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wordsbymae · 2 months

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Saviour Complex- goddess!Reader x Warrior

Plot: Reader is a young goddess, still yet to come into her full power. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, she resides deep within the forest, caring for any lost souls who come her way. Destruction finds its way to her lands, as the Emperor's men flood the forest, tasked with cutting down anyone who refuses to denounce their heathen ways. One warrior finds the reader's temple, and tasks himself with 'saving' the reader from herself.

TW: Loosely based on posiden and medusa, which if you know is a trigger warning all on its on, SA, Implied non/con, talks of religion and religious genocide. Neither the warrior's or reader's religions (so to speak) are actual practised or once practiced religions. They are completely made up. Sexual talk. This fic is from the warrior's point of view so very much misogynistic, ignorant, and him being a dick. Also breeding is mentioned (a few times, opps) I see the warrior as Pedro Pascal as Pero Trovar

Notes: This was meant to be priestess reader but I liked this idea better. Enjoy!

He would hardly call the temple before him a temple. It was nothing more than some stones and arches pilled together, hidden under the canopy of a great oak. It was not as old as the other temples he and his comrades had pulled down. The other's, older and more grand than the one in front of him, were infested by savage heathens. They had been dozens of them milling around the great stone pillars. Some leaving tokens of good faith, other's seeming to be in constant service to their wild gods.

This land he found himself in was not under the watchful gaze of the Eye. Nor were they subjects of the Emperor. Instead they worshipped petty gods and goddesses, born from mortal parent's, given gifts of power from Mother Wild. The gifts given depended on their actions as growing gods. Raised as mortals until their 20th nameday, when Mother Wild gives them her final gift, immortality. At least, immortality to a point.

They age as mortals do, but the hands of time pass ever slowly by. As they watch their family and friends grow grey and old, only days have the wild gods aged. It is said that they can one day grow old, grey and tired, succumbing to death as all living things do. But none had ever yet to reach such an age. Gods were able to be killed but it took strength and numbers to do so, and the sword of Caleen, the first wild god ever born. Caleen's own blood had been mixed with the metal, creating a sword capable of penetrating through the gifts given to them. The sword, gifted to him by the Emperor, lay dormant in its sheath by the warrior's side. It was the only method known to truly kill a wild god.

Until then, the only way to defeat a god without the sword was to force them to act in a way that went against their patronage. Salios, once god of law and order, had his gifts ripped from him by Mother Wild, when he unjustly killed an innocent man. Without his gifts, age and sickness came for him thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of years before he should have perished as a god. Yet such an act had not occurred for hundreds of years, least of all forced by human hand. So these wild gods reigned over their forgotten wood, almighty in power and reverence.

It was heresy.

These 'almighty' beings were nothing but demons, given unholy power by the forces of darkness. Born human, yet corrupted by power. It was unnatural, it was all that went against the teachings of the Eye. Humans were sinful creatures, and the more power one had, the more corrupted they became.

The warrior grimaced as he walked up to the temple. A stupid move if he was being honest. He was here alone after being separated from his battalion. But he needed a place to shelter the coming storm, the air thick with the scent of rain. He would rather face a barbarian than freeze in the wilderness. The temple seemed to be empty, no worshippers leaving offers or priests caring after the god. It was quiet and lonesome. Yet strangely welcoming. He could feel warmth emerging from inside the temple, the scent of delicate florals dancing through the air.

He hesitated at the threshold of the temple, it was clean and well looked after. The walls were lined with soft candlelight, and murals of prancing deer and maidens dancing through the woods. A statue of a woman stood silent in the middle, bathed in dark sunlight by a round hole in the roof. The statue was covered in crowns of flowers. Some placed on her bowed head, others hooked onto her arms as they reach outwards, palms facing towards the sky. Gifts of pearls, lilies and feathers of pure white were placed delicately at the foot of the statue.

He did not care to learn these savage gods names. There were hundreds of them, some more powerful than others. Some given patronage over small, worthless things. He had laughed for hours when he discovered that there was a patron god of footprints. Whoever this temple was erected for, was loved yes, but not revered.

The warrior walks deeper into the temple, becoming enveloped in a sense of peace and compassion at the care given to this little goddess. He grunts in frustration, these stupid gods and their stupid 'gifts'. When he and his brothers in arms desecrated the patron god of fear's temple, the battle was nearly lost as they nearly fell to the wild gods powers. Fear racing through their ranks. Just being in the presence of a god was enough for their powers to linger in the air, effecting a mortal humans thoughts and feelings.

This little goddess must still be here.

Rain began to fall from the heavens, it came down with a fury. Yet, the rain that fell through the hole came down in fat, gentle drops upon the statue of the goddess. Water drippled down her stone face, the warrior had to admit this little goddess was quite the beauty. If her statue was anything to go by. He walks deeper into the sanctuary, closer towards the statue. He stops just in front of her image, breathing in deeper at what he can only imagine is her scent, sweet yet comforting, there was an earthiness to it too. He reaches out to caress the stone cheek of his little goddess. What a pretty thing she was.

He kneels to take in the sight of the gifts offered to her. There were the pearls, feathers and lilies he had seen before. But now he could see spools of white wool, wrapped in ribbon, and carvings of hearts, flowers and dozens of names circling the statue.

Lightly touching the most prominent of the carved names, he allowed himself a grin. He had found the wild goddess of innocence and compassion.

He had found you.

You were the youngest of the gods, only decades since you were gifted your immortality. Yet, you had quickly become beloved by your worshippers. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, you resided deep within the forgotten woods, caring for the animals of the forest and any travellers who crossed your path. It is said that only those in needing of help or guidance, and children looking for a home could find you. The delicate smell of flowers leading the way to your temple. The names carved upon the stone at your feet were those you had cared for over the years. Travellers lost and afraid. Children without parents or care. Women hiding from vengeful men. And men scarred by life itself. All found their way to you, to your compassionate and pure hands.

You were the last of the major gods that the warrior and his men were yet to find. Your brothers and sisters before you had fallen. Some had run like cowards leaving their temples, and their followers, to burn into the night. Others, slaughtered by his hand. Time may only harm the wild gods so much, but Caleen's sword is a deadlier foe than time itself. It filled him with joy remembering plunging Caleen's own sword into the first wild god's heart. He was the first of the wild gods and as such he was the first to fall.

The warrior stood to his full height quickly as soft footsteps made their way through the temple. They came to a stop, the owner hidden by darkness still.

Outside the storm raged on.

"That you little goddess?" the warrior jested, hand coming to rest lazily on his sword's pummel. He stepped around the statue, giving a slight kick at a doll that was laid carefully at its feet.

The sound of hesitant shuffling could be heard. His little goddess was nervous.

"May I see your face, dear one? I have come a long, long way to find you. I wish not to leave this place without seeing your face, it would break this poor soldiers heart" he pouted in fake hurt, creeping towards you as a wolf moves closer to its prey.

"Who are you?" you ask, voice calm and strong. Yet, he could sense fear in your words.

"Just a poor soldier, a lost traveller if you will. Seeking the care and compassion of your grace" he answers, bowing slightly. He toys with his pummel, he had a feeling he would not need to draw it this day.

"Are you hurt?" you plead, taking a closer step towards him, your sense of empathy and compassion shinning through.

The warrior saw his chance, and he was going to take it.

"Not physically your grace, but I have not yet broken my fast or had a drop of water in days." he furrows his brow, grimacing and holding his stomach with his free hand.

"Oh! Your poor thing!" you exclaim, rushing forward to meet him. Once in the light, the warrior damned the creator of the sculpture for failing to capture your beauty. The statue was nothing in comparison to you. Your hair was thick and healthy, framing your face perfectly. Your skin soft and supple. Lips dewy and oh so kissable.

Your were the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life.

And here you were, all his for the taking. You were dressed as a goddess deemed fit, perfectly tailored and fetchingly so. But all he could think about was ripping it from you in a daze of lust. You rushed up to him and guided him deeper into your temple. He only realised that the temple was much larger than it seemed when he was outside. These wild gods and their tricks. You cooed to him the entire time. Stating there would be a warm bath and fresh fruit and clear spring water for him in his room. You hadn't even noticed his weapon, or if you had, you truly were the patron god of innocence.

He allowed you to fuss over him. Allowed you to lead him deeper into your temple, until you reached an open court yard, filled with plants of all colours and sizes, soft grass below his feet. At one end a statue of Mother Wild stood, vines and flowers blooming across her figure. In the centre of it was a beautiful flowering tree, more gifts had been left here to.

He stopped you from leading him further on, his eyes set on this tree. There was magic in its very fibre, unnatural power. He could feel it.

"Everything ok soldier?" you try, hand coming to rest on his back. He flinches at the contact, it was so soft and kind. No one had touched him with such care before.

"What is this tree?" he turns to you.

"Oh! Its a magnolia tree" you grin

"No, I know that, why is it here, and why.." he stops himself, he was going to ask you why he felt power radiating from it. "why are there gifts at its base."

You give him a soft smile, gently grabbing his hand you lead you to its base. You softly bring yourself and him to the ground. White flowers fell softly to the ground. You reached a hand out to touch the bark, closing your eyes, before reopening them to look at the warrior.

"Here, give me your hand"

Without thought he places his hand in yours.

What wicked spell have you put him under.

And why does he not care to know.

With your gentle touch on his, the warrior felt heat rise deep inside him. You placed his hand on the bark, yours overlapping his.

"Do you feel it?" you whisper, voice soft and kind.

Of course he could feel it. Pure innocence, unbridled compassion and love.

He hated it.

"This tree is an extension of myself. The day I was born, when my parent's realised who and what I was, they planted this tree. They understood that they and all those who I love would grow old, die and leave me alone. This was their way of giving me a companion. The day I received my gifts and my patronage was the day I laid my parents to rest under this tree's shadow."

He watches in silence as tears well up in your eyes.

"I hadn't even turned four and ten springs yet, when...when they attacked. They were raiders from the south. Brutes, really. My parent's told me to flee, but there were younger children, pregnant women and injured men who couldn't flee, or didn't know where to flee to. So while the warriors in my village tried the best they could to defend us. I went back and forth between this tree and the village, carrying, dragging and leading all those I could to the safety of the great oak that shadows my temple. When I went back the last time, there was nothing left. Our warriors were slain and my parents...."

You break off, tears trickling down. He feels the sudden urge to wipe them from your cheek. He lets himself have the honour of doing so, and your let yourself have the pleasure of him touching you.

"Anyway, there wasn't much else I could do, so I brought them here, buried them, and cared for the survivors the best I could. It was then I was given my gifts, for my compassion for my people and my innocence in the face of death, I was given my patronage. We rebuilt our village, and life was good. But the years after I was given my final gift, were... difficult to say the least. Watching my friends grow old, have families of their own. Then watching their children age and grow grey. I... it was difficult."

You give him a pointed stare, now turning your back onto the tree and rested upon it. He removes his hand from the bark, mirroring your actions.

"Can I tell you a secret?" you plea, eyes big and soft.

"Of course my little goddess, I will take it to my grave." he sternly replies, practically giving you his oath as a holy warrior of the Eye. You thought he was joking, jesting with you after such an emotional story. You gave him a giggle and playfully smacked his chest.

"No need for that, but thank you." you trail off, thoughts of long ago in mind. He nudges you softly, eager to learn your secret.

You look back up and him and sigh, turning off into space.

"Sometimes, when I have no one to look after, and its been months, sometimes years, even, since someone has walked through my temple's door. I wish I wasn't born a goddess. I wish I could grow old, fall in love, marry, have children of my own." you look down, playing with your hands.

The warrior was troubled, yet excitement grew. You could be saved. You wished to be without the corruption of the dark forces that ran through your very being.

"But you could start a family. I have heard tales of demigods"

"Yes, but I can't" you stress turning to him. "I am the goddess of innocence, not just compassion. To bare a child would mean I am no longer innocent, therefore my powers would be stripped from me. I would be mortal again."

You huff in frustration. Even if you were able to have a child, it would still grow old, and you would be left to bury another one of your kin below your beloved tree.

The warrior was delighted. Overjoyed, perfectly happy with this news. Some gods had gifts that were hard to strip from them. How do you make the god of footprints go against footprints? Cut off their feet? Unless....

No he's getting distracted. Here he was being given his own gift, from his god. The Eye was testing him, for sure. Allow a wild goddess to continue her wicked magic, or save the mortal within. You already told him you wished to be free of your curse, the burden placed on you the moment you were born. All he had to do was take your maidenhead. Put his seed in your womb and watch it grow. And what a fine mother you would be. You had spent decades being a mother to hundreds, so what more a burden would a few of your own be. In fact he was sure your would revile in it.

You were practically begging him to fill you with his seed, with those big, soft eyes and those curves that screamed at him to take you. He was without a wife, he would have to break you in for sure. You were a wild one of course. But with a few whelps to look after and one surely in your belly, how much could you defy him?

His cock began to stir. His eyes laden with lust. You look up at him once more, brow furrowing at his darkened eyes.

"Is everything okay soldier?" you sweetly ask, actually concerned for his wellbeing.

"Let me give you the life you want, little heathen" he begs, pushing you down onto the soft grass below the tree.

"What? No! Get off!" you plead, pushing against him. He tightens his grip on your wrists.

