IaMtRaSh

#2 NSFW 18+ Main @soytrash

[sedonasummer]

Ive had a thought, and I just need to share it with someone- Maekar #1 biggest fan of his partner having bush 😩 like imagine his reaction when one day BOOM, bush has been removed, I just know he’d hate it

ɢᴏɴᴇ | ᴍᴀᴇᴋᴀʀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

─ summary: You do something new for your husband. He kinda hates it for a little but only for a little bit.

─ pairing: Maekar Targaryen x reader

─ content: 18+ MDNI | smut | p in v | no plot | fluff if you squint

─ a/n: I was giggling writing this. Thank you for your patience…we are slowly working through this inbox. 🖤

This week had been a slow-moving torture of missed connections. Maekar would stumble into your shared chambers long after the moon had reached its zenith, his face etched with the day's battles, only to find you deep in an exhausted sleep. When you woke, the space beside you was cold, his scent a fading ghost on the pillows. It was a chasm of silence and solitude, and you had grown tired of it. That morning, you had summoned Maekar's steward. "You will tell my husband," you instructed, your voice leaving no room for argument, "that his work ends today at the seventh hour. He will join me for dinner. He will not be late." The steward, a man who had seen the your husband’s frustrations at the constant near-misses, simply bowed. "Of course, my lady."

You spent the afternoon orchestrating the evening. The kitchens were a hive of activity, preparing everything Maekar favoured. You wanted to care for him, to wash the week's exhaustion from his bones with food and wine and quiet affection.

Dinner was a success. The tension in his shoulders finally unwound, and the lines around his pale violet eyes softened as he spoke of his day, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the table. He fed you from his own fork, his fingers lingering on your lips, a silent promise of what was to come. When you finally retired to your bedchamber, the air was thick with unspoken need. The week of abstinence had been a strain on you both; your life together was a passionate, physical one, and this dry spell had left an ache.

"You have missed your husband, I think," he teased, his voice a low growl as he pulled you into his arms. His silver-blond hair brushed against your cheek, and the faint, coarse scratch of his beard was a familiar, thrilling sensation against your skin.

You wound your arms around his neck, pressing your body against his. "And you, my lord," you murmured against his mouth, "have you missed your wife?" His answer was a kiss, deep and hungry. He backed you toward the bed, his hands roaming possessively over your curves, undressing you as he went, his touch igniting a fire low in your belly. You fell onto the soft furs, a tangle of limbs and growing urgency. His mouth moved from yours to your throat, nipping and sucking, and you arched against him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

"Maekar," you breathed, your fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. "I did something… for you."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his violet eyes dark with lust and curiosity. A slow smile spread across his lips. "Did you now?" he rumbled. "Show me."

You sat up and gripped the hem of your silky shift. In one fluid motion you pulled it over your head and cast it aside. The firelight kissed your skin, and you watched his face, your own breath held tight in your chest. His smile faltered. His eyes, which had been filled with a hungry heat, widened slightly. The look on his face was a flash of pure, unadulterated dismay.

"What is this?" He pushed himself up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on the juncture of your thighs. "Who did this to you?"

A knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach. "You… you do not like it?" you asked, your voice smaller than you intended.

The sound of your voice seemed to break him from his stupor. He saw the uncertainty in your eyes, the slight tremble in your lower lip, and his expression immediately softened. He reached out, his large hand cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. "No," he said quickly, then corrected himself. "I mean, yes. You are beautiful, perfection, as always."He sat up fully, his muscular torso bathed in firelight. "But I love the look of you, all of you."

You could not help the small pout that formed on your lips.

He saw your disappointment and leaned in, pressing a soft, apologetic kiss to your mouth. "You are spectacular," he insisted, his voice a low, earnest murmur against your lips. "But please, do not let that butcher touch you again."

A small, watery laugh escaped you at his dramatic choice of words. The tension in the room broke, replaced by something more complex, a mixture of your lingering disappointment and his overwhelming affection. He pulled you back down onto the furs, his mouth finding yours again. The kiss was different now, less frantic, more apologetic and tender. But the week of built-up need was a powerful force. His hands began to roam again, rediscovering your body, and the heat between you began to rebuild, slowly at first, then with a sudden, ferocious intensity. He rolled on top of you, and when he entered you it was with a groan of pure relief.

He began to move, his strokes deep and punishing, and as he took you, as he watched his thick, glistening cock disappear into your body, something shifted in him. He had been dismayed, yes, but now he was transfixed. Without the soft, neat curls he could see everything. He could see how the perfect, swollen folds of your cunt spread around his length, see how utterly soaked you were for him, your slickness coating him, shining in the firelight. The visual was filthy, intimate, and undeniably erotic. He could see every detail of your body's response to him, and it drove him wild with a possessive lust.

"Gods," he grunted, his rhythm growing faster, harder. He gripped your hips, pulling you onto him with each thrust, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing in the quiet chamber. "How long," he panted, his gaze locked on where you were joined, "until it grows back?"

"Four moons or so," you gasped, your hands clutching at his powerful shoulders, your body arching to meet his brutal pace.

A rough, breathless laugh escaped him. "Well, there is no point in waiting around." He drove into you, his hips snapping hard against yours. "We might as well make the most of this." The sheer, unexpected amusement in his voice, mixed with the power of his thrusts, sent you over the edge, and you cried out his name as your release tore through you. He followed you moments later with a hoarse shout, burying himself deep inside you and spending inside you, marking you as his.

As you lay tangled together, panting in the firelight, you could not help but laugh, a deep, satisfied sound. He was an impossible man.

[spiced-reads]

Thank you so much for this masterpiece !!🤍

[julez-5]

THE DRAGON’S DOE—Maekar Targaryen

Maekar Targaryen x Baratheon!wife!reader

content: The Tourney was suppose to be a fun time to relax until your husband lost the two children he was in charge of.

words: 2.5k

cw: MDNI 18+ p in v, fingering, cockwarming, a pussy slap, slapping, pussy pronouns, breeding (shocker), OOC Aerion (he is better behaved as Maekar is not a single mom)

a/n: this was originally just going to be them hooking up at tourneys, but I decided to make them married for the plot. I lokwey might do an origin story if anyone is interested lol.

You were not sure what had possessed you to want to visit home, but that slowly died after spending a whole day with your mother, but the girls seemed to be having a fun time being closer to the water,  while Aerion sulked as he had lost another round of sword play to his uncle. 

“You are brooding. You look like your damn dragon,” your brother muttered from beside you, causing you to roll your eyes. 

“He has been your good-brother this long and you still cannot say his name,” you countered, raising a brow. 

Lyonel laughed with a shake of his head, “It does not change the fact that he is a miserable bastard.” 

You could still remember Lyonel’s bitter reaction when you had declared you were going to wed Prince Maekar. You were hardly a woman grown in love for the first and had declared to your father that if he denied the match when it was proposed you would burn down Storm’s End 

You lifted your knife that you had previously used to cut your meat now flashed before his face, causing him to scoot back slightly, “Watch yourself,” you warned.

“I see where, Aerion, gets it from,” he then muttered, looking away from you toward your second whose face mirrored your own as he picked away at his supper. 

“Mama,” a small voice called out. 

You turned looking toward Rhae who sat across from you, “Yes?” you asked, your face transforming to one of a softer expression within a moment. 

“When are we leaving to go see kepa?” 

As if you could hear her thoughts your head snapped down to the end of the table glaring at your mother. She had been even less pleased than your brother when marrying a Targaryen and it now showed more than ever especially watching her interact with your children. 

Lyonel, at least, loved his nieces and nephews. Your mother was a different story. You made a mental reminder to make Lyonel visit you at Summerhall next time he was missing you. 

Aerion’s eyes drifted down to his grandmother holding her gaze as if he himself was warning her not to start with his mother. “On the morrow,” you told her.  “Why don’t you three go get ready for bed. We will have an early start. I will be right in,” you told them with a smile. 

The three eventually went off to bed, the eldest of them the most reluctant, but went nonetheless. You turned looking to your brother, “Next time you are coming to Summerhall so I do have to deal with the looks or the comments about my silver haired brood,” you declared loudly pushing yourself to your feet. 

You ignored your mother’s voice, but it was easy to ignore as it mixed with your brother’s loud laughter. Your father simply sat at the table with a sigh, “You are the reason she hardly comes around,” he muttered to his wife. 

Your eyes moved from your good-brother to your husband, “You lost our sons? You were in charge of two children and you lost them both?” You stood in front of the long table where they sat Lord Ashford having excused himself at your arrival being half terrified to hear how you took the news of your missing sons. 

Maekar rolled his eyes, muttered something under his breath which only caused you to raise a brow, “Is that not what you did? We have six children. One is at the Citadel, three were with me, and two with you. Where are you two, Maekar?”

Baelor let out a small chuckle pressing his hand to his mouth as if trying to hide his betrayal, but his younger brother had already heard him long and clear. “Tell her why Daeron ran off.”

Your eyes snapped to the elder then slowly turned to your husband, “Why did they run off, Maekar?”

The man opened his mouth and closed it again. You let out a sigh, your hand moved, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come,” you beckoned, turning out of the hall. 

You did not have to turn to know he was following you, even if you could not hear his boots against the ground you knew he would have followed after you. 

At the last minute he moved ahead of you, opening the door and allowing you to enter inside the provider chamber. Your eyes scanned the room, it was nowhere near as grand as the one at Summerhall, but it was rather large. 

You moved toward the table at the far side pouring the wine in the flagon into two respective chalices. “Why did Daeron run off?” you asked once more. 

He moved to sit in one of the chairs as you settled in the other. “He was going to enter the lists.”

“Oh, Maekar," you groaned in frustration. 

“He is a man grown, it is expected of him!” he argued. 

You rolled your eyes, “He is not Aerion nor is he you. The sooner you come to that realization the happier our lives can be.”

He sighed, but argued no further. “I am glad you are here. I have missed you,” he whispered quietly as if it would bring shame to admit it. 

“Cannot hear you,” you teased, raising a brow. 

His jaw clenched, “I am glad you are here. I have missed you,” he said louder this time. 

You hummed, downing the rest of your wine as you stood to your feet making your way over to him. His legs parted for you like they had done thousands of times before as you looked down at him. 

Your hands moved cupping either side of his face forcing him to look up. The hair of his beard rubbed against your palms. His violet eyes flickered over your face, as his hardened features visibly softened now that you were alone. 

“I have missed you too,” you confessed, leaning down to press your lips to his. 

It was chaste and it caused him to chase after you as you pulled away staring down at him. He groaned in displeasure before his hand trailed up gripping your ass and forcing you down onto his lap. 

This time when his lips met yours it was anything, but chate. A hunger clash of teeth as you both tried to convert your overwhelming need for the other into it. It had been long. Too long without the other, and it always made the reunion just that much sweeter. 

You pulled away once your lungs begged for more air than you were currently providing them with, “You are getting soft on me, husband,” you teased, your hands interlaced through his silver locks giving it a harsh tug. 

“Shut your mouth,” he grunted, his own mouth pressing open mouth kisses down your throat. 

“Make me.”

He grinned pulling the strings before you were being forced onto your feet, “Take your dress off,” he instructed. 

You did as you were told, allowing the black fabric to pool at your feet. Maekar had finally freed his cock, by the time you were bare before him moving forward as you straddled him once more. The chair groaned under your combined weight, but neither of you truly cared. 

Your mouth reconnected with his as his large hands moved. You rose up onto your 

He drew his hand back giving your cunt a harsh slap, causing you to shoot forward your head to rest on his shoulder, “Not running your mouth now,” he muttered. 

You leaned back, your hand raising to connect with his face the same way he had just done to your womanhood. His head snapped to the side before slowly turning back to you, a wide grin on his lips. 

“She is soaked,” he whispered, his mouth moving to nip at your neck as he entered a digit into your drooling hole with ease. You hummed your head tilting back as you let out a loud moaning as his thumb rubbed a circle on your clit. 

“She might already be ready to take me,” he said, slipping another finger into you. 

You nodded, “I told you..I’ve missed you,” you told him, grinding yourself down against his hand. 

He nodded in agreement withdrawing his finger, giving his cock a lazy few strokes as you hovered over him. He notched himself at your hole holding your eye contact as you slowly sunk down on him, taking him inch by inch. 

He sat back waiting for you to begin to fuck yourself onto him, but you did not budge. You sat there staring at him, “Move,” he grunted. 

“No. You lost our sons,” you told him. He groaned your name as if it was painful, but you still did not move. “Why should I move? Plead your case.” 

“You are my wife and I have missed you so I order you to move.”

“Missed me or my cunt?”

“Both,” he confessed, trying to get you to move but you fought against him staying still. 

“You lost our sons,” you pointed out. 

“I will find them,” he promised. 

That was good enough for you, allowing you to finally give him moving your hips against his. His mouth moved forward latching around your hardened peak of your breast, “Maekar,” you moaned, your nails digging into the pale skin of his shoulder. 

“Missed you,” he muttered, as he dragged his tongue across the valley of your breast turning to get the other side the same attention as the first. You grinded your hips down into him quickly, your clit rubbing against the coarse hair at his base causing you to already feel the coil in your belly quickly building. 

“She’s taking me so well.”

You only groaned in response, your nails digging further into him. His hands dug into your hip bones no doubt going to leave bruises in his wake, painting your skin with the reminder of him. 

“You’re close already,” he observed, feeling the way you kept fluttering around him, the loud cry of his name being the only thing you could truly say. 

