing desperate to spill himself on you. Your lips soon met on a needy kiss that silenced all the obscene sounds that were coming out of your mouths. It was messy, but none of you care, already drunk in the pleasure.

He pulled away at the same time that a whine left his lips. He grabbed his shaft and started to swiftly stroke it as he kept rubbing the tip on your clit. You came again, moaning his name before he coated your folds with thick drops of his pearly seed. His head fell backwards, his eyes rolling with pleasure as he hissed and groaned. You held your weight with your forearms as you looked at the mess he did on you.

Cregan soon held you tight, hiding his face on your neck once again. You chuckled softly, tiredly, caressing his hair and kissing whatever part of him you could reach.

"Don't ever leave me," he begged, "I can't do this without you."

"I won't, I promise," you replied in a whisper, smiling so bright.

He reached for your lips once again, kissing you gently and lovingly. It was brief, but as soon as he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours, enjoying the closeness of your bodies.

"But now I need to go and see my babies," you said, kissing his lips one last time before pulling back.

"Let me help you to clean you up," he quickly moved around, pulling his pants up to start looking for something that could work.

He found a clean cloak and went towards you. You let him help you, seeing how careful and delicate he always was with you. You smiled at him, and once he was ready, he made you stand up and lifted your pants. Next thing he did was throwing the cloak he used with you to the fire in the fireplace.

He grabbed your hand and walked with you towards the exit door, but before you were able to cross it, he stopped you to kiss you once more.

"I love you," he said again.

You bit your lip, hiding the enormous smile on yojr face.

"I love you."

BOLD MEANS I COULDN’T TAG YOU.

GENERAL TAG LIST — @borikenlove @aemondsversion @jvpit3rs @watercolorskyy @kravitzwhore @valeskafics @clairacassidy @aemondx @randomdragonfires @theminesofmoria @gothtargaryen @melsunshine @urmomsgirlfriend1

CREGAN TAG LIST — @satansdarlin @aelora-a @hb8301 @lovelykhaleesiii @xfancyuu @megatardisbaby

[arcielee]

ānogar

Summary: Your husband helps comfort you. Paring: Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, menstrual mentions, there will be blood, fingering, oral (f receiving), edging?, unprotected p in v Author’s Note: Thank you @schniiipsel and @sylasthegrim for being my beloved beta readers and making sure Daemon was Daemon-y enough. Thank you to the wonderful @zaldritzosrose for this banner! And thank you @lady-phasma! Your return to Tumblr and your anons inspired this depravity. 🖤 Valyrian translations: ānogar means blood, sȳz riña is good girl.

While the king only sought to sate the hold that the house of the dragon held within the Seven Kingdoms, the Lord Hand wished to find a wife to preoccupy the king’s brother. You were carefully chosen with this intention, the embodiment of what they both searched for, with the echo, “A sound match,” following your footsteps. 

Before you had left for King’s Landing, your mother made it painfully aware of the weight of the reputation belonging to the Rogue Prince. “You must satiate his appetite, at whatever cost,” came her hot whisper in your ear, pinching your upper arm to hold your attention, “and make sure it results in a babe.” 

Her words left a fluttering trepidation that accompanied your heavy steps, a hesitation that was twisting in the pit of your stomach as you entered the Council Chamber. Inside you could see that the king and his Hand were already seated, as well as Prince Daemon. 

The silence was thick around you, and it seemed the prince was almost amused with your apparent discomfort. His steely gaze washed over you before falling to your fidgeting hands; a smirk played at his mouth. 

“Well done, Otto,” he announced loudly, emphatically, and you burned from his informality. The king grimaced and Ser Hightower pursed his lips, but Daemon continued, unabashed: “Ābrazȳrys mazōrīnna.”

I accept my wife. 

Though you were wary of the marital obligations that your mother frightened into you, the prince quickly soothed them away. He was as insatiable as rumored, but not in the way you had been warned. Instead, there was an unseen kindness that was reserved for you alone. Daemon took care to show you consideration and the first month of wedded bliss was a heady haze, an entanglement of bare limbs and open-mouthed kisses that boldly bruised your skin. 

Though despite all this, you failed to produce an heir, and your shame came hot and slick between your legs. 

“Imagine my hurt to learn that my wife does not wish for my company.”

Your maids had just left you alone after helping you change into a sheer chemise and wrapping the heated stones to place on your lower abdomen, something to help soothe your cramps. You look up to see Daemon leaning against your doorframe, waiting. 

“I have been unwell today, husband,” you said, unable to hold his eyes. 

His brow knots with his concern and he glides across the cobblestone to your bedside, his hand reaching to touch your face. “You are flushed, but not warm,” he observes, his eyes trailing to your tight grip on the bed linen. His large hands are gentle to unfurl your hold, pulling away the layers until he sees the wrapped stones laying on your stomach. 

