#This entire session was a shouting match | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mercurycft · 4 months

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𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 — 𝐋𝐁

## lucy bronze x reader !!

Enjoy this cheeky little something something while I perfect the next chapter of ‘OFF LIMITS’.. This is probably my favourite thing I've written in a while, as well as the longest too! Love always! - RG! x

can you tell im a sucker for a ‘forbidden love’ type fic? contains: softtop!lucy. age!gap but i promise its entirely legal. thigh riding, fingering, praise, finger sucking.

3.3k words.

CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT & LANGUAGE 18+

“I swear on my life Leah, It isn’t a big deal!”

“And I swear on my life, I will volley him over the bar!” She slurred, pointing a firm finger in the direction of the ‘handsy’ bartender. Before the situation could get any more embarrassing, you pushed her away and towards the table with a timid and apologetic smile back in his direction. Alcohol tended to brew confidence in Leah. Her usual calm and quiet demeanour slipping away with every sip of her drink throughout the night.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head and patting her shoulder. “Sit down, before you get yourself in trouble.” You mumbled, raising your eyebrows to the other girls who sat around the table as Leah slumped herself next to Alex and started ranting. The other girls were tucked neatly around the booth - all of their faces plastered with an amused look as they watched on, disregarding their own conversations to try and listen in.

Most of her words were drowned out by the music, bass bouncing off the walls. From what you could hear, a slightly tipsy Leah had read the situation wrong - assuming the bartender had started flirting and ‘pushing his luck’ as she put it, when you had leaned in to hear him better. You shook your head and tried to stifle a laugh when she started defending herself, encouraged by the rest of the group who were highly entertained by the whole thing.

Leah was a funny drunk, a table-top dancer, shot-encourager and very clearly protective. It was admirable, but so funny. It was funnier, however, listening to her explain to the rest of the group. Her voice cracking and jumping octaves as she tried to shout over the music - throat becoming hoarse.

You stood from the booth after a few minutes, leaning across the back of the booth to pat Alex’s shoulder, bringing your lips into a tight line and holding in your laughs as she you left her stranded with a fuming, blonde companion. Making your escape and b-lining for the dance floor, where the rest of your friends were.

Leah, by nature is protective. The captain of the team, and now headed towards being a european champion. But before all of this, she was a big sister. Your big sister. You were only a year and a half younger but she made it her life mission to protect you and this wasn’t a role she took lightly. She looked after you, steering you out of harms way and at times, getting herself in trouble instead. Just like tonight.

You had been around football, and most of the girls, for a majority of your life. It was Leah’s passion, and it filled you with pride as she got to live her childhood dream. As a result, you and the rest of her teammates had spent a lot of time together - and you got on like a house on fire.

You went to most training sessions, filming content. You went to almost all matches, and her friends quickly became your friends. So when the group had gone out for celebrations, following the match that shot them straight into the semi- finals, naturally you were invited along.

You were now in the midst of the crowd of bodies. Drink in hand and arm in the air as everyone sang, no massacred, a Kings of Leon banger. Stomping their feet and dancing along, screaming. You were stood laughing between Lucy and Jordon - who were surprisingly joining in the chorus, arms strung around each other.

Waiting until the song ended and the room filled with cheers to poke your head between them both, shouting “Can I steal Lucy for a sec, mate?” Jordon simply laughed, leaning back in to reply with an ‘of course’ and shuffling away towards another group of the girls.

Before you could speak, her mouth was pressed to your ear as she tried to reach a hearable volume. “Tenner on your sister two-footing someone tonight!” You couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes and shoving against her.

“That’s because you lot encourage her!”

“I do not! I simply tell her to express her anger how she sees fit!”

“Oh so in other words, encouraging!” You laughed back, sarcasm lacing your words. Lucy was always easy to talk to, a familiar face. Leah and Jordan spent a lot of time together, which meant Leah, Jordan and Lucy spent a lot of time together. It wasn’t unusual to find the three scattered around the living room on a Sunday, practically dead to the world, often after a particularly messy night.

“Tenner that we’ll be the ones carrying her back to her room later as well!” You added, clinking your glasses together as another song reeled through the speakers - greeted by a crowd of screams and cheers.

—————————

You were right, though you always were when it came to Leah. Now you stood inside the lift, Leah with one arm draped over your shoulder and the other over Lucy’s. You both tried to hold her up as best you could, which was hard when she was pretty much falling asleep between you.

It felt like three hours had passed when the three of you, four if you included an also drunk Jordon who was trailing behind the group with her head tucked into her phone, had finally made it their shared room. Scanning Leah’s key-card and dragging her through the door and getting her on the bed.

Fifteen minutes later, her makeup was off and pjs on. Though that was mostly the work of you, physically having to peel her clothes off of her body and replace them without any help on her end as she dead-weighted against you. You did all this while Lucy put her phone on charge, and made sure she had a water bottle beside her bed for the night.

When you had finally put her to bed, Lucy spoke up from behind you. “Does this mean I owe you a tenner?” you scoffed at her remark, turning to face her.

“If that was the case, you owe me about a grand in bets since we met!”

“Oi, don’t even! I have definitely paid that back in all the takeaways I buy you and your bloody sister!”

“Touché, Bronze,” you grumbled back, turning to place a kiss on Leah’s forehead and say goodnight to Jordan, who was laid beside her and almost asleep before you had even left the room.

When you got outside and shut the door behind you, you looked towards Lucy to thank her for her help and apologise for ripping her away from the party, but were met with her hand already lifted to stop you. “Don’t even say it, you know I don’t mind.”

You smiled at her, taking a deep breath and checking the time on your phone. “Shit, I need to get an uber. I’ll text you in the morning?” You said, looking up periodically from your phone whilst typing in your address.

“Why don’t you just stay here? I don’t think I like the idea of you in a taxi alone this late,” She started, checking the time on her phone. “It’s past 2, absolutely not.” She confirmed, shaking her head and pulling out her own key-card. “Just stay with me. I’ll get you a taxi in the morning,”

“It’s fine! I’ll just hop in with the girls-”

“If Leah finds out I let you get in a taxi, she will actually punch me in the face.”

“You do have a point..”

The pair of you had started walking through the hall by this point, still arguing lowly at the idea of you in a taxi alone. Lucy didn’t take no for an answer, swiping her card and unlocking her room. “If you don’t go and get in that bed right now I will call your mother.” She pressed, teasing. Her accent seemed to get thicker with the presence of alcohol in her system.

“Oh really..” You shot back folding your arms together across your chest, challenging her. You watched as she fumbled with her phone, mumbling some sarcastic comment under breath while pulling up your mum’s contact and hovering her finger over the call button.

“Don’t make me wake Amanda up..”

“Fine!” You caved, scurrying into the room and holding your hands up in defence. She followed close behind, pleased with herself and shutting the door behind her.

Once in the room you sat on the bed, undoing your shoes and chucking them in some direction away from you - you didn’t care, as long as they were off. You got up to wash your face, wincing when the soles of your feet met flat on the floor. “Fucking heels,” You whispered, walking to the bathroom in a huff.

When you emerged back into the room, Lucy was already changed. Shorts and a sports bra now adorning her tanned body, you had to shake yourself out of the moment as you stared at her back. Admiring the toned muscles as she dug through her suitcase, turning briefly to throw something towards you.

“Put that on,” It was short, but sounded sweet and made you smile internally. Turning back towards the bathroom to strip and put the shirt she had given you on. It was a football top with ‘BRONZE’ plastered across the back of your shoulders, but it did the job and was comfier than your outfit previously.

You stood in the bathroom for a few moments, pulling your hair into a ponytail before shutting off the light and making your way back to the bed. “Left or right?” You questioned.

“What?” She looked at you, her glasses now perched on the bridge of her nose snd you swore you felt your insides shift.

“Uh- Side of the bed? Left or right?” You stammered, pointing towards the sheets.

“Whatever tickles your fancy, I don’t have a side,” She shrugged back, trying to contain her smirk when she caught you looking at her for a second too long.

You made a fake disgusted face back to her, scrunching your nose. “You’re such a freak, who doesn’t have a side of the bed?”

“Me, obviously.” She retorted, rolling her eyes sarcastically.

You had opted for the side closest to the window, walking around the bed with your back to Lucy. She had to stop herself from audibly groaning at the sight of her name printed across your shoulder blades, unable to tear her eyes away. Lucy would be lying if she said she didn’t find you attractive, because you were and she did.

When you had rounded the bed, you pulled at the linens. Yanking them up and over your body as you got comfortable in the bed, sinking into the mattress and sighing when your head hit the pillow - facing the other side of the bed which was yet to be occupied.

—————————

The bed dipped beside you after a few minutes,and Lucy shuffled under the covers next to you after faffing about the room. Flicking the light switch above her bedside table to turn off the lights, your phone now the main source of light.

You lowered your phone to shine in her face, smiling when you were greeted with a smile. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a Williamson in my bed,” She quipped, winking dramatically as you faked a gag.

“Gross! I’m going to tell then you told me that,” you replied, laughing and turning to place your phone on the table beside you. You faced the window, the curtains closed but still allowing some light from a lamp outside to peak through. With your back now to Lucy, she had a full view of her name once again. “Goodnight Lucia..” You whispered into the dark, sighing contently into the silence.

“Goodnight,” She replied, still scanning your back. Noticing how the shirt sat bunched above your hips, revealing a slither of your back and the lace of your underwear - sucking in a breath at the sight alone. You felt her hand skim gently across the letters on the top, smiling into your pillow.

She had gotten closer, her arm now slung across your waist and holding you against her. Time had passed but still you were awake, and you knew she was too. The loud thrumming in your chest prohibiting any chance of sleep, when you felt her presence beside your ear.

You could feel her breath on your neck as she leaned in towards you slowly, whispering a small “Is this okay?” as her lips lingered over the skin below your ear, awaiting your answer. You nodded and she moved closer, pressing her lips against your neck softly.

They were tender but calculated and you breathed heavily out into the room when she kissed along your shoulder, dragging her teeth over the material of her jersey. You waited a few more minutes before turning over to face her, flushed. Taking a deep breath and looking into her eyes, your faces were close. Closer than you realised. So close you could see every groove, every line and feature. Lips no more than centimetres apart.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

That was all she needed, bringing her lips to press against yours. Hand still gripping your waist and guiding your frame to lay flush against hers as your hands moved to cup the back of her neck and head, lips moving in sync.

The next few minutes were a blur of movement and small, breathy giggles and now you sat on her lap - straddling the top of her thighs with your mouths still connected. The kiss was now a mixture of desperation and yearning, hands grabbing at whatever skin they could find beneath the sheets.

Her head dipped, kissing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and along your throat. You couldn’t help but whimper when her teeth grazed a particularly sensitive patch of skin, right where your neck and collar bone met. You could feel her smirk against you, which only made the feeling in the pit of your stomach worse.

—————————

You had tried to remove your top, well her top, but were met with a protest telling you to keep it on. Her skin on fire at the thought of you wearing her name as you sat now desperate on top of her.

Your hair was now down, and one of her hands sat roughly in the roots. Tugging at the stands to guide you against her mouth, when she felt you start to rock your hips against her. Eliciting a guttural moan from the back of her throat.

She used the hand still on your waist to slow your movement to a stop, moving to lift you up and over until you straddled one of her thighs. The only barrier between you both was your underwear, and when you shifted your weight she felt your wetness graze against her. Smirking and pulling away to look at your face.

“You wanna ride my thigh, darling?” She whispered, eyes locked on yours as you enthusiastically nodded. Eyes glazed over, and eyebrows furrowed with need. She smiled at the action, moving her fingers to push your underwear aside and lift her thigh to meet your warmth. Groaning when she felt you coat her thigh.

You moaned at the contact, your clit already sensitive and throbbing. You didn’t know how she did it, how she had you wrapped around her finger and laying in the palm of her hand but you loved every second of it. Mouth falling agape when she began guiding you up and down the length of her thigh, rocking your hips against her.

“Does that feel good baby?” She asked from your neck, her lips stopping their sloppy kisses for a second. You whimpered in response, nodding slowly. Her hand met your jaw in a swift but gentle motion, pulling you to focus on her. “Use your words, love.”

“Yes it feels good, Luce..” You whispered, licking your lips. Head falling back as you worked her thigh, the sound of your wetness protruding through the quiet of the room and accompanied by the sound of laboured breathing from below you.

“Good girl..” She added, jaw clenched when she attached her lips to your neck again. You savoured the feeling, the delicious feeling as you dragged yourself against her skin moving to tuck your head into her neck.

“Need more, Luce..”

“Hm? What’s that?” She was egging you on, hands moving to squeeze at the flesh of your thighs. Helping you rut against her.

“Want your fingers..” You confessed, dragging your own teeth along her shoulder now - biting down against the skin when you felt your face flush.

She had you flipped in seconds, now towering over you as you laid flat against the bed helping her shimmy your underwear off. Once gone, she spread your legs - moaning at the sight of your juices dripping and now covering the inners of your thighs. You blushed at the sound, biting your lip to muffle any noises you were concerned about making in response.

You felt her fingers next, sweeping through your folds and drawing tight circles around your clit. Moaning when she pressed the pads of her fingers harder into the bundle of nerves, finding it humorous as your body responded to her touch.

“Please,” You begged, hips rising off the bed in a desperate act for more friction. She shut the down quickly, using her free hand to pin your hips back to the mattress.

“Please what, darling..” Lucy stalled, slowing down to an unbearable speed. “What do you want..?” She added lowly, coaxing you out of your shell.

“Want you to fuck me.. Please..” You squirmed, knees now bent and sat on either side of your hips - inviting her in. You felt as she slowly and carefully slipped in a single finger, watching your face contort before she added another.

Stretching you out perfectly and starting to move them methodically inside you. Pulling out the perfect amount before pushing them back inside, curling up against your tight walls to press against your g-spot.

Her pace and pressure increased with the volume of your sultry moans, back arched into her touch and face buried in your arms as her fingers pressed perfectly inside of you. Bringing her thumb to toy with your clit, salivating as she watched you take her.

She could feel you squeezing around her fingers, becoming breathless as you chased your orgasm - chest rising with every thrust of her fingers. “You gonna cum for me?” She asked, her free hand lifting to the side of your face to force you into eye contact.

“Y-Yes,” You stuttered, eyes rolling into the back of your head when her fingers curled. Mouth hung open and hips riding against her fingers.

“Show me how you cum, baby..”

That was all it took for you, orgasm crashing through your body and shaking through your limbs. Legs thrashing around her hand as you came, back arched and screaming out her name - which caused her to smirk, watching you intensely.

Lucy let you ride it out, only stilling her thrusts when your back finally laid against the bed again - catching your breath when you heard her chuckle deeply. Bringing her fingers up to your mouth and slipping them past your lips, admiring how you took them and started working against them. Pulling away with a pop when you felt they were clean, and looking up at her.

A deafening silence engulfed the room, as Lucy fell beside you on the bed. She turned on her side to face you and handed you a towel she had grabbed, which you accepted gracefully and did what you could.

“Jesus..” You whispered, testing the air.

“That’s not my name..” She threw back, earning a weak laugh. There was the normal Lucy you had grown to love, you thought whilst lifting your hand to swat at her chest.

“Let’s maybe not tell Leah about this..”

“Agreed.”

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totaly-obsessed · 7 months

Note

Could you write for alessia where the reader gets badly injured during a match and alessia completely over reacts during trying to protect and look after reader

Hovering

Alessia Russo x reader Drabble & Request

-> Reader gets injured, Alessia loses it, and turns into a nurse

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Derby’s were always different matches than the usual – feistier, more brutal. There was a real passion behind it. And this game was no different. Arsenal against Tottenham, the north London derby. The training sessions were even more intense than usual, and the speech Leah gave in the changing room was terrifying. While the blonde couldn’t play, still out with her ACL, she was still a Gunner through and through – so she sat at the sidelines, shouting words of encouragement.