"Give me the honour of cleansing you of your dark powers, instead allow me to gift you the honour of carrying my seed." He growls, coming down to give you a lust filled kiss.

You bite his tongue with a vengeance, the taste of blood trickles onto your tongue.

"Mother!" you scream, turning onto your belly. Reaching for the silent statue of Mother Wild. She sat impartial, watching silent and cold. You begin to sob, as the warrior pulls your hips and ass into his crotch.

"Shh, shh little goddess, it will all be over soon. You shall be my sweet wife and you shall grow fat with my child." he comforts, his words tasting like iron on your lips.

"No!" you cry, elbowing him in the nose. You get up to run, straight towards Mother Wild, you drop in front of her and beg for her help.

"Help me Mother Wild. Please!"

You were only gifted the power of healing and other small gifts that now seem useless. What could were they against a man like this? The warrior gets up with blood streaming down his chin.

"My! The little heathen has some bite, huh" he sneers, pulling his sword from its sheath. You turn to look at him in fear, surely that was not what you think it is.

"Recognise this? I drove it through your first wild gods heart, and many more of your brother and sisters since then. I wish not to harm you little goddess, but if you do not renounce your claim to your wicked birth right, then I will be forced to kill you." He almost grins at the sight of you kneeling and afraid.

'That's it heathen, fear me, fear the holy Eye.'

You turn to Mother Wild once more, pleading and begging for protection.

Nothing happens.

You sob as you are ripped from your place by the statue and dragged back to the ground under your tree. You are pushed onto the soft grass, for a moment you forget what is happening, and you are young again, watching the sky through the leaves of your tree. Your parents are still alive, you had yet to be given your gifts, and you can kid yourself into thinking life will be like this forever. You are broken from your daze as Caleen's sword is plunged into the soft dirt by your head, and you are quickly reminded what madness you found yourself in. You stare up at the warrior in front of you, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. He kneels down onto you. His blood drools out of his mouth, dripping down his chin. His eyes are filled with lust and pride.

What an evil, wicked man.

You choke back a sob in fear of what is to happen next.

"My dear one, do not cry for the life you are renouncing, cry with joy for the life we are to create." He shushes you gently, a rough hand caressing your tear stained cheeks.

"What poetry is this, that you should lose your gift of innocence the very place it was given"

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere prompts #yandere x female reader #yandere male x reader #oc yandere #warrior yandere #breeding tw #tw sa #fem!reader #soldier yandere

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literaila · 3 months

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hey

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you're both drunk and (not) in love

warnings: alcohol mentions, angst if you're me, fluff, nonsensical conversation

a/n: i will be messing with this later but if i have to think about it for any longer i'll cry (also listen to be (acoustic) because i said so)

last part | next part

year four.

the house is almost silent, tonight.

usually, at close to midnight, it's quiet. the house will buzz as the furnace works, the house settling itself into the earth, but there's none of the laughter that echoes throughout the hallways like it does during the day. no names being yelled across a threshold, much too loud for the size of the house itself.

the kids are always in bed this late, and usually you and satoru are too--besides the nights where you stay up talking or arguing, speaking with soft voices for so long that your throat is sore by morning.

those are the nights when you fall asleep on the couch together, or you migrate to one of your rooms, speaking nothing of the broken rules in your relationship.

satoru's bed is a lot more comfy than yours, anyway. his blankets are heavier and his pillows are fluffier.

or that's what you usually think to yourself in the morning when you wake up there once again. it's an excuse, sure, but at least it's more reasonable than reality.

but tonight is quiet because the kids aren't home. and it's almost midnight, and the two of you are just walking in through the door.

and, admittedly, you're a little bit drunk.

"don't--" you say, laughing languidly, tripping over satoru's legs as he pushes the door open. it took him five tries to unlock it, but you don't say anything, because everything looks a bit uneven. "don't forget to shut it all the way."

satoru ignores you. "why are all of the lights off?"

you step over the tiny shoes left by your front door, almost tripping on air, and flick on the lights. you squint at the brightness, groaning.

but the lights do nothing to ease the eerieness of the hallway.

you can't remember the last time you came home this late. the last time you had a night without the kids.

it's probably why the two of you went a little overboard at the bar. but it's hard to keep up with shoko anyway, so it's not really your fault.

satoru hiccups. "why don't we have night vision?"

"humans suck," you answer, trying to kneel to take off your shoes, which are pinching at your feet.

"true," he says, kicking his own sneakers against the wall. his jacket is already off, and on a normal night you would chastise him for not hanging it up, but at the moment you've kind of forgotten about the coat rack.

and how to think properly.

"did you--" you shake your head, looking at satoru, who seems to be upside down. "did you lock the door?"

"of course i did, i'm not a heathen."

but you see him rattle the doorknob, clumsily, and that must satisfy you because you walk out of the hallway, into the living room, which is just as dark as the rest of the house.

it's strange that no one else is home. strange that there's no one to tuck in, no room to peek your head in before you pass out.

"how late is it?" you ask satoru, who's following so closely behind you that you almost fall back into him when you stop.

"dunno."

"is there someone here? i feel like i'm in a horror movie," you turn to satoru, who's squinting around like he'll be able to see something in the dark room. "where are your glasses?"

"dunno," he says, with a grin. and then hiccups again.

you roll your eyes, but grab his hand as you pull him along the house, trailing to one of your rooms--you can't remember which--and forcing yourself to take off your socks before you climb into bed.

it's a good thing that both of the kids are gone because neither of you are exactly quiet as you walk through the house. satoru is tripping every step, and you're holding onto all of the walls trying not to do the same.

seriously, neither of you ever get out.

and, in the blink of an eye, you're in someone's bed--hopefully yours--nuzzling yourself under the blankets. your head is swirling, and you can't see anything, but satoru is there, you think, because you can feel him.

like a buzz on your skin as his hand trails up your arm, and he pulls you into him, probably. it's all fuzzy. and you don't care what he's doing anyway--you trust him, even drunk.

"i'm never drinking again," you mumble as you turn, wiping something off of your face.

satoru laughs. his breath on the side of your cheek makes you blink. "you said that last time, i think."

"i was right."

"lightweight," he teases like he isn't slurring the word.

he's so very close, and yet, you curl your leg around his, trying to get yourself even closer.

satoru doesn't complain as you move, as fast a dream, and then you're lying on top of him.

maybe it's not his bed. maybe he's the comfortable one.

you blink hazily at his smile and press a chaste kiss on his jaw like it's an appropriate thing to do.

you can't think of anything to say, so you just hum into his skin as you settle in. you kinda want to lick him.

"why're you so cold?" he asks you, rubbing your arms.

you don't respond.

being with him is like walking on top of everything else. walking on nothing at all, actually.

his hands wrap around your waist, secure and sure, like he's never hesitated a day in his life. and you think, just for a moment, that you've never been warm like this.

that maybe you've been living in a tundra. maybe that feeling in your core has been frozen for so long, and satoru is the only thing warm enough to defrost it.

but it takes a long time. that hurt, that fear eased in the edges of your soul cannot be cleared out with a single burst of flame.

though satoru is not one single thing.

but, nonetheless, his hands on you, holding you to him, are enough for now.

his eyes--with nothing to stop them from reaching you, like a blindfold or lens--have always been far more than you wanted.

but he's looking at you, so you can't think about any of it.

you want to tell him something, but you’re not sure what. there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out. but it stays hidden, a secret you’re keeping from even yourself.

his eyes are on yours, focused and sure, pupils blown.

you kind of want to laugh at him, because inhibitions make you giddy. and satoru has always been something that excites you.

his face echoes with the memories of two children, two foolish kids who never understood just how good they had it.

have it.

"do you think i'm strong?" satoru asks you, still slurring, and he's joking. he's been quiet for a while, so you don't know where this is coming from. on a normal night, you'd probably be concerned about the question.

but tonight you just giggle against him, tracing the slope of his eyebrow, which makes his face twitch.

with your other hand, you pretend to feel around his arm like you'll find anything but muscle. "hmm," you pinch his bicep, giddy when he flinches from your touch. "i guess. might wanna hit the gym, though."

you think you might die from just the way he's looking at you.

"you're a bad liar," satoru grins at you. he's breathing heavily through his mouth like you've exhausted him.

"so are you," you tell him.

"says who?" he asks, and he's lying to you right now.

"me. remember when you tried to convince me that you painted that portrait in the hallway?"

"i did," satoru swears, but he shakes his head as he says it, looking away.

a bit of reprieve for you, but you still tilt his chin back. you want his eyes.

"see? bad liar."

"i get it from you."

you grin at him, not sure what it means.

"if you died, would you come back to haunt me?" satoru asks you, suddenly. like the question is significant, in some way.

"if i die you'll already be a ghost," you say to him, "because you're dying first."

"no, i'm not."

"do you want me to die?"

he pretends to think about it. "well, no, i guess. but if you did, would you haunt me?"

"definitely. i'd throw things around the house for you to clean up. and mess with your conditioners."

"so you're an evil ghost."

"just a bit of karma for letting me die."

"i'd avenge you," satoru argues.

"i don't want to be avenged," you roll your eyes. "just keep me alive."

"oh, yeah. guess i could do that."

"you guess?"

"i mean... it's a lot of work. i'll have to look at my schedule."

"next time i go on a mission i'm going to come back hurt just to see you freak out. maybe i'll lose a limb. or some brain damage? which is worse?"

satoru, who squirms around a paper cut, gives you a plagued look. "i'm going to tell yaga about the threats you're making."

"like he'd believe you."

"i'll lock you in the basement. you'll never go on another mission again. there, i solved our problem. you never leave the house and i don't have to worry about keeping you alive."

"we don't have a basement."

"oh. right," he frowns. then he blinks, and the smile is back.

"also, i keep you alive every day. you can't return the favor?” you sigh. “i'm being exploited."

he raises a brow.

"who do you think hides all of the sweets?" you ask him. "the kids aren't eating all of those."

"where'd you put my pocky?"

"you'll never know."

"i'll torture you for information. i know where you're ticklish."

you squirm away from his seeking hands, but don't move. you grasp one, stopping him from touching any further than your side. "i'm not scared of the man who won't even remove his hair from the drain after he showers."

satoru makes a face. "but it's all slimy and weird."

"it's your hair! stop making megumi do it."

"i feed him. he can help out."

you have to keep yourself from giggling again, like a foolish girl who’s in love with her best friend.

you roll your eyes and fall flat against him, letting go of his hand, even though it's very soft, and you relax on his chest. there's a moment where satoru settles into this--into you--and then his hands begin to roam the expanse of your back.

"if i was a ghost," satoru whispers, "i would lay on top of you in the morning so you couldn't get out of bed."

"like a sleep paralysis demon?"

"yup."

"dont you already do that?"

he licks his lips. "it'd be scarier if i was invisible."

"can ghosts touch people? i don't think they're tactile."

"i'm not like a normal ghost."

"not like normal anything."

satoru nudges his nose against your forehead in retaliation, but he doesn't argue. it's not like he can, anyway.

"hey," you whisper, after a moment. you're looking up at him, admiring the slopes and concaves of his face at this angle. his eyes almost make his face glow, his own personal light.

"hey."

"do you think the kids are awake right now?"

"no," satoru sighs. "nanami probably put them to bed at six. after feeding them straight broccoli."

"i told him their routine..." you mumble. "i think."

"d'ya think megumi'll haunt us?"

"he'll never die," you tell him, "just out of spite."

"true."

"you can't haunt him, okay?" you say, very seriously, giving him a flat look, which he laughs at. "when you die he deserves some peace."

"no promises."

you poke his chest but have no answer. actually... you're not even really sure what you're talking about. or that it matters.

there’s something in your mouth, ready to come out.

but satoru is still warm. he smells like bitter alcohol and bubblegum.

"hey," you whisper, again, looking at him through half-lidded eyes. you’re not sure what you’re doing.

he is blurry this close, but you can still see all of him. you'd know his face if you went blind, behind a mask. you could black out--you probably will--and he'd still be there.

"hey," he murmurs back. his voice is like a punch to the throat. but his smile is effortless.

"you're pretty," you whisper, as you think it. "and sweaty."

satoru's looking down at you, and his smile stays the same. his breath is on your face, sugary sweet. "so are you."

"i know."

satoru laughs, his knuckles running across your cheekbone. it almost makes you shiver. "pretty," he whispers like it's a joke.

"why're your eyes so blue?"

"wavelengths, or something. didn't you pay attention in school?"

you laugh, shaking your head at him. it's funnier than it should be.

"don't you like my eyes?" he asks, suddenly pouting.

"yeah. they're like a nightlight. 's never dark."

his eyes are probably your favorite thing in the world, you don't say, 'cause you can't think. his eyes are unimaginable, and so close to you.

satoru swallows, shaking his head. "that's all i am to you?"

"and a teddy bear. you're comfy."

satoru hiccups, but holds you closer, smiling against your forehead. "good."

there's a couple of minutes where the two of you bask in the silence. the quiet is a nice break from it all. and you're both so drunk that the usual fears can't seem to make their way in.

not the way they usually doing, plaguing your body. fear is just something that is, right now. nothing to be afraid of.

but, even so, you've never felt so safe. or so sleepy.

and this time, it's satoru who whispers, "hey."