You squirm under his scrutiny, all too aware of how your body presses against the fabric you wore, all too aware of the crimson stain. Daemon dips his head to capture your eyes, his own showing a flicker of amusement while yours were wet with your embarrassment. “And this was reason enough for you to deny my company?” His voice was soft, but his cheeky undertone remained.  

You struggle to put the words together. “But I am unclean.” 

His eyes darkened with your admission, a grin spreading across his face. “What’s a little blood to a dragon?” He teases, looming closer to capture your lips. 

You gasp, your body already yearning to touch him. Your fingers follow along his jaw and drop to pull at his collar, to pull him closer. He growls against your skin, a low rumble that reverberates through you; his hand moves to cup the nape of your neck and he bites into your lip. 

You whine softly, a pulse of pleasure that is quickly crushed beneath the stones. You pull away. “Daemon, we shouldn’t…” but your protest is weak. Your body is already moving, spreading your legs to welcome him. 

And Daemon knows this. He smirks, his hands pulling away the stones. “If you truly believe that I fuck you for the sole purpose of a silver haired babe, then perhaps I have not done my part right.” He shifts between your thighs, his hands just as warm as the rocks removed, skimming across your flesh and pushing up your chemise until you are able to pull it over your head. “Allow me to rectify that, ābrazȳrys.”

You fall back onto the bed, bare for your husband and already burning under his potent stare. His chin falls to his chest, watching his fingers flit to your patch of hair, trailing lower and pressing to spread your folds. A cooper scent fills the air, mixing with your own arousal, and he lets out an appreciative hum. His palms press to your thighs to lower himself between, placing a kiss on the inside of your knee with a tickling touch that you squirm against. 

His hands tighten his hold on you, dimpling into the softness of your thighs. “Paghagon, sweet wife.” Breathe. The exhale with his command was a cool contrast to your heat building, your blood mixing with your passion that was thrumming to the surface. He pushes closer. “Allow me.” 

You melt from the intimate kiss he places, your head tucking to see the glint of red to his wicked grin. He watches you as his other hand moves to touch and your mouth falls open with the wet squelch of his fingers curling within you–the same that have learned you so well. You feel the stretch of your velvet walls as Daemon searches carefully, delicately, until you finally emit the softest sound. 

Daemon returns his attention to you, victorious, watching the gooseflesh ripple over you and your nipples pebbling from his touch. His fingers continue to curl upwards to that sweet spot, slow and deliberate. His other hand grips into your hip, pulling himself closer to place another kiss to your pearl that trills up your spine. “That’s it,” he murmurs against you. “Let me hear you.” 

Your body is aflame from his ministrations; the come-hither pace of his fingers have your moans falling with abandon from your lips, from the buddying warmth that spreads and begins to brim on overwhelming. “Yes,” he growls, his grip now anchoring you to this pleasure building, almost bursting. You whine, your hips bucking. “Sȳz riña, just like that.”

It erupts from you with a fiery passion, your blood searing through your veins and muscles contracting, twisting the air from your lungs. You arch your back against the mattress, your fists knotting in the sheets as Daemon continues to pull this pleasure until you see spots of light dizzying in front of your eyes. 

You are panting from this euphoria, tears spilling from the corners of your eyes before he finally withdraws his hand from you and wipes it onto the bed, a crimson red bold against the cream color. “Sȳz riña,” he repeats, and you feel something stir in your core again, sparked by the little bit of Valyrian he has taught you thus far: good girl.

“Daemon, please.” You push to your elbows, your eyes glassy. “Jaelan tolī.” 

I want more.

He glows with a sense of pride with how it rolls off of your tongue and the bed dips with his weight, leaning over for his lips to trail towards your stomach. It tingles with the mixture of his mouth and the billow of his tunic, dotted with red. “Who am I,” his each deliberate word spills as his fingers dimple into your skin, pulling himself up and closer, “to deny my wife of what she wants?” 

Your writhe beneath his weight and he moves to claim your mouth again. His lips are soft and warm with the taste of iron;  when you sigh sweetly, he swallows it. 

“You did so well for me.” His voice is velvet, a sultry praise you cherish. He shifts his body on top of you, pulling himself from his breeches and settling into the cradle of your hips. “One more for me, my sweet wife,” but he says it more as a statement than a request. 

You are already willing, already canting your hips towards him. His arm reaches between to guide his length until you feel his swollen cockhead lining with your entrance with a slick, dull pressure that jolts through you. 