Standing in the tunnel you could feel the tension, it made you nervous. While most loved derby days, you didn’t – they were scary. Your lovely girlfriend knew it, trying to get you to sleep until three in the morning, whispering calming words into your ears as she rubbed your back in a soothing motion. Now, standing behind you, she rested her bigger hands on your shoulders – weighing your nervous body down.

The crowd was electric while walking in and through the entire first half where Less had scored a gorgeous goal – the halftime speech mainly consisted of encouraging words to further the lead by a goal or two. Everything was going fine until Arsenal was given a corner kick.

Steph was the one to take it – and now the only thing you remember was hearing Katie shout out a ‘you bitch!’ as you went down. Your entire face hurt as a metallic taste filled your mouth. Dazed you sat on the ground as everything escalated around you.

The medics were talking at you, pressing a towel against your nose, and lighting a lamp in your eyes as your conciseness started to fade.

It felt like a dream when you woke up in the medical room, surrounded by your teammates, who were quietly chatting amongst themselves. “Amore! You’re awake!” Your girlfriend sat up next to you, taking your hands into hers. Your eyes were hazy, the brightness of the room needing you to hold a hand in front of them. It was Kim who turned the light off, sitting directly in front of the switch for it.

“What happened?” Alessia nearly cooed at your croaky voice, feeling sorry for you. After looking at her a bit closer, you noticed tear streaks on her cheeks. With shaky hands, you reached out to wipe the new tears away, as she gave you a tight smile. “You jumped for the header, but got pushed into the goalpost by a Tottenham player.”

And just like that, the pain in your nose returned – as you went to touch it, Less caught your hands, taking them into hers once again. “Still made the goal though. And Russo got a red.” Kyra laughed as she remembered how your goal went in, going to hug you, just to see you lying on the ground, with a bloody nose and absent eyes.

With shocked eyes, you looked at your girlfriend, who looked way sheepishly. “W- What? Alessia?” Other than expected, the girls started cheering - quickly stopping when their striker's angry gaze met theirs. Katie patted her on the back like a proud older sister, who had gotten her sibling into trouble. “Russo here can get feisty. Some nice yelling at the Ref, pushing players – Slapping a bitch…”

You nearly thought that you had misheard the Irishwoman. “You slapped someone?” The blonde knew that she really was in trouble now – so did everybody else as they quietly laughed. “Amore – she pushed you! You were bleeding a-and I couldn’t help myself so I- I…” She gave up, seeing your raised brow.

The team girls stayed for a while as a doctor came and explained your bruised nose, chipped tooth, and very annoying concussion.

Seeing your pain and Alessia’s longing eyes Kim decided to gather the team and go home, leaving the blonde on your bed at your side before she took you to your joined home again. “I was so scared, Amore.” Now it was your turn to coo, kissing her puffy cheeks, tasting the saltiness of her tears on your lips. “I know baby. But you didn’t need to get a red. I appreciate your protecting me very much, but it wasn’t needed.”

Alessia spent the rest of the evening hovering. Helping you in the bath, helping wash your hair, helping you get out, making dinner, helping you change, and helping you get ready for bed. And as much as you tried not to say anything, it felt suffocating.

“Alessia?” You were lying in bed by now, while Alessia ran through the room, trying to think of things to make your night better. “Hmm?”

“If you wake me up in the night – I’ll kill you.” Your girlfriend gulped nervously, hoping that you were joking.

After two hours of restless sleep, Alessia was still awake, she woke you up again. “I’m sorry Amore, but I need to check, you know that.” You did know that. But you were still annoyed.

Throughout the night she was met with various harsh responses to being woken up – but she handled them like a champ, knowing that you loved her – you were just tired and in pain.

Alessia couldn’t help but hover for the next days, having taken off from training as well.

While it was annoying, you wouldn’t change it for the world, enjoying your time together even if you weren’t feeling so well. the striker would never regret that red card, content to have you by her side, nursing you back to full health.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader

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libraryofloveletters · 11 months

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New Year, New Challenges.

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Warnings: heavy content warning ahead! - all the children are over 18!, cheating/publicized cheating, swearing, fights, separation of parents/divorce, alcohol and the consumption of, pregnancy mentions, abortions and medication relating to said topic, lots of tears, a few punches are thrown, throwing up, blood mentions, family therapy sessions, the dads are in over their heads, Charles is bamboozled as is Carlos and Pierre (all separate reasons), drunk teenagers, google translated French and Spanish.

Word Count: 4.9k

Author’s Note: so many of you guys have been asking for an update to daddy and me + three, so here it is! it's a jam packed on so hopefully this holds y’all over lmao - there is heavy content in this, please check warnings before reading.

Daddy & Me + Three Masterlist

---

Oliver’s 19th birthday was set to be an affair as dramatic as he was; booze, flair and fun was what the invite read when he showed you a few weeks back.

As most events started, all of the children rounded up at the Leclerc house and headed out from there, the 6 of them heading to dinner with Georgina and Adrian meeting them there before they head to the club for the night.

It was approaching 3:30 in the morning when the front door swung open - you, Charles and Carlos were all sitting in the kitchen. Sofia’s voice was coming from the foyer, the intensity matches the clicks of her heels on the tile floors.

Her father was waiting for her, the two of them would be on a flight heading to Spain in a few hours for her grandfather’s birthday. Hence why he was at yours, knowing that the kids would be getting in late and he figured it was best for her to freshen up by yours and head to the airport from there.

What he wasn’t expecting were the words coming out of her mouth; “fuck you Christopher! You’re just like my fucking father. I refuse to end up like my mother.”

The look of sheer mortification that covered her face when she saw her father in the kitchen was enough to make her sick to her stomach; the sudden taste of tequila creeps up the back of her throat before she runs out the backdoor.

You could see the horror on Carlos’s face, the heartbreak setting in but her words replaying in his head as he realized what she said to Christopher, the man in the doorway.

“You cheated on my daughter?!” Carlos shouts at him, already out of his seat. Charles was up right after him, putting himself between his son and his friend.

Charles looks at you, his hands against his friend’s shoulders to push him back. Christopher was already rattling on an explanation to Carlos as soberly as he could and you took that as your chance to go out and check on Sofia.

“Sof?” You called, stepping into the yard.

The soft sniffles came from the swing set in the corner of the yard; you could see a figure in the dark, the light on the back patio brightened the yard just enough to make her out. As you made your way over to her, you thought back to the time she was 6 years old and Christopher had broken her favourite doll. She was in fits until Charles glued it back together for her but the entire time, she hid outside on the swings.

“Darling,” you rested a gentle hand on your shoulder, careful not to startle her. She turned to you in tears, her makeup smudged as she wiped her face with the back of her hand.

You can’t help but feel sorry for the girl, your heart breaking into pieces when you pull her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into your chest as you rubbed her back.

You sat next to her on the empty swing. “What for?”

“For causing a scene, I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

“It’s okay,” you reached over to pat her hand. “You’ve got your father’s flare for dramatics.” You joked, hoping to lighten the mood. The mention of her father caused the tears to start again and you’ve gotten up, hugging the girl once again.

“I didn’t know he was there.”

“I know, and it's okay. He knows you didn’t mean it to hurt him.” You looked down at the girl, your hands cupping her face; she looked so innocent and little. You can feel the pieces of your heart breaking as you look at her. “It's okay to be mad at your dad, given everything that’s happened.. and Christopher too.”

You weren’t even sure if he did cheat on her, you prayed to god that he didn’t but the last thing she needed at the moment was you taking his side over hers.

Sofia has had a hard few months; her father’s cheating was publicized all over the news in Spain and all over social media through the racing community, her parents’ picture-perfect marriage fell apart in front of her and she watched as her mother packed her bags, along with her sisters and moved back home to Spain. Sofia stayed in Monaco for school and her father stayed with her; despite the cheating, which she knew he did, she didn’t side with her mother.

She had always been Carlos’s favourite and she knew as much - it wasn’t fair to her for her to feel like she couldn't be mad at him because of that.

“I know I should hate him,” she sniffled, pulling away from you. “I can’t.. he’s my dad.”

“I know baby, I know.” You wiped her face with the inner side of your shirt. “Do you want to talk to him? I can ask him to come out here.”

“Could you?”

“Of course,” you smiled at the girl, kissing her forehead before walking back to the house.

The three men were all on guard, waiting for one of the three to swing first. It felt a bit odd to be walking into something like that but you cleared your throat when you walked through the back door.

“She wants to talk to you.” You say and Christopher takes a step towards you but you hold your hand out to stop him. “Not you,” you turn to Carlos, “you.”

In the moments it takes you to tell Carlos what Sofia said, Charles is pulling Christopher away to the living room. You follow them once the backdoor slides shut.

“You cheated on her?” You started on your son, “I cannot fucking believe you’d do that to her!”

“Mom, I didn’t-”

“Christopher, do not lie to me. Sofia is the best thing to happen to you, that girl has been in love with you since you were ten years old and you cheated on her? What quick fuck could possibly be worth breaking her heart?!”

“Maman!!” Christopher shouts, his French coming out when he was flustered. “I did not cheat on her!”

You looked at Charles, your husband silent as he listened to his son explain for the second time since he got home what had gone down that night. “Sofia was getting a drink and Georgina comes up to me-”

The mention of your son’s best friend puts you on edge; she’s a wonderful girl but you knew Sofia was wary of her and Christopher does stupid things when he’s drunk.

“She was pissed, drunk like there’s no tomorrow and she was asking about Adrain who was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t leave her like that, ma. I had to help her, so she's clinging to me and I'm practically holding her at this point and I drag her through the club to find Adrian. Sofia saw us and assumed something had happened between us; that we kissed. “

“And.. did you.. kiss?” You looked at him, hoping for a no.

Christopher shook his head, “ew no! I love Georgina like a sister, mom. I would never cross that line, even if I was drunk. That’s disgusting.”

You let out a breath of relief you weren’t even aware you were holding. Charles reaches out for you, his hand on your back when you pinched the bridge of your nose.

These kids will be the death of you.

“Chris, I love you but sometimes I wonder how you get yourself into these stupid situations.”

“What was I supposed to do, mom? Leave my best friend drunk and alone?”

“No, you did the right thing but you knew this is something that’s sensitive to Sof; give her time to cool off before you talk to her, let her fix things with her dad, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods, sighing. You give his arm a squeeze, turning back to look at your husband and before you could speak, the front door is being swung open again.

Eloise is singing Elton John’s I'm still standing on the top of her lungs and terribly off key - something she picked up from her father- but it was beyond obvious that the girl was drunk.

Charles is rushing over to Anthony, the boy struggling to keep his girlfriend up as she was over his shoulder.

You knew your husband was as pissed off as Ellie was drunk but he needed to hold it together.

She’s his baby, she always will be even though she’s 18 now and old enough to drink; he knew she did it but he never expected her to come up drunk off her ass.

“What happened?” He asked, helping Anthony put her down. The boy looked like he was about to collapse as well - surely he was drunk too, just not as bad as Eloise was.

“Uncle Cha, I don’t even know man.” He ran a hand down his face, “she was beside me and next thing you knew, she was drunk and dancing with some girl she just met. I don’t know when she had time to take all of those shots.”

Charles looked back at you, giving you a glare as you pursed your lips and looked away; there were many evenings before all of you had children that Pierre and Charles would have to carry you out the club after you had drunk your body weight in liquor.

The girl dropped herself against her father when she realized he’s there. “Hi papa!” She grinned at him, goofily you might add.

His face twists when he smells the liquor on him but he still brushes the hair away from her face as he used to do when she was little. “Ma belle, what happened?”

She shrugs, “dunno daddiooooo.”

You bit back a chuckle, noticing a shadow coming from the front door - you really needed to lock your door.

“Oh tu es là, bien.” (oh there you are, good.) Pierre pats his son on the shoulder. You looked at your husband’s best friend, confused as to why he's at your house at 4 in the morning.

“Anto said they were coming here, I figured I'd come and see if you needed help with the kids,” he fills you in and Ellie turns in her father’s arms when she hears the familiar voice.

“Uncle Pierre!” She squeals, stumbling towards her boyfriend’s father.

The Frenchman catches the girl, glancing at you the same way your husband did minutes ago when she clings to him. “Quelqu'un s'est amusé ce soir, pas vous ? Je peux sentir l'alcool, ma chérie.” (Somebody had fun tonight, didn't you? I can smell the liquor, sweetheart.)

She giggled at her uncle, holding onto him. “Oui, enfin du bon fun.” (Yes, finally some good fun.)

Charles had looked more worried now than he did when he found the pregnancy test in her room. Pierre gives his friend a look, “I got her,” he tells him, picking up the girl.

He held her, carrying her like a princess as she used to say as a kid when Pierre took her to bed; some things never changed. Anthony followed his father upstairs while you comforted your husband over the changing of times. He went to check on Carlos and Sofia while you got some water and something for Ellie to eat to sober up.

Pierre puts the girl down on her bed, pulling her shoes off so she can get comfortable. Anthony replaces his father by her bedside while he goes to get the trash can.

Eloise reaches for her boyfriend’s hand, looking at him with eyes full of tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, knuckles brushing over her soft cheek. She sniffles, holding back the tears.

“I wish I had kept it,” Eloise whispers to him and Anthony looks at the girl, confused. “Wish you kept what, amour?”

“The baby.”

Pierre was right outside her door but he froze, off to the side as he heard the words; he knew he should leave, he shouldn't be listening to their conversation but he couldn't pull himself away.

“What baby, Eloise?” Anthony’s eyes scan her face for some sort of an answer.

“Our baby.”

“We never had a baby.”

“We almost did.” She whispers to him, the tears rolling down her face.

“Wha- the test was negative, Ellie. You weren’t pregnant. You’re drunk, mon ange. Get some rest, you don’t know what you’re talk-”

“I was pregnant, Anthony.” Eloise stops him, forcing herself to sit up. “The test my dad found.. that was after.”

Anthony’s brain is running in overdrive, his heart pumping out of his chest as he takes in all the information she dropped on him. “After what?” He asks and she doesn’t answer.

He grabbed her hand, pulling slightly to get her focus back. “After what, Eloise?”

Her eyes met his ocean blue ones, the same eyes she could see her whole future in and now, it felt as if it was disappearing from her.

“Eloise, answer me.”

“After the abortion.”

Anthony sat there in silence; his head spinning as he tried to make sense of it. She was pregnant with his baby, their baby and she.. got rid of it?

It didn’t make sense.

Eloise loved him and Anthony loved her, she’d never do that.

The tears rolled down her fair cheeks, her hands gripping his wrists. “Anto.. please, say something.”

“You were pregnant, with our baby.” He finally brings himself to speak. She nods, unable to talk without breaking down further into tears. “Why.. Why didn’t you tell me? Did you tell anyone?”

“Gabe knew,” she whispers, “he took me.”

Anthony was seeing red at this point; partly toward Eloise for getting the abortion and not telling him but mostly towards his brother in law for taking her. Anthony loved Eloise with every fibre of his being, he'd give his life for hers if that meant she'd be happy; he would have dropped everything to raise a family with her.

HIs heart shattered into a million pieces over what could have been.

He didn’t stop to think how she must have felt to go through that alone when he stormed out the room. “Anthony, please!” She shouted after him, far too weak to get up.

Anthony sees his father by Eloise’s room when he rounds the corner to the stairs. Pierre gave his son an apologetic look, his own sense of distraught coming into play for both his son and his son’s girlfriend.

The man finds her in tears, her hand pressed to her chest as she tries to breathe. Pierre rushes to her side, holding her as he rubbed her back; “slow breaths, princess. In and out. I'm right here.”

Anthony’s heavy footsteps caused Charles to look into the hallway, about to shout for the boy but he was already out the door, the wooden door slamming shut.

“Jesus,” you huffed, looking from the kitchen. “What was that about?” You asked your husband, the man glanced at you, the door and then up the stairs.