You nodded eagerly, fucking yourself into him harder trying to achieve the ecstasy of relief, “Be a good girl and finish on your husband’s cock,” he instructed, continung to lap and suck at your hardened nub. 

“Oh, fuck,” you groaned when the coil in your belly finally snapped. 

You went boneless in his embrace moving forward. Maekar continued to fuck you through your high as he chased his own release, “Gonna fill you,” he told you, as he thrusted up into you quickly. 

“Give me another, babe, husband," you muttered, and that was his undoing as buried himself to the hilt, the long ropes of cum shooting out filling you with him for the first time in what felt like forever.

Your ragged breaths filled the room as your flesh pressed against the other, his heat radiating off him as if he was your own personal fire. You were still slumped against his shoulder, as you pressed a kiss to his sweat slickened skin, “Oh, my dragon I have missed you,” you coed. 

He grunted in response, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, “Don’t leave that long again.”

“I can’t. You lose our children in your absence.” 

The Baratheon tent was chaotic as always as your second son and yourself sat at the high table glancing around. You let out a sigh debating making your way back to the castle to await your husband’s return when you finally noticed a small boy next to an overly large man. Though his head was shaved you would have recognized that face anywhere. 

“Aerion?” you asked, tilting your head toward the young man. He hummed in response turning toward you, “Is that your brother or are the fumes of stench finally getting to me.”

His head turned following your extended hand, and you watched his eyes instantly widen. “That’s what I thought,” you muttered, pushing yourself to your feet. 

You made your way through the tent, men alike moving out of the way averting their eyes as if they were scared to make eye contact with you, but you did not care your gaze was set on your missing son. 

The boy immediately looked toward the large knight hoping to his feet as he urged his companion to do the same and was almost successfully able to make a break for it before, “Aegon!” was called out loudly. 

Your brother who had heard the commotion slowly approached eyes flickering between his sister and his new companion, “What is going on?” he asked, but you ignored him, eyes trained on the bald boy. 

Egg paused for a moment and you could tell he was debating ignoring you like he did when he was caught doing something he should not have been. “If you run you will stay with your uncle for two moons,” causing him to turn toward you slowly. 

The large man turned from you to the boy at his side, “M’Lady?” he questioned, as if you had gone crazy. 

Your son looked at you with a sheepish smile that caused your head to spin. You quickly turned to your brother, “How many times has been in this tent?” you asked. Lyonel scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes. “Your missing nephew was in your tent and you did not notice him!” you hissed, driving your finger into his chest. 

The hedge knight’s eyes widened, glancing from the Baratheon siblings to the boy at his side, “Nephew…That means,” he slowly started to put the pieces together. 

“That you have had Prince Maekar and my darling sister’s missing son, my dear friend,” Lyonel laughed moving toward the hedge knight as he kept his eyes on you as if he were afraid you were going to strike him. 

“I am so sorry, M”lady I had no idea!”

The Baratheon man smirked, “Well now that is all sorted out you can take dear Aegon back to the castle and I will fill in Ser Duncan.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nope. The hedge knight is mine now, brother,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Come along. Ser…?”

“Duncan,” Egg supplied. 

“Ser Duncan. Mayhaps one of you can inform me where the hell my eldest son has taken off too,” you muttered, shaking your head. 

You went to move toward the exit when you felt a small hand wrap around yours causing you to look down, “I am sorry I ran off, but I lied to Ser Duncan, and he does not deserve to get in trouble.”

“Oh, good, because Ser Duncan is not going to get in trouble for keeping you alive. You are going to get in trouble for lying to the poor knight and running off.”

Aegon in the moment wasn’t sure which was going to be worse his father’s fiery temper or his mother’s fury.

maekar taglist: @sacha1slytherin @erylilly @thebl00dwyrm @ilocuras24 @xkatherinexo @eleventhboi @alaeratrrn @sem-ra @vigilante24ish @alecriminn @kravitzwhore @loveslide @xostarrgirl @claerysa @karakatitsa-sonya @ghost-heart34 @princessphilly @eowyns-fantasy @hourastius @aryaslittleneedle

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[spiced-reads]

Absolutely devoured!! 🥵🤍

[velvetsainthills]

When your fiancé already has someone they love, it's your responsibility to walk away.

A knight of the seven kingdoms: boss!Maekar x secretary!reader

chapter one — first day

summary: You worked too hard to earn your place at Targaryen Corporation just to be seen as “Maekar Targaryen’s fiancée.” But on your very first day, it becomes painfully clear that no one in the building sees you as anything else. Especially not him.

word count: 3.5k

Tags/Warnings: modern AU, fiancé!Maekar Targaryen, office romance, arranged engagement, unrequited love, emotional angst, rich heir Maekar, employee!reader, workplace gossip, power imbalance, emotionally unavailable Maekar, jealousy themes, awkward affection, reader is painfully in love, mutual pining (eventually), slow burn, hurt/no comfort (for now), neglect, possessiveness, class difference vibes, mentions of Maekar’s girlfriend Diana, emotional repression, yearning, tension, overthinking, reader trying her best, unhealthy attachment, “it’s just business” type beat, subtle toxicity, corporate setting, rain imagery because i said so

A/N: trying something painfully dramatic again because apparently maekar targaryen and emotional suffering belong together reader is literally fighting for her life every time this man says “fiancée” casually. anyway this fic is going to be VERY frustrating so good luck to all of us.

The rain still hadn’t stopped.

Water trailed slowly down the tall glass windows overlooking the skyline, while the twenty-eighth floor of Targaryen Corporation remained painfully bright under cold white office lights. The sounds of keyboards, ringing phones, and heels clicking against carpet echoed through the afternoon like background noise no one paid attention to anymore.

You sat behind the same desk you had occupied for almost three years now.

Executive assistant to Maekar Targaryen.

His secretary.

His fiancée.

Or at least—that was what the headlines liked to call you.

Stacks of documents sat neatly beside your computer monitor, color-coded schedules open across two different tabs. Maekar had six meetings today, two investor interviews, and a dinner with the board at eight.

You remembered all of it without needing to check twice.

“Ms. y/n, legal sent over the revised contracts.”

“Thank you. Just leave them here.”

You offered the intern a polite smile before immediately flipping through the paperwork. Everything was normal. Predictable. The same exhausting cycle your life had been trapped in for years.

“Did Mr. Targaryen get his coffee yet?”

Another assistant leaned over your desk quietly.

You glanced at the time.

3:36 PM.

“I’ll take it myself.”

You stood, grabbing the black ceramic mug from your desk before walking toward the pantry near the back hallway. The smell of roasted coffee filled the air as the machine hummed softly in front of you.

You stared at your phone while waiting.

No new messages.

Nothing.

With a quiet sigh, you turned the screen off again.

At some point, your relationship with Maekar had slowly changed.

You used to chase after him constantly—memorizing his schedule, waiting outside meetings, staying late just to make sure he’d eaten something before midnight.

Now, you barely spoke unless it was work-related.

And honestly?

It was easier this way.

Easier than waiting for him to look at you the same way he looked at Dyanna Dayne.

Easier than pretending those photos online didn’t hurt.

Easier than hoping.

The coffee machine beeped softly.

You picked up the mug and headed back toward your desk—

Only to stop the moment you turned the corner.

Maekar was standing there.

Tall. Exhausted. One sleeve rolled halfway to his elbows, silver hair slightly messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times today. He was leaning against your desk while scrolling through your tablet as if it belonged to him.

“Since when do you go through other people’s things without asking?”

Your voice was calm as you approached.

Maekar looked up immediately.

His pale violet eyes settled on you in silence.

“I pay your salary.”

“That doesn’t mean you own everything.”

You placed the coffee down in front of him.

He glanced at the mug, then back at you.

“You added sugar.”

“You’ve been in meetings for six hours straight.”

“I drink americanos.”

“And you’ll get a migraine by five.”

You answered without looking up from the documents in your hands.

Silence.

Then the quiet scrape of movement as Maekar casually sat on the edge of your desk like he had every right to.

You sighed instantly.

“Get off the desk, Maekar.”

“It’s technically my desk.”

“No, accounting approved the budget for it.”

The corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

Barely a smile.

You hated that you still noticed things like that.

“Are you leaving early tonight?”

The question made you pause.

Because it wasn’t about work.

And Maekar almost never asked questions that weren’t about work.

You finally looked at him.

“Why?”

“Answer me first.”

“That depends on how much more you plan on using me tonight.”

Your tone stayed perfectly polite.

Too polite.

Maekar stared at you for a moment before taking a sip of coffee.

“You’ve been talking to me differently lately.”

A quiet laugh escaped you.

“Oh? Was I supposed to stay sweet forever?”

“You used to be.”

The answer came too quickly.

Too honest.

Both of you seemed to realize it at the same time.

Maekar looked away first, turning toward the rain-soaked city outside the windows.

“When we first got engaged, you never argued with me.”

You stared at him for a long moment before answering quietly.

“When we first got engaged, I was younger.”

Young enough to believe that loving him hard enough might someday make him love you back.

Young enough to wait outside his office until midnight just to walk him home.

Young enough to break every time Dyanna’s name lit up his phone screen.

Now?

You were just tired.

The silence stretched between you until his phone vibrated suddenly across the desk.

You didn’t even need to look.

Because Maekar’s expression changed immediately.

Softer.

Warmer.

Like it always did.

Dyanna.

He answered the call almost instantly.

“Hey.”

Even his voice sounded different.

Gentler.

You lowered your eyes to the paperwork in front of you, pretending not to listen even though he sat less than a meter away.

“I’m still at the office… yeah, probably another hour.”

A pause.

Then that smile again.

Small.

Real.

“I told you not to wait up for me.”

Your grip tightened slightly around your pen.

Maekar continued talking quietly, voice lowering even more as the conversation went on. The kind of voice he had never once used with you.

And somehow, that was the cruelest part of all this.

You were the one wearing his ring.

But half the time, you felt more like a stranger in his life than anyone else in this building.

You stood abruptly, gathering the folders against your chest.

“I’m taking these to legal.”

You kept your voice steady.

Maekar was still on the phone.

“Mm. I’ll call you back.”

But before you could walk past him—

His hand wrapped around your wrist.

You froze instantly.

Not painfully tight.

Just enough to stop you.

You turned to him in disbelief.

Maekar kept the phone against his ear, pale violet eyes lifting toward yours like this was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yeah… it’s nothing.”

Your gaze dropped to his hand.

Warm.

Annoyingly warm.

“Maekar.”

You lowered your voice because he was still talking to her.

“Let go.”

He ignored you.

Instead, his thumb pressed lightly against your wrist as if telling you to wait.

You nearly laughed.

What was this supposed to be?

Did he want you to stand there while he spoke softly to another woman?

Did he want you to hear exactly how gentle he could be with someone he actually loved?

You rolled your eyes before turning away toward the rain outside.

“I’ll probably be late tonight.”

His voice stayed soft against the phone.

“Yeah… okay.”

A brief pause.

Then finally—

“I’ll call you later.”

The call ended.

Silence crashed into the room immediately afterward.

Only rain and the hum of the air conditioner remained.

But Maekar still hadn’t let go of your wrist.

You slowly looked back at him.

“How long are you planning on holding me here?”

Maekar leaned back slightly against the desk, eyes fixed on yours.

“What’s your problem?”

You let out a short laugh.

“Mine?”

“You’ve looked pissed at me all afternoon.”

“Maybe you’re imagining things.”

“You rolled your eyes at me.”

“Because you’re annoying.”

The answer slipped out before you could stop it.

And judging by the slight shift in his expression, Maekar hadn’t expected you to say it out loud either.

He kept staring at you quietly, fingers still around your wrist like he was trying to figure something out.

“You never used to talk to me like this.”

“Because I grew up.”

Your voice remained calm.

Then, slowly, you peeled his hand away from your wrist one finger at a time.

Gentle.

Polite.

Final.

You stepped back immediately afterward, putting space between the two of you again.

Maekar glanced briefly at his now-empty hand before looking back up at you.

The tension in the room felt unbearable.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll deliver these now.”

Your tone stayed perfectly professional.

Maekar stayed quiet for a second too long.

Then finally—

“I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

You studied him for a moment.

The dark circles beneath his eyes.

The wrinkled sleeves.

The exhaustion he carried around like armor.

Once upon a time, that version of him would’ve made your heart ache.

Now?

“You do it all the time, Maekar.”

And with that, you walked away without looking back.

The office door closed softly behind you.

But the heaviness in your chest stayed there long after.

—

Monday morning at Targaryen Corporation felt tense in a way everyone noticed immediately.

“Mr. Targaryen’s in a horrible mood again.”

“He sent finance back three times over formatting.”

“I heard PR got yelled at because the font size was wrong.”

You heard every whispered conversation as you walked past the cubicles carrying coffee.

But you ignored all of it.

Over the past two weeks, Maekar had become impossible to please.

He snapped during meetings.

Changed schedules last minute.

Rejected presentations over microscopic mistakes.

And somehow, the worst part wasn’t even his temper.

It was the way he kept looking at you.

Every meeting.

Every hallway.

Every room.

You’d feel it before you saw it.

That heavy stare from across the table while you worked.

And every single time you looked up—

Maekar was already watching you.

Like he wanted to say something.

But never did.

So eventually, you stopped looking back altogether.

During meetings, you no longer sat beside him.

You chose the far end of the conference table instead.

A subtle difference.

But everyone noticed.

Especially Maekar.

Because the moment you sat down, you could feel his gaze settle on you again.

Sharp.

Silent.

Uncomfortable.

“Can we begin?”