"hey," you say, back. you smile at him. his fingers trace circles on your back. or maybe he's writing something. you can't tell.

it feels nice, though.

"i like you," he says. and you're not sure if he means in general, or here, in his bed with him. maybe it's a question.

it doesn't matter.

"i like you too. hey?"

satoru just hums this time. you can tell that he's about to fall asleep, because his eyelashes flutter shut, and his breathing has begun to even out.

"satoru," you say, again, because you want to see his eyes just one more time before you fall asleep on top of him.

you have to say something. it could be the alcohol, but it might be just you.

"yeah?"

"i think i'm in love with you," you say, and you mean it but it's not what you meant to say. but you're half-asleep, about to drool on his chest, so you can't even contemplate the words.

is it drunk and in love? or drunk on love?

you can't remember.

you could probably kiss him right now. he’s close enough, and you’ve always wanted to. but, even this version of you knows that it would be a bad idea. so you don’t. and you don’t think about what you’ve just admitted.

satoru's smile is vicious, as it begins to blur. you can feel his heart beating against your fingertips. "yeah?" he whispers, and you're not sure why he sounds breathless.

you nod against him.

"me too," he murmurs, and you can't think about what it means. he whispers something else that you don't hear.

because the two of you fall asleep just then, and the words don't really mean anything.

just, you know, everything.

in the morning, your head pounds.

one of you left the blinds open last night, so the sun wakes you up, shining through the trees outside. your mouth is dry, and your throat burns, like you swallowed knives.

and you're still on top of satoru, and you remember exactly how you got there.

he's groaning when you begin to move, holding you closer. and this isn't all that unusual.

but when he opens his eyes, there's a daze in them. some secret he's thinking about as he looks at you.

and you both forget to mention that you remember the night before. and everything that was said.

you probably shouldn't talk about it with a hangover, anyway.

next part | series masterlist

589 notes · View notes

enwrites · 11 months

Text

Cloud Nine (p.sh)

parings: brother’s bff!sunghoon x afab!reader

warning: 18+ MDNI !! not proofread (sorry for mistakes)

genre/cw: smut, e2l, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, sunghoon is a creep kinda, brother’s best friend trope, spit play, oral (male receiving), pillow riding, degradation, size kink, strength play, choking, breeding, spanking, sunghoon is pretty mean to reader, one year age gap, jay is your brother (lmk if anything was missed!)

synopsis: You and Sunghoon have never gotten along. Ever. Constant bickering and fights to the point your brother is fed up as well. What no one knew was how badly you wanted Sunghoon spewing those same words to your face in your bed. What happens when he sees something he shouldn’t have seen?

wc: 3.6k words

a/n: hi hi !! this is my first ever fic on here !! pls let me know how this was and im happy to receive any feedback <3 a hee fic is currently in the works, i just had sunghoon brain rot so i needed to let this one out LOL (update: part two coming soon ;))

[ masterlist ] [ part 2 ]

From as long as you remember, you have always hated your brother’s best friend— Park Sunghoon. Nothing about him amused you and you especially hated the way he always seems to be at your house every weekend. You couldn’t escape him. From his annoying laugh to his stupid ego, you hated everything.

But you couldn’t help but be so attracted to him. Yes, he was annoying but man was he just everything in a package. Tall and gorgeous… not to mention his insanely fit body. You couldn’t help but wonder how big he’d be, hovering over your small frame. But everything disappears in an instant the moment you hear loud knocks on your door.

“Y/n can you get that! It’s Sunghoon!” your brother Jay yells at you from the kitchen. The knocks persist as you stay put, pretending to ignore your older brother as it was his friend anyways. Why should you open the door for a monster? “Y/n please, I’ll make you something to eat too,” your brother begs you. With a loud groan you mutter a “fine” and drag yourself off the couch, heading to the door to open it. Before he could loudly bang on the door once more, you pull the door open. He looks at you with a disgusted face.

“Ugh, did not wanna see your face at the door,” he spits, walking past you making sure to bump your shoulder with his. You slam the door shut giving an annoyed smile back at him.

“If you had forgotten, this has been my house forever, you’re lucky I even open the door for heathens like you,” you spit back, your voice laced with venom. He squints his eyes at you, sticking his tongue out as he makes his way towards the kitchen. “Jay, can you tell your annoying little sister to shut the hell up for once oh my god,” Sunghoon complained to Jay as he walked into the Kitchen.

“How about you both shut the hell up,” Jay annoyedly said rolling his eyes as he put the pizza he’s been working on in the oven. He was never fond of the both of you constantly barking at one another. He thought maybe he was insane for thinking he felt some sort of tension between the two of you. He loved you both but seriously wished he could sew both of your mouths together whenever he felt like it.

“HE STARTED IT!” You yelled in protest. You crossed your arms as you stood at the kitchen doorway, Sunghoon sticking his tongue out at you once again before turning to Jay.

“I don’t care who started it, can you both just give me a single day of peace!” Jay exclaims letting out a sigh. A migraine was surely going to form sooner or later for him. Before you both can protest, he ushers the both of you out so that he can finish making the pizzas with some sanity left. You both grumpily make your way to the couch and sit on opposite ends. To your surprise, at least your favorite show was playing when you got back to your seat on the couch.

“This show is so stupid, I’m changing it,” Sunghoon says as he reaches for the remote on the coffee table. Before he could get it, you immediately jumped up and grabbed the remote first.

“NO. This is my favorite show and my house, I’m not letting you change anything,” you loudly said to him. But he wasn’t going to let you go easily.

“I don’t give a flying fuck if this is your favorite show or not, I wanna watch something else,” He spits back. With that, he lunges at you towards the remote. You hurriedly crawl back to where you were, making sure he couldn’t take the remote away from you.

“Sunghoon stop it,” You struggled to let out as he was enclosing you on the couch. Your breath starts to hitch the closer he gets to you. You could feel him breathing on you. He pins you beneath him, his arms longer than yours as he reaches for the remote you try to hold behind your head. Sunghoon didn’t realize how compromising of a position you both were in until he finally reached for the remote in your hands and looked down at you.

There you were, under him, staring back at him with your doe eyes, crop top hiked up just a bit to where your bra was showing. He didn’t realize how short your shorts really were until now. Eying you up and down, he licks his lips. His thoughts were interrupted with you trying to get him off of you. You have come to your senses and realized how turned on he had just made you, immediately trying to push him off. He just pins your arms down more, inching closer to your ear.

“Stupid girls like you don’t deserve to do things they wanna do,” he whispers. His hot breath sends tingles down your body and you swear you get a little wetter. You try to push him off once more but he doesn’t budge. “Are you going to apologize to me for being so annoying now?” he asks. He looks at you, finding it amusing the way you’re struggling under him right now. He can’t help but think how you’d look naked under him. Sunghoon has always had a thing for you.

“Apologize for what? For your mother raising a dickface, that's you?” you bite back, rolling your eyes at him. Before he could say anything, Jay yells from

in the kitchen the pizzas are done. Sunghoon loosens his grip which gives you the perfect opportunity to push him down and onto the floor, scurrying your way towards your brother. Sunghoon gets up shaking his head… this wasn’t over for him.

Hours passed since your little altercation with Sunghoon earlier in the living room. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Your mind was racing and it didn’t help that he wore his stupid gray sweatpants once again. Thinking about the way he pinned you down and whispered in your ear was enough to get you excited again. With that, you take your shorts and crop top off, leaving you in just your lace undergarments underneath. You just so happened to put on a white matching set— Sunghoon’s favorite color.

To the thought of Sunghoon, you lean back down onto your bed and start to rub small circles on your panty covered clit. It’s embarrassing how wet you already were just thinking about him. You rub just a bit more, sliding your fingers up and down your pussy, feeling the wetness that pooled down there. But this wasn’t enough. You were so desperate and in need of something to satisfy you. You sit up, grabbing the second pillow beside you, putting it beneath you.

Folding it just a bit, you straddle it. Slowly grinding down onto the pillow under you, imagining yourself riding Sunghoon. You hump the pillow in desperation, trying to get off. You grind and grind, wishing Sunghoon’s cock filled you up instead.

Unbeknownst to you, Jay had fallen asleep to the movie he and Sunghoon were watching. Realizing that his friend was asleep, he decided to make his way to find you, just to mess with you again. He always found it so cute how annoyed you’d get to his teasing. But today was different, he wanted more. If it weren’t for Jay, he swears he would’ve taken you on the couch right there and then. Making his way down the long hall towards your room, he notices a faint light coming from the small crack of your door. He carefully steps closer and to his surprise, the sight before him was nothing he ever expected to see in a million years.

There you were, on your bed, wearing nothing but a skimpy lace lingerie set, grinding down on a pillow so desperately. He watches you, making sure he stays as quiet as possible to not get caught. There you were, humping a pillow, your hips grinding over and over, letting out the cutest sounds he has ever heard. Did you know your door was a bit cracked? Who cares, he was enjoying the view.

Sunghoon palms himself as he watches you, not wanting to even blink in fear of missing the show. He just couldn’t believe this was happening. Before the realization of him being a creep watching you pleasure yourself through the crack of your door, that’s when he hears it. You had moaned his name. His dick twitched in his pants, painfully hard and needing to be released.

“S-Sunghoon, you feel so good,” you moaned, increasing your speed on the pillow. He swore he was gonna explode right then and there. He had to have you. But he knew he had to punish you as well. He pushes the door open even more and to his surprise you hadn’t noticed yet. Hell, you haven’t even noticed the fact that he closed the door before him as well.

Loss in your trance, Sunghoon watched you just for a bit before making his move. He clears his throat to get your attention. Startled, you urgently grabbed your blanket to cover yourself, shocked to see Sunghoon in your room. There he looked at you with a smug smile painted on his face.

You swore you saw evil behind those eyes.

“Oh don’t stop now, I was enjoying my show,” he pouts, walking closer to you, standing in front of your bed. “Go on, I’m here now, isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked in a cheeky tone. Your face was red and embarrassment washed over you. You wanted to run away. You felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, go on, continue what you were doing,” he demanded, pulling your blanket off of you. You were at a loss for words. But something in you gave into him. You start to straddle the pillow again, grinding your pussy against it. Embarrassed, you tilt your head down, trying to avoid any eye contact. You can’t help but get so turned on as he watches you. You hump your pillow desperately letting out whines and moans, trying your best to not be too loud.

“Hoonie~,” You moaned loudly, humping your pillow as you grew wetter. You felt so dirty. You couldn’t believe this was happening right now. You felt like you were on cloud nine and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Sunghoon smirks, he takes in the scene in front of him, he couldn’t take it anymore and slips his pants down, freeing his hard on. He starts to slowly stroke, watching you as you pleasure yourself. His tip was red and angry, leaking a bit of precum already. He wanted to see more of you.

“Take your bra off,” he demands. You look up at him, shocked to see him pleasuring himself. The sight of his cock making your mouth water. He was huge. No way you can fit that in you, you don’t even think it’ll fit in your mouth. Nevertheless, you obliged and took your bra off, your boobs slowly falling out of the cups. Embarrassed, you try to cover yourself again. He takes his pants and boxers off right away, signaling for you to get closer to him. He needed to feel your mouth on him.

“As much as I love to see you getting yourself off, I need your pretty little mouth on my cock right now,” he said, sitting down on the bed beside you. He pushes you off the bed and onto your knees right in front of him. Watching you carefully, he grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your face against his cock.

“Open wide,” he instructs, hand still in your hair. You reach your hand up to his shaft, opening your mouth to finally get a taste of him. His tip was already leaking. You put his tip in your mouth. He lets out low groans, guiding you as he grips onto your hair even more. As you expected, he definitely could not fit into your mouth. So using your hand that was on his shaft, you start to stroke him as you suck him off. Getting lost in the pleaser, he needed to be down your throat and that he was gonna do.

“Hands behind your back now,” he firmly said, the tone of his voice catching you off guard but you obliged, your panties getting stickier as the seconds passed. You put your hands behind your back and he starts to buck his hips, his tip reaching further and further down your throat. The sound of him groaning fills the room immediately. You just prayed to the lord your brother was sound asleep.

With his dick down your throat, you can’t help but feel so turned on. This was dirty, you’ve never deepthroat a dick in your life. Well dicks as big as Sunghoon’s. He watches you, making sure to keep eye contact.

“I’ve always known you were a little whore, but letting me fuck your little mouth while your brother’s asleep down the hall?” he grunts out, slamming his cock in and out of your mouth. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, taking in the pleasure. He felt as if he was in a dream. Your eyes teary as all you can let out are moans against his dick. Being too turned on, you snaked your hand from behind your back and into your panties. You attempt to rub your clit as he fucks into your mouth. Now it was your turn to close your eyes from the intense pleasure. Your moans intensify, catching Sunghoon’s attention.

There he saw you, touching yourself. As much as he enjoyed watching you get off, never did he allow you to pleasure yourself as you were pleasuring him. He forcefully tugs you by your hair and off his cock, shaking his head at you as if he was disappointed. You take this time to catch your breath, puzzled at why he suddenly stopped. He then pulls you up by your hair, making sure you were eye level with him. He takes his other hand and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks to make sure you were looking right into his eyes. Chills ran through your body.