You can see his train of thought in front of you and you’re behind him the moment he heads up the stairs. Charles is rushing into the room, sitting on the other side of Eloise, both her father and his best friend doting over the girl. You wanted to join them but you stayed by the end of the bed, figuring that she’d been a bit of space.

Judging by the look on her face and who just ran out the front door, you were almost certain you knew what had happened upstairs.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Charles rubbed her arm. She can't bring herself to speak, looking at you to fill in her father. Charles follows her glance and looks at you, “babe.. what’s-”

“Was it the..” you trailed off, and she nodded.

Pierre takes that as his sign to step out, giving you two some privacy with your daughter. “She had an abortion, Charles.”

The shock was written across your husband’s face but he said nothing, instead he held your daughter as she cried.

He was in shock; he didn’t even know she was pregnant and you knew? You never said anything to him but that was a conversation between you two best left for another time.

Charles goes to say something to you but there’s a loud shout coming from outside and you rush over to the window, checking to see what it was. The boys were shouting at each other, Gabriel on the floor with Anthony screaming at him.

You look back at your husband, yet another wordless exchange and you rush downstairs.

Outside, the scene unfolds; Anthony punches Gabriel square across the jaw when he sees him. “What the fuck?!” Oliver shouts, helping his boyfriend up.

“Why the fuck did you punch me?” Gabriel groaned, rubbing his jaw.

Anthony’s cheeks were covered in tears, the blind rage he was in fuelling his hatred for Gabriel at the moment. “How could you do that? To me? To your sister?” He shouted, going to hit Gabriel again.

Oliver looks between the men, realizing he's clearly missing a piece of the puzzle. “Babe, what did you do?” He asked, a bit afraid of the answer he was about to get.

Anthony answers for him; “he took her for an abortion.”

“Ellie was pregnant ?” Oliver turned to Gabriel, the surprise in his tone and on his face showed Anthony that it was in fact a secret.

Gabriel doesn’t even have the chance to answer when Anthony swings on him again. Gabriel reacts quickly, punching Anthony before he can get to him. Pierre was coming out when he heard the noise, as was Carlos from the back yard.

“Hey!” Pierre shouts, you watched from the front step unsure what to do. “Charles!” You shouted from your husband, “hurry!” You shouted again.

Christopher takes this as his chance to see what was happening, slipping past you when he sees the fight. You couldn’t even grab him, the younger twin rushing to defend his brother. Carlos and Pierre are trying to pull them apart, Sofia was shouting at them to stop and poor Oliver was sick, the boy hunched over in your bushes, throwing up what was consumed at the club. Charles comes down and rushes out when he sees them, you walk over to check on Oliver.

At some point after Oliver stops puking, the dads manage to separate the boys; Chris with his father, Gabriel with Carlos and Anthony with Pierre.

There’s two people walking up your driveway; Georgina and Adrian.

It was nearly 6am now, the sun starting to cast an orangish hue over Monaco and you needed everyone inside before the streets got busy again. You hold Oliver’s arm to keep him up, “alright that’s enough! Everyone in the fucking house!” You finally raised your voice despite all the chaos, sending everyone into the house.

The front door was locked after you walked in; a part of you wanted to put a no strays sign considering the amount of drama you’ve had over the last two hours.

With all the noise, Ellie had come down and ended up joining all of you in the living room. All 8 kids squished onto the couch and on the floor in front of it as you and the dads watched from the fireplace.

Per usual, they've left you to clean the mess - starting off the makeshift family therapy session.

“We're gonna solve this in order, okay? I don’t want to hear a word until you're spoken too.” The kids nod, all of them feeling some sense of shame, but they sat there quietly.

You turned to Anthony, “why’d you punch Gabriel?”

“Because of..” he trailed off, not wanting to air his dirty laundry to those who didn’t already know.

Those who knew, understood why he acted the way he did.

Eloise looked sick, like she was gonna throw up all over the rug and her brother noticed as much, Christopher wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder, handing her his water bottle. Gabriel butts in, defending himself and his sister. “You can’t be mad, Anto. I only did what was asked of me, I never forced anything on her. She knew if she wanted to keep it, we would have helped her.”

Anthony looked over at his girlfriend, the sadness and regret mixed across her face.

She had her father’s fair complexion but never had you seen her look so pale.

“It’s true,” she says quietly, “Gabe didn’t force me to do anything; he sat with me, made sure I was what I really wanted to do and at the time, it was. I was 17 Anthony, you had just turned 18 - we weren’t ready for that.”

The room fell silent, the fathers behind you exchanged looks to try and fill each other quietly so they could understand what was happening.

“I assume Gabriel hit you back in self defence,” you glanced between Anthony and Gabriel before turning to Christopher, “but you, god Chris,” you groaned. “You make some stupid decisions sometimes; why'd you have to get involved?”

“He was punching my brother, mom. You can’t expect me not to defend him.”

Charles looks at you, giving your hand a squeeze. “Dites-leur de laisser tomber. Nous n'avons pas besoin de plus de combats.” (Tell them to let it go. We don't need more fighting.) He says to you quietly, you nod in agreement. Pierre got the just of it, nodding to the plan of action.

“Okay if no one had anything else to add, we're gonna drop this stupid ass fight. What’s happened is all said and done, you're all gonna drop it, yes?”

You look at your sons and your daughter’s boyfriend, the 3 of them answering with some version of yes. Oliver raises his hand, you nod in his direction waiting for him to speak.

“I just wanted to say,” he leans over Gabriel to look at Anthony, “that was a weak ass punch.”

Anthony wasn’t having it with his friend, reaching over Gabriel to smack him but Christopher pulls him back before he can get to him.

You huff, roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Thank you for that very helpful piece of information, Oli.”

Oliver grinned, giving you a thumbs up. “Always my pleasure, auntie.”

In this moment, you can’t help but see Max in Oliver; the wicked grin on his face was identical to his father’s. He was the spitting image of Max, ways and all.

Pierre snickers from behind you and you turn, glaring at the man. He raises his hands in defence, “I can’t help it, that was funny.” Anthony rolls his eyes at his father’s comment but sinks back into the couch.

The living room was quiet once again and before you get the chance to speak, Georgina starts. “I don’t know what I did to you, but why are you giving me the nastiest look on the planet ?” She purses her lips, looking over at Sofia.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you did.”

Christopher rests his hand on Sofia’s thigh, which she pushes away. “Sof, please. Don’t start.”

“No, please do.” Georgina tells her, sitting up a bit more. “What did I do to you?”

Sofia scoffs, rolling her eyes at Georgina’s lack of self awareness. “You being drunk doesn't excuse the fact that you kissed my boyfriend.”

Adrian turns to his girlfriend so fast that he’s given himself whiplash, rubbing his neck when he goes, “huh?”

“I did not kiss Chris! That’s so gross, I mean no offense Chris but like.. ew.” The disgust was evident on her face, looking at her best friend and his girlfriend. “Chris was helping me over to Adrian, I lost him in the club.”

“So you two didn’t kiss?” Sofia looks between the two friends.

Chris and Georgina both answer at the same time; “No!”

She felt a bit bad for the events that had occurred that evening; her screaming match with Christopher, the words she said to her father and about Georgina but nonetheless, she brushed away the feeling.

“Okay,” she nods, “sorry for assuming.” She says, getting up. “Papá, deberíamos irnos. No queremos perder nuestro vuelo.” (Dad, we should go. We don't want to miss our flight.)

Carlos nods, getting up from his spot by the fireplace. You turn to your friend, “¿Ustedes dos están bien?” (Are you two okay?)

He nods, speaking quietly. “Tenemos trabajo que hacer, pero estaremos bien.” (We've got work to do, but we'll be fine.) You smile, giving him a hug before you let him and Sofia walk out.

Christopher follows them to the door, giving Sofia a hug. “I’m sorry,” she whispers to him, kissing his cheek. He nods, “it’s okay, babe. Have a safe flight, yeah? Text me when you land.”

“I will,” she smiles, giving him one more squeeze before stepping out. Carlos pats Chris on the shoulder on his way out.

Georgina was yawning, leaning on Adrian. “Can we just stay here?” He asked you, and you nod. “Of course sweetheart, you know you guys can stay here anytime.”

“I’ll make the guest room up for you two,” Charles says, getting up and walking down the hallway.

“I’ll help,” Georgina announces, getting up to follow uncle Charles as the kids deemed him many years ago, down the hallway.

Oliver gets up as well, helping Gabriel up. “We’re off to bed!” He calls, linking arms with his boyfriend as he holds a tissue to Gabriel's nose. Your oldest looks at you, giving you an apologetic look for the mess he’s made.

You walk over, kissing his cheek. “It's okay baby,” you held his jaw softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“I’ll help him get cleaned up,” Oliver tells you, nodding to the now dried blood on Gabriel’s face. You smile, giving Oliver’s arm a squeeze before they head upstairs.

You started clearing up the living room, tidying up the ruckus the boys made on their way in. Anthony gets up, walking over to Eloise. He kneels in front of his girlfriend who looks at him, the tears staining her pale cheeks.

“Amour,” he starts, holding her jaw. You and Adrian take that as a hint to leave, he helps you pick up a few things and take it to the kitchen. “I love you, no matter what, okay?” He tells her.

Eloise leans into her boyfriend, her forehead pressed to his. “Will you stay tonight?”

“Not tonight,” he whispers. “I just.. I need some space tonight.” Eloise nods, understanding that this was a lot of spring on him, she could beg him to stay but it’d do neither of them any good.

“I love you, always. I’ll be by tomorrow, okay?” He tells her when he stands.

She nods, “I love you, Anthony.” She looks up at her and he gives her a small smile, the sadness not able to fully hide behind it. Anthony leans down, giving her a kiss before walking away. She blinks away the tears, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. Pierre walks over to her, kissing the top of her head.

“It’ll be okay,” he tells her quietly, “you’ll be okay, I promise.” He smiles at the girl, giving her a hug. “I hope so.” She whispers and he nods, “you will be.”

She can hear Christopher and Anthony speaking in the hallway, eventually her brother comes into the living room and helps her up. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” He holds her to his side as they walk to the stairs.

“Can I stay with you?” She asks, not wanting to be alone tonight.

It reminded him of when they were younger and she’d swear she won’t get scared, begging to watch a horror movie with him and Gabriel. In the end, the three of them were squished into one bed because they were too scared to be alone.

Christopher nods, “of course.”

Adrian yawns, leaning on the counter as you filled the glasses with water. You slide two over to him, one for him and one for Georgina. “Did you tell your parents you were staying here? So they’re not looking for you?”

“Yeah, my dad knows we're here but I couldn’t get ahold of Georgina’s parents.”

“I’ll text George, don’t worry.” You tell him.

Adrian takes a sip of his water before getting off the stool. “Is it always this crazy here?”

You can’t help but laugh, “this is a regular Saturday for us, kid.” You walk him to the guest room, Charles was in the hallway getting extra pillows. “You get some sleep, it’s late.. or early? You know what I mean,” you give him a kiss on the temple before Charles hands him the pillows, the two of you leaving them to get some rest.

Charles grabs your hand, sighing as you two walk to the couch. The curtains were wide open, the sun had risen and the clock on the wall ticked with each passing second - 7:23am.

You looked over at him when you sat down, your husband’s head tipped back and his eyes closed. You can’t help but reach out and stroke his cheek - “remember when you wanted more kids?” You asked quietly, earning a laugh and a groan from him.

He opens his eyes, looking over at you with a sleepy smile. “Thank you for telling me no.”

Now you're laughing, leaning over to give him a kiss. “I love you, Charles.”

“I love you, y/n. I don’t know what I'd do without you.”

“Probably lose your mind?”

He drops his face into your shoulder, nodding. “Most definitely.”

---

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chvnnie · 1 year

Note

Thoughts on a boxing match with min/chan where you ask them to teach you and you end up manhandled to the floor and floored

the way i stopped breathing—

SMUT — MINORS DNI

“You throw shitty punches.”

“You’re a shitty teacher.”

“Oh? Is that why you asked me to train you?”

You drop your fists, face twisting in annoyance as you glare at your friend. There’s a smug smile on his face, one that you were fully expecting. Minho finds far too much enjoyment in your struggles.

“I actually asked Chan.” You say, tugging the gloves off and letting them hit the floor. They bounce a bit, rolling to the edge of the ring. “You inserted yourself into this.”

“Trust me, you much rather have me train you than him.” Minho, who opted for gauze instead of gloves, starts to unravel it. Though he called you weak, his hands are glowing red. A little swollen. Good, you hope it fucking hurts. “Just because he has more muscles doesn’t mean he’s better at fighting.”

You’ve walked towards a corner of the ring, picking you water bottle up off a stool. “What, and you are?” You ask following a long drink, holding it out to offer him some.

God, you hate how cocky he can be. Menacing smile, playfully evil eyes as he takes the bottle from you. As he drinks, he’s sure to make eye contact with you. Raise his brows a bit. You scoff in disgust and look away, acting like the bobbing of his Adam’s apple isn’t making you uncomfortably warm.

“Mhm.” He caps the bottle, returns it to its home on the stool. “Chan might be stronger, but I’m faster.”

You can’t help the laugh of disbelief you give. This can’t be serious. What is this shit? “Sure, Min, whatever helps you cope—“

“I’m not joking.” He’s so serious, it’s almost chilling. The playful expression he had is gone, replaced with his normal, almost cold one. The laugher is gone, replaced with a shiver you try to hide. “He’s bigger, which means he’s slower. To swing, to move, even to react. By the time he’s ready to land a blow, I’m already out of range.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Minho shrugs, and you think that’s the end of it. What time is it? It feels like you’ve been here forever. As you turn your head to look for the clock, you see something in the corner of your eye. Sharp reflexes have you ducking, narrowly missing your friend’s punch.

“What the fuck?” You shout, popping back up in anger.

There’s that aggravating smile. “See. Have to be quick.”

This. This is exactly why you asked Chan and not Minho. Blood boiling, you snatch your gloves off the ground. His eyes are on you the entire time, fire dancing in his eyes at your reaction. Once they’re secure, you swing.

And miss. Light on his feet, he bounces back. Just out of reach. Another one, another dodge. He laughs this time, avoiding each punch with a hit.

“Faster, come on!” Minho coaches. “You’re so close—“

“Shut up!” You snap, chest heaving as you begin this dance around the ring.

Punch. Duck. Swing. Miss. The fucking rabbit narrowly avoiding your shot every single time. As irritating as it is, you’re starting to become more confident. Your aim is better, there’s more force behind each blow.

You hate the smile he gives you. One of pride. One that makes your heart start to skip beats.

Oh, you’re fucking over it.

You lunge towards him, determined to put an end to this grueling and annoying session. Before you can even raise a fist, he hooks his foot around one of your legs. Suddenly, you’re on your back, groaning as stars dance on the ceiling on the gym.

Minho has you perfectly pinned to the ground; you can’t even squirm. Strong legs locked with yours, hands on your wrists and keeping them to your sides.

The smug smirk is back, and he’s leaning in. Nose close to yours, warm, minty breath fanning across your face.

“Still think I’m full of shit now?”

Stars begin to fall, yellow, white, and a soft pink as they land in the tight space in between your bodies. Some of them are cool, like the low octave of his voice. Some are warm, complimenting the fire in your belly. The gravity they bring has a pulling sensation. Follow the light, let it show you how it shines.

You have nothing to say, blinking up at your friend. His body has never been this close to yours, strong thigh perfectly wedged between your legs. It seems like he’s aware of this; the stars are beginning to dim as he gets closer, burning. Ready to explode when the tips of your noses meet. Lips hovering—

The metal door makes a loud door when it’s shut, scaring the pretty lights away. They spin back up to the ceiling, gone as quickly as they appeared. Minho gives an annoyed grunt, snapping his head to see who crashed this closed practice.