His voice finally broke the silence.

The meeting moved forward normally after that—numbers, investments, quarterly reports.

You answered questions professionally whenever needed, never once looking directly at him longer than necessary.

Then halfway through the presentation—

“y/n. Come here.”

The room went quiet immediately.

Before, you would’ve stood beside him without hesitation.

Now?

“The report you need is on page sixteen.”

You didn’t even look up.

Silence.

Then his voice again, lower this time.

“y/n.”

A warning.

You finally lifted your eyes to meet his.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Targaryen?”

Your tone was painfully polite.

Like a wall carefully built between the two of you.

Maekar stared at you for two long seconds.

Then looked back down at the documents.

“…No.”

But after that, the atmosphere inside the room never recovered.

Because even if nobody knew the full story—

Everyone could tell something between you and Maekar Targaryen was falling apart.

And somehow, he seemed to hate it more than anyone else.

by @velvetsainthills do not repost

[spiced-reads]

This was soooo good!!! I can’t wait to read more!!!

[erebusbabylon]

His Princess

Maekar Targaryen x F! Wife Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: A knight questions your honesty and Maekar gets very angry. >:-/

You sat at the large oak table in the council chamber, hands clasped gently together in your lap as your eyes moved from lord to lord.

You hated this.

Not the speaking in front of everyone, you could do that when you must. You hated having the attention of so many men directed at you.

To your left, Prince Maekar sat rigid in his chair, eyes fixed on you. One hand lightly resting over the sheath of his dagger at his hip. Annoyance was radiating off of him like the heat of a fire.

King Daeron sat at the head of the table, relaxed and seemingly unbothered by the matter at hand.

"You are certain of what you saw?" Daeron asked you gently.

You nodded once. "Yes, Your Grace. I am certain." your eyes darted to the corner where Ser Talman stood, his eyes boring holes into you.

"I saw Ser Talman let them through the gates himself."

Murmers began to spread around the council chamber at your words.

Ser Talman's face darkened. "That is impossible." he spat.

You looked towards him, meeting his eyes. "I only speak what I witnessed."

"You speak falsely." Ser Talman hissed.

Maekar's chair scraped violently across the stone floor as he jumped to his feet.

"You dare call my princess a liar?" He barked.

His words came out so loudly they echoed off the stone wall.

Your heart gave a little flutter at my princess.

Not the princess.

Not my wife.

He'd called you my princess.

"I merely mean-" Ser Talman began.

"I heard what you meant!" Meakar's voice was low now, contempt threaded through every word. "You accuse my wife of deceit in my father's own council?"

"Maekar..." King Daeron spoke his name as a calm warning.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you prayed to every god in the Seven Kingdom's that no one noticed.

"No insult was intended to you, Your Grace." Ser Talman sputtered.

"There was. You simply regret letting your traitorous thoughts escape your lips." Maekar spat.

You should have been upset or offended at the events unfolding in the council, but instead you were fighting the urge to smile like an idiot.

Maekar stood there ready to tear apart the realm because someone had questioned your honesty.

Gods, you adored him.

"Enough! No one here doubts the princess's word." The King's voice was final.

Maekar gave one last disgusted look at Ser Talman and then sat back down stiffly, the fury remaining etched on his face the rest of council.

His hand found yours under the table and gave your wrist a brief brush with his finger. Silently checking that you were okay.

The council moved on, discussion turning back to border disputes, taxes and various other worries of the crown.

You heard very little of it. Every few moments your mind replayed "my princess".

By the time council was dismissed you were sure you were going to die of love sickness.

The moment you stepped into the corridor outside Maekar muttered "That man is a fucking fool."

The smile you'd been biting back finally broke across your face.

Maekar narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing." you said

"Why are you smiling like that?"

You shrugged, feigning innocence.

Maekar stopped walking. "That man insulted you, and you're smiling." his frown deepened.

"I know." you said simply.

"And?" Maekar pushed.

"And I know you would have fed him his teeth if the king had allowed it." You said smiling up at him.

Maekar let out a grunt in agreement. "Still doesn't explain why you are smiling like a fool."

"I like what you said." you admitted with a shrug.

"What I said?" Maekar questioned, totally lost.

You could barely look at him. Heat was creeping up your neck thinking back at his words. Were you really going to have to spell it out for him?

"You called me your princess." You said staring down at the stone floor, unable to make eye contact with your husband.

"You are my princess." He said flatly and slightly annoyed. As if it were a painfully obvious fact he was explaining to someone he deemed touched in the head.

The simple certainty in it nearly cracked what little composure you had left.

"Gods Maekar. " You groaned at his obliviousness.

Maekar slid his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

"All I did was speak the truth." He said with a rare, small smile.

"Well...you can not say things like that in front of everyone." You whispered.

Maekar raised an eyebrow and leaned down slightly. "Why not?"

"Because...." you were unable to look at him again.

"Because?" He pried.

"Because it makes me want to kiss you." You admitted.

"What are you waiting for then, woman. Kiss me." He said bluntly.

"No! There are people nearby, and..." your voice trailed off.

Maekar looked down the corridor. "No one but servants in this hall." He muttered.

"Still. It's improper." you insisted.

"Gods woman! You think I declared you my princess before a room full of knights and lords of the realm to grow shy about it now?" A soft expression formed on his face that appeared only for you.

You looked around once more before rising carefully to your toes.

Maekar bent down to met you halfway, one large hand steading your waist.

The kiss was soft and brief. You felt the way Maekar melted into it. Some of the tension and fury leaving his shoulders the instant your lips touched his.

When he pulled back he smiled down at you. "Come." The word came out rough and low. "Before some Lord walks by and thinks me a love sick boy."

[spiced-reads]

The way this fictional man makes me feel is insane 🤍🥵

[bullet-prooflove]

The Loophole: The Lawyer x Reader (NSFW)

AN: Sadly we're going to have to do away with the taglist as Tumblr has terminated my account twice over the span of an hour for tagging folks in the comments. As deeply frustrating as this is I prefer to keep my blog active so moving forward I guess just make sure you're following the blog for updates or turn on notifcations.

Summary: You exploit a loophole in The Lawyer's rules.

Companion piece to:

Deals With The Devil - After being sent on a strange errand by his employer Mr. Le Bail, The Lawyer realises the terms and conditions of his own contract may not be as cut and dry as they first seemed.

The Devil's Daughter - The Lawyer has some questions for you...

The Things That Make You Human - You discover more about The Lawyer's past after he invites you to stay at his home.

Performative - You begin to question The Lawyer's feelings for you.

Monsters - The Lawyer makes a discovery about your reading habits.

Six Days - You discover a certain clause in your contract.

A Goddamn Love Story (NSFW) - You become an absolute menace when The Lawyer works too late.

A Marriage of Convenience - You get a sharp reminder that your marriage is one of convenience, not love.

The Middle Ground - The Lawyer battles to make himself heard after the issue with his fuckbuddy.

The Toy (NSFW) - Make up sex has never felt so damn good.

Family Ties - The Lawyer discovers the true purpose behind your marriage.

In The Dark - You know something's wrong the moment you wake up in the darkness.

The Power of a Name - You confront your father, leading to a revelation that stuns Mr. Le Bail.

The Lawyer’s bedroom is his sanctuary.

His safe space.

And right now, it’s the place he’s about to lay down and die in because he’s so exhausted he can barely see straight. He groans as he collapses onto the mattress. His bloody suit jacket has been tossed onto the floor, his tie wrenched off and thrown in the direction of the laundry hamper. He can hear you undressing as he closes his eyes, the rustle of fabric falling onto the carpet as the rich citric scent of tangerines and something floral floods his system. He breathes it in like smoke, his muscles relaxing into the mattress as the events of the tonight float away from him.

Your thighs straddle his hips, your weight settling on his pelvis as your palms roam over his chest. Your fingers play over the buttons of his shirt, loosening the one on his collar. The fabric parts and his breath catches as you proceed to the next one. Your lips brush over his collarbone, then lower chasing the trail of unfastened buttons you leave in your wake.

His waistband loosens, the sound of his zipper and then your mouth is on him through his underwear, hot, wet, filthy as you tug his trousers down his thighs, pushing them down past his sock suspenders.

“Darling…” He drawls, his hands thrusting into your hair as your mouth encompasses his cock, tongue running over the rich navy-blue cotton. “I thought we agreed not until the wedding night.”

“Oh Benji…” He can feel your sensuous pout around the tip of his dick, your breath ghosting over the spot of pre-cum soaking through the fabric. “I found my own loophole. Technically my mouth isn’t on your cock, it’s on the fabric overing it.” Your palm strokes up the shaft, and he lets out a hoarse moan as you take him onto your mouth. “Therefore, this doesn’t count.”

“Satan, help me, I’ve met my match.” He mumbles, throwing his arm up over his eyes as you suck the head of his cock back into your mouth. Electricity races through his body, a live wire of heat and passion, igniting every single nerve ending in his body. His fingers curl in your hair, his back bowing as his hips cant, the fabric of his underwear drenched as that dirty little mouth envelops him even more.

He fists your hair as you take him deeper, his hips arching as he thrusts once, twice and then he’s climaxing inside the fabric, white hot ribbons of cum staining the underwear that’s still enveloped in your mouth. You haven’t even touched him yet, not properly and this is still the most erotic thing he’s experienced in his life.

“Next time we do this.” You place kisses all over his balls that feel like tiny rays of sunshine as you speak. “I want your taste on my tongue.”

“The next time we do this, it’s going to be my face between your thighs.” He mumbles, his entire form feeling weightless as his hands grasp the fabric of the shirt your wearing, hurling you back up to his level. You cuddle in close, tucking yourself in against him as he kicks off each one of his sock suspenders until he’s clad in his open shirt and underwear. “I was scared tonight. I haven’t been scared in over a hundred years but the thought of losing you…”

He trails off, his lips brushing over your temple as his fingers comb through your hair.

“You know marrying you isn’t just about fulfilling my contract with your father. It’s about us. It’s about…” He hesitates, but what’s the point he doesn’t have anything to hide, not anymore. “…love Lu, it’s about me being so ridiculously in love with you that I can’t imagine a world without you in it.”

Your head tilts up, nose brushing against his. His thumb ghosts over your cheek as those eyes, with their hellfire and brimstone capture his, just like the way they did that first time.

“That’s good to hear.” You whisper, your mouth brushing over his. “Because I’m in love with you too Benji. I have been ever since that very first kiss.”

Like My Work? - Tip your friendly fan fic writer here!

[spiced-reads]

Is it hot in here or is it just me?!

Delicious 🤤

[captainfern]

Maekar headlock fucking? Anyone??

oh absolutely

18+ (smut, dirty talk, breeding!!!)

evening light came streaming in through the windows of your chambers, lighting the space in a soft yellow glow as the sun begins its journey behind the distant hills. dappled sunlight catches in your eyelashes as you blink from where you hunch over on the bed, writhing on your hands and knees.

your husband’s hands are tight on your hips, gripping the flesh as he splits you apart on the thick of his cock, grunting little obscenities as he ruts you deeper and deeper into the feathered mattress, your hands and knees pressing indents into the silk.

but you’re wriggling too much. you can’t help it. pleasure sits hot in the pit of your womb, a sticky sort of pressure in the base of your spine too, and you just can’t help the way you wriggle your hips to chase it away, or tremble on your hands and knees when it starts to be too much.

you can’t help it, but maekar can.

you pitch a whine from the back of your throat as his cock spreads the wet clutch of your pussy apart, dragging deep towards the plug of your cervix as he ruts into you, hips smacking against the flesh of your arse. but that’s when you feel it—the solid mass of his chest and abdomen as he leans over you, crowds you, then the thick, scarred column of his arm as it wraps around your throat.

you yelp when he hauls you up until you’re kneeling with him, your sweat-slick back flush with his chest. the corded muscles in his arm contract as he pins your neck into the crook of his elbow, his head coming to rest directly beside your ear.

you suck in a gasp at the new angle and the way the head of his cock pushes up deep inside you. the pressure makes you keen, moaning his name as he traps you against his chest. your hands find his arm, nails dimpling the sun-kissed skin, as he noses at the shell of your ear, his hips rucking upwards.

“you’re restless today,” maekar mutters, tip of his cock nailing that perfect spot inside you. you mewl, clutching his arm as your pussy flutters around him. he pants against the pulse point below your ear. “you just couldn’t kneel there and take it, could you? were you waiting for this, sweet girl?”

his cock hits deep, the velvet ridges along the length rubbing against the slick walls of your cunt. you take him so well, squeezing tight each time he thrusts in and out, slick dribbling from you as he takes what he needs.

you whine in response. “no, maekar, i’m—”

“s’alright, s’alright…” maekar coos, his other hand curling around your waist to press flat to the mound of your lower belly. “i’ve got you, sweet girl. can’t go anywhere now, can you?”

the strong mass of his arm presses tighter to your throat, and you suck in a sharp breath. you hold his arm too, anchoring yourself as he fucks you, your entire body shifting with each of his movements. he’s grunting in your ear, and a couple of damp, white strands of hair fall across his forehead and rub near your temple.

“that’s a good girl, that’s it,” he whispers, feeling your pussy flutter around him. he’s holding you firm against him, the space between you nonexistent and boiling hot. the hand on your belly presses in, the added pressure making you cry out his name. he kisses your cheek softly. “s’alright, don’t fuss, sweet girl. just take it—just fucking take it.”

you can’t do much but take it, really. you’re pinned to his body, heat radiating from him. the bed creaks softly as his hips slam up against you, and he groans right in your ear. you moan his name in response, the vowels stretched around a whine, and he kisses the heated skin of your cheek again.