“Did I say you can touch yourself?” he quietly asks, you can feel his breath on your face. You shake your head, looking pitiful in his eyes. “Did I say you can touch yourself?” he repeats, that venomous tone coming back to his voice. You were nervous.

“N-No…,” you shakily said. Your breathing intensifies. Sunghoon lets out an almost evil laugh. “I guess this little slut needs a punishment.”

With that, he tosses you onto the bed. With your backside up, he drags your body to the edge. Standing right behind you, your legs hanging off, he starts to caress your cheeks. Taking in the beauty of your backside, it took everything in him to not take you right there and then.

“Take your panties off,” he demands. You angle your butt up just a bit and reach behind you, slowly pulling them down, making sure he sees everything. He was watching you as if you were his prey and he was about to get ready to feast on a meal. The glistening sheen of your arousal stares back at him as you fully remove your panties. He couldn’t wait to have you. He makes his way closer to you, one hand on your ass and the other sliding up and down your folds. You were soaking, practically dripping down your legs.

“Please… touch me Hoonie…,” you softly spoke, the lack of physical action killing you on the inside. Still painfully hard and turned on, he swore he was going to explode right there, hearing your soft voice begging for him to touch you. Before you could speak up again, he spanks you. Caught off guard, you let out a yelp, the action turning you on even more. And then again, a spank lands onto your cheeks. His other hand’s still feeling your wetness, teasing you in an agonizing way. “I wanna hear you beg.”

You shiver a bit as his voice drops even lower than before. You couldn’t believe you were letting him do this to you in the first place. Feeling a sense of pride wash over, you were getting a bit fed up and were about to protest until yet another slap landed onto your cheek. This time harder than the previous two.

“I said– beg,” he leaned down and whispered in your ear. You gulp, feeling trapped beneath him.

“Hoonie please… need you so bad,” every sense of pride and dignity was thrown out the window as you let those words out of your mouth. “Sorry I can’t hear you. What did you say?” he snickers back, egging you on. With one hand now on your waist and the other rubbing his tip up and down your slick folds, he needed to hear you say it one more time. Too horny to even fight back, you crumbled beneath him, just wanting his cock in you as soon as possible.

“Sunghoon please fuck me already, I need your cock in me right now!” you loudly said, he leans back down and into your ear he whispers a “good girl.” He pushes his tip into you, already feeling like your pussy was sucking him in. You both let out a moan. He felt so big in you and it was just the tip.

“S-So… big …,” you muttered. He chuckles. “It’s just the tip baby, can’t handle my cock already?” he presses. You shake your head letting out a tiny squeal and he enters you even more. Fully into you, you felt as if you were being stretched out to the max, no way could you handle this. Yet your pussy was craving more.

Sunghoon couldn't handle it, without giving you any proper time to adjust, he starts stroking into you. Grabbing onto your waist with both of his hands, he fucks you hard on the edge of the bed. Seeing your small frame beneath him and the way your body was just engulfed by his hands, he gets even more turned on.

“So fucking tight Y/n, so fucking wet and all for me– is that right doll?” he grunts out as he slams his cock into you, trying his hardest not to cum. But your cute little moans were making it so hard for him, he felt so lost in the pleasure.

“Y-Yes all y-yours Hoonie~,” you moan loudly, not a single worry in your body. Just you and Sunghoon. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to see your face. In a swift second, Sunghoon flips you over, still standing at the edge of the bed, he puts your legs over his shoulders as he pumps deeper into you. Fucking you into your bed, he leans down, grabbing your face he pulls you into a heated kiss. Your lips mesh together like they’ve been dying for this moment all their lives. He reaches down to your neck, giving it a small squeeze, startled, you open your mouth which gives him access to stick his tongue. Your tongues dance with one other, Sunghoon starting to feel drunk off of you. After what felt like forever, he pulls back, hand on your jaw, holding your mouth open. He spits in it. You let out a loud whiny moan, feeling more aroused than ever before in your life. You instantly swallow, making him lose his mind.

“You’re such a filthy little slut, swallowing my spit, letting me fuck you like this, is this what you wanted– huh?” He speaks to you, all you could get out were little yelps of “yes.” With your arms snaked around his neck, he pushes your legs off from his shoulders, shocking you he lifts you up off the bed and starts to pound into you harder and harder. You knew Sunghoon was fit but you didn’t know he was that fit. Taking you by surprise with this new angle, he holds you up as he fucks you hard, his pace increasing. You start to feel a knot in your stomach form, getting so close to your climax. Your pussy clenching around him, so tight and pulsating, he knew he was getting close as well. Room filled entirely of moans, skin slapping, and the smell of sex, you needed him to fill you up.

Before you knew it, with one hard pump, you screamed, cumming all over his cock. Overstimulated, he sets you back down onto the bed, helping you ride out your orgasm as he was soon to reach his. The feeling of your wetness and your cum all mixed into one was enough for him to unload right into you. With a few more strokes, he releases, holding onto your body as he rides out his own climax, pumping his seed into you. You felt so full and exhausted. He carefully pulls out, watching as his cum spills out from your pussy. It was a sight he never wanted to forget. He quickly grabs his phone to capture the moment, fingering his load that was spilling out of you back into your hole. You couldn’t help but blush, feeling a bit embarrassed. Sunghoon lays beside you, as he trails kisses along your neck.

“Fuck– you’re all mine,” he said against your neck. Before any realization could hit the both of you as to what you guys just did with one another, the distinct sound of buzzing came from both of your phones. Your faces went pale.

*Jay added Y/n and Sunghoon to a group.*

Jay: You guys are fucking disgusting.

1K notes · View notes

1-800-hwahui · 1 year

Text

romance at mistletoe inn

member | seungcheol x reader genre | smut, some fluff word count | ~4,600 warnings | reader has a vagina and breasts, unprotected sex, very very soft dom!cheol, sub!reader, wap reader, monster cock cheol, like seriously his dick is BIG, size kink (it comes with the territory wbk), strength kink (?), oral (m receiving), oral (reader receiving), grinding, deepthroating, motorboating, praise, slight manhandling, creampie (they don't talk about reader taking birth control so PLEASE do not be like them irl), cursing, cheol is Whipped, they hold hands :(, teeny bit of aftercare oops sorry, reader's mom accidentally cockblocks, please ignore that the plot actually makes Zero sense this is just pure sex atp notes | this is a nsfw sequel to a sfw fic on my main writing blog @junkissed called mistletoe inn! however, this can be read as a stand alone, you don't have to have read the other part to know what's going on here. for the heathen @onlymingyus. i hope you enjoy. p.s. thanks to @duhnova @heartkyeom for making me insane while i wrote this. i know i say this every time but this time i mean it when i say this is definitely the filthiest thing i have ever written - 💒 june

a knock on cheol’s door brings him out of the book he’s reading. it’s late in the evening and it hasn’t stopped snowing all day, leaving everyone at the inn snowed in. at least for the next day or so until the city snow plow comes around. he slides a bookmark into the pages and sets it on his nightstand, grinning as he walks towards the door.

as it usually is every winter, the inn is practically empty, except for one guest. it’s a small town, and people don’t come to stay unless they’re visiting friends or family.

cheol’s really enjoyed talking with you the last few days. he’s learned that you came to surprise your parents, but they’d actually left town without telling you to spend their christmas in hawaii, leaving you alone in a city where you don’t know anyone.

he doesn’t mind being your friend for the week you’re here– in fact, he loves it. you’re great company, and after a little not-so-subtle prying he’s also learned you’re single. with your work less than an hour away by plane, the distance isn’t bad, and if he’s been reading the situation right, he’s hoping you might feel the same. it’s been too long since he’s taken a break, since he’s traveled out of the little town he’s lived in all his life. maybe it’s time to pass the inn along to someone else in his family. but for now, one step at a time.

of course, it’s you standing on the other side of the door. he can’t help the way his face lights up when he sees you. “hey, what’s up?”

you smile back shyly. “just bored. are… are you busy?”

he grins. “not anymore.”

“do you maybe, wanna, come to my room?” you ask. “i made cocoa.”

“of course i would,” he says, shutting his door with a quiet squeak.

fifteen minutes later the cocoa is long forgotten as you desperately press your lips against seungcheol’s, hands roaming everywhere across each others’ bodies.

you’re suddenly very grateful that you packed your nice pair of panties for a trip that was supposed to be for visiting your parents. and you’re also very grateful that you wore them tonight, just in case.

the muscles in his shoulders flex as he yanks his shirt up and off with one swift movement. you watch, until his hands are back on you, whining as he pulls on the hem of your sweater. you giggle and lift your arms so he can help you tug it over your head.

“can i?” he breathes, reaching for your bra, his gaze fixated on your chest.

you nod, and strong arms wrap around you, carefully unhooking your bra behind your back. you hold the fabric in place with your hands as his fingers tenderly slip the straps down your shoulders.

when you finally let go, allowing the material to fall to the floor, seungcheol inhales sharply. “god, you’re so beautiful,” he rasps.

he looks up at you for permission, and you smile. hands still clasped behind your back, he pulls you over to the chair by the couch, sitting down so his face is level with your chest.

his hands glide over your skin, pushing your breasts together and shoving his face in between them with a groan that reverberates in your ribcage. you moan and he lets go, hands skating down your sides to rest at your hips as he leaves wet kisses along the curve of your boobs.

your fingers find his head, weaving up through his hair. he shakes his head back and forth and his hands grab at your ass, roughly kneading the skin. his mouth moves to one of your nipples, lips wrapping around it and sucking lightly.

his lips leave your breast with a pop, half-lidded eyes looking almost drunk with pleasure. you shimmy out of your pants, throwing them out of the way but keeping your panties on.

cheol’s eyes widen and his hands fumble to remove his own jeans, shaking as he slides them down his muscular legs.

you sink down onto your knees, settling between his legs. he groans when you look up at him with wide eyes, tentative hands resting on his thighs. god, his thighs… just one is probably bigger than your entire head.

your fingers dance at the band of his underwear, nervously toying with the elastic but not going any further yet. he’s only half-hard beneath the fabric, but you can already tell he’s big, way bigger than you’re used to.

you must’ve paused for too long, because he reaches down to cup your cheek, bringing your gaze back up to his. “what’s wrong, baby?” he asks gently, his voice breathy and low.

your cheeks heat up, not used to hearing that pet name on his lips. “um, you’re just, uh… big,” you squeak out, a little embarrassed to admit to him.

his expression softens, relieved that he hasn’t done anything to hurt you (yet). “you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, his tone lightening a bit.

immediately you shake your head, not wanting to give him the wrong impression. “i want to,” you say sincerely. “just– don’t know if i can.”

he smiles like you’ve just told him he won the lottery– and with you, he might as well have. “we’ll go slow,” he promises.

you exhale and gently tug at his underwear, finally releasing his cock. it’s big, like you expected, and covered in pretty veins. you wrap your hand around him, but he’s so big, your thumb and index finger aren’t even close to touching. so you add your other hand, completely gripping him, and he moans at the sight of his cock resting in your tiny hands.

you’re just about to put your lips around his tip when you hear your ringtone go off. you whine in annoyance at being interrupted and move your head away from him, taking your hands off of his cock and laying them on his thighs.

“who is it?” you ask, nodding up at your phone on the table next to seungcheol.

he groans at the loss, but leans over to check your phone for you. “uh, it’s ‘mom’?”

you whine and reach out your hand. “give it here.”

“baby, please,” he grumbles, handing it down to you.

“i’ll be quick,” you whisper before accepting the call. he pouts and leans his head back against the back of the chair, staring at the ceiling.

“hi mom,” you say into the phone, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intend.

“hi sweetie! how’s your trip going so far? sorry again that we missed you,” she starts, and you know you’re in for a long phone call. the woman could talk for hours, days even, and now is definitely not the time.

when you look up, seungcheol is staring at you again, a mischievous grin on his face. he puts a finger to his lips, signaling you to be quiet, then hooks his arms under you to help you stand. his hands slide to your hips, guiding and pulling you down onto his lap.

“mom, i’m– a little busy right now,” you choke out, trying your damn hardest to keep your voice steady with cheol’s hands on you.

“oh?” the surprise is evident in your mother’s voice. “i thought you didn’t have any plans? did you find something fun to do? you better not be working on work, i told you you’ve been needing a vacation for way too long! your boss can have whatever it is in the new year, you–”

cheol grips you tightly, rolling your hips against his dick, and you have to slap your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. he looks up at you, wordlessly asking if you want him to stop.

you squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. as much as it mortifies you fooling around while you’re literally on the phone with your own mother, the thrill of being caught only turns you on even more.

“no, mom, i’m not working, but i am– busy,” you interrupt.

“well, do you want me to call back in a bit?” you can hear the frown in her voice, the tone she gets when she knows you’re lying.

“no!” you cry out as your clit rubs against the head of seungcheol’s cock, giving you a jolt of pleasure. “i–mean, i’ll call you later. when i’m done,” you recover, hoping to god she hasn’t noticed anything off about you.

“sweetie… are you at the gym?” she questions, and you breathe a sigh of relief that it doesn’t seem like she’s caught on to what you’re really doing. “i’m so proud of you, honey, i know you’ve been trying to do that more lately! well, i’ll leave you be then. have a good workout!”

well, you will be having a workout today… just not the kind she’s thinking of.