Chan stands near the door, gym bag in hand. His grey, cutoff gym shirt is drenched in sweat, obviously coming from his own workout. With a raised brow, he laughs.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The question snaps you out of the haze, gloved fists banging against Minho’s chest. Grunting, trying harder to escape his hold. If the others get wind of the compromising position, you’ll never live it down.

“Fucking move, you cunt—“

“You did.”

The gloves hit the mat with a thud, staring at Minho in complete shock. What the fuck is he doing? Whatever was sparkling is long gone, way out of reach now. Ruined by Chan. It should be left to fizzle away, never to be spoken of again.

With a laugh, he drops his bag, walking up to the ring. “Apologies, I thought we were training.”

You don’t like the look Minho gives you before he sits up, a small but evil grin on his face as he looks at his friend.

“We are.”

It takes him only a second to flip you onto your stomach. Before you can do much as protest, Chan is kneeling in front of you. A hand clasped over your mouth.

He clicks his tongue. “Didn’t you want our help?”

The braids you had so painstakingly put in this morning are untangled with little care. Chan has a rough grip on your hair, keeping your nose flush to his hipbone. Though you gag, cry, drool, he doesn’t move. Staring down at you with dark eyes and parted lips.

With a tap to his thigh, you could end this. Make him release you, and the three of you will leave. Never to speak of this again.

But the weight of his cock on your tongue is almost as heavenly as the one buried deep in your cunt.

Minho moves his hips in an agonizing motion. Hands on your ass, he kneads the flesh. Teases you other hole, thumb just barely inside. The tip of him nudges your walls deeper than anyway has, fluttering and clenching as the new feeling brings the stars back to earth.

Slowly, Chan pulls you off his cock. He thinks it’s precious how you cough, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

“Aww, poor thing.” A thumb collects the mix of spit and precum on your chin, pushing it back into your mouth. Quickly, you work around the digit just as you had with his cock. “Not used to this much attention at once?”

Your glassy eyes blink up at him, hardly processing the question. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why can’t you think? Where are the words that are spinning in your hallow mind, refusing to leave?

Minho laughs at his friend’s question, thrusting into you hard enough to make you unsteady. You slip, sweaty hands unable to hold you up.

“Of course not, hyung.” The way he smacks you makes your entire body sting, cries aching along with the sound of it. “Think about who you’re talking to. She’s too much of a good girl.”

You hate the way he speaks to you. You hate the way you love it, clinching and whining at the insult.

Chan smiles fondly at you, pulling his thumb from your mouth and quickly replacing it with his cock again. He guides you, setting the tempo himself while you work your tongue around it.

“Maybe with some training,” he tilts your head. Making sure you’re looking right at him. “You can be our good girl.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #minho smut #chvnnie thots

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heartss4val · 11 months

Text

𝐞𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐡𝐜'𝐬

summary. headcanons of your relationship with edmund pevensie while dating. (gn reader)

— straight up fluff, nothing else. PART 1/?

— Edmund leaves little notes everywhere. In the pages of your books, the pockets of your pants, etc. Usually they just consist of sweet words and reminders to eat and take care of yourself as a much needed endorphin boost. He always makes sure to fill up the entire piece of paper, front and back until there's no space to write any more loving words. — Random "I love you"s throughout the day for no particular reason. — Playful arguments over the most miniscule things, I mean seriously, the two of you bicker like a married couple. Edmund can be quite argumentative, but not in the way you expect. No, usually you quarrel over the correct way to toast a piece of bread, topics such as that. None of it is serious of course, nine times out of ten it turns into a tickle fight that ends with a cuddle session anyway. — Edmund naturally smiles excessively around you. He doesn't really think about it, it just happens. Like this guy literally GLOWS when he sees you, it's not even funny. When you look at him, he smiles. When you rant, he smiles. When you talk about your interests, he smiles. No matter where the two of you are and what you're doing, he's always grinning around you, both of you in your own world. — Even though Edmund is one of the most renowned swordsman in Narnia, that doesn't mean he's immune to the occasional injury. And so, you have to tend to his wounds quite often. Sometimes you end up scolding him if the wound was the result of reckless actions and impulsive behavior, and yes he appreciates the concern, but he just thinks it's cute how your lips form into a pout whenever he comes back with a new injury to tend to. He adores how much you care for him, even if it's just through small actions. — Absolute SUCKER for when you kiss his scars. Edmund used to see his scars as a nuisance, only there to remind him of the treacheries of war and danger. But of course, life has different perspectives for different people. So when you came around, reassuring him that his blemishes were a sign of his bravery and strength from the pain he endured, he felt like he was going to cry. And the second your lips came in contact with a particular scar just shy of his collarbone, he immediately felt comfort and a sense of safety wash over him. Maybe it was the warmth of your lips, or the alleviation of your words, whatever it was, it made him feel like maybe everything was going to be okay. — Kisses on the nape and shoulder. (goes both ways) — Since we're on the topic of kissing, Edmund has a thing for tracing your jawline before or while the two of you are kissing, or just sharing an intimate moment in general. He prefers to rest one hand on the curve of your hip, and the other hand caressing your jaw, no matter what the position is. He also enjoys trailing little pecks from the side of your neck to the corner of your lips before he finally presses his lips against yours. — Chess dates!! Yeah, it doesn't sound like the most romantic activity but, cmon, it's Edmund Pevensie. He'll find a way to make it memorable. And while he loves a fair match, (who doesn't?) sometimes he just so happens to "accidentally" put his king in danger and — oh will you look at that, you won. Yeah, maybe he changed up his moves a little so you would win, but it's all worth it to him. He adores the sight of your eyes lighting up, and how you throw your hands up in triumph and shout in glee. While you're busy celebrating, he gazes at you fondly with an impossibly soft look in his eyes. One of his hands is lying on his cheek, supporting his head, while his other hand still remains on his king. Even though he "lost", his smile is wide as ever because as long as you're happy, he's happy.

— On days when he's not busy with training or just occupied with the responsibilities that come with being one of the kings of Narnia, picnic dates are a must. He cooks up your favorite meals and packs them up in a picnic box along with the traditional red and white checkered blanket, and off you go. It's kind of just a de-stresser for him. Quality time with you and a home cooked meal to go along with it. Sometimes he brings you to brings you to picturesque flower fields, or the patch of green grass directly in front of the river front. No matter where it is, Edmund has his reasons for why he chose those specific locations. They always remind him of you. The two of you watch the sun slowly disappear under the horizon as you both lay on the checkered blanket, with your head resting on his chest and his arm lazily wrapped around your waist, it looks just like a scene straight out of a fairytale. — Edmund is always eager to prove his love and devotion to you. He's deeply committed to you, and loves to declare it proudly. Sometimes he writes short poems about you, recounting his favorite moments the two of you shared. He describes the way your hair blows in the wind while the two of you are horseback riding, or how your smile is one of his favorite sights, he writes about anything regarding you. He just pours out his feelings onto a piece of paper. And when the stack of poetry about you piles up too high on his desk, he ties it up neatly in a ribbon and places it on your bedside table for you to wake up to. (CHIVALRY IS NOT DEAD GUYS 🗣️🗣️ ) — Edmund has a thing for kissing your hand. Like not even as a greeting, just in general. He just thinks of it as another way of showing his love and admiration for you. He brushes his lips against your palm and trails kisses up your fingertips, like HELLO??? — All in all, your relationship with Edmund Pevensie is truly one of a kind. ∙ u guys i know i havent posted a proper story since like may, and honestly i have no excuse i was just being lazy af. also my love for edmund has kind of faded but i started writing this months ago and decided i might as well finish it. ∙ so next time i post, it probably won't be edmund pevensie related, OR MAYBE IT WILL!! i still have many ideas (don't unfollow me pls im sorry LMAO) ∙ until next time, (and trust me, there will be a next time.) xx valerie.

#edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie fluff #edmund pevensie fanfiction #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund x reader #narnia #edmund pevensie headcanon #narnia x reader #edmund pevensie x you

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protagonistpolling · 1 year

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DRAMA IS HAPPENING IN THIS COURTROOM

Why should you vote for these characters?

Why should you vote for Phoenix Wright? (3)

"Cross examined a parrot, ate a glass necklace containing poison, seemingly immune to death in any form, just an all-around chaotic force of nature dear god"

"He is so so silly. He ate a glass bottle that contained traces of poison (and was fine) on purpose. Look at any of his college days "feenie" sprites (with the pink sweater). He adopted a kid at 26. He was punched into unconsciousness by an 8 year old. He's kind he's annoying he's a bitch. He still uses a Nokia phone, held together by tape. He wears a pendant with his daughters picture in it. Said daughter is a magician who's also a human lie detector. He's bisexual. He's transgender. He fell off a burning bridge. He has it all"

Why should you vote for Layton and Luke? (1)

"You say there's a tournament with all the 'good guys'? How strange. Actually, that reminds me of a puzzle..." *throws a box of matches at your face* *because more than two matchsticks were moved, you lost the puzzle*

Why should you vote for Miles Edgeworth? (1)

because this anon was nice to me

Why should you vote for Apollo Justice? (3)

"he’s transgender and spikes his hair up with gel every morning and accidentally has an incredibly rare male calico cat."

"Hes SO DESPERATE to prove himself. And SO LOUD. He WILL get u acquitted of criminal charges but also have an anxiety attack while court is in session."

!!!!!!!!!!!SPOILERS FOR APOLLO!!!!!!!! "I'm sure plenty of people have submitted Phoenix so I'm putting a word in for Apollo. I saw someone describe him as someone who has invented the "Most Normal Guy" award and is trying his best to win it, and that description is very accurate. He has a magic lie detector bracelet. He shouts a lot to train his "chords of steel". Everyone thinks he's a teenager when he's actually 22. He punched Phoenix Wright in the face once. The detective on most of his cases throws her snacks at him. His best friend is a 15 year old who is actually his sister but neither of them know this. He has at least three backstories that don't TECHNICALLY contradict each other but you can tell they were all made up on the spot. After his three backstories he decided to become a lawyer for some reason. And despite it all, he's STILL the most normal person in the entire series. Nobody is doing it like him."

#poll2023 #tournament poll #phoenix wright #professor layton #luke triton #ace attorney #aai #apollo justice #miles edgeworth #realizing this will split aa's votes but i BELIEVE IN YOU GUYS!!!!!!#also this is funny.

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moonlightazriel · 1 year

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Before you /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: “hiiii! I have a Az x mate reader request where the whole IC finds out that reader and Rhys used to like hookup casually but stopped before UTM, Az is like wtf bc of Mor and Cass ya know? sad and angsty with happy ending! sorry if it’s so specific lol”

Warnings: Some mentions of smut and some angst.

Word Count: 1,4K

Notes: Thank you so much for this request ❤️❤️ And a big shout out to @azrielhours for suggesting Grammarly, this made writing a lot easier now.

Main Masterlist

“We need to talk.” Y/N entered Rhysand’s office, she looked extremely distressed, her mental shields were high, a giant black wall blocking Rhys out, she would always let him have a look on her mind, he rose an eyebrow, confused.

“What’s wrong darling?” His voice was slow and sensual as he walked towards her, his big finger brushing her arm, making her shiver, he circulated her, his lips glued to the soft spot on her neck, the one he discovered a few years ago when they started their casual hook up.

“Azriel is my mate.” The words came out in a rush from her mouth, Rhysand stopped, his hands falling from her while he gave a few steps back, she was his brother’s mate, they couldn’t keep doing it anymore, and as much as he liked sleeping with her, the idea of Azriel finally founding the mate he always searched for made his heart fill with happiness. “And I want to get closer to him.”

Rhysand smiled, the biggest smile that has ever adorned the high lord’s face, he hugged Y/N, lifting her from the floor and spinning around while he laughed. She felt confused, she hoped that Rhys would understand, but never expected him to be this happy, his happiness almost matching hers since yesterday, when the bond snapped while she trained with Azriel.

It had been nothing special, just the usual training session in the House of Wind, and as they fought, their swords hitting each other at every blow she defended from him, everything changed, he looked at her, his features filled with challenge, challenging her to stop defending and to attack him, and as she looked at his intense gaze, she felt the thread that tethered them together for the rest of their lives, glowing and singing so beautifully that she lost her focus, giving him the chance to disarm her and point the sharp end of his sword directly at her throat.

“Does he know?” Rhys asked, the two sitting in front of his desk, he grabbed her hand, like they were two little girls talking about boys.

“Not yet, but he has the right to know, I’ll tell him. I hope that he’ll not be disappointed having me as his mate.” He squeezed her hands, reassuringly.

“He’s lucky to have you as a mate darling, I’m sure everything will work out just fine, I’m so happy for the both of you.” He pulled her in for a hug, and she smiled, feeling happy to have him with her at that moment.

“Are we still going to be friends?” She asked hesitantly.

“Always. No matter what.”

70 years later

The cold glass reached Azriel’s lips as he hid his laughter, Nesta scolding Cassian would always be funny to watch, he took a look around, everyone sitting one a circle while they drunkenly shared stories, Y/N head was resting on his shoulder, her soft giggle reached his ears every once in a while, Morrigan was finishing one of her stories when Cassian jumped from his sit, eyes wide open, the wine in his glass spilling everywhere as he opened his mouth.

“Do you guys remember when Y/N and Rhys used to hook up?” The entire room fell silent as his loud laughter was the only sound in the room, of course, Azriel didn’t remember, he didn’t know this even happened in the first place. He felt Y/N holding her breath while she locked eyes with Rhysand.

“That’s not true, right?” His voice sounded weird even for him, both his brother and mate looked at him, Y/N flinched as she saw how cold his eyes were, filled with pain and betrayal, they knew how much he had suffered because of Cassian and Mor sleeping together and they choose to do the same behind his back.

“Brother, it’s not what you’re thinking.” He scoffed, already getting up, ready to leave, his eyes landed on Feyre, who was also surprised but didn’t seem as hurt as he was, his mind filling with images of the two together, and the thought that Rhysand knew his mate’s body very well, everything that made her whimper and moans, he must even know about the spot on her neck that can easily get her on her knees.

He turned around, rushing to walk away, ignoring Y/N's pleads for him to stay, he shut her down completely, closing his end of the bond as he marched outside, aiming for the sky, his wings flapping behind his back as he flew away, the tears filling his eyes as he tried to clear his mind.

Cassian had sobered up as soon as he saw what he had done, Y/N was now sitting on the couch, being held by Nesta as she sobbed, Rhys and Feyre had disappeared for a while, probably so he could explain the situation.

“I can talk to Azriel if you want.” Cass scratched his head, unsure of what to do.

“I guess you already did enough for today Cassian.” Nesta snapped at her mate.

“It’s not his fault Nes, we should’ve told him a long time ago.” Y/N spoke, her voice creaking as she cried again, what if Azriel never forgave her, what if he decided to reject the bond, what if he left? She needed to talk to him, she needed to explain to him, she got up suddenly, rushing towards the door, she needed to go home and wait for him.

She waited, for hours, unable to sleep, she would wait the whole week if she had to. She was a mess, her cheeks had makeup stains and her face was swollen from all the crying, that’s why she decided to shower, she took her time cleaning up, and as she was leaving the bathroom she heard the front door being open, rushing to the living room, Azriel was removing his boots, his face red from crying too, her heart breaking at the sight.

“Oh great, you’re here.” He said, his voice laced with sarcasm, she flinched, but she wasn’t going to give up.

“Of course, I’m here, we need to talk.”

“Can’t wait for you to tell me in detail how you betrayed me with my brother.” He sat on the couch, his hands running along his hair as he sighed, annoyed, but at least she would have the chance to talk.

“I wasn’t cheating on you or anything.” Her voice shaking as she knelled in front of him, resting her palms on his legs. “It was years ago, it started as a drunk kiss and then evolved into something more, there were never feelings involved, we would do it mostly when both of us were stressed or bored, but I had to stop it.”