He begins to move with gentle thrusts to fill you until he is sheathed deep within; Daemon stills when his hips are flushed to your own. He watches as you gasp for air, clenching to adjust, and his grin returns in tandem as he continues the slow roll of his hips, pressing even deeper. 

Your moans mix with your cry, and the sound only spurs your husband to pull upright, reaching behind your knees and pushing until the tops of your thighs touch your chest, folding you and hovering above to set a brutal pace. Each thrust sparks something smoldering through your veins and pouring into your core. 

Your cunt suctions greedily, a sticky mess. “I am close,” you gasp with the flutter of your walls. Daemon pulls away and you let out a sound. 

“Not. Yet.” His large hands grab you with force, twisting you onto your stomach. You feel his palms kneed into your lower back, a firm touch that follows up your spine, massaging your aching muscles, and you moan but in a different way. You relax into his touch, and the bed shifts again as he leans over to press his lips to your spine.

“Daemon,” you are breathless, a different ache you are begging him to soothe. “Please.”

He tsks, still grinning, still pressing his palms to your skin, and you cannot help but savor the warmth of his tongue. “Sylugon arlī.” He says. Try again.

You lick your lips. “Daemon.” You are desperate. “Kostilus.”

“Please what,” he taunts, but you can feel his biting grip into your hips, pulling your arse upwards. You gasp as he sinks into you again, stretching you from a new angle. You bury your face into the bed, muffling your moan, a wet spot forming from your spit. 

His fingers curl into the nape of your neck, pulling you up to meet with his merciless rhythm. He pounds into you, deeper and harder, and your pleasure begins to brim to the surface again. Your fingers curl into the linen as it splits you in half, a returning ecstasy with full force; Daemon allows you to fall forward, a sobbed release into the linen and its tangy mix of sex and blood. He bends over until his brow presses between your shoulder blades, a low groan as he hotly empties himself inside of you. 

There is a quiet moment that follows, the sweet exchange as you both gather your breath, the returning tenderness reserved for you alone. You feel another kiss on your backside and your skin ripples in response. Daemon pulls away, a sticky mess in his wake, and you lazily roll over to watch as he tucks himself back into his slacks, unbothered by the red stains that now adorn his clothes. 

He moves towards the door, but stops. “I will call for your handmaidens to draw you a hot bath,” his eyes flicker over towards you, “and to heat up new stones.” 

You curl into the sheets, allowing ample skin to show for your husband. “Shall you join me for the bath?” Your tone is purposefully coy. 

Daemon turns fully to look at you, his eyes raking over you and color still staining his cheeks. His heavy steps pull him back towards you, using one arm on the bed edge as the other reaches to grab you. You meet with him, hungry to kiss your husband again, and his tongue craftily rekindles the warmth you can still feel pulsing in your core.

He stops and pulls himself upright. Your eyes are wide, watching his signature smirk, his arrogant strut that takes him from the room. He leaves you with a fluttering warmth from his kiss, and though he said nothing, you trust that he and his insatiable appetite will return to you. 

general taglist: @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @abecerra611 @myfandomprompts @dixie-elocin

@darkenchantress @fictionalmenjusthitdifferent @namelesslosers @itbmojojoejo @multyfangirl

arcie's navi || house of the dragon masterlist period smut collab

[arkhammaid]

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ PETNAMES JING YUAN USES FOR YOU.

fandom. honkai star rail

pairing. jing yuan x gn!reader

content warnings. fluff & nsfw, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, soft dom!jing yuan, first part is heavy fluff, second part is flithy, reader has a praise kink, jing yuan loves to spoil you (he's totally whipped), written in lowercase, not edited/proofread

word count. 0.5k

notes. there is just something about fictional characters using petnames,,,

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ beloved mine. 

jing yuan always calls you beloved mine when he wants to show you off and let everyone know you belong to him. you’re his beloved, the only one he treasures so much, the only one he loves like this and you’re his. he will utter those words without any shame, a small smirk on his lips while you flush at the attention you receive. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ my love. 

calling you his love is often when you’re in a more intimate situation. maybe on a date, maybe in the presence of close friends— jing yuan calls you his love because he wants you to know how much he loves you. he will whisper it close to your ear, pressing a fleeting kiss on your cheek, while you try to tell him to keep it down. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ dear.

only at a later point in your relationship with jing yuan, he started to call you dear. it rolls off his tongue and makes you shudder— just something about this particular petname catches your attention. of course he notices it, and so he starts to use it more and more, always when you’re alone, so he can admire your reaction to it without anyone interrupting. 

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ darling. 

jing yuan calls you darling when you’re flush against him, skin feverish and panting against his mouth. he calls you darling when he praises you, for taking him so well, for being so good for him, for screaming his name. 

he will call you darling the moment you tumble in bed with him, lips against your neck, his breath making you shudder in his arms. darling he calls you, for clinging onto him, tears running down your cheeks while he pounds into you, hips in a steady rhythm. 