“th-thanks,” you stutter. suddenly cheol thrusts hard against you, and the movement makes you lose your balance and fall forward a little. you catch yourself on him, your hand flat against his firm chest. “bye, mom.”

“bye, sweetie! have fun!”

he shoots you a satisfied smirk and you sit back as you fumble to hang up as fast as you can, tossing your phone on the carpet behind you and climbing back down onto your knees.

you finally wrap your lips around him, fingernails gripping his thighs as you struggle to take him in your mouth. not only is he long, but he’s girthy, and you have to stretch your mouth open wide to fit him in. even then, you can’t fit all of him, so you put both hands back around the base of his cock where your mouth can’t reach and you begin slowly bobbing up and down, swirling your tongue around him.

his hips buck up roughly into your mouth and instantly tears prick at your eyes. “sorry,” he moans, but you just shake your head and keep going. he grips down hard on the armrests of the chair to stop himself from moving.

you can feel him hitting the back of your throat with every move and you know your mouth is gonna hurt like a bitch later, but the almost melodic sound of his moans is enough to make you want to have his dick in your mouth forever. knowing that it’s you making him feel like this could give you enough energy to suck him off for days on end.

your abdomen throbs with neglect, but the weight of his cock in your mouth is too good to stop. if you didn’t literally need both hands to fit all the way around him, you would’ve already started touching yourself, but both your hands are… occupied elsewhere.

desperate for any kind of stimulation, you press your thighs together, shifting to rub them against each other. at the angle you’re kneeling you can feel the thin fabric of your panties pressing against your pussy, and you buck your hips, trying to get the lace to give you what you want.

but it’s nowhere near enough, and seungcheol notices when you whine frustratedly around his cock, eyes squeezed shut and hands shaking. he grips your head carefully, pulling you off of him with a groan.

you look up at him with watery eyes and he takes in the sight, your mascara smeared and running down your cheeks and your eyes red and wet from choking around him for so long.

“can i eat you out? please?” he practically begs, breathing heavily.

“o-okay,” you rasp, the words coming out hoarse.

his eyebrows furrow as he catches his breath. he’d tried so hard not to go rough on you, to stop himself from fucking your throat. it’s only your first time with him, and he really, really hopes it won’t be the last, so he’s mentally kicking himself for losing control.

you see his worried expression, so you cough, trying to clear your throat. “i’m fine,” you reassure him, voice a little less coarse than before but still more than he would’ve liked.

“are you sure?” he asks cautiously.

“mhm. please,” you whimper.

he smiles and wraps his arms around you, helping you stand. your knees crack and he looks concerned again, but you shake your head. “just sore from kneeling. don’t worry.”

you give him a reassuring look, and he finally relents. suddenly he lifts you with terrifying ease, carrying you across the room to toss you onto the bed like nothing.

he climbs on top of you, his face hovering over your lower half.

“you gonna give me a few, baby?” he asks, his tone saccharine sweet. “gotta prep you enough.”

you croak out a yes, watching his movements with vigilance as his calloused fingertips play with the delicate hem of your panties, teasing.

but he doesn’t move any further, just stares up at you through his eyelashes, and you assume he’s waiting for you to say something.

“p-please?” you sniffle, thinking maybe he wants you to beg him for it. and he does, and you would, but you both know that’s for another time.

he presses a light kiss to your cunt over the fabric, moaning into your skin. “god, you’re so good for me, baby. gonna give you everything you want.”

as much as he wants to rip your pretty little underwear off your body and eat you out like his last meal, he knows he has to start slow, give you both a chance to get used to what the other likes instead of jumping straight into the deep end.

so he keeps his eyes locked with yours as he slips the lacy fabric down your hips, carefully so as not to tear them by accident.

you’re embarrassingly wet from nothing at all, your panties completely soaked through. a thin string of your arousal connects from your cunt to the fabric, and he groans lowly, watching it break.

his gentleness is unbelievably hot, and you can’t deny that him being so deliberate with taking them off makes you want to let him rip them off of you in a heartbeat. so what if they’re your favorite pair? you’d buy ten pairs to replace them if you have to.

you lift your legs, helping him slide your panties off so he can toss them away. he settles back down and tenderly pries your thighs apart, setting each leg to the side and leaving you wide open for him. he stares at your pussy for a moment, glistening with wetness. his intense, focused attention on you makes you gush, your muscles clenching around nothing as he watches enraptured. using two fingers he spreads your folds apart, exposing your dripping hole to his fervent gaze.

“cheol,” you mewl out his name in desperation.

“‘m right here, baby,” he says, his eyes flicking up to your face for a second to make sure you’re okay. you nod, silently begging him to continue. he cups your pussy, and the feeling of sheer size as his massive hand envelopes you is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

automatically your hips buck into his hand, grinding against his palm as you toss your head back and forth against the pillows, grateful to finally feel some relief.

he coos and you throw your arm over your face in embarrassment at his reaction, sheepish about being so desperate for a man you only met a couple of days ago. but his response isn’t to tease you or degrade you, but to admire you. so needy, so beautiful. and for right now, all his.

his hand still cupped against you, he slowly slips his ring and middle finger into your hole, letting out a pleased hum when you immediately clench around him.

“so wet for me, baby,” he sighs, gently curling his fingers inside you but otherwise keeping them still to let you adjust. “you’re so fucking sexy.”

you whimper, and he removes his fingers, seeing you’re ready for him to give you what he promised. even after being inside you for only a few seconds his fingers are soaked, completely coated in your juices. he looks up at you to see if you’re still comfortable with everything he’s doing, and when you open your mouth without hesitating even for a second, he thinks he might cum on the spot.

“so well behaved,” he praises, pushing his fingers into your waiting mouth. you close your lips around them eagerly, sucking yourself off of him in earnest.

you sigh when he pulls them out again, moving back down to sit between your still-open legs. he presses a gentle kiss to the inside of both your thighs before pushing his face into your waiting pussy.

when his mouth first makes contact with your cunt, you let out a high whine, back arching off the bed in pleasure. his lips completely surround your swollen clit, and your hand flies down to his head, gripping his hair as your hips writhe against his face.

his tongue is everywhere, gliding over every inch of you, licking and sucking and working you towards your orgasm impossibly fast. you can feel your clit throbbing in his mouth, and your breath hitches when he grazes his teeth over it, making you jolt.

his hands loop around your hips, spreading the skin and forcing you open so he has better access to your cunt.

heat pools in your stomach and you feel the familiar burn start to build in between your legs. “co-coming,” you gasp. “cheol, i’m–”

he groans into your cunt in response, sending waves throughout your body.

you sneak a glance down at him. his eyes are squeezed shut as he devours you, fucking you with his tongue with the most blissful look on his face, as if there isn’t anywhere in the world he would rather be right now than with his face buried in your pussy and your thighs trembling around his head.

the sight alone is enough to send you over the edge, muscles contracting and fingers grabbing desperately at the sheets to ground you as you stumble into your orgasm.

your whines stick in your throat as you gasp for breath, vision going white as you cum harder than you ever have in your life. no vibrator on earth could compare to the way seungcheol feels between your legs— and you’ve got quite the collection of toys back at home.

he keeps sucking, carrying you through your orgasm until you flop back on the bed, thoroughly exhausted. he finally pulls off of you for just a second, catching his own breath.

“god, can’t wait to get my cock in you,” he murmurs before diving back in, barely giving you time to recover before he’s building you back up for another.

you sob out his name as his tongue slips inside your hole and back out, dragging up and down your folds and spreading your juices everywhere. you can feel it dripping down your thighs and onto the comforter below.

“coming, coming, please, cheol, please, i–” you pant, struggling for words.

instinctively your legs snap shut around his head, trying to hold him in place, but he easily pries them apart again as you hurtle towards another orgasm. you cum on his tongue, again, sobbing his name like it’s the only word you know.

when he finally decides you’re ready to take his cock, you’re nothing short of a mess. pretty face smeared with makeup and tears, pretty cunt smeared with cum and saliva. he sits back on his heels, admiring how you look. your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving as you gasp for air, and he thinks he hasn’t seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

“you okay, baby?” he hums, massaging your thigh.

a weak “yes” is all you can manage. he runs a hand over your skin soothingly, this time giving you plenty of time to recover.

when you’ve finally caught your breath enough to sit up, he’s still watching you cautiously.

“all right?” he asks, and you nod. “if you’re done, we don’t have to keep going…” he starts, but you stop him, shaking your head.

“i told you before, i want to,” you say, taking his hand and lacing your fingers with his.

he smiles, and you lay back down, pulling him on top of you. he adjusts back in between your legs, positioning himself at the entrance of your pussy. he drags his cock through your folds, collecting what’s left of his frantic makeout session from earlier and spreading it over his length, using it as lubrication.

still holding your hand, he starts to press into you, just barely the tip. you gasp as he keeps going, carefully pushing inch after inch into your tight hole.

you squeeze his hand and he freezes, not even halfway inside yet. “okay?” he murmurs, rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“yeah, just– one second, please,” you stutter, breathing hard.

he wants to kiss you, so badly, but he can’t bend over without moving and hurting you. so he settles for bringing your entwined hands to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand.

the new feeling subsides, the pain of being split open beginning to lessen as you adjust to his size.

“you can… keep going,” you exhale softly.

he nods and starts to push in again, stuffing you full. it takes a while, but when finally he bottoms out, you both let out moans: him at the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him, and you at the feeling of being so full in the best ways.

after staying still to give you more time to adjust, he begins to pick up the pace, starting slowly and gradually building up until he’s pounding into you.

your back slides up and down the bed, each thrust sending you closer and closer to the wall above your head. attentive as ever, cheol notices, and stills his hips for just a second so he can grab your waist with both hands and yank you down away from the headboard. you yelp and clutch at his back, holding on for dear life as he continues pounding into you.

the bed squeaks with each thrust, and for a split second you worry about breaking the bedframe and having to pay for the damage. but then seungcheol is brushing your hair out of your face and cradling your head between his forearms, and all the thoughts in your head disappear when he stares into your eyes, your faces inches apart.

“can i– kiss you?” he groans, his eyelashes fluttering.

“please, ch-cheol,” you gasp. your hands claw at his shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

he leans down, closing the distance between you and pressing his lips to yours, somehow too gentle and too rough at the same time. your senses seem to explode, so much happening at once, and you move your hands up to the back of his head, threading your fingers through his hair and tug, pushing him to kiss you deeper.

he moans into you, a deep, rumbling sound you feel all the way in the pit of your stomach. his thrusts get rougher and rougher, and you know he’s getting close. he pulls his lips off of you with a gasp. “whe–where do you want me to–”

“inside,” you plead, your voice coming out throaty. “please, cheol, inside, please–”

he cuts you off and captures your lips again, moaning into your mouth. his hips continue to rut into you desperately and you can only hold on, coming closer and closer to your own orgasm.

you can feel him throb deep in your abdomen, the tip of his cock kissing your walls with each snap of his hips. he shifts slightly and suddenly he’s fucking you like you’ve never felt before. the new angle has you seeing stars, and you clench around him, letting out a choked sob as you come undone on his cock.

your hoarse voice crying out his name over and over again while you quiver in his arms is too much for him, and with a guttural moan he lets go, his own orgasm washing over him and flooding your insides with his cum.

his hips begin to slow, rocking into you with a lazy rhythm as you both come down from your highs. his arms still surround either side of your head, and he moves his wrist to brush your hair out of your face. your hair is sticky with sweat and your eyes are puffy from crying, your mouth hanging open slightly as you struggle to catch your breath.

cheol lays on top of you, resting his head on your chest but careful not to put his full weight on you, letting you cockwarm him for a while. you’re both exhausted and you just lay there together, basking in the afterglow of pleasure.

but as much as you never want the moment to end, you can feel his cum leaking out of you, and you know you probably look like a horrible mess. you whine and push weakly at his shoulders, making him sit up quickly in concern.

“could you… in my bag,” you mumble, pointing a shaky hand towards your cosmetic bag. “m-makeup wipes.”

he slides off of you, leaving a sweet kiss on your forehead before crossing the room to grab them for you. you stay laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what just happened.

“here,” cheol says softly, handing you the wipes. you give him a faint smile and prop yourself up on your elbows. you wince when you sit back on your tailbone, sore from how hard seungcheol had fucked you.

he sits at the edge of the bed and gives you an apologetic pout, knowing it’s mostly his fault. “do you… need anything?” he asks shyly, not sure what you need him to do.

“stay?” you ask, voice small. “gonna have to shower, and i’ll– um, need help,” you finish. there’s no chance you’ll be able to walk straight for at least the next few hours, let alone stand in the shower by yourself.

he smiles and puts a hand on your thigh, rubbing at the bruises that have started to form there. “i’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

you scrub at your face, getting the last of the mascara off your cheeks before tossing the dirtied wipe into the trash can by the nightstand.

with a bit of effort, you manage to throw your legs over the side of the bed, sitting at the edge. you glance behind you at the bed covered in both of your fluids, and you wince, knowing most of it is your fault. “sorry about the sheets,” you whisper, resisting the urge to hide your face in embarrassment.