“If it was so good fucking him, why did you stop?” The sarcasm was gone, his voice sounded sad, and defeated, she squeezed his tights.

“Because of you!” He looked her in the eyes, she was being honest, he could feel it deep In his chest, he opened the bond, feeling all of her emotions as she talked. “The bond had snapped for me, in the very next day I went to talk to him, I wanted to be with you, I was already falling in love with you, I was planning on telling you about the bond, so I ended everything, nothing has ever happened between us ever since, were friends and nothing more. I love you Azriel, and only you.”

“Why’d you never tell me?”

“I don’t know, I guess I was trying to prevent this from happening.” She smiled sadly at him. “I know it wasn’t the smartest idea, but I couldn’t hurt you Az, I’m so sorry.” He leaned forward, grabbing one of her hands and forcing her to get up only to pull her to his lap, he hugged her and she felt the tears streaming down her face again.

“Please, don’t do this anymore, whatever you need to tell me, do it. It’s better than finding out from Cassian’s drunk mouth.” His thumb caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears as he kissed her forehead.

“I promise I’ll never do something like this again.” His chest filled with her love while he kissed her, he could taste the salty tears on her lips. “I guess it’s a good time to tell you something.” Azriel rose an eyebrow, scared of what she might say. “ All those years ago, you only disarmed me and won the sparring because the bond snapped and I was distracted.” Azriel laughed, his chest vibrating as he shook his head.

“I don’t need a mating bond distracting you to beat your ass.” he teased and she giggled.

“That’s what we’ll see spymaster.”

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar #shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #velaris #night court #azriel x y/n #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #moonlightazriel

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

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AITA for yelling at my mom because of incense?💭

( emoji so I can recognise my submission and this is a hella long post so be warned)

So I (16F) really hate smoke. And I mean beyond the regular hate, I mean like the moment I smell smoke I instantly become very, very angry. I'm not sure why exactly, I suspect it might be because I'm on the autism spectrum but I haven't been officially diagnosed so take this with a grain of salt. Also just to clarify, I have no lung issues which would cause me to be extra effected by smoke, it's almost entirely psychological.

My mom (50F) got into this whole spiritual circle stuff about a year ago and does meditation thingies. Involves a lot of rituals, crystals and incense. Not entirely sure the exact reason why but the important thing is this means she is lighting incense almost everyday. As a result, on most days the house smells like smoke. I have told her quite a few times to ventilate properly if she's going to use it but I feel like every time I enter the main room of the house it smells like smoke. However I can manage this by simply shutting my door to avoid getting a lungful of smoke. No, the thing that pisses me off are her "cleansing sessions." This is where she goes through the house waving an incense stick everywhere to "purify the bad spirits." This means I have absolutely nowhere in the house to escape from the smoke and often get forced outside to escape. I have tolerated these "cleansing sessions" a few times but on the most recent one, it happened to be raining extremely heavily. This meant that I was stuck. In a house FILLED with the smell of smoke.

I tried to keep myself calm for a while by ventilating the smoke from under a blanket but even then I could still smell it and it made me raging mad. So I then proceeded to stomp up to my mom and yelled at her. I said some very nasty things which I'm not proud of saying. They were very personal insults mostly pertaining to how her beliefs were bullshit and about her insecurities. We had a shouting match over it which ended in her telling me to go back to my room.

Why I think I could be the asshole here is because:

A. I could have more clearly stated beforehand that I wanted her to stop cleansing my room or at the very least she needs to turn the aircon on when she burns incense.

B. She didn't really deserve the things I said to her. She's a sensitive person and I know it probably deeply hurt her even if she didn't act like it in the moment.

C. I didn't mention it earlier but I have a brother (17M) who has athsma. He has never had any problem breathing or any complaints about my mom burning incense. If anyone would be affected by this the most it would be him and yet he doesn't care. So I feel like I just really overreacted.

Why I think I might not be the asshole here is because:

A. I have asked her before that she ventilate the house properly when she does her meditations and yet every time I can smell it. Sometimes she wont even open the windows so I have to do it myself.

B. She knows how much I dislike the smell of smoke. I have said multiple times how I hate it and every time I have smelt it in the house I've been very obviously annoyed. There was even once incident where our neighbours were having a bonfire and I literally could not sleep in my room because I could smell smoke and had to sleep on the couch. Every time she's done one of these "spiritual cleansings" I have also made it abundantly clear how much I hate this but she doesn't seem to care because it usually forces me outside.

C. As before mentioned, my brother has athsma. While it may not seem like it bothers him I don't know what the long term consequences may be for his lungs. And for my lungs too! Like, I'm not an expert but I don't think regularly breathing in smoke is very good for you. She argues it's "real natural smoke" so it's fine and I told her she should try breathing near a wildfire to see how she liked "real natural smoke."

Anyways, with all these facts considered, random strangers on the internet, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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wardenparker · 9 months

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The Viper's Bride - ch 14

Oberyn Martell x female reader x Ellaria Sand x OC Co-written with @absurdthirst

The second Prince of Dorne has lived under the illusion that he would not be forced to wed for his entire life. He has enough lovers and illegitimate children to make him a legend across Westeros, and the love of his soulmate Ellaria Sand to content him. But a contract between his brother and a lord from the north will catapult him into a match that may prove to be as complicated as it is intriguing. Especially when he learns that you already have a soulmate of your own.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.8k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: terrible parents, age gap 10+ years, arranged marriage, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, internalized homophobia. Reader is described as having hair long enough to braid. This is a MMFF polycule, folx. Get on board or don't click to keep reading. Pregnancy!* Threats, anger, threats of violence (specifically), classism, degrading language. FFM threesome, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, pregnant sex, rough sex, cum eating. Summary: An announcement, a decision, a reaction, and a development. After the events of this day, none of your lives will be the same. Notes: This is, of course, an au. So we have adapted the events of season four to be as true to the plot as possible while also working for the story we want to tell. I hope you enjoy!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13

Each step forward this morning feels heavy to Raeden, who is amused at his own surprise over how much he wishes he was still in bed with his bride. He and Margaery had almost fallen into bed upon the group's return to the keep last night, taken aback by the shock of the charge in their first kiss as man and wife. This morning Leyth had woken them last and left the room with an expression made of pure amusement, finding the couple wrapped in each other instead of the blankets had been a boon of practicality. Any question of the marriage's consummation could be answered by the first-hand witness account of your maid.

"Mace Tyrell will be angry, shouting." Oberyn reminds him, smirking slightly at the expression on the other man's face. Margaery Tyrell – Sunstone's – cunt must be magical to make the man forego his duty with such a woeful expression on his face. Although the idea of having everyone together had been sweet, it was necessary to establish the legality of the marriage without any dispute first. A night with all five of their group in bed would come soon enough. "However, in his heart, he is a coward." He snorts. "Grasping at favors like a rat and scampering away when heavy boots thud around the table."

“It is not Mace Tyrell I worry about,” Raeden admits. Though he is not precisely keen to inform his unwitting father-in-law of the elopement, Raeden has enough wits to understand that Olenna Tyrell is the true head of his wife’s family. “Tywin will not be pleased to lose out on the Tyrell fortune.”

"Tywin thinks that you are my little pet," Oberyn grunts in amusement. "Perhaps a lover I have taken out of boredom and bestow favors upon." He shakes his head. "It is why you have been allowed in the Small Council sessions, he believes that you are soon gone and will no longer be of consequence." Oberyn knows his reputation and what the elder Lannister would think, using it and him for his own ends. Now there is no question of Raeden's position and it is another stab at the Lannisters. This time in their pockets.

“Yet, I am the only one you have not fucked yet.” Chuckling ruefully at that fact, Raeden walks steadily beside Oberyn and shakes his head as he goes. It is only a matter of time for them, and Oberyn has been respectful of Raeden’s past troubles with male lovers.

"I have not fucked your pretty wife." He points out, smirking slightly as they walk shoulder to shoulder. "Tell me, how was her cunt last night? Was it tight and wet for you?"

“All the stable boys and knights and soldiers all moaning for their queen at night would not have been disappointed.” Despite chuckling, though, Raeden puts one hand into his pocket as they walk and fiddles with his wife’s favourite handkerchief. She had given it to him this morning as a token of proof if her father did not believe what they had done. He has a wife. That truth still sits foreign on Raeden’s tongue.

"Then I do not feel guilty for having both of your soulmates on my face and cock last night." Oberyn teases, knowing full well both men wear the marks and in a strange way are also bound to each other. He catches the tender expression that flashes across Raeden's face and understands it. How that he has made his own vows and discovers that he does not dread it as much as he thought he would. "It will be a good union, perhaps a loving one in time." He predicts, wrapping his arm around the new husband's broad shoulders. "I have a good feeling about this."

Down the hall and around a corner, the other two judges, such as they are, are already waiting in the throne room when Oberyn and Raeden stroll in with broad smiles and good humor. “Oberyn.” Tywin Lannister raises one eyebrow in surprise. “You are early.”

“Early because there is a matter that needs to be discussed before the meeting and trial.” He announces before he looks to Raeden. “Lord Sunstone has taken a wife.”

“How…fortunate.” Tywin cannot see immediately why this matter is of any concern to him, but he forces his expression into a thin-lipped smile and nods to the elevated bastard. “You are to be congratulated, then?”

“Many thanks.” Raeden knows that sentiment will be soured when they find out who he married. He turns towards Mace and reaches into his pocket. “I hope there will be no harsh feelings for the quickness of the marriage, but your daughter is safe and content in my chambers.” He tells the man as he pulls out the handkerchief.

“My daughter?” Mace huffs out a condescending laugh of ridicule without so much as glancing at the fabric in the bastard noble’s hand. “You must be a greater dullard than I thought, boy.” Bolstered by Tywin standing just over his shoulder, Mace Tyrell knows no fear. “Margaery is a queen, not a bed-warming whore. Some girl has tricked you into a fool’s vow claiming to be a Tyrell.”

“It is true.” Oberyn bristles at the insult, far more than even Raeden does, since he was the one to appoint him as a lord. “I witnessed their vows myself and the former queen eagerly spoke her vows before the maester and the Seven.”

“It is not possible.” The man’s round eyes widen before instantly squinting, and he bolts forward to snatch at the token that Raeden keeps just out of his reach. Margaery’s monogram is unmistakable in the corner, done up in green thread by her own mother’s hand. “It is not possible!” Mace howls, his face turning deep pink and then red as confusion turns to fury. If his daughter has actually eloped, he is ruined. “This is a trick!”

“Miracles abound.” The prince snorts, amused by the older man’s tantrum. “If it is a trick, then it was a vivid one, considering my servant saw your daughter using Lord Raeden as her personal pillow this morning, still perched on his cock in sleep.” He smirks as he looks towards Lord Tywin. “Tired herself out on her husband’s cock it seems.”

Lannister, who has pursed his lips once so far but said nothing, watches with careful eyes as Mace storms around the room in circles for a moment before doubling back to him with drawn terror on his greasy little face. “It cannot have been allowed.” He insists, staring up at the much taller Tywin in horror. “I did not allow it! I would never allow it! She will be brought to heel and returned to you, Tywin. As promised.”

“And break the laws of the kingdom?” Instead of Oberyn speaking up, it is Raeden. “Once a marriage is blessed by the maesters and consummated, it negates any contracts or agreements made prior.” He reminds the Small Council members. “You no longer have the power to do so, Lord Tyrell.”

“You are a flea.” Mace Tyrell may be half of Raeden Sunstone’s height, but he points a finger up at him like he’s scolding a street urchin. “You are a boil on my ass and I will see you in a cell right next to Tyrion’s for this!” With a face redder than a ripe cherry, Mace Tyrell storms from the chamber headed for the gods-only-know-where, muttering and flailing his hands all the way.

“That went very well.” Oberyn chuckles. “Don’t you think?” He asks Raeden, knowing the man is slightly flustered at the ire of his new father-in-law.

“It certainly went differently than expected,” admits Raeden, who had prepared himself to be attacked bodily if Mace reacted poorly.

“It was unwise, Oberyn.” Tywin warns him in a grave voice. “Most unwise.”

“What? Only the Lannisters can make deals that benefit them?” Oberyn asks, lifting a brow haughtily. “I think that you are upset your golden goose has been plucked.”

Tywin’s thin lips become a nearly flat line and he narrows his eyes at Oberyn. “It goes without saying that your place on the Small Council has been rescinded for this stunt.”

The response is not what Tywin must have expected. With a causal shrug, Oberyn smirks. “That is agreeable with me.” He hums and narrows his eyes slightly. “You meet too early for me.”

“You have stuck your nose and your pet mongrel in where they do not belong.” Heat rises in Lannister’s voice, a low rumble that would have most others trembling instantly. “What good do you think the throne will ever do for Dorne now?”

“Why do you think Dorne needs the throne?” His amused demeanor drops and his eyes darken dangerously. “We have not bent the knee. Do not forget, Lannister, that you need us to be the Seven Kingdoms.” He growls, the threat clear in his voice.

“What invasion could be withstood? What negotiations will end in your favour? What mercy will your people find when they are left without the resources they rely on from the North?” The steady rolling rumble of Tywin Lannister’s voice echoes through the room, bouncing off each wall and making it sound as though he were everywhere. “Whatever you promised Margaery, rescind it now. Your bastard’s bride-napping may yet go unnoticed.”

“You wouldn’t.” Oberyn counters. “Because it would be admitting that your Lords are not capable of being managed.” He tells him. “That your hold on the throne is not as iron fisted as you would have it believed.” His own blood is starting to boil now, the insults to Dorne, the threats, pissing him off. “We will simply turn our trade to Bravos,” he counters. “Our spices and silks will be sent across the Narrow Sea. Dorne is not threatened by you, or your armies.”

******

The rising voices, the tension, the anxieties in the air, the building anger means more things than just another spat between the Martells and Lannisters. It means tensions rising for the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. It could go as far as war, if things turn violent. But more immediately, for the man awaiting yet another day of his trial in a cell several yards down the hallway, it means a heighten possibility of certain death very soon. If his father is angry and the opinion of his trial’s only reasonable judge is moot? Then Tyrion Lannister is headed for the executioner’s block. Tyrion stretches as close as his chains will allow, trying to hear as much of the conversation as possible.

“That don’t sound good for you.” The portly, slovenly jailer had been another insult for Tyrion. Someone who could barely see his dick over his fat belly couldn’t possibly chase down a healthy, whole man. But Tyrion wasn’t a normal sized man. And the guard set to escort him to and from the trail reminded him of that.

Tyrion’s eyes roll so far back in his head that they almost disappear, and he huffs. No, it does not sound good for him at all. “Hardly anything involving my father is ever good for me,” he says instead.

“Fighting with that Dornish pig.” He grunts. “Nothing good comes out of Dorne but the whores.”

“I would advise you not to say that within earshot of the Red Viper,” Tyrion advises rather drolly.

“What’s he gonna do? Fuck me to death?” The jailer snorts, his amusement making him cough until he hacks up a thick wad of phlegm that he spits at Tyrion’s feet. “I ain’t a goat.”

Grimacing animatedly only to end up rolling his eyes at himself this time, Tyrion gains a half-inch more toward the bars of his cell and leans over. His father’s threats are clear and the prince’s replies are steadily hushed, although his tone is clear enough. “It is time,” he lies, turning to the guard and gesturing. “Bring me in.”

“I didn’t hear nothing.” The guard protests but Tyrion snorts.

“My father will have your head removed if you fail to do your duty.” He reminds him, making the man grimace. He has no love for Tywin Lannister, but he doesn’t want to die because of him.

“On your feet!” He barks, grinning as Tyrion struggles to his feet in the heavy chains.

The usual ruckus and chaos of onlookers is absent when the guard lumbers past the end of the hallway and into the throne room and he grunts as he shoves Tyrion forward. “What is this?” Tywin barks out, barely even glancing down at his youngest child.