“my sweet girl, my best girl,” your husband rambles, breathing harshly as his cock ruts in and out of you, the wet heat of your cunt sucking him in. he groans, “i think you’ll take my seed just as well as you take my cock, won’t you?”

you whimper, gasping through the sound as the head of his cock grinds up against that spot inside you that has stars exploding behind your eyelids. the heat in your belly and the pressure in your spine threatens to shatter within you, and you clutch maekar’s arm in support as he fucks you. he groans, revelling in the tight squeeze of your pussy and the way slick dribbles from you, wet across the seam of his balls as he moves.

“she’s begging me for it,” maekar utters, holding you tightly as you flutter around him. “she wants me to fill her, doesn’t she? she wants me to fill her, sweet girl, i can feel it.”

you moan. “maekar, please, please, please—”

“i know, i know, i’ve got you,” your husband mutters, kissing your cheek as the heat and pressure inside finally overwhelm you. he feels your body seize up, your cunt clenching vice-like around the thick of his cock, and he knows you’re on the edge. his hand on your lower belly presses down even firmer. “let me feel you.”

you splinter from the inside out, orgasm racking through you as heat bursts like stars in your veins, and the pressure in your belly dissolves into the marrow of your bones. you come with his name on your lips, moans filling your chambers as your body trembles against his, nails digging into the scarred skin of his forearm. he fucks you through it, trapping you against him as you tremble and whine, pleasure flushing through your veins.

“good girl, there we go,” he mutters, practically bouncing your spent body back onto his. your head rolls back onto his shoulder and he plants a wet kiss to the junction of your jaw. his hips snap, then snap up again, and he growls where he kisses you, his balls drawing tight. “gods above, you’re so fucking tight. she’s begging for a babe, isn’t she? cunt’s pitching a right fit—doesn’t want to let me go.”

you mewl softly, eyes closing as maekar barrels towards his own release. there’s a sharp pressure in the base of his spine, and you can feel the desperation of his movements as he chases that pressure towards its breaking point.

maekar groans, thick and rumbling. “i’ll spill inside you, alright, sweet girl? fill you with my babe—fuck, you always look so fucking good when you’re with child, when you’re round with my babe. yeah, fuck—fuck, my sweet girl, my perfect girl—”

he’s rambling now, and that’s when you know. maekar groans your name right against the shell of your ear as his hips stutter, the arm around your throat pinning you back as he spills inside you. the pressure in his spine snaps and spreads, and he moans deep from his chest as the heat of his orgasm crashes over him. his cock nudges deep inside, right at the base of your cervix, and paints you in thick, hot ropes.

being filled has you leaning back into his hold, whimpering across a sigh as he ruts a few more times, emptying himself completely as your pussy pulls tight, milking him. he kisses along your jaw, cradling you as his cock jerks, then softens where he’s buried, slick and seed drooling slowly from where you connect.

“there we go…” maekar whispers, large hand rubbing across your belly as if that’ll help the taking process. he kneads the soft fat there with calloused fingers. “nice and full, sweet girl.”

you whine, pliant in his arms, blinking the setting sunlight from your eyes.

he kisses your cheek. “always do so well for me—” another kiss, then another. “—i love you, sweet girl.”

[spiced-reads]

🥵

[weregloo]

RENEWED

Canon: Managing Director of law firm!Maekar Targaryen x Former Accountant!Reader

Trope: From boss and former employee to husband and wife.

Warning: no use of Y/N, modern AU, courtroom drama: tax evasion and embezzlement trial.

Summary: After helping her win a major lawsuit against her ex-husband who had framed her for tax evasion and financial fraud, Maekar finally kicked that faithless bastard out of her life. Having spent years loving her in silence, he resolved to stay by her side and take care of her for the rest of their life.

Note: Gwin Ashford is Reader’s best friend.

Gilded Rot

People across Westeros thought Maekar Targaryen had lost his mind. Why else would the managing director of one of the country’s most prestigious law firms willingly take on the defense of an accountant accused of tax evasion?

Any person who lives not a selfish life for themselves shall be destroyed by the Seven - coming soon

Gwin had a headache. Although her best friend had ended up with the man she truly deserved, but for some reason, Gwin now found herself doing her utmost to convince her to marry him as soon as possible.

[spiced-reads]

Heavily Recommended!!

🤍

[weregloo]

RENEWED 

Gilded Rot

Managing Director of law firm!Maekar Targaryen x Former Accountant!Reader

Trope: Boss and former employee.

Word count: 12.113

Summary: A year after resigning from the law firm under the Targaryen conglomerate to become a housewife, she suddenly found herself accused of financial fraud, tax evasion, and the embezzlement of corporate funds from A&F, the newly established law firm owned by her ex-husband. Unable to stand by and watch the woman he had long loved in silence be falsely condemned, Maekar resolved to become her defense attorney. He had already let her slip through his fingers once. This time, he would not allow her to suffer again.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, modern AU, mention of Reader’s past abuse and miscarriage, Maekar in work-mode, tax evasion and embezzlement trial, fluff in the end. 

Note: Gwin Ashford is Reader’s best friend.

RENEWED Masterlist

Maekar was not insane, and there was no question that he had to be the one to defend her.

The prosecutor assigned to the arraignment this time was an old acquaintance of his from the Ministry of Justice. Upon reviewing the case files and the formal lawsuit, the prosecutor immediately gave him a call.

“Has it been so long since you last stepped into a court that you’ve forgotten all your legal knowledge?” The prosecutor questioned. “You want to get her fully acquitted?”

Maekar hadn’t expected a phone call from the very person he would be facing in the upcoming trial, yet he replied calmly: “Yes.”

He could hear a heavy sigh from the other end of the line before the prosecutor spoke: “Have you lost your mind?”

Maekar was beginning to lose his patience, but his response was more resolute and definitive than ever: “No.” 

Because she would be acquitted.

In only a few seconds, the first trial Maekar had attended as defense counsel after years away from criminal defense would begin.

And seated right beside him was her, the former accountant of his law firm. 

Maekar kept his usual cold, unreadable expression as his gaze swept over the legal teams gathered on both sides of the courtroom. Yet beneath the defendant’s table, his hand was tightly clasped around her trembling one.

It was both comfort and promise, a silent vow that he would get her out of this tax evasion charge.

The moment the judge and jury entered, the courtroom fell into complete silence, and the trial officially began.

The prosecutor seated to the right rose to his feet and gave a respectful nod toward the bench. After the formal opening remarks and a brief summary of the case, his sharp gaze eventually settled on Maekar and the woman beside him. Stepping into the center of the courtroom, he began his accusation.

“The defendant, formerly the chief accountant of A&F Law Firm, falsified official financial records under the very noses of the company’s board members. Your Honor, I believe this case requires little further explanation. The defendant is in direct violation of Clause 7, Article 204 of the Westerosi Penal Code, tax evasion and financial fraud through the embezzlement of corporate funds. The prosecution therefore requests that this court impose the maximum sentence of twelve years’ imprisonment. Particularly given the sophistication of her methods. The defendant deliberately exploited surveillance blind spots to fabricate evidence suggesting she had never entered company premises, despite the internal records of A&F clearly showing her clocking in every single day.”

The prosecutor concluded his opening accusation, and only then did Maekar rise from his seat and step into the center of the courtroom.

Before doing so, he gave her a quiet, reassuring look.

She answered with a small smile of her own, a silent expression of gratitude.

“I believe everyone in this room is familiar with a fingerprint reader.” Maekar began, his gaze sweeping over the gallery before settling briefly on her ex-husband, then shifting toward the prosecutor seated across from him. “But can anyone here prove that such a system cannot be exploited to fabricate false evidence?”

“To clock in, what is required is not the employee’s physical presence, but merely their fingerprint.” A wireless presentation remote rested in Maekar’s hand. He pressed the button, and the display screen beside the judges’ bench flickered to life.

Two images appeared on the display screen. On one side was the fingerprint reader installed at A&F’s headquarters, on the other were a roll of tape, a box of powder, and a soft-bristled brush.

Maekar gestured toward the screen as he explained. “One of the most common methods used by forensic investigators to recover latent fingerprints is remarkably simple. Powder is brushed lightly across a surface suspected of containing prints. Once the ridge pattern becomes visible, adhesive tape is applied to lift the print. At that stage, the fingerprint has already been successfully extracted and can be replicated or used under virtually any circumstances.” Then he turned toward the bench. “In this case, Your Honor, I submit that the attendance records allegedly proving my client’s presence at A&F cannot be regarded as conclusive evidence.”

The judge gave a slow, thoughtful nod: “So the defense’s position is that someone deliberately fabricated evidence to create the appearance that the defendant was physically present at the company? If that is your argument, does the defense possess any evidence establishing that she was not there?”

Maekar’s gaze drifted once more toward the spectators’ gallery, settling on the man seated among them. 

There it was, that look of smug satisfaction plastered across her ex-husband’s face, as though he had already convinced himself of victory. The man caught Maekar’s piercing stare and responded with a self-assured smile.

“Fucking shameless cunt.” The words echoed coldly through Maekar’s mind. Though truthfully, he did not need to say them aloud, because anyone present in the courtroom could already tell exactly what he was thinking.

Just over a year earlier, she had been an accountant at the law firm operating under the Targaryen Group, where Maekar served as managing director.

After discovering she was pregnant, she had submitted her resignation and chosen to remain at home to rest. Her ex-husband, then still her newlywed husband, had resigned as well, claiming he wished to stay home and care for her.

Yet before long, he had established a law firm of his own.

The law firm under the Targaryen Group had long been regarded as one of the most prestigious legal institutions in Westeros. To Maekar, the departure of former employees to establish competing practices was hardly worth his attention. A newly founded firm could never hope to rival the resources, influence, and reputation of long-established institutions, let alone one as firmly entrenched as his own. As such, he had paid the matter little mind and had never once considered suppressing a newcomer.

And yet, in the span of barely a year, her ex-husband’s newly established firm, A&F Law, had become entangled in allegations of tax evasion and financial fraud.

What left Maekar unable to sleep at night was the fact that, in the midst of the scandal that had shaken the legal world, she had become the one forced to bear the full weight of it as the firm’s chief accountant.

Because he had loved her from the very first moment he laid eyes on her.

The tragedy of it was that Maekar had never been a man of sweet words. At the time, he had not even possessed enough confidence in himself to speak his feelings aloud. After all, what woman would willingly choose a man well into his thirties like him, burdened with six children and a reputation for driving his own family to exasperation?

And it was precisely because of that hesitation that he had missed his chance. Worse still, his silence had indirectly allowed her to fall into the miserable circumstances she now faced. 

It had never truly been his fault. And yet he had spent every day since drowning in regret for not having spoken sooner.

That was why, the moment he decided to become her defense counsel, Maekar had made himself a solemn promise.

He would win this case.

He would not merely clear her name. He would make certain that her ex-husband paid so dearly for what he had done that the man would come to envy the dead.

The unspoken challenge was written plainly across her ex-husband’s all-too-punchable face. He was probably convinced that Maekar had no evidence capable of proving he had secretly collected her fingerprints. Yet before that confidence could fully blossom into an openly mocking smile, he caught sight of the slow curve forming at the corner of Maekar’s lips.

“We do.” Maekar said with a calm smile. “We would like to call a witness, Your Honor.”

The moment the gaunt man stepped through the courtroom doors, her ex-husband’s eyes widened in visible alarm.

Once the witness had taken the oath and settled into his seat, Maekar began: “Would you please state your name for the court?”

The man introduced himself in a trembling voice. Maekar gave a small nod before continuing. “Do you know this woman?” He lifted a hand and gestured toward her.

“Of course I do.” The witness answered at once. “She’s the wife of A&F’s Director of Information and Communications.” Then he turned toward the gallery and pointed directly at her ex-husband. “That man right there.”

A ripple of murmurs spread quietly through the courtroom. Maekar remained perfectly composed: “And what was your position at A&F?”

“I was a security guard, sir.” He hesitated before correcting himself. “Formerly, I mean.” He shifted uneasily in his seat and swallowed. “I worked in the basement parking garage when A&F had just been established, around a year ago. I was responsible for monitoring vehicle access.” He paused briefly. “But about six months ago, I was dismissed without any explanation. I assumed the company was cutting staff, so I didn’t question it. Besides, I managed to find another job afterward.”

Maekar gave a small nod: “You said that you knew the defendant as the wife of A&F’s Director of Information and Communications. Could you elaborate on that? How exactly did you know her?”

The witness replied: “I saw her at the company.”

The answer was enough to bring a flicker of satisfaction to her ex-husband’s face, but it lasted only for a moment. 

The next words that left the witness’s mouth wiped the expression clean away.

The gaunt man turned once more toward her ex-husband: “But she only came once. I remember it clearly, it was during the company’s first few days after opening. The director brought her in himself and introduced her as his new wife to everyone there, myself included.”

Maekar pressed the next button on his presentation remote, and the display screen shifted once more. This time, the image showed A&F’s underground parking garage. 

The judge and jury frowned in unison as they immediately recognized the scene.

It was identical to the earlier photograph of the fingerprint reader Maekar had presented, only this image had been taken from a wider angle, revealing far more of its surroundings.