“baby, we’ll wash them,” he smiles. “don’t worry about it.”

“okay,” you say quietly. you look over to cheol, still sitting beside you, and reach out with both hands for him to help you up.

he jumps up, taking your hands and tugging you to your feet. your legs wobble when you stand, and he slides his arm around your waist to support you as he helps walk you to the bathroom.

you flop down onto the toilet while seungcheol starts the shower, and you have to hold back a laugh at the sight. the buff, sexy innkeeper, butt-ass naked in your bathroom, leaning over the edge of the tub to test the water temperature and make sure it’s not too hot for you.

you know you’re only here for a week, but you could really get used to this.

taglist | @shuatm @yeosayang @noniestars @dkakapizzaboy @enhacolor @kimy3na @candidupped @berrryshortcake @tinkerbell460 @haraethx @iheartyeonnnnn @mxnghao8

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sharingoreozwithbeelfox · 1 year

Text

How Much Do the OM Boys Swear?

Lucifer: Usually only when he's mad abt something

Mammon, Satan, Asmo, Belphie: Curse liberally

Levi: Curses plenty, but you hear it the most when he's playing a game

Beel: I feel like he does plenty too, but if he's around someone who doesn't swear or doesn't approve of swearing, he will apologize right after if he lets something slip

Diavolo: I actually can't see him swearing that much. Decorum, I suppose?

Barbatos: You will never hear this man curse. Has he let something slip before? It's a mystery and he intends to keep it that way.

Simeon: Definitely doesn't and would like you to think he doesn't approve of it, but his 'disapproval' is playfully saying '"Language," when someone swears. Has absolutely forgotten and laughed when someone (prob Lucy) muttered something, much to Luke's dismay.

Luke: WATCH YOUR TONGUES YOU HEATHENS. Never ever swears and makes it very clear that he doesn't approve. Unlike Simeon, his "LANGUAGE," is very serious lol

Solomon: He might have under different circumstances, but since he lives in Purgatory Hall with a couple of angels, he's had to get creative. He comes up with such elaborate substitutes in the nick of time, and it is absolutely hilarious.

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xoxoskai · 6 months

Text

MAYAILYA AND EVERY WHAT IF

Welcome to delusionworld, may I take your coat?

Maya first meets Ilya and recognizes him as one of the "scums" who tried to hurt Nikolai. Stomps her six-inch heel into his foot before flipping her hair and walking away.

"No, Jeremy. I don't care that he's your guard."

Notices Ilya around Cecily on Jeremy's orders and asks him if he'd bark just because Jeremy tells him to.

"Loyal dog, this one." She tells Cecily.

Ilya smirks at her, threatening and malicious before sucking in a breath and howling. Grins wider at her gritted teeth as Cecy laughs.

Maya, flustered? Since, uh, when?

Ilya is a professional Maya-ignorer first, human second.

What do you mean he can't take his eyes off her when she's in the room? He is very proficient at ignoring her.

Watches as she back pedals out of the kitchen at the Heathens mansion when she notices him there. As if remembering herself, she struts back inside and pours herself a glass of a green protein shake that exists in the refrigerator only for her.

Passes him by as he quietly eats his food before reversing her steps, sweeping the saltshaker off the tray, opening the lid and dumping it all into his pasta.

"Oops" She smiles, all teeth and no remorse.

Ilya, without breaking eye contact, digs into his pasta and takes a large bite.

Maya sucks in a sharp breath through her nose, glaring as she leaves, her glass of protein shake forgotten next to his plate.

The next time she pours herself a glass of protein shake, the Heathens are having dinner. Ilya is speaking to Jeremy inside the kitchen but watches eagerly as Maya's face blanches at the copious amounts of sugar he's added to her beverage as retaliation.

Maya glares at him, nostrils flaring, and he looks on with a face of complete innocence before focusing back on Jeremy.

She'd punch him but she is annoyed at the thought of a bruise on his pretty face.

His face is not pretty, she reminds herself.

The next time he sees Maya, she's riling Annika up.

"We'll be sisters-in-law! And we can shop together and get our nails done and grab lunch whenever! Oh, and you can be my maid-of-honor!"

Annika looks about ready to rip her hair off, but Ilya intervenes and shakes his head at her.

"You're better than this, Annika" He tells her "Don't stoop to her level. Which is lower than the basement level, by the way."

Annika giggles and Maya's back to gritting her jaw.

He watches as her gaze roves over his entire face, momentarily snagging on his white-blond hair before she smiles, feline-like

"Don't be jealous, you can be the flower boy. We have roles for everyone, even the-"

But Ilya has already turned his back to her, effectively ignoring her as he tells Annika that Jeremy is looking for her.

Annika glares at Maya once again before taking off in the other direction. Ilya waits for a moment, also deciding to leave but Maya grabs his sleeve.

"I was still talking!"

He doesn't say anything, watches her in a way that expresses his boredom and irritation at having to stand there in her presence.

It's like a punch to the gut. Maya hates that people would beg for an ounce for her attention, but Ilya always manages to make her feel like she's a speck of dirt that ought to be stepped on.

She turns around and leaves without saying anything else.

When the Heathens mansion catches fire, Maya is stuck in one of the bathrooms where the door is jammed.

Hair sticking to her back, eyes watering and body trembling, she's trying to pick the lock like her father taught her but she's too disoriented.

She is screaming for help while alternating between trying to use a hairpin to pick the lock and slam on the door for help.

When the hairpin slips from between her fingers and goes under the door, she lets out a wail and uses both fists to slam on the door and wrench the doorknob, inhaling more and more smoke, coughing violently.

The doorknob falls to the ground and the door flings open, letting in more smoke and a frantic Ilya whose face is first drenched in relief and then in rage.

"You weren't supposed to be here today!"

"The house is on fire and now you wanna talk?!"

"God help me, Maya. If we make it out of this alive, I'm gonna fucking strangle you."

He's already putting a mask over her face, but Maya pulls back, going further inside the bathroom.

"I swear to fuck-"

She sprays him with water.

"Your shirt is on fire; do you not feel anything?!"

There's a giant hole in his back, the burn on the skin registering much later. If he hadn't been distracted by how she had been trembling and crying when he found her, he would have paid attention sooner.

Instead of saying anything else, he grabs her wrist, throws her over his shoulder and starts running.

Once out, he deposits her in one of the ambulances before taking her mask off, getting ready to leave when one of the nurses starts bandaging her arm.

"Where are you going?"

She's grabbing his arm again and before he can register the feel of her skin against his, she's taken it back, her guards back up.

"Whatever" She is picking at her cuticles "I don't care."

"Jeremy is still inside" he tells her anyway, not because he was stalling- she was family with the Heathens, she deserved to know the entire story. "Nikolai, Killian and Gareth made it out safely."

She doesn't say anything, quiet while the nurse finishes bandaging her arm and moves to the cut from a splinter on her thigh.

Maya doesn't react, doesn't even flinch when the nurse cleans the wound. It makes Ilya smile. The mafia princess was a lot tougher than she looked.

He's leaving when her quiet voice gives him pause.

"You should find Niko. He can clear a path till Jeremy."

Ilya gives no indication that he heard her.

He goes looking for Niko.

They are putting Jeremy in one of the ambulances when Ilya reveals that Maya was inside when the mansion caught fire.

Niko is already halfway to the mansion when Ilya catches up and finishes the rest of his sentence.

"I got her out. She's in that ambulance, unharmed"

The oldest Sokolov is leaving to check on his sister when he stops and makes his way back to Jeremy's guard.

"I owe you one. Next time any of my sisters are in danger, they are your first priority. Just like Annika"

Ilya didn't need him spelling out who his first priority was. Ilya was well aware.

"The next time you "accidentally" touch her, she's going to sever your hand from your body before ripping out your favorite organ and chopping it in biteable sizes for dogs."

Ilya does a double take when he hears the bored voice with which Maya is delivering gruesome threats.

He pokes his head around the corner at university when he notices a furious Mia signing at God-speed as Maya translates what she's saying.

Noticing that the guy is one of the Serpents, Ilya is making his way toward the trio when Maya snaps her fingers in front of the guy's face.

"My eyes are up here, asshole."

"They are not nearly as pretty as what's down here" The Serpent replies without missing a beat, openly ogling her breasts from the deep V-neck blouse she was wearing.

Fists clenched; Ilya is about to drive one of his fists into his face, but Maya is quicker.

Knee-raised, she brings his face down by tugging at his collar and gets him right in the nose, a satisfying crunch following.

The guy drops to his knees, clutching his nose and wailing as the Sokolov twins stand over him, undeterred.

Mia notices him first, paused in the act of approaching them and she waves at him, grabbing Maya's attention as well.

She crosses her arms, unaware that she's pushing her breasts up even further, making Ilya close his eyes and pray for strength from greater forces.

Mia signs something at him and turns to Maya for translation but Maya keeps studying her nails, making no attempt to do so.

When Mia signs more furiously, Maya lets out an exasperated sigh before turning her irritated look at Ilya.

“She’s asking when are you going to drop off the face of the Earth?”

Mia swats her sister’s arm before moving toward Ilya, pulling out her phone and typing in it. Her text reads,

Heard about last night. Are you okay?

Ilya decides he now knows which Sokolov twin he likes better. He nods.

“I’m good, thanks.”

While Mia types more, Ilya slants a look toward her twin who is already scrolling through her phone. Her blouse was long-sleeved, and she was wearing skinny jeans and boots for a change. To hide all the bandages, he was sure.

Thank you for helping Maya yesterday. We owe you one.

Ilya smiles at her “She can thank me herself” is on the tip of his tongue when he looks at Maya and she’s glaring now.

If her eyes could kill, she’d have stabbed him a hundred times-no, a thousand times by now.

“Mia, I have class” she says before turning and leaving.

“You hang around Brandon King too much.”

Nikolai is telling Mia that same afternoon while Ilya supervises Annika’s cooking, who has been on house arrest since the fire.

“This much salt?”

Ilya internally cringes as Annika holds up a tablespoon of salt before shaking his head and finding a teaspoon for her.

When he returns his attention back toward the Sokolov siblings, they are engaged in a heated, glaring contest.

It reminds him of the Sokolov who is missing.

She remains AWOL for a while after that.

He only catches glimpses of her at university in passing and she’s always standing too far from him.

In every scenario.

Not like it should matter though, right?

When he finally finds her in the Heathens mansion, she’s at the door, talking to Gareth.

“I’ll RSVP for the party but tell Uncle Asher I can’t guarantee that Niko will make it.”

Ilya is on his way inside and deliberately slows down. He can’t remember how long it has been since he’s heard her voice in person.

“Jeremy is out with Niko.”

Gareth, who notices Ilya first, informs him while successfully bringing the attention of his cousin toward the outsider.

Of course, Ilya knows Jeremy is out with Niko. But he’s been making excuses to drop by more and more. Stopping by the mansion to inform Jeremy of things he could tell him over a phone call. Volunteering to teach Annika how to cook (because unlike her family, he didn’t know he couldn’t reveal that cooking wasn’t her strongest suit and openly balked when he first tasted it). Following Niko on his bike reads. Learning the basics of sign language for Mia.

Maya has already turned away and focused her attention back on Gareth. She’s touching his sleeve in a familiar manner and Ilya has to remind himself they’re cousins and grew up together.

“I’ll see you later” she’s saying, descending the steps, her plaid skirt swishing.

He’s watching her go and he wants to say something but he’s not sure what.

He’s not sure why.

Her birthday comes around and of course the Heathens are throwing a full-fledged party.

Jeremy assigns Ilya to buy an appropriate gift for the twins because he’s obliged to give one, not that he particularly cares.

Ilya shows his displeasure by buying atrocious matching little Bo Peep costumes that make Nikolai and Killian’s eyes water from laughing too hard when they catch Ilya gift wrapping them and writing-

I took lots of time to handpick these,

Jeremy

-on the card.

Ilya gets Mia a tiny plant that is easy to grow and doesn’t require a lot of watering.

Maya watches him give it to her, her eyes pinging between the gift, Mia’s reaction to it as she thanked him, and he signed back “Welcome” and finally at Ilya himself who she pinned in place with a blank look before she moved on and opened her own gifts.

If she’s disappointed that he didn’t get her anything, she surely doesn’t show it.

She stopped showing her displeasure a while back and Ilya is not aware of what changed. Earlier she used to deliberately mess with him or pick fights but now she’d removed herself completely and started to make him feel exactly what she used to call him.

A dog. Begging for attention from an owner who didn’t care.

He watches from afar as she sits in the middle of all her friends, looking lonely despite all the 200 odd people who’d shown up for her.

Maya hates her birthday. The only way to get through it, she realized long ago, was pretending she loves it.

She notices Ilya detaching himself from Jeremy’s side for the first time since the night began and making his way upstairs and she is glaring at his back.

She didn’t care if anyone saw. Did the infuriating man not know it was her birthday too?

She was so furious that he’d bought such a thoughtful gift only for Mia that she almost- almost dug her heel into his foot again.

Screw it, she had a bone to pick with him. Coming to a birthday party without a gift for the birthday girl should certainly be considered blasphemy- she decided as she stomped upstairs to look for him.

After fifteen minutes of fruitless snooping through all the Heathens’ rooms, she’s about to leave when she takes on toward the east wing on a whim.