Oberyn hums in amusement, settling back in his chair. While Tywin may have kicked him off the Small Council, he cannot kick him off the trial now, and he knows it. “It is your son.” He muses. “You do not recognize him? Perhaps because he is covered in filth and shit from where you threw him in the dungeon.”

"And a good morning to you, too, your Grace." As much of a farce as this entire trial may be, Tyrion is still glad of Prince Oberyn's presence in the proceedings. The trouble will be if his father decides to bring a swift end to things and ignore the prince's opinions in the verdict.

"What is this?" Tywin repeats, annoyance building on top of anger in his tone. "What is it you want, Tyrion? Unless you have come to confess, I will not hear anything from you."

"Yes, Father. I'm guilty." Tyrion's tone is not one of dismissal or of anger, but one of a measured response, and that catches Oberyn's attention. "Guilty. Is that what you want to hear?"

Startled, Tywin's eyebrows knit together. "You admit you poisoned the king?"

"No, of that I'm innocent." Tyrion may be many things, but the least of them all is a fool. "I'm guilty of a far more monstrous crime. I am guilty of being a dwarf."

Wholly annoyed with his son's dramatics, Tywin huffs so deeply that he nearly implodes. "You are not on trial for being a dwarf."

"Oh, yes, I am. I've been on trial for that my entire life." Tyrion contends seriously.

Tywin pinches the bridge of his nose. "If you have nothing to say in your defense, you will go back to your cell until it is time for the trial to begin."

"I did not kill Joffrey." Tyrion holds up both hands in a sort of show of innocence, but also defense. He is headed toward a point, and he will make it sooner rather than later. "I wish I was the monster you think I am. I wish I had the stark fortitude of will to do away so decisively with my enemies. I would gladly give my life to see that justice done. But I will not give my life for Joffrey's murder, and I know I'll get no justice here." Studying his father's face intently and seeing the intrigue there, Tyrion is sure there is a chance this may work. "So I will let the Gods decide my fate." A sure, steady breath enters his body and he squares his shoulders. "I demand a trial by combat."

Oberyn leans forward, intrigued by the notion and it is obvious from the ridged disapproval on his face, that another of Tywin’s schemes that has not gone his way, his careful plotting unraveled by the son he had always secretly despised.

"You know who Cersei will appoint her Champion." Tywin nearly twitches as the idea settles into his bones, disliking every moment of his cursed imp son's clever mind. Why could that cleverness not have gone to Jamie where it could be useful?

“And I will have my own champion.” Tyrion answers dismissively, even though his list of allies dwindles as the days pass and his lack of gold backing him is made obvious.

"Who?" Tywin chortles with unfettered glee. "That useless squire of yours? I thought you finally set him free."

“There is someone who will fight for me.” Tyrion insists, though he knows that Bron would not. He does not have enough coin to pay him.

"How much time will you give him to find someone?" Raeden asks, aghast at everything that has happened in a mere five minute span.

Tywin seems to consider this, frowning down at his son for a long moment before speaking again. "Whatever the length of time is that it will take Clegane to arrive in King's Landing."

“Gregor Clegane?” Oberyn’s voice is soft, piercing through the tension like a whip.

"Who else would my sister appoint to be her Champion?" Tyrion asks, mostly rhetorically. "She cannot appoint our brother, can she?" After all, Jamie's missing hand is a damper on his swordplay. Otherwise Tyrion would have appointed his brother himself. Still, Tyrion looks to Jamie standing silently in the corner with sympathy. He knows what it is to be unwanted and wishes that Jamie never had to learn.

Oberyn hums, a vicious little growl in the back of his throat. Thrilled that the opportunity has finally presented itself. “I will be your champion.” He tells Tyrion, his voice clear and firm.

"You— what?" Both Lannisters ask together, heads snapping up toward the Dornish prince. Even Raeden is staring, although he is imagining the terror on your and Ellaria's faces rather than expressing surprise at Oberyn's choice. He understands perfectly why the choice is being made.

"I will fight for Tyrion Lannister." He repeats, settling back into his chair with an air of supreme victory. "And kill your Mountain." He warns Tywin. "It is fortunate that you have been so accommodating in arranging our conversation. I was starting to think that you had deceived me." He offers with a small pout.

A man does not get a nickname like the Red Viper of Dorne without earning it, and although Tyrion has never seen Oberyn Martell fight, he knows his reputation. The man is as likely to win a fight as he is to be successful in a seduction – and he has fucked half of Westeros.

For his part, Tywin is seething, but the only way to tell is his eyes. If looks could kill there would be no need for champions at all — Tywin would simply strike his son down here and now. “Take him away,” he growls to the jailer, striking out one bony finger to indicate that he wants Tyrion as far away from him as possible.

Jamie Lannister is perhaps the only person in the entire room that seems genuinely upset, his eyes filled with genuine worry for the brother he has always tried to protect from the wrath of his sister and father. His deal with his father now useless, he turns and strides out of the room with a swish of his white cloak.

******

“You are sure you can win?” Raeden is at Oberyn’s side with worry painted over his every feature in the swift walk to your chambers. If anything happens to Oberyn, he cannot think of how profoundly it will devastate you and Ellaria.

"Extremely." Oberyn boasts confidently. "I have been in the fighting pits in Mereen, against much better opponents than Gregor Clegane." He spits the name out like a curse. "His size is what wins him his battles but I have the agility he does not."

“Size can often be enough.” Raeden himself is not a small man, but nowhere near the size of the legendary Mountain. “They say he can crush a man’s skull in with his bare hands, Oberyn. That is not to be taken lightly.”

"I do not intend to make light of it." He reassures him. "I intend to make him confess his crimes in front of all of King's Landing before I kill him."

“Revenge for your sister and a swift trip back to Sunspear.” Even when Raeden nods, it is with a heavy heart.

"Tywin Lannister ordered the murder of my sister, a crowned Princess of Dorne." He reminds Raeden. "Would you not do the same if it had been Star's fate?" He asks quietly.

Raeden’s eyes darken, the gruffness in his voice obvious. “I would burn the world down if it took her from us.”

“Then you understand.” Oberyn grunts. “I must do this. But I will not fail.” He smirks. “My bite is much worse than his.”

When Raeden pushes open the door to the chambers now shared by seven people, they are considerably fuller than they were even last night. Trunks piled in the corner that he has never seen before say that you and Ellaria must have taken Margaery to retrieve her things from her grandmother while he was speaking to Mace Tyrell with Oberyn. A very clever decision on your part – you will only have dealt with Olenna Tyrell this way.

"How did my father take the news?" Her grandmother had been surprised, but she had smirked and patted her hand in a way that let Margaery know that she approved of her granddaughter's rash decision.

"Apparently..." Raeden sighs, but happily puts his arms around his wife when she steps closer to him. "I am a flea for stealing you away from him." He shrugs, his mind having moved on to other things since being shouted at by the red-faced little man. "How did your grandmother take it?"

"She did not say much, but—" her smile is bright and conspiratorial. "She is pleased. I am out of my father's and the Lannister's clutches." Her hands brace on his chest and while she would sink into his arms, she pushes him back slightly so she can take his hand and drag him over to one of the larger chest. "She has sent this with me, promising that the rest will be ready for when we sail to Dorne."

Curiosity is a powerful thing, and Raeden raises one eyebrow at Margaery before lifting the heavy lid of the trunk she has indicated. Jewelry, coin, silver and gold trinkets, luxurious fabrics, and assorted pieces of armor fill the large wooden vessel and he sucks in a sharp breath. “She—she gave you your dowry?” In truth, he had not expected to see it. Having eloped with Margaery, he had assumed that her family would deny him the fortune that had been offered to the Lannisters along with her hand. But it appears he was wrong.

"A portion of it." She clarifies. "There are six other trunks that are bigger than this one." She snorts. "Seven trunks of gold for the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms." She had scoffed at the irony. "Along with another seven trunks of silks, seven of weapons, and seven of silver."

"So this is...a sampling?" His eyes widen at the implications of that – of all the riches that she has brought to the infancy of their House. He knew it would be a great deal, but clearly he had underestimated the wealth of House Tyrell.

"My grandmother has a gift for keeping our wealth quiet, especially when my father wishes to flaunt it." She purses her lips. "But over the course of the years, House Tyrell has accumulated more wealth than the Lannisters have in their coffers." She admits. "Robert Baratheon was a wasteful man."

"Kings have that habit." You murmur from behind them, surprising even yourself with how much you enjoy the sight of them side by side. "Forgive me for interrupting, but would someone like to tell me why my husband breezed through the room and shut himself away without a word to any of us?" Oberyn's face had held determination and an utter expression of being pleased with himself, but he had walked straight through your quarters and shut himself out on the balcony and is now pacing the length of it with determination.

Guilt at forgetting the most important part of today floods Raeden and he drops Margaery's hand to rush towards you and gasps your shoulders. "My love, I—" He starts and chokes up for a moment before he clears his throat. "The trial is over." He tells you quietly. "Tyrion invoked trial by combat when it became clear that he would not get a fair judgement."

"And trial by combat will be more fair?" The deep concern etched into his face brings your heartbeat to a near panic almost immediately. "But why should that upset Oberyn so? It means we can go home."

"The Lannister's champion is Gregor Clegane." He murmurs softly. "The Mountain." His hands drop to yours and he squeezes gently, bracing for you to understand. "We are not going home."

"Oh no." Turning away from him immediately, you push through to the other chamber of your quarters and practically shout Ellaria's name to get her attention before moving through to the door of the balcony. The wooden doors have glass panels where you can see Oberyn moving with grace and determination – as though he were prowling out there instead of walking back and forth. "Oberyn, unlock the doors," you insist, knocking on them loudly after you find that they will not pull open. The latch on the outside of the doors never made sense to you until this moment, and now you curse it.

Ellaria's graceful pose on the settee abandoned when she hears the distress in your voice, she rises and quickly crosses the room to where you are rattling the costly glass as you bang on it. "What is wrong?" She demands, her breath catching when she sees the stiffness in her lover's back, the determination in his gain. "What did he do?" She gasps.

"He's going to get himself killed," you gasp, feeling a little like you cannot fill your lungs properly. "Oberyn, open the door!"

Oberyn pauses, looking towards the door and his eyes flash, conveying that he knows that you are aware of his plan. He turns and continues his pacing as he plots, thinks about his next moves. About the confrontation to come.

"Tyrion demanded a trial by combat," you tell Ellaria, already feeling the tears fill your eyes as true terror and worry set in one wave at a time. "And the Lannisters have The Mountain."

"Gods be damned." Ellaria whispers, her own dread crashing through her like a wave and for a moment, she sways on her feet. She's aware of Raeden and Margaery out of the corner of her eye, but she cannot muster any thought but of what will come. "He is fighting for Tyrion."

"He is fighting for Elia." There is no need to state the obvious, but you cannot help yourself. The tears are flowing freely even if they are silent, and you can feel yourself shaking with nerves.

Ellaria sighs softly, her own fears pushed aside as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. You need to be calm, for the baby. “Come my love.” She murmurs softly. “He will not talk until he is ready.” She knows his habits and of this, she is certain. “Let me get you some tea and we can sit.”

"Oberyn!" They will have to forcibly remove you from the other side of this door and there is hardly any chance of calm finding you soon. Of course you understand the need to avenge his sister's murder, but if attempting it will leave nine children fatherless then is that worthwhile?

Margaery moves to your other side. “Come.” She urges softly. “It cannot be good for the baby.” Her hand wraps around your arm and she tugs you gently.

It is a broken half-sob that cracks through you, making you fold in half at the door. Everything has come to such a measure of happiness and now it stands on the brink of ruin. It is only because of Ellaria and Margaery that you do not collapse into a heap on the floor. The older woman bearing most of your weight as she carries you away from the glass, Raeden rushing over to take you from her and cradle you in his arms.

Raeden all but carries you to the bed, laying you down to cry on the pillow instead. Fear – pure, unadulterated fear – courses through every inch of your body as you lay there, unable to think of anything but the possibility of losing him. Your husband. The father of your unborn child. Your soulmate. What will become of all of you and the promises that have been made if Oberyn dies reaping his revenge from his sister's killer?

Margaery is the first to lay down. Knowing how upset you are and wishing to offer you some small comfort. “He must have a plan.” She coos, stroking her hand over your hair while you cry.

"What can one plan against a Mountain?" Overwhelmed with fear, you barely shake your head. For someone who has grown up with great violence in your life, the idea of it now is terrifying. When the people in your life have been in danger – your brothers, or Brynna, Raeden, or even Margaery? You have done everything in your power to help them. You cannot be of help to Oberyn in a fight to the death.

“Our lover, our soulmate would not champion this fight if he didn’t not know he could win.” Ellaria is angry at Oberyn as well, but she knows he will not yield in this. The best thing she can do is support him and encourage you to do the same. “He is clever and quick, fierce. He would not fight if he thought he would leave our children without a father.”

"I cannot control the tears." Begging her to understand, desperately hoping that the one other woman in the room to have experienced pregnancy will know this feeling, you cling to Ellaria's hand. "Or the fear in my heart."

“I have fear too.” She confesses quietly, wrapping her lithe body around your back. “Do not doubt it, but I know he will do this, even if we do not approve.”

It is not for you to approve or disapprove of. You know that. This is something that he must do, for himself and for Elia. In his shoes you know you would do the same. But that does not keep you from weeping at the possibility of losing him.

Raeden watches, feeling helpless as you cry so he turns to the doors out onto the ledge, hoping Oberyn might talk to him. It is not likely the prince will entertain any argument whatsoever against his choice, but it is not Raeden’s intent to talk him out of his vow. Just to simply get him to talk.

The knock on the door makes Oberyn pause again, seeing Raeden on the other side, and his eyes slide past him to the bed where Ellaria and Margaery are laying with you. Clenching his jaw as he strides to the door, he wonders if you have sent your other soulmate to talk him out of his duty to his family. Talk to me. Raeden mouths through the window, not wanting to shout and startle you more. He has seen how screaming can panic you after incidents with your mother.

For a moment, he considers ignoring the man, to continue to plot by himself, but the concern in his eyes makes him flip the bar to allow the doors to be pushed open. “You will not change my mind.” He warns the younger lord.

“It is not my intent to try.” Raeden steps out onto the balcony and lets the door shut again behind him. “But tell me you have a plan.”

“I do.” Oberyn nods as he looks out over the city below the keep. “They will make it very public, an event.” He muses, a trace of a chuckle in his tone. “They will wish to make an example of him, and me.”

“And you will make them wish they had not?” He guesses, seeing the fire in Oberyn’s eyes.

“I will get my confession if it must force it from him one slice at a time.” He growls with satisfaction. “For all of King’s Landing to hear. Tywin Lannister’s sins will be laid bare.”

“I know you are determined. With good reason.” Raeden’s hand twitches but he does not reach out. Oberyn is pacing like a caged animal and may bite. “And we are not of a mind to change that.” He swallows a plaintive sound. “But you have two soulmates afraid of losing you,” he tells Oberyn plainly. “Your wife is inconsolable at the idea.”

Your words burn into his brain and he sighs after a moment, looking back towards the door. “I—” he pauses and he knows that you are different from Ellaria, you have not seen him fight before. “I will talk to her.” He tells Raeden, stepping closer and reaching out to cup the man’s neck to drag him closer for a kiss.

It is fierce, and a little surprising, but Raeden does not fight the moment of intimacy. Instead he presses into it and nips at Oberyn’s bottom lip before letting him go. Oberyn growls, the urge to strip Raeden down right here and burn off the extra energy fucking him nearly makes him reach for his belt, but he has a soulmate, two soulmates to reassure. He doesn’t hesitate to reach down and cup the other man’s cock, feeling it twitch in his hands. “Soon.” He promises.

Ellaria is the only one of the three of you facing the door, and she sighs in relief to see Oberyn striding back into the room even as your tears have started to calm. They seem to come in waves and right now the flow is ebbing.