“As we can see.” Maekar began evenly. “A&F’s fingerprint reader was installed inside the underground parking garage. Which means that employees could clock in the moment they entered the parking area, long before ever stepping into the company lobby itself.” Then he extended an open hand toward the gaunt man seated at the witness stand. “The witness we have called today is A&F’s former parking security guard. He has testified that he was dismissed approximately six months ago. Coincidentally, or perhaps not, that same period was when the Economic Crimes Division first uncovered irregularities in A&F’s financial records and formally opened its investigation into the company’s suspected tax evasion.”

At once, the judge and jury lowered their gazes to the case files before them. As Maekar had stated, the timeline matched perfectly: the witness’s dismissal aligned precisely with the point at which A&F had first come under official suspicion.

The judge looked up and gave Maekar a measured nod: “We acknowledge this. You may present additional evidence.”

As Rhaegel, Maekar’s elder brother and co-counsel in this trial, stepped forward to submit additional evidence, Maekar resumed his line of questioning. 

“Sir.” He turned toward the witness, his voice sharp and unwavering. “You stated earlier that the defendant came to the company only once. Is that correct?”

“I’m certain of it.” This time, the gaunt man showed none of the earlier hesitation that had marked his first moments on the stand. “She came to the company only once. When I worked security there, I had a habit of sitting near the elevators leading up to the main lobby every morning as the employees arrived. At the time, I simply thought I was being helpful by pressing the elevator buttons for them. Besides, the parking garage was usually still empty at that hour, so there was little need for me to make my rounds. I would usually wait until everyone had gone upstairs and begun work before patrolling the area.”

“My assigned post was in the underground garage.” He then lifted his head to meet Maekar’s gaze before turning toward the bench. “Your Honors, I am not lying. I have spent nearly half my life doing this kind of work, including six months at A&F.” He straightened visibly as he spoke. “Unlike the guards stationed in the lobby or at the main entrance, my entire workday was spent around company employees. The garage was where they parked their vehicles, which meant I saw them every single morning.” His voice grew firmer. “I am absolutely certain that I never saw her there, not once, except for the day the director brought her in and introduced her to all of us.”

Maekar gave a satisfied nod. He did not need to turn around to know that her ex-husband’s face had twisted into something ugly.

There was no need for him to spell it out. Not for the judge. Not for the jury. Not for the prosecutor. And certainly not for anyone else seated in that courtroom.

The conclusion was obvious.

The witness Maekar had called was A&F’s former parking security guard, the very man responsible for overseeing the area where employees parked their vehicles each morning. More importantly, by his own testimony, he had routinely stationed himself near the elevators at the exact hour employees arrived for work. Even a person with the poorest memory would remember the faces they saw every single day, just as a shopkeeper would always recognize their regular customers. And according to the prosecution’s own evidence, she had supposedly been clocking in at the company on a daily basis. If that had truly been the case, she would have had no choice but to pass through that garage. Which meant she would have crossed paths with him.

Once or twice could perhaps be dismissed as coincidence.

But every single time? Impossible.

The absurdity of it settled heavily over the courtroom, spreading through the silence like a visible weight.

And then, from among the spectators’ gallery, a woman’s voice broke through.

“That’s right!” She looked far younger than her age, perhaps because of the sharp elegance of her makeup and the striking outfit she had chosen for the day. Rising abruptly to her feet, she pointed accusingly toward the opposite side of the gallery, directly at A&F’s Director of Information and Communications. “You fired him because you were afraid he’d tell the police everything, didn’t you?”

Then she turned toward the woman seated at the defendant’s table, her expression a conflicted mixture of anger and sympathy: “Didn’t I warn you? People with cowardly minds stay cowardly no matter how much they study or how many law degrees they manage to collect.”

“Gwin.” From the defendant’s table, she leaned forward slightly, calling her friend’s name in a pleading voice. “Please, stop.”

Gwin scoffed. “Before I left to study abroad, I told you to dump that bastard.” A crooked smile curled across her lips as she cast a look of open contempt toward the man. “Have you ever seen a goose turn into a swan?” Her voice dripped with mockery. “You could drag it home and place it before the altar of the Seven, and it would still remain nothing more than a goose.”

“But…” Her eyes shimmered with gathering tears. 

If Rhaegel had not reached out to steady her, she likely would have rushed toward the spectators’ gallery to stop Gwin from saying another word.

“Calm down. It’s alright.” Rhaegel’s voice softened as he leaned slightly toward her. “Just stay seated. Leave everything else to us.”

“What if they forced her out?” Worry clouded her face as she whispered anxiously. “I’m sorry, I told her to stay quiet before the trial began, but she…”

Beyond the defendant’s table, although the court officers had already stepped forward and repeatedly instructed Gwin to sit down, she remained standing, glaring furiously at the man who had betrayed her best friend: “Don’t think I don’t know you’ve been fucking your secretary.”

“Shut your cunt.” Her ex-husband finally snapped after enduring her relentless insults. “You have no evidence. Your behavior is disgraceful, and your conduct is completely inappropriate for a courtroom. Do you even know where you are?”

“Whoa, you want proof?” Gwin let out a sharp, mocking laugh, her lips curling upward with cold satisfaction. “Pictures of you two walking hand in hand into a hotel just last week are still sitting in my phone.”

As she spoke, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a large folded poster board. “Why don’t you open those blind eyes of yours and take a good look at this?” With one sharp motion, she snapped it open. 

Spread across the A0 poster was a close-up photograph of a man and a woman stumbling into the entrance of a hotel, locked in each other’s arms. They looked pleasantly drunk. The image was so sharp that even from the far end of the courtroom, where the judge and jury sat, the details were impossible to miss. Most notably, the man’s hand was very clearly gripping the woman’s backside. Whether the photographer had deliberately timed the shot or had simply been absurdly lucky, they had captured the moment perfectly. Both faces were unmistakably visible.

And the man in the photograph was none other than her ex-husband.

Though fully aware he had been exposed, he still barked out in desperation: “That photo’s been edited!”

“Edited or not, anyone with functioning eyes can tell the difference.” Gwin let out a scornful laugh, though her eyes still burned with fury. “Everyone in your company already knows. You think outsiders like me were the last to hear about it?” Then she suddenly turned toward the witness stand and raised her voice. “Isn’t that right, sir?”

“Ah, yes, yes. That’s right.” Startled by Gwin’s commanding tone, the gaunt man answered at once, hardly pausing to think. “There were days when I saw them climbing into his car together. The car would stay parked there for… quite a long time.” He swallowed hard. “And sometimes it would shake rather violently.”

A ripple of uneasy murmurs spread through the courtroom. “I never dared approach because I knew the director was inside.” Then his voice faltered. “As for…” His eyes darted nervously toward the woman seated at the defendant’s table.

His lips parted as though he wished to say more. But whatever words had risen to the surface died there.

He lowered his gaze instead, shame written plainly across his face, the silent guilt of a man who now realized he had, however unintentionally, helped conceal her husband’s betrayal.

The judge repeatedly brought down the gavel against the wooden block. “Silence.” But no matter how many times the gavel struck, Gwin refused to be silenced.

“Well, look at that.” She folded her arms and glared at her best friend’s ex-husband with open contempt. “You ignorant bastard.”

“Wasn’t it because of you that my friend ended up marrying you in the first place?” Her voice rose with every word. “If you hadn’t tampered with her birth control, would she have gotten pregnant and been forced to quit her job?” Her eyes blazed. “I knew from the very beginning that you were worthless scum. It was because of you that she lost the child, and now you’ve got the nerve to stand here and frame her for your own crimes?”

By now, her ex-husband had shot himself in his foot as well: “The miscarriage was her own fault. What does that have to do with me?”

For a moment, Gwin looked as though she could not believe what she had just heard. Then outrage twisted her expression. 

“Her fault?” She took a furious step forward. “Wasn’t it your fucking secretary who showed up at your house, caused a scene, shoved her to the floor, and made her lose that child?”

“She fell because of her own carelessness.” His voice was cold and clipped. “What does that have to do with my secretary?”

“You really do only look clever until you open your mouth.” She gestured sharply toward the evidence still displayed before the court. “The proof is right there, and you’re still denying it. No wonder you’re trying to pin everything on her and send her to prison in your place.”

“When did I ever pin anything on her?” His tone sharpened into open hostility. “If she broke the law, then she has to pay for it. Don’t tell me that just because the two of you are friends, you think you can accuse me of anything you like. This is a matter between A&F and her, not between her and I.”

Right beside the defendant’s table, Maekar could see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

The sight sent a sharp ache through his chest.

And yet, no matter how deeply it pained him, he forced himself to maintain the composed professionalism expected of him in court.

Without a word, he stepped closer. Reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he withdrew a neatly folded handkerchief and held it out to her. When her trembling fingers accepted it, some of the tightness constricting his chest eased.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice came out broken. “I’m so sorry.” She pressed his handkerchief to her face, trying in vain to steady herself. “I should have listened to you.” Slowly, she lifted tear-filled eyes to meet him. “I should have stayed. I never should have resigned…” Her voice caught, dissolving into another sob.

Every thought of what she had sacrificed for the man who had betrayed her, her career, her future, the child she had lost, and the life she had once imagined for herself, sent fresh tears spilling down her face.

More than a year ago, when she had stood before Maekar and handed in her resignation letter, she had believed that she was finally stepping into the life she had always dreamed of: a happy family.

She had never known what it was like to have one of her own, and so she had longed with all her heart to build a home with the man she had believed loved her beyond measure.

The child had come unexpectedly. She had only been in her mid-twenties then, standing at the height of her youth, her career stable, her future still wide open before her. And yet she could not bring herself to cast aside the tiny life that had only just begun to take shape inside her.

So she had listened to the man who was then her boyfriend. 

She had resigned from her position and returned home to focus on the pregnancy. He had even promised her that everything had already been arranged, that he and his friends were establishing a new firm, and that the position of chief accountant would be waiting for her there. All she had to do was give birth, recover, and step seamlessly into a new career without ever having to fear unemployment.

She had believed him.

Only to learn that every promise had been part of an elaborate trap.

The child whose birth she had awaited with all her heart had been conceived through his deceitful scheming.

The position of chief accountant he had promised her had never been an opportunity at all, but a carefully prepared scapegoat’s chair, a place designed to absorb the blame the moment A&F became entangled in a financial scandal.

Everything had been a lie.

His love had been a lie.

The child had been conceived through a lie.

Even the career he had offered her had been a lie.

Now her future had been dragged into a vortex of greed and power, and the life he had once promised her had proven just as hollow as the rest. Like rotten wood lacquered in brilliant color and gilded until it gleamed, the perfect life she had once reached for had been nothing more than a beautiful façade concealing decay beneath.

A gilded rot.

“It’s over now.” A soft, familiar scent slowly curled around her.

Her eyes fluttered open, and the first thing she saw was the ash-gray handkerchief still held before her. Then came the gentle voice of her former superior.

Maekar was rarely this tender. Leaning forward with both hands braced against the defendant’s table, he held her gaze with quiet reassurance.

“Your friend is helping us.” His voice was low and steady. “Look.”

He turned first toward the prosecutor, then toward the judge and jury. Following the direction of his gaze, she saw it clearly, the subtle shift in their expressions.

The prosecutor frowned and slowly lowered the case file onto the table.

The jurors were now looking toward her ex-husband with unmistakable suspicion, their faces grave and sharply attentive.

Even the judge, who had only moments ago been striking the gavel repeatedly, suddenly stopped. His hand remained suspended in midair for several long seconds before finally bringing the gavel down once more with a sharp crack, this time not as a call for order, but as a warning.

Having once worked at one of the country’s leading law firms, she had been fortunate enough to learn directly from its managing director. One of the things Maekar had taught her was that in a courtroom, even the slightest shift in a person’s expression was enough to be noted, recorded, and analyzed by those entrusted with upholding the law.

Carefully, she stole another glance toward the spectators’ gallery. Only then did she truly see it: the anger written plainly across her ex-husband’s face. Beneath it was something he could no longer conceal. Panic. Fear. Urgency.

And of course, Maekar noticed her reaction at once. A faint smile curved at the corner of his lips.

“See.” His voice was low and steady. “They’ve already taken our side.”

Although the prosecutor had already begun to form his own conclusions, he still had a duty to fulfill. His gaze drifted toward the fragile woman seated at the defendant’s table, a thought quietly surfaced in his mind.

If she truly was innocent, and if Maekar had known it from the beginning, enough to personally step forward as her defense counsel, then they would undoubtedly have evidence capable of dismantling every accusation A&F had brought against her.

And so, after the defense witness was dismissed from the courtroom, the prosecutor rose to his feet.

Case file in hand, he stepped into the center of the room: “The prosecution would like to submit additional evidence, Your Honor.”

He handed the file to the court clerk before turning to face Maekar: “If the defense insists that the defendant is innocent and bears no responsibility for the charges of tax evasion and embezzlement, then perhaps defense counsel would care to explain this.”

The presentation screen shifted, replaced by the prosecution’s insignia. By then, the judge and jury had already skimmed through the newly submitted materials. Then he pressed the remote, now, every eye in the courtroom was drawn toward the projection screen, where the image of a laptop now filled the display.

He gestured toward the projection screen and began his explanation: “This is the defendant’s laptop. As shown in the evidence previously submitted by the prosecution, this device contains a substantial number of files and documents directly related to financial records bearing signs of tax evasion.”

The slide shifted to a scanned contract, stamped and signed. “And this is a land-use transfer agreement between A&F Law Firm and Mr. Hogg.” The prosecutor continued. “As chief accountant, it was her responsibility to review this contract and submit it to the director for approval before company funds could be disbursed to Mr. Hogg.”