“there you are, darling mine,” he mutters, watching with hooded eyes how your thighs quake around his waist, how your hole tightens around his cock. you moan, breathlessly, and try to blink the sudden tears away. he always makes you cry, with how good he makes you feel, cry and moan when he whispers the sweetest praise in your ears. 

“darling,” he whispers, when your eyes flutter close and your head thrown back. “look at me,” he tells you, gently cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away. you slowly open your eyes, mind still blown by the orgasm he just gave you and with bleary eyes, you look up to him. his long gray hair is a mess thanks to your gripping hands and there is a faint blush on his face, his own breathing coming out in pants. 

“you’re so good for me,” he murmurs, caging you with his board body, lips so close to yours. you whine at his praise, shudder when his hands teasingly wander over your flushing skin and circle your arms around his neck. 

“darling mine,” he calls you, when you’re so needy for him, legs spread and mind heavy with pleasure he oh so readily gives. he calls you his darling, because you’re truly his, in mind, body and heart, love him with everything you can. and he will do everything to return this love, because you are his darling after all. 

taglist. @themercyverse , @stellumi

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).

ARKHAM MAID 2023

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Hi! I just scrolled through your blog and loved your writing, so I decided to make a request! I was wondering if you could write fem!reader x Lucifer where they're kind of just hanging out but R is kind of grumpy and Luci is subtly (but not subtly cause lord knows he's too awkward to be good at hiding things) trying to figure out what it is. R kind of just dismisses him while scrolling on their phone and Lucifer's like "let me try something..." and just slides a snack to R to which she nibbles on and then becomes normal again. Bonus points if she apologizes when she realizes she was being mean without meaning to. Anyway, this got long. If you decide not to write this, I understand. If you do, you are required to drink water and eat a snack too at some point. Love you and your writing! <3

A/N — OOOOOHHHHHHH anon I love you for requesting this 😭💖 thank you so much! It's just a little short, but I wasn't sure what else to add lol

Hangry | Lucifer x Fem!Reader

Warnings: reader being a little mean, Lucifer being loving and understanding

Word Count: 489

Summary: Luci forces you to eat something after you unintentionally snap at him.

On a couch, in a palace, in hell, there was you. Glorious you. The very one who kept Lucifer sane — his Heavenly best friend turned perfect stepmother to his beloved daughter, which was a more recent (and super awesome) development. 

He could tell just by looking at you that you weren't exactly feeling the best — it was clear by the present frown and the way your brows furrowed every once in a while, as if you were fighting something. 

For a split second, he thought you were sick. But as he placed his hands all over your face, forcing you to look away from your phone screen, he soon realized that you weren't sick.

“Sorry. . .” He mumbled when you set your darkened glare on him.

You rolled your eyes, looking back to your phone. There was important stuff going on. Meetings to be scheduled. You didn't have time for anything else. 

“Did you sleep?” Lucifer questioned not even five minutes later. 

You sighed, irritated, practically growling out your answer. “Yes.” 

“Okay. . . Well how long did you —”

“GOD! Can you give me five fucking minutes to do my job, Lucifer!?”

He was momentarily taken aback by your harsh tone,  but then it was as if a light bulb went off in his head and he stood from where he had previously planted himself in front of you. 

Guilt began to settle in your being as you nestled yourself further in the couch to continue working. You hadn't expected him to leave — just maybe stop hovering like you were going to spontaneously combust and disappear.

You knew he meant well, but you just weren't feeling it. Any of it.

Five minutes later he returned with a plate that had your favorite sandwich and bag of chips on top, snatching your phone out of your hand and replacing it with the plate and a bottle of your favorite drink. 

You growled. “Luci—” 

“Eat.” He demanded, holding your phone out of your reach. 

And you did. That first bite of the sandwich made you realize that you hadn't eaten breakfast. . . Or lunch. . . You felt better immediately, which showed him instantly what the problem had been. 

Once you finished, you sat in silence, trying to figure our what to say. . . It ended up being a ‘thank you’ that was said so low it was almost missed in the quiet room.

“You feel better?” He asked.

“Yeah. . . I'm sorry I snapped at you — I didn't mean to. . .” You trailed off when he grabbed your face in his hands and forced you to look at him. 

“I forgave you the moment you started eating. Before anything, you're my best friend, and we don't need you being hangry.” 

“Wife.” You corrected with a slight smile.

“Even better.” He grinned, placing sweet kisses all over your face — even the tip of your nose. Yeah. . . You were definitely forgiven. 

So long as you remembered to eat and stay hydrated.