He doesn’t urge Margaery to move, but he reaches over her for you. Pulling you up and into his arms. Upset at himself now that he’s not solely focused on his revenge at how distressed you are. “My moon and stars.” He coos softly, cupping your chin. “Why are you crying like you are mourning me?”

"Practice." You sniff, curling against his chest and clutching his robe.

“You will be practicing for a long time.” He warns you, a chuckle at your pouting tone threatening to bubble out of him. His lips press into your hair and he cradles you close. “Why do you insult me by believing it is my time to die?”

"I do not—" Sucking in a breath makes you shudder, and you shake your head against his chest. "Mean to insult you, love. It is—I—I am afraid for you."

“I am not going to die at the hands of Gregor Clegane.” He promises you. “I will die old and decrepit in our bed, after many more children and years together.” He hums. “I will hold our child in my arms as she slips from your womb.”

"They say he cannot be beaten." You have heard the tales of The Mountain as well as everyone else in Westeros, and despite having also heard tales of Oberyn's prowess as a fighter, you cannot help the way you have reacted. "And they say you cannot be beaten. Surely one of those is wrong."

“He is large and lumbering. I have the advantage of speed and skill because I do not rely on brute strength alone.” He tells you, rubbing your back gently. He is trying to reassure all of you.

“I—I am— forgive me.” Logic and reason dictate that he is correct. That speed and agility may be enough to work against an enormous foe in one-to-one battle. And even though logic and reason are not your ruling bodies right now, you can see the merit in that argument. “I do not mean to doubt you. I only— I cannot bear the thought of being without you.”

“It is okay to be worried.” He will not make light of your fears, but he will remind you that he has no intention of dying. He nuzzles against your jaw and presses a soft kiss to your skin. “I have every intention of poisoning the bastard as well.” He admits quietly.

That makes your head snap up, eyebrows furrowed, and lips parted in surprise, though you are not sure why. It is a good plan. A very clever plan, in fact. To be as qualified with and knowledgeable of poisons as he is, it would almost be folly not to use them. “You—you will?”

“They do not call me the Red Viper for naught, my love.” He reminds you quietly. “From the first strike, Gregor Clegane will die. Every time he will swing his sword or axe, he will work the poison closer to his heart.” He smirks. “That is where being quick and agile works in my favor.”

Foggy from tears and fear, your mind is slow to grasp the concept but once you arrive at it, you gasp. “All you have to do is wear him out. The poison will do the rest?”

“Exactly, my love.” He hums, happy that you have worked it out. “While I trick him into confessing his part in my sister’s murder and who gave the order.”

Though the realization does not instantly dry your tears, it does have you sniffling and burying your face against his chest all over again. “When, my love? When is all this meant to happen?”

“It will be within the next week.” He doesn’t know exactly when, but he can’t imagine Tywin delaying it longer than necessary. “As soon as the Mountain arrives to King’s Landing.”

Both of your arms creep around him, holding tight to the man who has changed your life irrevocably and so much for the better. “Once it is over, I hope we never have to return to King’s Landing again.”

“That would be my fondest wish.” Oberyn chuckles, allowing you to hold tight to him as he looks over at his other soulmate and reaches for her. “Come.”

Ellaria is better at hiding her fear. She has more practice and has seen him through many more battles than you – both big and small. But even she sighs with relief to sit up from the bed and press a kiss to his palm. “If you do not return with us I will find a way to make sure your baby is a boy and convince your princess to name him Oberyn,” she threatens half-heartedly, knowing from conversations many years past that he hates the idea of naming a child after himself.

“You would not dare.” He groans, sending her a narrowed eyed gaze, playful in nature.

“I will.” She promises, wrapping her arms around both of you in turn. “As sure as the sun rises each morning.”

“Then it is settled.” He huffs, leaning in to press his lips to hers. “I will not die; I will make sure that my newest child is not be named after me.”

“Is that all it takes?” You huff, playfulness edging your still-worried voice as you kiss both of them easily. “A threat?”

“I am simple man.” He teases, winking at you before he squeezes you gently. “Do not worry yourself sick, my love.”

“I promise I will not show my fear out there.” Glancing to the windows and at King’s Landing below, you bite back a sigh. It will be imperative to present yourselves as united, strong, and confident when the time comes.

“A little fear is not unrealistic.” He reminds you. “I just do not want you to make yourself ill. You have the baby to think of.”

“And so do you.” The tears, thankfully, are beginning to dry. And as with all other times in this pregnancy, it seems, you have become rather exhausted from the efforts of shedding them.

“I know, Star.” He rocks you slightly against his body and despite the earliness of the day, you are already starting to wilt from the exertion of your tears. “Do you wish to nap, my love?”

Pursing your lips at him, you wrinkle your nose for good measure and sigh in defeat. “Only if you promise not to make any more life or death decisions while I am tucked in.”

“I promise that I will run any other decisions by you before they are made.” He promises. “Do you want to lay down by yourself, or would you like one of us to stay with you?”

“It would be selfish to ask someone to stay.” And with the display you just made, the last thing you want is to show more selfishness. “I am sure you all have more entertaining things to do than lay with me in the dark.”

“I am feeling exhausted.” Margaery is not tired, but you have been such a rock for her, that if she can lay down with you to be some small comfort, she will. “Would you mind if I shared your nap with you? I know that we are not intimate yet, but maybe you would not mind?”

“Fifteen minutes ago you were practically giddy for Raeden to return.” Skepticism aside, you do offer her a half smile when Oberyn puts you back in bed beside your other soulmate’s wife. “But all the same…I would dearly appreciate the company.”

“Good.” She sends you a small smile and settles against the cushions. “We will have a nice rest and then we can settle on what we will do for the rest of the day.”

“Nothing too public, I should think.” As word gets out that Margaery has married again – and that it was not to Tommen Baratheon – you expect there will be a few days at least where she ought to lay low.

“No, nothing public. But perhaps we can go through my clothes to see what I will need to discard before we get to Dorne?” She asks, look at you as you both lie down.

“That would be a good idea,” Ellaria agrees with an encouraging nod. “Both of you can surely donate your heavier gowns to some less fortunate ladies and it will be less to travel with.”

“Yes, will we have the noon meal delivered to the rooms.” Oberyn promises. “Now, both of you rest and when you are ready, come out to the main area.” He leans down and kisses your lips and hesitates but then does kiss Margaery’s forehead. She has not indicated wanted to touch him yet, but it seemed rude to kiss his wife and leave her out.

“We will, my love.” You promise him, watching as your three lovers file from the room and close the door gently behind them. Though you truly are tired, you turn back to face Margaery and offer her a smile. “You are very kind to offer to stay with me.”

“If it was me in your place, you would offer the same.” She murmurs quietly. “I meant what I said, I consider you my dearest friend and now? Perhaps more.”

“Have you been hiding affection for me, Margaery?” Waving away the joke teasingly, you nevertheless curl up on the pillow beside her and offer her a place in your arms if she wants it. “That would quite set tongues to wagging.”

“You are beautiful.” She huffs and slides closer to you until her own arms wrap around you. “You know that. You and Ellaria are breathtaking. More stunning at my wedding than I was.”

“Impossible.” The wedding may have been a tense, overdramatic thing, but Margaery was mesmerizing. “You looked like a goddess that day.” Cheeks warming slightly at how easily she comes to you, you let one of your hands settle on her back. “You are one of the most stunning women I have ever seen, no matter what the day is.”

“You must not have looked in a mirror too often, my Princess.” She hums, smiling at you and leaning in. “It is high praise if you feel that way.”

“Margaery…” Before you can let the moment progress, you take a breath and put your other hand to her cheek. “If you change your mind, simply say the word and we will go on as if nothing ever happened.”

“I understand.” She hums softly, aware that she is in a unique situation, and this is something she could have never foreseen, but she is not upset by it.

First Brynna, then Ellaria, and now Margaery. There seems no rhyme or reason to it beside them all being beautiful women who treat you with singular kindness, but when you lean forward to press your lips to Margaery’s for the first time and let your eyes flutter shut, there is that same feeling of rightness that there had been with both women who came before. Unforeseen and unplanned, it is not unwelcome at all.

Margaery’s hum is almost surprised, mixed with delight as she melts into the kiss, and pulls you closer. It will be the first kiss she has had with another woman since she was a young girl, since before she had bled, but instead of giggling and teasing, she wants more.

Somehow, she tastes the way fresh air and sunshine feel in spring. Like promise and good things to come. Like the crisp cleanness of spring rain. It’s intoxicating in a way you have never experienced before, making you linger and try to claim more of the taste with small kisses from her lips.

“Does everyone in your party know how to kiss?” She asks breathlessly, grinning as she indulges in the quick kisses and her fingers reach up to undo your hairstyle.

“They all have far more experience than me,” you admit, warm cheeks disguised in the semi-darkness of the room. “But they are wonderful teachers, if there is a pleasure you wish to learn.”

“I am certain I will learn it all.” She admits, almost shyly. “Unless you think it strange that I join your obviously close foursome?”

“If it were strange to us, we would not have offered.” After a few months of knowing Oberyn and Ellaria, you are now very certain that they choose their lovers in different ways. And the ones that entered into this arrangement — this family you have created — were chosen for more than just looks or sport. “We would never have even mentioned it.”

“I am worried.” She confesses quietly. “You are Ellaria are his soulmates, Oberyn is his lover, and I— I am just his wife.” It sounds ridiculous, but she is used to many wives not being of any use or consequence once an heir was secured. “I was slightly worried my father would have offered him coin to return me to him.”

“Just his wife?” Your fingers graze through her hair and tuck the strands behind her ear. “Raeden is not in the habit of dismissing the people he cares for, my darling. And he would not have proposed – the marriage or indeed any sort of solution – if he did not care for you.”

“I guess that I just need to believe that.” She chuckles quietly. “With my luck though, you can see why that is hard.”

“Just because you have not been lucky yet, does not mean you are never going to be lucky at all.” It is a small offer of comfort, but an honest one. Your thumb strokes her cheek and you smile, feeling a bit more awake with the sensation of arousal coursing through your veins. “Perhaps it is time to balance the scales.”

“What do you suggest?” She asks, arching a brow and humming quietly. Her head tilts, leaning into your touch and her bright blue eyes are fixed on yours.

“How much are you keen to experience?” She is looking to you for guidance and you want very dearly to provide it.

“What do you have in mind?” She asks curiously. Last night with Raeden was wonderful and satisfying, but she craves more, wishing to learn everything she can and experience it all.

“Have you ever had a woman give you pleasure before?” It is a careful question, one that could go wrong if Margaery decides she does not want to explore this with you, but you find yourself craving to know if her slit tastes as divine as her lips do.

“No.” She confesses quietly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. For all her worldliness, she had never ventured into pleasure with another woman. “Is it— what is it like?” She asks breathlessly.

“Much the same as when a man has his head between your legs.” It makes you laugh softly to admit it, but it is the truth. “But slender fingers can sometimes wring sensations from you that thicker ones could not. And while these men know of that hidden nub above your folds, not all men do.”

“Raeden was the first.” She tells you quietly. “No man had ever used his mouth on me before.”

“Then your lovers have been neglecting you.” This time when you offer her a smile, it is smaller, warmer, and more confident. “If you would like to experience it from a woman, I can show you. Or Ellaria, if you would rather.”

“Do you…want to?” She asks, unsure if you are interested in her or if you are just being kind. Both you and Ellaria make her cunt clench and bottom out when you both look at her as if she is a tasty morsel.

“I would not offer if I did not want to.” Once more, your fingers smooth the stray hairs from her face. “But if you are not ready yet, or if you would prefer Ellaria, it is entirely your choice.”

“I confess I find both of you extremely intoxicating.” She tells you, slightly flustered. “I would like to touch and be touched by both of you.”

“Then that can easily be managed.” With five of you, there would never be a moment that one of you could not have someone between your legs if you wished it. “Very easily indeed.”

“Is it— similar to touching a man?” She asks, biting her lip.

“It can be.” After all, some men are soft and some women are muscled. “But women are shaped so beautifully. And the scent and taste? Worth drowning in.”

“You do not find men pleasing?” She tilts her head in surprise, sure that you had true affection for Oberyn. And to have two soulmate who were men? She cannot believe that you prefer women to men.

“Of course I do.” You shrug, though. “Some men. Not most. But women are—they are otherworldly, are they not? Inspirations. Walking goddesses.” In the half-light, you laugh softly at yourself. “I did not mean to surprise you. But surely you must know how stunning you are?”

“I have been told I am beautiful for my entire life. Flattered and had my hand kissed.” She shrugs one dainty shoulder. “Men who wished to align with my family, to access my dowry. Never me that they wanted, they wanted my name.”

“Their motives may have been wrong, but they were telling the truth about your beauty.” Your own experience as a noble daughter was nothing like hers but you still frown. “I am sorry if you learned not to believe it because of them.”

“My faults are nothing you need to apologize for.” She promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek.

“They were wrong,” you repeat again, more steadily this time. “Not you. You are not at fault.” Softly, slowly, you rise up on one elbow and nudge Margaery over onto her back. “Will you let me show you how wonderful you truly are?”

There is a soft grin on her face as she looks up at you. “I thought you were tired?”

"I was." There is no lie in that, but you cannot help the way your smile turns sly. "But then the beauty in bed with me confessed she wanted to know what it would feel like for me to touch her."

“Then touch me.” Margaery begs. “Make me cry out so loud our husbands come to see what is happening.”

"They will only be upset that they did not get to witness the first moments." Grinning, you bowl Margaery over entirely and let the next press of your lips to hers be eager. Wanting. This time your hands have permission to wander, and you work at the ties on the front of her dress methodically. Suddenly you understand every complaint Oberyn has ever had about Northern dresses.

Margaery moans when your fingers brush her skin, eager to feel your touch and her legs restlessly spread underneath you. Unable to control herself and for the first time, she doesn’t have to. She is allowed to have what she wants with no shame.

"Oberyn is right," you huff, a small laugh escaping you as your fingers ghost over her skin and spread apart the two sides of her dress. "No more of these heavy dresses in Dorne. Far too much fabric."

She giggles quietly and reaches out to pull at your own laces. “Your husband grumbles about your clothing?” She asks coyly.

"If Oberyn had his way, none of his lovers would wear anything but cock-drunk smiles." It is only half a joke, but the two of you are far more focused with pulling off your dresses. "But now that my goal lies under all of these layers, I am bound to agree with him."

“Perhaps the world would be simpler if everyone where nude.” She bites her lip and crows in triumph when your stays loosen. Your enthusiastic anticipation is catching and she swears she has soaked her undergarments.

"Oberyn will celebrate to hear you say such a thing." Laces, layers, stays, and petticoats are tossed off the bed from every angle until Margaery is finally bare under you. "Gods above..." Not so long ago, you would have been embarrassed the way the sight of her breasts makes your mouth water. But now? There is no shame in your attraction. "You are...stunning, my darling."

Your own body is still covered in a chemise and she whimpers, squirming slightly. “I— I wish to see you.” She pants slightly. “All of you.”

On your knees above her, you pick up the hem of your final layer and toy with it for a second just to see if she rolls her hips again with need. When Margaery squirms again almost instantly, you bite back a smirk. "There is no need to beg," you assure her, pulling the fabric over your head at last.

She has seen nude women before, but none that take her breath away like this. Drinking in the sight of your tits, the thatch of curls between your thighs, she reaches out to caress your hip. “Beautiful.” She whispers. “I want to see this every day.”

"I was promised an extremely large bed as a wedding present," you tell her with a grin, reaching down to caress her cheek and letting your hand wander to the peak of one breast lightly. "It will have to be large enough for five, I think."

“And if I wanted to fuck your husband?” She asks softly, wanting to make sure that she doesn’t cross any boundaries that would hurt or offend you.