He glanced briefly at the documents in his hand. “During questioning, every A&F employee involved in this transaction provided the same figure: 90,000,000 WD, also the property’s original listed value.” Then he turned toward the bench. “However, the figure written in the contract itself is 120,000,000 WD.”

The number 120,000,000 WD then appeared highlighted across the contract displayed on the screen. He advanced to the next slide once more, the image of a bank transfer document appeared on the projection screen, and there it was again, the exact same number in the land-transfer contract.

“The company’s payment authorization record confirms that on that same day, the defendant withdrew 120,000,000 WD from company funds. Which raises a very simple question.” The prosecutor’s gaze shifted back to Maekar, then finally settled on her. When he spoke again, his voice was measured and crushingly deliberate. “Where did the remaining 30,000,000 WD go?”

The prosecution’s next witness was none other than her ex-husband.

Though his title was Director of Information and Communications, it had been he who personally negotiated and signed this contract with Mr. Hogg for the purchase of the land intended for A&F’s new branch office. The final signature on the agreement had been his.

After taking the oath and settling into the witness stand with an almost smug air, he immediately cast a disdainful glance in her direction. The fingerprint time-clock evidence may have already been weakened, but he still had this second card to play. A half-smile curved across his lips as he narrowed his eyes at her, a silent challenge. 

“Let’s see how you explain this.” He had thought with a mocking grin.

“Sir?” The prosecutor’s voice drew his attention back at once. Then the questioning began. “Were you aware of the actual value of this land parcel?”

“Ah, of course.” Her ex-husband nodded. “I don’t remember the exact amount the finance department ultimately paid at the time, but it was somewhere around 120,000,000 WD.”

The prosecutor continued: “You were the one who signed this contract with Mr. Hogg. Prior to drafting the agreement, did the two of you discuss the sale price of the land?”

He gave another measured nod. “Yes. Mr. Hogg initially agreed to sell it to me for 90,000,000 WD.” Then he pretended to reflect. “Looking back, it does seem rather strange. I distinctly remember that we had already settled on the price beforehand, yet when the contract was delivered for signing, I only realized afterward that the final amount did not match what we had originally agreed upon.”

The prosecutor frowned: “Why didn’t you raise the matter with the finance department? Or with the defendant herself, who was still serving as chief accountant at the time?”

He let out a shallow sigh and offered a rueful smile: “To be honest, I’m not sure anyone here will believe me when I say this, but the only reason I signed without double-checking was because I trusted the defendant completely.”

He spread his hands in feigned helplessness. “The finance director felt the same way. After all, she was the most experienced accountant among us. For a newly established company like ours, how could we possibly not place our trust in someone with her level of professional expertise?” He scratched the back of his neck, carefully crafting the appearance of embarrassment and regret. Then he turned to look at her. “And I did ask her about it at the time.” His voice softened, almost apologetic. 

“She told me that the 120,000,000 WD already included the land transfer tax, so I accepted the explanation without question.” He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “No one in the company had the time to sit down and calculate the exact transfer tax rate. Besides, I had heard that the percentage was calculated based on the land’s sale value anyway.” He shrugged. “For a parcel worth 90,000,000 WD, a tax rate of over 30% didn’t strike me as particularly unusual.” 

His expression darkened at once: “It was only when the police stormed into the company and began questioning us about this contract that I realized something was terribly wrong.”

“Liar!” It was Gwin again, her voice even louder than before. “30,000,000 WD? You think she’s some starving beast, always lurking around for a chance to sink her claws into your company’s money?” She let out a scornful laugh. “I could hand her ten plots of tracts in the Westerlands for free. What the fuck are your pathetic scraps supposed to mean to her?”

The sharp crack of the gavel echoed throughout the courtroom: “Silence!” 

Gwin paid it no mind: “Her savings alone are worth more than your company’s entire registered capital. What makes you think she’d ever be desperate enough to covet that worthless pile of commercial trash?” 

“Miss.” The judge frowned sharply in her direction. “If you do not remain silent, the court will have no choice but to remove you from this room.”

Gwin pouted as she dropped back into her seat: “Penniless.”

The proceedings soon returned to the prosecutor’s examination. This time he shifted to an entirely different line of questioning, one that proved unexpectedly favorable to her side.

“Earlier, defense counsel argued that the defendant was never physically present at the company.” The prosecutor extended a hand toward Maekar before turning back to the witness stand. “Is it true? That the defendant never came to the office and remained at home instead?”

Her ex-husband swallowed. Even so, he forced himself to answer with practiced composure.

“I honestly wouldn’t know.” He gave a small shrug. “She worked in the accounting department, while I was in communications. We operated in entirely different areas. I hardly had the time to leave my own office just to go looking for her.”

“But the two of you were husband and wife at the time, were you not?” The prosecutor’s brow furrowed deeply, his tone sharpening. “Are you seriously claiming that you had no idea whether your own wife went to work each day?”

“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue in visible irritation. “The workload was overwhelming. Every day I was buried in work, doing everything I could to promote our company. There were nights I barely even had time to come home for dinner.” 

The prosecutor still refused to let the matter go: “And in the entire year she worked there, you never once drove your wife to work, even though the two of you were employed at the same company?”

His expression darkened with annoyance: “How was I supposed to keep track of whether she went to the office or not? Besides, your own investigation uncovered those files on her laptop, didn’t it? That should already prove she was working there. Why do you keep asking these pointless questions?”

“I didn’t.” From the defendant’s table, she stared in stunned disbelief at the man who had once shared her bed, now standing before the court and calmly accusing her.

She could not understand how she had ever trusted him so completely. How she had once believed every promise he made, only to be dragged into this courtroom because of him.

Weakly, she turned toward Maekar and reached out to clutch his wrist.

“I didn’t.” Her voice trembled as she shook her head. “I was never there. I never went to the company, please, Mr. Targaryen, you have to believe me.”

“I know.” Maekar gently patted the back of her hand. “I believe you.”

By the time the prosecutor concluded his questioning, Maekar had already stepped back into the center of the courtroom.

Her ex-husband had returned to his seat among the spectators, for Maekar did not bother to question him further. Instead, without a moment’s hesitation, he called the defense’s second witness to the stand.

She was a woman in her forties, dressed in crisp office attire.

A complete stranger.

Neither she nor her ex-husband have no idea who the woman was.

“She’s the one who can help explain this accusation.” It was Rhaegel who answered in place of his younger brother while the unfamiliar woman recited her oath.

“Or rather.” He added with measured calm.” She can answer the question of how you could have supposedly reviewed and submitted those expense requests while never once leaving your home.”

Confusion clouding her features: “I still don’t understand.”

A faint smile tugged at Rhaegel’s lips: “You could call it a little technological trick.”

By then, the unknown woman had taken her seat in the witness stand, and Maekar began once again with the same introductory question he had asked every witness before her.

“I am an employee of HP Multimedia.” The woman answered. “I work in the accounting software development division.”

“Could you explain that in greater detail?” He asked. “What exactly does ‘accounting software development entail’? Is it the development of software designed to help accountants compile and process a company’s financial data as efficiently and accurately as possible?”

“There are countless types of software like that around the world today.” She explained with professional precision. “We generally refer to them as ‘accounting management systems’. They function much like warehouse management software, except they are specifically designed for accounting work and include integrated features for generating invoices, financial statements, and other official documentation.”

She paused for a moment. Then, with a faint shake of her head, she added almost regretfully: “Unfortunately, that is not what my department develops.”

A flicker of curiosity passed through the courtroom.

“Our division specializes in remote accounting support software.” This is her answer. 

Maekar tilted his head slightly, confused: “And what exactly is ‘remote accounting support software’?”

“It is exactly what the name suggests.” She said. “An application that allows users to remotely control their laptop or computer located elsewhere. In other words, once this app is installed on a machine, the operator can access and control that laptop freely, even if it is located on the opposite side of the globe.” 

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of Maekar’s mouth, clear satisfaction flickering in his expression: “Then what you mean is users would be able to perform any action on that system as though they were physically sitting right in front of it?”

The woman nodded at once: “That is the most precise way to describe it.”

The courtroom erupted into murmurs at once. Her ex-husband, who had only just sat back down, could no longer hide his growing unease.

Only after the judge struck the gavel and called for order did the room gradually settle again. Yet the shock remained visible on every face present, the judge, the jury, even the prosecutor.

An application that could be installed to remotely control laptops and computers?

It was not the first time they had heard of such a thing, a cutting-edge technology still in the process of being tested, and typically only introduced to large, well-established companies. And yet it was the only explanation that made coherent sense. Otherwise, how could someone who had never physically gone to the company and not even officially assumed the position of chief accountant, have reviewed, let alone submitted, expense requests to the finance department?

But what ultimately sealed the entire narrative was the piece of physical evidence Maekar had just introduced to the court: a medium-sized display screen resembling a television, and a small black box that appeared to be an external hard drive.

At that moment, her ex-husband could no longer restrain himself. The instant he saw Rhaegel take the device and hand it over to the court clerk, he shot to his feet.

“No…” He muttered under his breath. “I already threw that… how could it still…”

As one of the people seated closest to him, the prosecutor, along with several officers, had also clearly caught those words.

But before any of them could react, Maekar spoke: “This is the final piece of evidence we wish to submit, Your Honor.”

“What is it?” The judge asked.

“A hard disk drive containing incriminating data, and a computer monitor.” Maekar said. “The monitor was recently purchased for the purpose of accessing the contents of this drive. However, you are welcome to connect it to any system in the courtroom to verify the data yourselves.”

A faint, almost cruel smile curved across Maekar’s lips as his gaze drifted toward her ex-husband, the man who, only now, seemed to realize he had just spoken out of turn.

“We have recovered the contents of the drive.”  Maekar said. “All evidence related to tax evasion, financial fraud, and embezzlement is stored within it. It appears that whoever attempted to erase the traces forgot one thing, even if files are deleted from the desktop, there is still another location where deleted data is retained: the recycle bin. Your Honors, you may verify this yourselves. I am confident you will not only find financial documents, but also the application used for remote control.”

“No way!” Her ex-husband had already realized he was cornered, yet he still clung desperately to denial. “Even if there’s evidence in there, how do you know she isn’t the one who did it?” 

Maekar let out a cold laugh: “Anyone with the most basic understanding of network technology knows how a wireless network operates. And the most conclusive proof lies in the defendant’s own financial records, or rather, in the tax-evasion records of A&F Law Firm itself.”

By all appearances, the trial should have ended the moment he concluded his argument and submitted the final piece of evidence. But Maekar was a man who noticed details others overlooked. It was precisely that relentless attention to the smallest inconsistencies that had allowed him to uncover the overlooked threads and piece together the truth behind the case.

The projection screen shifted once more. This time, it displayed a photograph of the official investigative file documenting suspicions that A&F Law Firm had violated tax law. It was the very file the financial police had submitted to the department in order to obtain a search warrant for the company.

“Why was A&F first suspected of tax evasion?” Maekar asked, then answered himself. “I believe we already know the answer.”

He pressed the remote, the next slide enlarged the section stating the grounds for the warrant request, allowing every person in the courtroom to read it clearly.

Reason for search authorization: Detection of A&F Law Firm’s IP address accessing suspicious websites…

At the very end of the line was the name of a website wholly unrelated to taxation. And yet everyone in the room now recognized it instantly. 

It was the exact remote-access software platform the woman from HP Multimedia had identified earlier.

There was nothing left to deny. Her ex-husband lurched forward, pointing directly at her, his gaze blazing with such violent hatred it seemed he wished he could tear her apart with his bare hands.

“It was you!” He roared. “You fabricated all of this! You framed me because you hated me for what happened to your miscarriage!” His eyes were bloodshot, his face twisted beyond recognition.

“How could I possibly be connected to that drive?” He shouted desperately. “What does the company’s IP address have to do with me? And that remote-control software, didn’t even know it existed!” He turned wildly toward the bench. “Your Honor, do not believe her! Everything that woman and her lawyers have said is a lie!”

His voice cracked into near hysteria: “All of this evidence has been fabricated!”

No one in the courtroom noticed the faint tightening of the brows of the woman in her forties seated in the witness stand.

Until she finally spoke: “Sir? Do you not recognize me?”

The courtroom fell into a sudden silence. 

Only then did she turn her gaze toward the man who had just been hurling accusations at the helpless defendant: “I am the person you contacted to purchase the remote-control application.”

The color drained from her ex-husband’s face almost instantly. At that moment, he no longer had anything left to use in his defense.

Because it was true, he did not know that woman, he had never met her. When purchasing the software, all his communication had been conducted indirectly through the company’s customer support via messages.

Of course, Maekar had no intention of letting her wretched ex-husband escape the final blow. He turned at once toward the woman seated in the witness stand: “Do you still have those messages?”

She nodded and retrieved her phone. After the court clerk spent several moments reviewing the conversation and finally gave a confirming nod to the judge, the device was placed beneath the visualizer and connected to the projection system. A second later, the entire message thread appeared on the courtroom screen for everyone to see.

(14:30 07/02/991)

You: How may I help you, sir?

Director of Information and Communications, A&F Law Firm: We would like to purchase your remote laptop-control application.

In the midst of the escalating tension, a cold laugh suddenly escaped Maekar.

“I almost forgot.” He reached down and lifted a thin folder, nothing more than a folded piece of cardboard.

The moment her ex-husband saw it, panic flickered unmistakably across his face. He surged forward, attempting to rush toward the courtroom area, only to be immediately restrained by the officers. Struggling violently, he was dragged back as his eyes burned red with rage, like a cornered predator locked onto its enemy.

Then his gaze shifted toward her.