Most of the repair work is still ongoing and Maya is about to check in Jeremy’s old room when she passes by the bathroom, she was stuck in.

The doorknob is missing, and she realizes she never found out how Ilya knew she was in there or how he even got the door to open.

She pushes the door open and sure enough, Ilya is sitting on the counter twirling a very familiar hairpin between his fingers.

“What do you want, Princess?”

Maya stubbornly keeps her mouth shut, remembering that this man didn’t care about what she wanted at all. He cared about everyone but her. He cared about her freaking sister more.

A sister he had smiled at.

Maya had only ever been the recipient of his glares, but it had taken one conversation with Mia for him to smile at her like they were long lost best friends.

“My hairpin”

Ilya laughs when she even holds her hand out, gaze fixated on the pin caught between two of his fingers.

God, those fingers.

“Give it” she says when he makes no further move.

“Why?” He asks, resuming twirling the hairpin between his fingers, taunting her with it and watching her face turn more and more irritated.

“Because it was gifted it to me and it’s of a lot of value to me.”

Partly, it was true. Her father had gifted it to her, but Maya had a million of such hairpins. She hadn’t even remembered losing this one until a minute ago.

“Bad girls who tell lies don’t get birthday presents.”

Sure enough, he procured a tiny box out of his jacket that barely fit into his hand and was wrapped in floral wrapping paper.

He had gotten her a gift too.

No, she wasn’t sure she was the one he meant. He was going to pull the rug off her feet and laugh as she fell.

“Oh good, Mia is safe then.”

Refusing to see him agree with her, she starts checking her nails, but his silence made her look back at him.

He looked…angry.

What right did he have to be angry?

“Do you really not know that your sister fancies Landon King or are you really that ignorant?”

Maya forces herself not to snarl and instead smile at him, sickly sweet and fake.

“Why would I care? I’m gonna marry Jeremy, make Nika my maid-of-honor and you can be the ring-bearer. It’s trendy to have the dog trail down the aisle with the rings these days.”

Eyes ablaze, Ilya tells her in a deathly calm,

“Get out, Maya”

“Or what, you’re gonna hurt your master’s future wife?”

“I’m gonna fuck her in her wedding dress and then she’ll walk down the aisle with my cum dried between her legs and take her vows knowing her husband wasn’t the one who fucked her on their wedding day.”

Ilya catches the exact moment his words settle deep into her bones because she sucks in a breath and turns to leave but he’s faster, banging the door closed above her head when she attempts to open it.

“No more wedding plans to make?”

“Let me go, Ilya.”

He’s so close, her hair is tickling his nose, and he can smell her shampoo. Roses and vanilla. She even smells like his darkest temptation.

“Didn’t you want me to get out? I’m going”

“Open your present first.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Take it or I won’t wait till your wedding day to make good on my promise.”

Maya takes the present.

She turns toward him, glaring at him and the stupid height advantage he has over her, but Ilya remains standing close, hand still above her head.

Aware that commenting on his closeness will only make him cockier, Maya focuses on ripping off the delicately wrapped box, trying to showcase how much she didn’t care.

She opens the velvet box and, on the cushion, lies a delicate piece with tiny sapphires embedded into gold.

Maya thinks it’s one of the most beautiful pieces she’s ever laid eyes on. Not too gaudy and flashy, just the right amount.

Unclasping it, she begins putting it on around her wrist seeing as it is too small to be a necklace or even a choker, but Ilya tuts, takes it away from her and leads her toward the counter he had been sitting on.

He lays his jacket down and before she can even comprehend what his next move is, he’s already lifting her onto the counter, settling her down on his jacket so she doesn’t dirty her white birthday dress.

Maya bites back her thanks even though she feels a little overwhelmed at the prospect of him doing this knowing she’s a germaphobe and not out of the goodness of his heart.

“It’s not a bracelet” He tells her, stepping back before grabbing her stiletto pumps and slowly raising her foot “It’s an anklet.”

“Oh”

He’s smirking while she waits with bated breath as he sets her heel on his stomach, clasping the anklet around it. He doesn’t make contact with her skin a single time except lightly brushing her ankle with his knuckles before pulling his hands away. Maya almost mourns their loss.

She’s aware he’s waiting for her to drop her leg but she’s thinking of a different scenario with lesser clothes and more skin.

Ilya can tell.

“It’s pretty” She finally says.

“Yes” He agrees “It is.”

But he’s looking at her and Maya can’t look away.

Before anything transpires, Maya snaps out of her reverie first.

“I should g-”

“Why are you avoiding me?”

His question doesn’t catch her off-guard. The fact that he noticed she’s been going out of her way to avoid him does.

“We always avoid each other”

His brows draw together “Not this way..we don’t.”

“We’re not friends, Ilya.”

“I know. I’m a dog”

Maya is rolling her eyes when he smirks at her.

“And you’re a bitch.”

She swats his shoulder “I may be a bitch, but I do have manners, I’ll return the favor on your birthday.”

“Do you even know when my birthday is?”

“14th February” At his raised eyebrows, she’s smiling “What, you think you’re the only one who knows everything?”

“No” He's stroking her calf now, making her breath hitch “I didn't get you this-” He hooks his pinky finger into the anklet “-just so you could return the favor. I had ulterior motives.”

“Like what?”

He's not saying anything, watching her in that contemplative manner that puts her on the spot “Like what?” She repeats and this time he grabs her foot and pulls her forward till she is half hanging off the counter.

Leaning one hand on the counter near her, his mouth is directly above her when he reveals his real purpose.

“When I saw it in the store, I couldn't stop picturing what it would look like around your ankle when it's dangling off my shoulder.”

#legacy of gods #god of wrath #god of malice #god of ruin #maya sokolov #ilya levitsky #landon king #mia sokolov #jeremy volkov #nikolai sokolov #killian carson #glyndon king #brandon king #eli king x ava nash #eli king #rina kent #god of war #god of pain #god of fury

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estrellami-1 · 7 months

Text

Keep You Company

So this happened because 1) I was babysitting and the little girl wouldn’t sleep until I laid in bed with her and my heart has NEVER been more full and 2) my dad’s an audio engineer with a home studio and my mom will just???? Sit in there with him????? He’s got a couch for when clients come over but 90% of the time if I can’t find either of my parents they’re both in there. I love my mom but I swear she’s tone deaf. Not to mention if any of you have heard someone else work on pitch correction you KNOW how annoying it can get after roughly .3 seconds. But she sits in there completely content because they just???? Want to be near each other????? After close to 30 years of marriage????? Where can I find someone who loves me the way my parents love each other. And the way Steve and Eddie love each other. Please.

Also side note if any of yall read Little Love I’m tempted to make this a future excerpt 👀 different name bc who knows if anything’s gonna come of this. and Joanie’s name comes from Joan Jett anyone who got that gets a gold star ⭐️ also Joanie is either 4 or 6. Idk which. But she’s one of those ages. Which if you know anything about kids you know there’s somehow no difference and yet every difference in the world between those two ages.

“Night, Daddy,” Joanie says, moving into Eddie’s studio to drop a kiss onto his cheek. “Love you.”

Eddie startles away from the computer screen, blinking as he realizes just how late it already is. The clock on his desk blinks 9:08 in red, incriminating flashes.

He smiles at his daughter and throws his arms around her as he stands, hugging her to himself and whirling them around the space, careful around the low coffee table. “Goodnight, my little rockstar!” He crows, peppering kisses to her cheeks and forehead, feeling laughter bubble up inside him in response to Joanie’s giggles.

“Daddy!” She shrieks, but doesn’t try to pull away. He laughs and finally puts her down, pressing one last kiss to the crown of her head as he kneels in front of her.

“Night, Joanie-bug,” he murmurs. “Sorry I’ve been stuck in here all day. I wish I could just play with you all day instead.”

He boops her nose and she giggles. “What are you doing?”

Eddie hums and picks her up, moving closer to the computer to save his project. “Well, y’know how Daddy’s in a band?”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Well sometimes, Uncle Gareth gets a note wrong.”

Joanie giggles. “Only Uncle Gareth?”

“Only Uncle Gareth,” Eddie agrees in a super-serious way that they both know he doesn’t mean.

“And sometimes Daddy forgets how not to be a perfectionist,” Steve adds from the doorway with a smile.

“Also very true,” Eddie nods, putting his computer to sleep. “But I did a lot of work today, so hopefully I should be done soon. How about for now, I do bedtime clean-up routine, and Papa can read you your book?”

“M’kay,” Joanie says happily, because she’s a heathen and prefers Steve’s storytelling skills over Eddie’s. Eddie wants to bite her cheeks, she’s so cute, so he does, takes a big chomp and makes a dinosaur noise that has Joanie shrieking and laughing.

“Okay, munchkin,” he says, swinging her around onto his back and trotting through the house, purposely jostling her. “Beddy-bye time, which means it’s time for teeth brushing!”

“Can you sing the song?”

Eddie fights back a groan. Somehow, he’d forgotten this was coming. “Sure thing, Joanie. Let’s get some toothpaste on that brush, alright?”

They do, and Joanie looks at him expectantly. “Sing it, Daddy! Sing it!”

“Brush your teeth, up and down. Brush your teeth, ‘round and ‘round. Brush your teeth from left to right, brush your teeth in the morning and night.”

He goes through the entire song, helpless to the smile that grows as Joanie bops happily along to his singing. “Okay, baby bug,” he says finally, standing behind her with a brush. “How d’you want your hair tonight?”

Regardless of the rat’s nest it will be in the morning, Joanie refuses to sleep if her hair is at all in her face. Steve and Eddie started with simple braids until she discovered the magic of YouTube tutorials, which makes the bedtime routine both longer and less mundane.

“Two Elsa braids,” she says, resolutely not learning the proper name and instead using the one Eddie had jokingly said once.

“Two Elsa braids, coming up,” he says, because it’s cute and he’s not going to dissuade her.

“Can we do beads?”

“Beads are a daytime hairstyle, ‘member, munchkin?”

Joanie pouts at him in the mirror. “But they’re pretty!”

“They are pretty, but they won’t stay while you sleep. They’ll fall out, and then you’ll wake up in the middle of the night ‘cause you’re laying on beads, and you’ll wake us up, and then we’ll all be cranky.” Not that that exact thing had happened.

She narrows her eyes at him, trying to find a way around it, then finally huffs and agrees. “Okay.”

“You’ll look pretty even without the beads,” Eddie promises her. “And Elsa doesn’t have beads, remember?”

“Yeah, but Daddy, Elsa’s got magic powers!”

“That she does.”

Joanie pretends to shoot Eddie with her Elsa powers, and Eddie freezes in the middle of the first braid. “I can’t move,” he says, not moving his lips. “You froze me!”

Joanie giggles. “Unfreeze, Daddy!”

He dramatically relaxes and sighs. “Oh, good! Thank you!”

He finishes doing her hair and chases her into her room, where she picks out her pajamas: a pink shirt with ballet-dancing kittens, and a neon-green pair of leggings. “Bold choice,” Eddie comments. “You wanna do it yourself? Or do you want me to help you?”

“I wanna do it,” Joanie says, just like Eddie knew she would.

A few minutes later, she huffs, frustrated. “Daddy, help,” she asks, just like Eddie knew she would.

He helps rescue her from her shirt that had somehow become sentient long enough to wrap around her head, then gets her pants on and tucks her into bed before pressing a long, loud kiss to her forehead. “Nighty-night, Joanie-bug,” he murmurs. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

Joanie giggles. “Only Joanie-bugs allowed in my bed!” She declares, and Eddie chuckles. “That’s right.”

He moves toward the door where Steve’s waiting to press a kiss to his husband’s forehead. “Sorry I was so busy.”

“You were working,” Steve murmurs. “It’s fine. I’ll come join you when I’m done, m’kay?”

“I’m gonna be in the studio for at least another hour tonight, babe,” Eddie says apologetically.

“Then I guess I’ll come keep you company.” He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips before shoving him out the door. “Go work, I’ll be there in a bit.”

“Sir yes sir,” Eddie salutes, marching back to his studio.

The next time he surfaces, it’s to a tugging at his sleeve. He blinks, glances at the clock—10:37—and turns, ready to apologize to Steve, only to see Joanie.

A quick look reveals no Steve anywhere in the studio, so Eddie thinks he’s probably in bed. “Hey, munchkin,” he murmurs, picking her up and setting her in his lap. “We put you to bed an hour ago, what’s going on? Bad dream?”

Joanie shakes her head before resting it on Eddie’s shoulder. “Papa’s snoring.”

Eddie blinks. Steve does snore, but not loud enough she should be able to hear it from her room. “Oh,” he says quietly. “Did he fall asleep before finishing the story?”

Joanie nods against his shoulder, and he sighs as he cuddles her closer, once again saving his project before completely shutting the computer down for the night. “M’kay, Joanie-bug, let’s go get Papa into his own bed.”

“Daddy?” She asks on the way to her room.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Why’s Papa so tired?”

Eddie sighs. “He’s a teacher, sweet pea. He does a lot all day. And he loves his job, but it is very tiring. Then he comes home and cooks, ‘cause he’s better at it than I am. And there’s a lot of stuff that needs to be done around the house.”