"Then I might ask to watch." Your other hand grazes her thigh as your eyes roam back and forth over every inch of his body. The reddish tone of her hair is darker in the curls at the apex of her thighs, and somehow knowing that is more alluring than you ever could have believed. "Or I might fuck your husband in turn."

“You must look gorgeous on his cock.” She whimpers when your fingers brush through her curls and she spreads her legs wider. Her cunt is throbbing and unlike a man, you don’t just jump into things. Heightening the sensations. “Have you – have you fucked them together before?”

"I did not know my pussy could stretch to take both of them like that." The memory of that particular day will be burned into your mind's eye forever, and you shiver as you lay yourself down between Margaery's legs. "You can have them both too, if you want."

“And you and Ellaria?” You look breathtaking between her thighs and a shiver rubs through her body when your breath washes over her sensitive folds.

Lifting your head, the plains and dips of her body are even more dramatic from the place you are now occupying and your smile tugs into a smirk. "You can have us, too. If that is your desire."

“I have done what I have been expected to my entire life.” Margaery pants, her chest heaving as she looks down at you. “I wish to be greedy.” The sentiment earns an approving nod of your head, and a flash of your own greed has you lunging upward to wrap your lips around one pert nipple while your thumb easily finds her swollen clit. Margaery’s cry is strained, gasping when she realizes that you are just as talented as her husband, maybe even more so. Overwhelmed by the fact that you are touching her, her eyes close and then pop open again so she can watch.

Your free hand kneads her other breast, rolling the nipple between your fingers experimentally to find the amount of tension she likes even as your fingers dance at her entrance. If you had been worried about the transition from friends to lovers, the ease of this moment is proof that you need not have given it a second thought at all. After all — when you had told Oberyn that you would likely only go to bed with people you cared for, you had been telling the truth.

“Oh, oh gods.” She moans out, panting your name when you give her the exact amount of pressure on her nipples that she likes. It is like being with a man, but the touch is more gentle, localized, and she can tell that you have touched a woman before.

The pleased hun from your throat vibrates through her skin when you find just the right tension, continuing your ministrations at her gorgeous tits but slipping the tips of two fingers through her slick folds. A little deeper with each pass, it will take no time for your digits to disappear inside her body, but you want to give her time to adjust to the sensation.

“I— I did— I never—” Her cunt is pleasantly sore, thoroughly used by your soulmate last night and her hips still chase the feeling of your fingers. “Please, Princess.” She begs, the knowledge that you are higher than her socially making her clench again.

“Never what, Margaery?” Removing your mouth from her temporarily, you find her eyes already glazed over with lust and cannot help but feel a little proud. You felt the way her cunt clenched your fingers when she used your title and you wonder if she might find it alluring to be ‘under your power’ like some others have you heard about.

“Never felt so good.” She whines and shakes her head. “Please.” She needs you to keep touching her. She’s orgasmed before but this sensation is sweeter, sharper.

"Raeden will take that as a challenge," you inform her with a smirk, but her pleading is too dear. You wrap your lips around her other breast, switching your hand to its twin and sinking your fingers into her dripping wet heat just a touch faster. The way she is pulling you in, you could not go slower if you tried. It is as though her body itself is begging for you.

It is too much and not enough all at the same time. Margaery knows her voice it pitching up every time she makes a sound but she can’t even try to muffle herself, not when she knows that no one will judge her. The sharp cries of pleasure tighten when you move down her body, laying kisses along her skin and inhaling her scent with your own blissed out groan before you open your mouth entirely and envelope her cunt entirely. Languid open mouth kisses come with kitten licks from your probing tongue, and Margaery lets loose a moan so loud that it breaks past the walls and the door opens abruptly.

“Star?” At the sight in front of him, Raeden’s eyes widen. Letting loose a moan of his own at the sight of his soulmate’s face between his new wife’s thighs, licking and sucking like you have always pleasured her. “Gods be praised.” His cock jolts and immediately starts to harden as he steps fully into the room and closes the door behind him.

Your hum vibrates through Margaery's lips and you barely turn your head before you get a glimpse of Raeden crowding into the room. "I had a sudden burst of energy," you hum, smirking in a very self-satisfied way.

“I see.” He grunts, his hand moving to his belt to start untying it as he moves closer. “I had some thought to take my new wife to bed, but it seems as if you have beaten me to it.” He tells you, his eyes darkening with lust as he watches her body writhe under your attention.

"And yet I think you are not upset about it." Not at all, if his instantly hard cock is anything to judge by.

Margaery waits for her husband to answer but he doesn’t. Instead he strides over to the bed and leans in, his tongue plunging into her mouth with a hot moan as he caresses your head between her thighs.

That is all the encouragement you need, turning again to give your devoted attention to Margaery's weeping pussy. Every lick is divine, but you push your fingers deep inside her and suck her clit into your mouth all at once, wanting her to moan into Raeden's kiss so he can swallow the sound.

Margaery reaches up, desperately grasping Raeden’s head as she kisses him back, feeling like her entire world is spinning and she doesn’t want it to stop. Her husband is turned on by this, and if he and Oberyn together is anything near this intoxicating, she would want to witness it every day.

Your own moan follows, loud but muffled by Margaery’s folds, as you feel Raeden’s fingers sliding along your own throbbing cunt. He loves to explore your body while you use your mouth on someone else – something you discovered quickly the first time you gave Ellaria pleasure – and this morning with his wife is no exception.

“I want to see you with her.” Margaery moans. “Would you fuck your soulmate in front of your wife?”

The question makes both you and Raeden pause, but with him naked beside you there is no question of the affect her request has on him. A spurt of precum drips from his cock into your shoulder and you grin wickedly. “I think he would enjoy that.”

She bites her lip and looks from you to her husband. The weight of the ring on her finger feels right and she spreads her legs wider. “Make me shake while my husband fills you with his cock.” She begs. “I want to see his seed drip from your cunt and taste it to see if it is sweet inside you.”

If any of you were ever unsure as to whether or not Margaery would fit into the dynamic you have established amongst yourselves – all of those concerns are dispelled in this moment. Raeden groans deeply and surges down again, plunging his tongue deep as his kisses her and sliding his fingers as far into your cunt as they will go to make you buck against his hand at the same time you moan into his wife’s pussy. It is a symphony of sin but it is so earnestly wanted by all of you. It could only be more perfect if Oberyn and Ellaria were here, the two of them disappearing into the other bedroom, and while they had invited him, he had wanted to stay in the main area in case you or Margaery needed him.

Your hips rock against his hand, impaling you on his thick fingers even as your own slide in and out of his wife. The squelching sounds are like music to your ears, and the hand that was previous at Margaery’s tits now plays with your own as Raeden lavishes hers with attention.

“Oh fuck.” She moans, enjoying the difference between the two sets of hands on her body. “Do you— is this what you do every day?”

“As often as we like,” Raeden rumbles, lifting his head to meet her eyes. “And you are welcome whenever you choose.”

“Ohhhhh oh gods.” The moans come out louder now, both the idea of having this anytime she wishes and the pure pleasure of your mouth on her sensitive cunt. “Yes.”

He seems as blissed out as she is even without having more than his hands involved, and you reluctantly pull away from Margaery’s glistening cunt to look up at him. “My love, your wife wishes to watch you fuck me,” you remind him, chest heaving at even the formation of the words on your tongue.

“Yes.” Raeden nods, aware that this is something special. The first time that the three of you are together like this. Hopefully not the last. He kisses her once more before he is shuffling behind you and wrapping his fingers around his cock. “Watch wife.” He orders Margaery.

His fingers are slick from being inside you and you moan from deep in your chest when he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and starts to push inside. Raeden’s tendency to be overly gentle with you has eased over the last few weeks, and especially in moments like this when you are so pliant and wet that you are literally dripping on the sheets.

“Fuuuuuuck.” Raeden grunts, rocking his hips until he is buried to be hilt inside you, his dark eyes fixed on his wife as she watches.

“Gods above.” Your groan echoes through Margaery’s body and vibrates deliciously through her wetness, but you have to tear your mouth away temporarily to catch your breath. “How will you take me for your wife, love? Will you be soft and sweet, or will you show her how I like to be made breathless?”

“I think I will show her how the princess likes to take her cocks.” Raeden decides with a grin and a wink to his wife before he leans over and kisses your spine.

That promise is immediately followed by the pulling back of his hips and having them slam forward again, emptying and filling your quivering cunt all in an instant and making you cry out into Margaery’s folds. Your fingers pick up speed with the determination of having Raeden fuck you, and you suck her clit into your mouth again with such enthusiasm that her cry echoes your own.

“Oh gods.” Margaery can feel the strength behind the thrust when your face pushes into her cunt harder than the normal pressure. Rocked forwards by his cock. “That cock is so good. I will need it harsh too, husband.”

“Whatever happened to ladies being delicate?” Raeden huffs, groaning as his hips connect with your ass again.

“None of us really are.” Margaery giggles and then moans when your tongue flutters around her clit. Making her grind down on your tongue.

“Men have been fed a lie,” he grouses good-naturedly, and he reaches out with one hand to grip your braid that Margaery has unpinned.

“Do you like to have your hair pulled?” Margaery asks you breathlessly.

Nodding makes the grip that Raeden has on your hair that much tighter, and your eyes flutter shut at the sensation before you open them again to look up at Margaery. "I cannot explain it, but I always enjoy pain with my pleasure."

“I want to try that.” Margaery moans and reaches up to twist her hand around her own braid.

The amused smile on your lips is mirrored by Raeden, and you shake your head at her. "You cannot do it yourself, lover," you tell her, reaching up and tangling your fingers tightly as high up in her braid as you can manage. "If you do not like it, tell me 'no' and I will stop."

“Yes.” She nods and moans as she moves her head and makes her scalp tug.

Seeing the way her eyes roll back at the slight pressure of the tug, you pull harder and more sharply, elated when the sounded you are gifted with is an ecstatic moan. "Yes?" You ask, letting her braid go slack so you can tug again, just as sharply.

“Yes!” She cries out and her cunt clenches around your fingers. She can’t believe that it feels so good and makes her entire body shake with pleasure.

"My wife and my soulmate may be more alike than they know." Raeden rasps out, grunting out another thrust and tugging at your braid as you pull on Margaery's. "Make her cum, my love. I want to see the moment she falls apart for you."

“Ohhhhh fuck.” The curse falls from Margaery’s lips easily as she shamelessly grinds down on your fingers. “Would— would that be so bad?” She manages.

"Not at all." As Raeden pounds you deeper and harder into Margaery's pussy he bends over to bite your shoulder and groans at the sight in front of him. "You will both be fucked into the mattress at every opportunity."

“That sounds perfect.” She moans, one hand drifting to her own breast. She wonders if she could have whomever she wanted at any time, or if there was some unspoken rule. She doesn’t doubt that she would need to give Raeden his heir before she sleeps with another man, but she is eager to experience the legendary Red Viper between her thighs.

Any kind of conversation dissolves again when Raeden pulls your hair sharply and you pull Margaery's in response, and the room becomes a renewed symphony of moans. There is nothing you want more in this moment that to hear the ecstasy that will come from your friend's lips when she cums for you, so you curl your fingers against the place inside her that will make her scream and redouble your efforts.

Now her breath comes out in ragged gasps, watching as her breathtaking husband slams into you eagerly, his own groans making her cunt clench around your fingers. The scene is enough to make her keen and the quick, cleverness of your fingers quickly pushes Margaery over the edge with a very unladylike yell.

There is something truly intoxicating in being the middle of this encounter. Knowing that it was not only your skill but Raeden’s passion which sends Margaery over the edge and has her clenching down in your fingers with such eagerness that her body might try to envelop your entire hand. It leaves you wishing under Raeden’s Powerful thrusts, moaning and grinding back against him as you lap up every drop of cum from her slit.

It is hard for Margaery to keep her eyes open, but she is determined to watch him cum. Seeing if he makes you squeal like she had last night with his gentler touch. His fingertips dig into your hips, sure to leave marks that last days, and it is the powerful need behind them along with one more well-timed thrust that has you tearing away from Margaery’s body to cry his name for all to hear. The insistent throbbing of your body between his and hers is unending, rolling through you so you can neither seem to stop the continuous feeling of peak pleasure or even catch your breath. It is magnificently exhausting, and Raeden is still fucking into you with erratic force.

He gets to have you. It is still a wonder to him, made even more precious by the fact that his wife is watching him fuck you, her hands still cupping and massaging her tits while she catches her breath. He gets to have it all, and it’s making his thrusts slap even harder than he’s ever fucked you.

A half dozen more pumps of his hips against your ass and Raeden is choking on his own groans, trying to call both of your names at once and ending up alternating between them as he pulls you tight against him and nearly collapses onto your back.

Margaery hums. A little chuckle in her throat as Raeden rolls you onto your side, protective of the babe in your belly. She had been told about the child and is very happy for you, actually eager for her own time. Now, she pushes to her knees and leans over to kiss you both.

“You do not mind your own taste?” Your thumb swipes under her bottom lip, wiping away a smudge of her own slick that came from your mouth. Some do and some do not. It would be another delightful development if Margaery did not, as you find it quite indulgent.

“No, I want to drink it from your lips.” She coos, kissing you again and then Raeden before she smirks. Slowly sliding down to drag her tongue over your nipple and biting down on it gently. “Right now, I want to taste my husband’s cock still inside your cunt. Lick you both up.”

There is a voice in the back of your head that knows Oberyn is going to be thrilled with Margaery’s curiosity and desire to explore her own sexuality, and that Ellaria’s approval will be near instant as well. “Enjoy yourself, my darling,” you hum, snuggles up in Raeden’s arms and spread for her to enjoy.

Raeden’s eyes widen when his wife, the wicked smirk pleasantly plastered on her face, starts to move down your body. Fixed on the sight, his spent cock twitches inside you. “Wife, you fit this group more than you know.” He rasps out.

“Better than I did, at the beginning,” you admit with a soft sigh when one of Margaery’s long fingers strokes your folds.

“I cannot imagine that to be true.” She scoffs. “I am lucky you are so accommodating.” She looks back up at you as she scoops some of the thick, creamy cum up from the base of her husband’s cock.

“You are a wonder,” you correct, relaxing even more under her touch.

She hums, accepting the compliment, although she knows she is receiving much more from this arrangement than you are. Her fingers slide into her mouth and she moans at the musky, salty taste. “Delightful.”

“He is even better when you taste him from the source.” The encouragement is met with a groan from your soulmate, and he kisses along your shoulder as Margaery lowers her mouth to the place you are still connected. It is her first time being with another woman, tasting another woman and it seems like she is diving into it. Luxuriating in the freedom and encouragement she is getting, her tongue flutters around your clit like she had felt you do to her and then down to her husband’s cock.

“Fuck.” The appreciative groan from Raeden makes you grin in his arms when you turn to kiss him. “Your wife is a fast learner,” you hum, breath hitching when her tongue flicks over your clit again.

“She is.” Raeden hums with pride, “Very good. The gods blessed us when they brought us together.”

"Such praise, my darling." Looking down your body to where Margaery is indulging her seemingly endless curiosities in your bodies, you grip her hair in your fingers again and tug just sharply enough to make her moan. "You deserve every word of it."

She hums and preens under the praise. Feeling her cheeks heat up at the words when she should be shocked at what she is doing. There is no embarrassment. Nothing but pleasure and curiosity.

"How does your husband taste from my cunt?" As filthy as the words are, they're languid. Relaxed and indulgent. You are as curious for the answer as she is for the taste, if you are honest with yourself.

“Like ambrosia.” Margaery moans, flicking up another taste of the two of you so she can come to let you taste for yourself.

When she unfurls her tongue into your kiss it is an extension of that gorgeous indulgence, and you hum deeply as you wrap her up in your arms. "I think you might be far more eager for this arrangement than you first thought," you grin knowingly.

“I think I am.” She grins as she slides her finger down your cheek. “I am very proud to be Lady Sunstone.”

______

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