She jolted to her feet and instinctively stepped back. Rhaegel immediately moved in front of her, shielding half her body.

For a brief moment, under that stare, she was no longer in the courtroom.

She was back at their rented apartment, watching with her own eyes as he stood beside the woman he had been cheating with.

The dull, lingering pain in her lower abdomen returned like a phantom echo, even though there was nothing left there to hurt anymore. Her head throbbed violently, as if the wound had never fully healed.

She had never told anyone the truth, that it was him who had caused her miscarriage.

She had never dared to speak it, because she was afraid he would abuse her.

She did not want to go back to being that little girl again, the one who had learned too early what it meant to be hurt and not be allowed to speak.

Tears that had already been wiped away welled up once more. Her body trembled uncontrollably in the silent courtroom.

“No…” Her fingers clenched tightly around the gray handkerchief as if it were the only thing keeping her anchored. “Don’t hit me… Please...”

Rhaegel immediately stepped in front of her, blocking her view so she could no longer see her ex-husband. Then he glanced toward Maekar. When he saw the concern still lingering on his younger brother’s face, he gave a subtle nod, a silent reassurance, a signal to continue.

Because once this trial ended, she would begin a new life.

And Maekar would be the one to bring it to its conclusion.

Maekar blinked once, almost imperceptibly, a quiet acknowledgment of his brother’s trust.

“Your Honor.” He exhaled slowly, then handed the thin notebook to the court clerk. “This is the final piece of evidence we wish to submit.”

The judge opened the booklet, and the deep furrow between their brows tightened even further.

It was a bankbook.

The judge read the printed name on it aloud. The moment it was spoken, her ex-husband’s expression shifted instantly, panic, sharp and unmistakable.

At the same time, she looked up toward the bench, confused and shaken.

It bore the name of the secretary, the woman who had been involved with him.

Maekar continued: “This bankbook shows continuous deposits over a prolonged period.”

The projection screen shifted once again as Maekar changed the display. This time, it showed the contents of the savings book.

01/01/991, deposit of 1,000,000 WD into the account. 

29/01/991, deposit of 9,500,000 WD into the account.

07/02/991, deposit of 2,000,000 WD into the account.

…

30/06/991, deposit of 7,000,000 WD into the account.

10/07/991, deposit of 10,000,000 WD into the account.

Line after line of recorded transactions filled the screen, each one carefully dated, each one meticulously logged. But what truly made the entire courtroom fall into stunned silence was the final figure printed at the bottom of the page.

Balance: 30,000,000 WD.

The prosecutor could hardly believe what he was seeing. He stared at the projection screen for a long moment, visibly stunned, and Maekar could not tell whether it was because they had finally found their answer, or because they were at a loss at the sheer foolishness of her ex-husband.

After all, if one were going to embezzle public funds, they should not be foolish enough to transfer the money directly into a lover’s savings account, or even worse, to keep the exact figure the company had reported to the prosecution.

“Now then, Your Honor.” Maekar said, his tone edged with quiet mockery. “It seems the missing 30,000,000 WD has been found.”

He walked closer to where her ex-husband was being restrained by the officers, slipping both hands into his pockets, a posture of quiet satisfaction he only ever adopted when everything had gone exactly as planned.

And at this moment, he had done it.

He had secured her acquittal.

There was no need for him to hold back anymore, nor to wait for any further protest from the man. 

Maekar's voice was calm and cutting: “Don’t bother blaming the secretary either. We’ve already recovered evidence from the hard drive proving you personally arranged the savings account transfer for her.”

Rhaegel let out a short laugh. “I recall you insisted earlier that this wasn’t a matter between you and her, it was between her and A&F.” His gaze sharpened. “So why do you insert yourself into it?”

“What did you say?” Gwin sat in the spectators’ gallery, her arms crossed with an air of satisfaction. “‘Framed me’, didn't you?”

On the other side, Maekar let out a cold snort. For the first time in his life, he felt that every ounce of frustration and pressure he had endured before and during this case had been entirely worth the outcome he had achieved.

He stepped closer to her ex-husband and lowered his voice, asking a chilling question: “No one even mentioned you. Why are you insisting this is about ‘framed you’?”

At this point, her ex-husband was no longer looking at her alone, but at Maekar as well.

As if realizing something all at once, he suddenly burst into laughter. A deranged, unhinged laugh, or perhaps he had truly gone mad. Because every accusation he had tried to pin on her had been completely dismantled before everyone in the courtroom.

The judge’s gavel struck once more. “We acknowledge the submitted evidence.” He said. “This court is adjourned.”

However, unlike the jurors who were already gathering their documents, the judge did not immediately stand. Instead, he turned to Maekar: “Does the defense have anything further to say?”

She had never held out much hope beyond simply proving her innocence. And now that acquittal seemed all but certain, the tension that had once gripped her mind had finally begun to loosen.

She sat back in her seat, feeling almost weightless.

After a long moment, she lifted her head to look at Maekar and smiled at him.

Maekar smiled back.

They had succeeded.

He had succeeded in defending her.

But it was not over yet.

“Your Honor.” Maekar’s deep, steady voice resonated through the courtroom. “We hereby move to file a formal lawsuit against him and A&F Law Firm for defamation and for making false accusations against our client under Clause 3, Article 156 of the Westeros Criminal Code. In addition, we are filing a second claim under Article 867 of Decree 144/876/D-GDW for domestic violence during the marriage with prior offenses. My brother, Rhaegel, will serve as defense counsel for her in the upcoming proceedings.”

At the mention of a new case, not only her ex-husband panicked, even she looked utterly stunned, as if she could not believe what she had just heard. 

She could counter-sue him?

The judge, however, did not appear particularly surprised. With a measured nod, he acknowledged the filing and rose to formally adjourn the session.

Maekar remained standing at the center of the courtroom.

The gaze he directed at her ex-husband was no longer that of an ideal lawyer. It was the stare of a dragon, vast, merciless, and ready to tear its prey apart in burning fury.

And this time, Maekar would make sure the bastard who had hurt her paid the price he deserved.

That afternoon, as the judge finished reading the verdict, her perpetually heavy shoulders finally relaxed. 

Stepping out of the King’s Landing courthouse, she could at last take a long, deep breath, as if shedding the crushing weight she had carried for so long.

Her ex-husband was so faint-hearted that even without being prompted, he confessed to everything, his face completely betraying his emotions. The moment she saw him squirming as Maekar handed the savings book to the judge, she knew that the culprit was finally going to face the consequences. Even if he tried to put on a brave face, following the investigation based on the evidence Maekar provided, he and the employees involved in this corporate financial fraud case at A&F would undoubtedly be thrown into prison.

Standing outside the grand courthouse gates, she looked up at the crisp, clear late-autumn sky. Though the pre-winter air was freezing, her heart felt incredibly warm and at peace.

“Careful, you’ll catch a cold.” She heard the deep, low voice of her former director. As she turned around, Maekar was already draping his long, thick overcoat gently over her shoulders.

Before she could say anything, another man’s voice sounded from behind them.

It was the prosecutor.

“Congratulations.” Carrying a box of case files in his arms, he approached them. There was genuine surprise, and a note of admiration, in his voice as he addressed Maekar. “I didn’t expect you’d manage to win her a full acquittal. No wonder they call you ‘the Anvil of the legal world’.”

Maekar gave him a brief nod, the sort one offers an old friend: “It was never a particularly difficult case. Every piece of evidence against her was fabricated. Naturally, overturning it was only a matter of exposing the truth.”

The prosecutor’s eyes narrowed into an amused smile: “Finding the real evidence and recognizing that every accusation against her was false was the difficult part. Mr. Targaryen, you invested a great deal of yourself into this case, didn’t you.” 

It was not a question. It was a statement.

A man with a mind as sharp and methodical as the prosecutor had undoubtedly already pieced together the reason why someone at the very pinnacle of the legal profession like Maekar had personally chosen to step into this courtroom.

It certainly was not merely to add another victory to his already flawless record.

Maekar fixed him with a flat, bullet-hard stare, pointedly ignoring the wide-eyed curiosity and astonishment written across her face.

The prosecutor only chuckled, he turned to her. “You’ve got yourself an exceptional man, you know.” His brow lifted in knowing arch. 

“Get the fuck out of here!” Maekar snapped, his usual irritable demeanor returning at once.

“Alright. I’m going.” The prosecutor pouted theatrically, then let out a laugh and waved them a casual farewell before walking off.

“The financial police will reopen the investigation into the A&F law firm.” Maekar’s tone settled back into that rare, composed calm of his. He stepped closer than before as if trying to shield her from the early winter wind. “Soon enough, he will receive the punishment he deserves.” His voice grew noticeably colder when mentioning her ex-husband.

His coat was so oversized that she felt as though she were wrapped in a giant blanket. Yet, what brought the ultimate sense of peace to her heart was Maekar’s distinct, unforgettable scent. Her cheeks slowly flushed pink, though she couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or the sudden warmth. 

“Thank you, Mr. Targaryen.” She softly expressed her gratitude, gently clutching the inner padded lining of his ash-gray overcoat. “Without you, I don’t know when my name would have finally been cleared.”

“You don’t need to.” Maekar turned his back to her. “It was something I had to do.”

She couldn’t help but look back to the day the financial police stormed into her rented room, producing a warrant to arrest her. During her time in detention, the very first person to visit, comfort, and check on her was none other than him, her former boss. 

Now, standing behind him and looking at his broad, solid shoulders, her heart suddenly began to race at an inexplicable speed.

To her, Maekar was merely a chivalrous former boss who had lent a helping hand in her hour of need. While it was true that he had helped her a great deal back when she worked at his company, she had a boyfriend at the time, who later became her ex-husband, so she had never paid much attention to his gestures of care. She had always thought their relationship stopped at being colleagues, or more accurately, boss and former accountant. Yet, the moment Maekar showed up at the police station carrying her personal belongings, she gradually began to open her heart to him.

She had never truly understood this hot-tempered director.

She didn't understand why he would risk everything just to be her defense lawyer.

So she asked the question she had been dying to ask: “Why did you help me?”

Maekar stood frozen for a long moment. Only after taking a deep breath to compose himself did he turn around to face her.

Rhaegel had taken the initiative to go home early to leave the two of them some privacy, and even her best friend had vanished without a trace. Perhaps his brother had dropped a hint to Gwin that Maekar was not one for sweet talk, nor was he good at expressing his feelings through words, so they needed to leave him alone with her for things to actually progress.

But right now, Maekar wished those two were here more than ever, because he had never possessed enough courage to confess his true feelings to her.

“I just thought I should help you.” His voice is a bit stiff. “This is considered a commercial case, and not just anyone could act as a defense lawyer for an accountant accused with so much evidence stacked against her like I did.”

It sounded as though he were blowing his own horn. She secretly smiled at the thought but politely refrained from calling him out. 

“But why did you attend to it personally?” She asked again. “I mean, you know? You could have assigned this to anyone in the company, even your brother.”

The early winter wind swept through where the two of them stood. Under the crisp, clear blue sky, it felt as though not only she, but he himself, had been born again.

Everything was in the past now. The trial was over, and the accusations made by her ex-husband had been exposed by Maekar and his associates before everyone's eyes, most importantly, in front of the law enforcement officials. From now on, she would never have to live in fear whenever her ex-husband threw a tantrum, nor would she have to suffer the heartbreak of witnessing his infidelities.

She was free.

She had been renewed.

And Maekar saw his chance.

He closed his eyes and opened them immediately, the determination to protect her and stay by her side growing stronger than ever. Now, nothing could stand in his way of reaching her.

“Because I care about you.” He said slowly. “Because I don't want to see you heartbroken or desperate over an unworthy man ever again.”

She hadn't expected such an answer, so she just stood there frozen, her eyes wide with astonishment as she stared at him for a long moment. Anyone with half a brain could figure out what Maekar meant, wasn't it obvious that he had feelings for her, which was why he had been worried sick about her like that?

She suddenly frowned, not out of annoyance, but because she was frustrated with herself. 

She should have realized it sooner, how could it be as simple as the director of a law firm renowned across all of Westeros personally becoming her defense attorney? 

If it wasn't for personal feelings, what else could it be?

“Don't say anything.” Maekar suddenly spoke up, cutting off her train of thought. “I've made up my mind. Whether you agree or not, I am determined to have your back for the rest of your life.”

It seemed he had mistaken her frown for a silent rejection, but of course, that wasn't what she meant at all.

“I’ll take you home. Let’s go.” Maekar didn't give her a chance to refuse, he immediately turned on his heel toward the parking lot.

Snapping out of her daze, she called after him: “Mr. Targaryen, I... I can do it myself.” 

Maekar let out a frustrated sigh. “Are you really planning to take a cab back to that cramped flat?” Of course, he wasn’t annoyed with her at all. He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her with an unyielding expression. “Nice dream, but it's time to wake up.” With that, he resumed walking.

“Wait!” She hurriedly ran after him. “I still have my belongings there, and my clothes too.”

Ever since she was hit with the financial fraud accusations, she hadn't been back to her place once, in this time, all her clothes and daily essentials had been personally bought for her by Maekar. Now, her ex-husband was in custody pending investigation, but even if he was heading to prison, that rented room was no longer livable. If she wanted to move out, the first thing she needed to do was pack up her things.

She was not allowed to be a burden to anyone, that was one of her principles in life. In this legal battle, she had already relied on and received too much help from Maekar, and she didn't dare trouble him any further.

Yet, he didn't look like someone who felt troubled at all. In fact, in a place she couldn't see, Maekar actually felt thrilled to “be troubled” like this.