Joanie’s quiet for a second. “And me?” She finally asks.

Eddie’s heart stutters painfully. “No, baby,” he murmurs. “Your Papa and I love you, so much, okay?”

“Okay,” Joanie agrees, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you too, Daddy.” After a few seconds of thought, she says, “Are there cooking videos on YouTube? Like for hair?”

Eddie blinks. “To learn how to do it? Yeah, I think so.”

Joanie nods. “You should watch those. And cook for Papa.”

Eddie chuckles. “Maybe I will,” he agrees, stopping short in the doorway to smile at the sight in front of him.

The bedside lamp is on and Steve, glasses askew, is halfway on the bed, on top of the covers. The book is open in his lap, hands still holding on to the sides. He is, as Joanie had said, snoring.

Eddie kisses Joanie’s forehead and puts her into bed beside Steve before taking the book from Steve’s lax hands, shutting it and putting it on her bedside table before kissing Steve’s forehead. “Stevie, baby,” he murmurs. “Wake up.”

Steve’s eyebrows scrunch and his eyes flutter beneath his closed lids before he takes an extra-deep breath and his eyes open. “Eds?” He murmurs. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve gotta get up,” Eddie murmurs. “This isn’t your bed.”

He watches as Steve processes his words then looks around. He sees the confusion morph into understanding when he sees Joan. “Oh,” Steve murmurs. “Sorry, Joanie.”

“‘S okay, Papa,” Joanie answers. “You should go to bed.”

Steve chuckles tiredly and kisses her forehead. “I am, right now,” he promises. “Night, Joanie.”

“Night, Papa. Night, Daddy!”

“Night, Joanie-bug,” Eddie answers, wrapping his arm around Steve’s waist, half as a hug and half to help his husband stay steady.

“Sorry, Eds,” Steve murmurs. “Meant to join you.”

“It’s alright,” Eddie promises. “How about tomorrow I take Joanie out early for breakfast and let you sleep in?”

Steve frowns. “But you have work.”

“I’ve done the majority of it already,” Eddie answers. “You could take her out tomorrow afternoon if you want. Or just have a movie marathon here. I’ll finish up what I have to do. Tomorrow’s Saturday, right? So I’ll finish tomorrow, then Sunday I can make waffles for all of us. How’s that sound?”

Steve hums. “Good, ‘sides the you cooking part of it.”

“Oh, you little shit,” Eddie says delightedly, pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Just you wait, you’ll understand the power of YouTube tutorials.”

Steve chuckles, quiet, tired, but no less full of love. “I can’t wait.”

Permanent Taglist (which I’ve been COMPLETELY terrible at I’m so sorry I promise I’ll try to do better): @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @muricel @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #kid fic #is this what constitutes a kid fic?#or is that when the characters turn into kids #asking the important questions here #it’s 3:20am #I wrote this in like. two hours #send help #just an excuse to write fluff honestly #starambles

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arabellasleopardcoat · 7 months

Text

Speak now (Alicent Hightower x Reader)

Summary: Alicent is not too sure of how she feels about you. Or about the fact you just proposed to run away. But she is sure about how she feels about the wedding.

Warnings: Canon typical angst. Mature language. Violence. Screaming at Viserys.

Requested: Yes! Enemies to lovers + Alicent. Not answered in the original ask because it contained two requests.

Alicent stayed kneeling before the statue of The Mother. She paid no mind as Rhaenyra and you exited the Sept. The two of you were little more than a pair of heathens, in her eyes. Neither took seriously the worship of the Seven, believing in your foreign gods.

Not her, though. She knew her duties.

“Forgive me Mother, for I have sinned by pride in my abundant evil iniquitous and heinous thoughts.”

And Alicent had. One would say, being the daughter of the Lord Hand himself and a close companion to the Princess, she was the most envied maiden in all the Kingdoms. Men praised her beauty, she was often called the prettiest girl at court.

But as of late, Alicent had started to experience what most girls her age experienced when looking at her. And it was all because of you.

A daughter of Corlys Velaryon, your arrival at court had come at the prompting of the King himself. He was looking to remarry, and who was better suited to the task than the eldest daughter of one of the last houses of Old Valyria?

Everyone praised your grace and intelligence. You were nowhere nearly as beautiful as Alicent was, or so her father said. But you had the striking coloring of the Velaryons, and knew more languages than she could count. Light as a feather on your feet, dexterous as a hawk on your dragon, there was no way Alicent could compete.

Rhaenyra had eyed you with distrust, then. She hated the idea of you sweeping in and taking her mother's place. Alicent, though, had been secretly relieved. Her father's plot had been trumped.

The King had asked to take a walk in the gardens with you, one morning. You had gone, nearly shoved towards it by your father. Whatever it happened during that walk, you had both come back changed. The King, deathly pale, and you, triumphant with a grin like the sharpest steel.

Your father had been angry, but had not dared to pull you from court. No, because whatever you had done to deter Viserys had cemented you as Rhaenyra's most trusted companion.

Alicent had started to envy you, then. What was it about you that made you so fearless? Why could you say no to a man like Viserys? Her father said you had ruined your chance, but to Alicent, you had not. Instead, you had done the brave thing and fought for your freedom. And not only that. You had won.

She wished she could be a little more like you. Women never won, in her experience. Not Rhaenyra, not her. Not even her mother, not even the late Queen Aemma. What made you so special? Whatever it was, she wanted it.

Rhaenyra just loved you. She praised you constantly, and asked you to go everywhere with her. Even, where Alicent couldn't follow. You had a dragon. An awful, ill-mannered beast that had the foulest temper. Just like her owner. Rhaenyra and you spent the mornings flying and playing chase, while Alicent remained forgotten on the ground.

Every time you entered a room, Alicent's blood boiled. She felt as if she was on fire from how much the thoughts consumed her. She hated you. She hated you. She hated you because she wanted so badly to be you.

With no one to divert King's Viserys' attention, Alicent found herself cornered. Her father said it was a good thing, that the King realized he didn't need a spirited wife. You were a wild, willful maiden, with teeth as sharp as the ones on your dragon. Were you made Queen, you would have bled Westeros dry. Alicent was much better suited to the task, meek and subservient as women should be.

But if she was all those things, as her father said, why did she feel such rage? By the Seven, when you were near, Alicent wanted to scratch your face to shreds.

Envy. It was envy and it was a sin. She often tried to remind herself of that, when she saw you parading around the Red Keep, surrounded by Rhaenyra and a round of age appropriate suitors.

It didn't work to calm her heart.

“Are you still in here?” Your voice brings her out of her contemplation. You stand at the entrance of the Sept, a quirky little smile on your face. "It's been quite a while.”

Alicent looks at the candle she had lit, when the three of you had come to the Sept earlier this morning. It's burned almost completely, only the smallest piece of wick and wax remaining. She has stayed here for hours and barely noticed. That strong of a hold you had over her thoughts.

“Evidently.” Alicent answers, tone harsh. Your face drops slightly.

“I didn't mean to disturb you. Rhaenyra is looking for you, that's all.” You are not even that pretty. Alicent is much more comely. Your features always glimmer with a hint of intellegence that's just not proper for a lady of your station.

“I'll go when I am ready.”

You leave her alone with her thoughts and the sparks of the fire. If you were a better person, perhaps you would have stayed. But you are not, so you run off as always, chasing whatever inane pleasures you are always up to.

Not even a week passes before that awful announcement. No one tells her. She finds the same as anyone else. Rhaenyra's look of betrayal is etched into her memory.

She isn't quite sure of what to feel. Alicent knows this is a great thing, she will turn into the most powerful woman in the realm. Nothing could bring her house more honor, there is no greater achievement of her duty.

At the same time, she is terrified. King Viserys is not the kind of man she ever dreamed of marrying. Alicent had hoped for a groom closer to her age. The fact that he is Rhaenyra's father makes her skin crawl with disgust.

When she had thought of marriage, she had always envisioned it as being like what her parents had. Alicent remembers the times when her mother was alive, how her father had tended to her, how much he had mourned her. That was true love, she had thought. True love a thousand times. A love so powerful her father never remarried, never even looked at another woman.

But while Viserys was old enough to be her father, he was not half the man Otto Hightower was. Instead of remaining in proper mourning, he had started making arrangements immediately to marry another.

Even your sister, tiny Laena Velaryon, had been considered. Alicent had found out because of the hell you had raised, when she was sent on her own walk with the King. You had screamed at your father until you went hoarse, and received a hearty slap as a reward. Not even that had stopped you from looming menacingly at the entrance of the Red Keep, watching them with hawk's eyes. Viserys had decided he would not marry her either.

What was it about you? Gods, Alicent knew she should be the happiest maid in Westeros. Her father's plots to secure a future for her had been well rewarded, she was about to do her duty in the most spectacular manner. No longer would her father have to fear for her like yours did. The most important man, the one blessed by the Gods themselves to rule Westeros, had chosen her. Yet, Alicent still envied you.

It made no sense. You could not be in a worse position. You were spinning out of control, or so everyone said. First, it had been the rejection of the King's advances, then the screaming match with your father. There was a certain strength in your rebelliousness, though. You braved the rumors with your head held high, strolling through the halls of the Red Keep as if you owned the place.

Rhaenyra was never far from you now, either. That, too, she envied. Before your appearance, they had been thick as thieves. Suddenly, she was all about you, and none about Alicent. This marriage proposal had been perceived as the ultimate betrayal, and she didn't seem to believe Alicent when she had tried telling her she had not known.

You tried to go on with your normal routine regardless. Every time you got the chance, you tried reuniting Rhaenyra and Alicent in one room. You must get a lot of enjoyment out of seeing Rhaenyra yell at her because once more, you had organized for the three of you to have tea. It was not going well. Or it was going very well for you. Alicent could not tell.

“You could have refused him.” Rhaenyra slammed her hand against the table. Unperturbed, you stared between the two of them.

Alicent felt the urge to scream and scream and never stop. This was terribly unreasonable. But instead, what came out of her mouth was…

“He is the King!”

“He is my father!” And with that last shriek, Rhaenyra was out of the parlor.

“He never asked.” Alicent growled, slamming her own hand on the table. She couldn't afford to scream, less the guards hear. But she surely felt like it.

You sprawled back on your seat, an amused expression taking over your face. Alicent wanted to slap the smug look off your face.

“He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.”

“He asked you?” Alicent's head turns. Of course he would. You were so important, after all. So freaking perfect. So learned and special. Oh, how she wanted to grab you by all that pretty hair and tug.

“I said no. And I said I would rather die than marry him, for he was as old as my father and a bad man, who would sacrifice his wife as if she were a breeding bitch…” It is as if once the words start tumbling out of your mouth, you can't stop them, blurting them without a care. There is a strange look in your eyes. “And then I said I would feed his limp dick to my dragon if he ever tried to force me, and raze his fucking Kingdom to the ground.”

Fear. You are scared, Alicent marvels. Scared of Viserys. Just as she is. Your words are feverish, you seem to be drowning in them. Like you need to scream, and scream and never stop.

“And his guards didn't say anything?” She says, still in disbelief at your words.

“Oh, I said it all in High Valyrian.” It's not even funny, but it cracks both of you up. Alicent realizes, startled, that perhaps you are not so bad after all.

A few days pass before you come to her again. This time, you are wearing riding attire, sweat making your hair flatten against your skull. You are so much like Rhaenyra in that instant that Alicent's heart stutters.

“I have been thinking about your problem.” You say, perching next to her in what surely you believe to be extreme daintiness. You are also the sort to think her dragon a baby, so it's not like it's unprecedented.

“Excuse me?” Alicent frowns. She wasn't aware she had a problem, much less that you were intent on fixing it. She had thought her hatred reciprocated. But was it? Suddenly, all of your interactions are in a new light. All of your snide little comments, all of your interruptions. You had never been trying to argue, you had been trying to befriend her.

“Run away with me.” You whisper, grabbing her hands. “Don't marry him.”

Alicent stumbles back. What you are suggesting could be considered treason. Perhaps you did hate her after all.

“Why should I trust you? You might be plotting my ruin.”

“I might. Or I might be saving you from the worst mistake of your life.”

She only thinks back to your proposal on the day of her wedding. Alicent spends the days leading up to it in a state of such nerves she can barely think of anything beyond how doomed she is. Your words don't register as an actual possibility.

Alicent's father says she is the most gorgeous bride he has ever seen. He says she looks just like her mother did on her wedding day, that he is making him proud. And she clings to that. But it's not until she is entering the Sept and sees you on the front row, clapping, that she breaks.

You stand in a blue gown, clapping almost aggressively. Her eyes search for yours, as she is about to say her vows.

You stare back. You arch an eyebrow.

“I am…. I can't do this.” Alicent drops her cloak, gathers her skirts, and runs. She passes you and grabs you by the arm, forcing you to run too. You catch up quickly.

The guests stare. King Viserys opens and closes his mouth.

“What..?”

“Alicent!” Her father screams. “Come back here, you foolish child!”

“Good for you!” She can almost make out Rhaenyra's voice, from the crowd. It only pushes her to run faster, harder.

“Hurry, before they recover!” You scream, pulling her even more.

The two of you share your first kiss hours later, with no one but the endless ocean and your dragon as witnesses.

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