“You won't be needing them anymore.” He said as he walked, without bothering to turn his head. “I will buy you all new things.”

Overwhelmed by his lavish pampering, she stammered: “How could that be? You’ve already helped me so much, there’s no need to…”

“Be quiet and get in the car, girl.” They had arrived at Maekar's parked vehicle, and he had already opened the door, waiting for her to step inside. “You know I don't like repeating myself.” He jerked his chin, gesturing for her to get in.

Knowing she couldn't win an argument with him, she silently slid into the passenger seat. After Maekar fastened her seatbelt, he closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. He started the engine, selected the destination on the touchscreen display, and finally drove away from the courthouse.

She didn't know where he was taking her, but as long as it wasn't that terrifying, nightmare-fueled rented flat, it didn't matter. 

Leaning her head against the car window, she let out a silent sigh. It wasn't until the car was halfway through the journey that she heard his firm yet slightly awkward voice.

“I’ve thought it through.” He said in a low tone while keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “I won't let you slip out of my sight ever again.”

Maekar had caught her off guard once more, causing her face to flush red at his sudden confession. She could hardly believe that someone like him would care for someone like her.

“From now on, everything is going to get better.” Steering the wheel with one hand, he gently wrapped his other hand around hers, giving it a soft squeeze. Only then did he take his eyes off the road to look at her. “You have my word.”

For the first time in so many years, she felt like she no longer needed to worry about what lay ahead. 

No more racking her brain over what to cook just so her ex-husband wouldn’t lose his appetite and skip meals. 

No more anxious waiting whenever he came home late from work. 

No more panic at the thought of an unwanted pregnancy. 

And no more agonizing over whether she would ever be able to build the dream family she had always longed for.

Under the warm sunshine of the autumn noon, she offered him a genuine smile.

“So this is what relief feels like.” She thought, leaning her head back against the seat. As she watched the peaceful scenery passing by outside the window, her heart, which had been suspended in constant stress and anxiety, finally settled.

She no longer had to dread tomorrow, for she had found a fresh start with someone who truly cared for her.

“I’m taking you to the mall.” Maekar said with a hint of excitement. “My assistant already arranged an apartment for you.”

She nodded, finally throwing up her hands in defeat against his stubborn insistence.

Maekar spoke again: “It’s getting dark. What do you want to eat?.”

“I can just grab some fast food.” She said softly. “I’ve already troubled you so much today, you should head home and get some rest early too.”

“I don’t want to go home.” Maekar said as if it were a matter of fact. “I want to have dinner with you.”

She remained silent for a long moment before letting out a soft laugh: “Thank you, Mr. Targaryen.”

Since she didn’t know what to eat, she left the decision to him. Maekar picked a restaurant near the shopping mall they were heading to. The moment he named the place, she pulled out her phone to search for it. Upon realizing it was one of the most expensive establishments in King’s Landing, her eyes widened in shock, and she snapped her head to look at him.

Noticing her panicked gaze, Maekar knew she was about to back out again. He warned her in a tone so gentle it lacked even a shred of malice: “I’m not allowing you to refuse me, remember that.” 

Her smile grew even brighter as she turned her head to watch him focus on the road: “Of course, sir.”

“Maekar.” He corrected her. “To you, it’s just Maekar.”

Her eyes, still slightly red from crying, had gradually regained their vitality. It seemed that whenever she was by his side, she didn't have to worry about a single thing.

“Maekar.” She repeated his name like a tentative test on the tip of her tongue, which managed to make even someone as emotionally reserved as him break into a chuckle. “Thank you, Maekar.” 

“I like that.” He said suddenly. Feeling her puzzled gaze, he turned his head and gave her his tenderest smile. “I like the way my name sounds on your lips.”

That was also the moment she knew their future would never be a façade of gilded rot.

[spiced-reads]

THIS WAS EVERYTHING !! IM SO EXCITED FOR WHATS COMING🤍🥹

This was so well written, I was so immersed that nothing was going to take me away from this masterpiece! I truly can’t wait to read more of this! BEAUTIFUL 🤩 DEFINITELY TOP TIER FIC🤍

P.s MAEKAR LIKE THIS CAN GET IT ALL DAY!!🥵

[weregloo]

RENEWED

Canon: Managing Director of law firm!Maekar Targaryen x Former Accountant!Reader

Trope: From boss and former employee to husband and wife.

Warning: no use of Y/N, modern AU, courtroom drama

Summary: After helping her win a major lawsuit against her ex-husband who had framed her for tax evasion and financial fraud, Maekar finally kicked that faithless bastard out of her life. Having spent years loving her in silence, he resolved to stay by her side and take care of her for the rest of their life.

Note: Gwin Ashford is Reader’s rich best friend.

Gilded Rot - coming soon

People across Westeros thought Maekar Targaryen had lost his mind. Why else would the managing director of one of the country’s most prestigious law firms willingly take on the defense of an accountant accused of tax evasion?

[spiced-reads]

We used to pray for times like this!!

[bullet-prooflove]

The Power of a Name: The Lawyer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lovelyreadersposts @lover-rep-fanfic @moderngenius94 @momdancingtomcr

Summary: You confront your father, leading to a revelation that stuns Mr. Le Bail.

Companion piece to:

Deals With The Devil - After being sent on a strange errand by his employer Mr. Le Bail, The Lawyer realises the terms and conditions of his own contract may not be as cut and dry as they first seemed.

The Devil's Daughter - The Lawyer has some questions for you...

The Things That Make You Human - You discover more about The Lawyer's past after he invites you to stay at his home.

Performative - You begin to question The Lawyer's feelings for you.

Monsters - The Lawyer makes a discovery about your reading habits.

Six Days - You discover a certain clause in your contract.

A Goddamn Love Story (NSFW) - You become an absolute menace when The Lawyer works too late.

A Marriage of Convenience - You get a sharp reminder that your marriage is one of convenience, not love.

The Middle Ground - The Lawyer battles to make himself heard after the issue with his fuckbuddy.

The Toy (NSFW) - Make up sex has never felt so damn good.

Family Ties - The Lawyer discovers the true purpose behind your marriage.

In The Dark - You know something's wrong the moment you wake up in the darkness.

You are a force to be reckoned with and that had that has never been more apparent than in this moment as The Lawyer sits in a forest green Chesterfield in front of the fireplace in Mr. Le Bail’s office, watching as you ream the devil himself out.

His eyes fix on you over his porcelain cup, the thinly veiled amusement playing across his lips as the words pour out of you. Your indignation about being manoeuvred into such a position, your rage about almost being assaulted tonight, the ridiculousness of all those other secrets he’s kept from you for so many years. Like the fact he loves you the way a father loves any of his daughters, that he has since the moment you were put in his arms.

“I’m… sorry?” His employer looks like he’s swallowed glass as he sits with his hands clasped in his lap contritely. The words sound foreign as they roll off his tongue as if he’s tasting them for the very first time.

“Are you?” You assert, your own hands resting on your hips as you stand before your father.

“Yes?” It comes out like a question, like he’s not even sure what he’s supposed to be apologising for.

“For which part…”

The devil looks to him for help, but The Lawyer simply hides his smile behind his porcelain mug as he takes another sip of his Earl Grey.

“I… all of it… definitely all of it.” He concludes clearly pleased with his own summation. It’s his first apology, The Lawyer imagines, it’s clear he’s trying, even if you don’t believe a word of it. He wouldn’t either. With Mr. Le Bail there’s always an agenda and in this case it’s to make you stop shouting at him.

The Lawyer’s phone chimes on the armrest of the Chesterfield, drawing his attention. He sets his cup and saucer down on the mahogany side table before he flicks his fingers over the screen, reading the message from Titus.

The package has been picked up.

There’s a photograph attached. One of Charles Laurate, in pinstriped pyjamas, a ball gag sealed inside his mouth, and blood leaking from his hairline. The left side of his face his bruised, his arms wrenched back, bound at the base of his spine. He appears to be in the trunk of a car, on his way to the estate outside the city to endure his own private hunt, The Lawyer imagines.

Have fun, he texts back with one hand. I know it’s been a long time coming.

He sets the phone down to find both sets of eyes on him as he retrieves his teacup. “Charles has been detained.” He says simply over the rim. “He’ll no longer be a problem for anyone.”

The collective breath is audible, the relief palpable in both you and the devil. He sees the similarities in you at that moment. It’s subtle, but it’s there underneath the surface.

“That doesn’t change the need for the marriage.” Mr. Le Bail begins recrossing his legs as he tilts his head up to meet your ferocious gaze. “Charles was certainly the most bold, but there will be others-”

“You don’t need to sell us on this marriage.” You snap at your father, jabbing your finger at The Lawyer. “I’d marry him even if my head wasn’t going to explode, you may have forced this situation, but you don’t get to dictate how we feel about one another.”

There’s silence then. A narrowing of the eyes. A tilt of the head. The Lawyer has already made his feelings clear to his employer but hearing yours out loud seems to surprise the devil. “You once told me you didn’t think you could love, that I’d torn that part out of you after I let your mother die.”

You flinch and the devil makes no move to sooth you. To him it’s simply a fact, but to you it’s a living breathing thing that sits in the room with you.

“You did.” You say softly, before casting a fond look at The Lawyer. “But he gave it me back, he showed me that even if I was a monster…that I was worthy of love, that I was capable of it.”

The Lawyer’s heart melts. A declaration like that…it’s the closest he’s ever gotten to feeling truly wanted. He clears his throat as he raises to his feet adjusting the lapels of the bloodstained suit jacket he’s still wearing. The stench of cordite clings to his skin, a reminder he’d prefer to wash off as soon he’s able. “We should be taking our leave. The cleaning crew will be done with the house by now and I… I need some sleep.”

The exhaustion’s starting to set in. Now that the adrenaline has ebbed out of his veins he can feel it clawing it at his form, stealing his ability to think and function. You must see it too because the edges of your eyes turn downwards, your lips pursing together into a sympathetic line.

“Oh Benji…” You say stepping towards him, and the devil’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline as he watches the exchange. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think about that when I said we should come here.”

“It’s fine, darling.” He says picking up your coat from the rack and holding it open for you to thread your arms through. “You needed an explanation from your father. I know how important that was to you.”

The devil rises to his feet too. His eyes burning like the hottest coals in the bottom of a hell fire as he stalks towards The Lawyer. “You told her your real name. You know the power that holds.”

There’s a reason he’s known as The Lawyer, why there isn’t a single person on this earth that knows his name except you. It grants possession over him, splitting him between two masters instead of one. He can sense the devil’s displeasure underneath the surface as the reel of fate unspools, the threads spinning loose.

“She already owns every part of me.” The Lawyer tells him frankly as he pulls on his own overcoat. “You started this ball rolling, you must have known what would happen.”

“I didn’t. This was supposed to be a marriage of convenience, you were never meant to…” His mouth twists as if he finds the next words distasteful. The devil himself is a man of contradictions, he’d banked on the fact that he’d cut you so deep you’d never be able to love again, on the idea that The Lawyer simply didn’t have it in him. He didn’t expect The Lawyer to give himself to you so completely, to essentially take what was left of his soul and put it into your hands. “You were always meant to be mine.”

A pawn to do his bidding, to be moved around the board as he sees fit. The Lawyer has never been under any illusions about his value to his employer, about his role in the cult of Le Bail. He belonged to the devil and the devil only…until now.

“Well, you’ll just have to learn to share then won’t you.” You submit into the conversation, wrapping your scarf around your throat in that haughty little way of yours. “You can’t just give him to me and then take him away again. That’s not how the contract works.”

Mr. Le Bail regrets siring you in that moment, The Lawyer can see it in his eyes. He may love his daughter but right now he hates her too for taking away his favourite toy, for treasuring it in a way he can't, for treating like it's something precious.

“This was a circumstance of your own making.” You point out as your arm threads through The Lawyer’s drawing him from the room and back towards the elevator that leads to the world above. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Love The Lawyer? Don’t miss any of their stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[spiced-reads]

Period!!🤍

[bullet-prooflove]

In The Dark: The Lawyer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lovelyreadersposts @lover-rep-fanfic @moderngenius94 @momdancingtomcr

Summary: You know something's wrong the moment you wake up in the darkness.

Companion piece to:

Deals With The Devil - After being sent on a strange errand by his employer Mr. Le Bail, The Lawyer realises the terms and conditions of his own contract may not be as cut and dry as they first seemed.

The Devil's Daughter - The Lawyer has some questions for you...

The Things That Make You Human - You discover more about The Lawyer's past after he invites you to stay at his home.

Performative - You begin to question The Lawyer's feelings for you.

Monsters - The Lawyer makes a discovery about your reading habits.

Six Days - You discover a certain clause in your contract.

A Goddamn Love Story (NSFW) - You become an absolute menace when The Lawyer works too late.

A Marriage of Convenience - You get a sharp reminder that your marriage is one of convenience, not love.

The Middle Ground - The Lawyer battles to make himself heard after the issue with his fuckbuddy.

The Toy (NSFW) - Make up sex has never felt so damn good.

Family Ties - The Lawyer discovers the true purpose behind your marriage.

It’s dark when you wake up. The type of darkness that comes with city wide blackouts during the summer months. Your heart pounds in your chest, a staccato beat against your ribcage as you reach for the lamp. You know Benji would have left it on before leaving the room, so you don’t understand why it’s off.

The click of the switch is audible, a dull sound in the vast silence as you suck in a breath. No light emits from it, no matter how many times you play with the mechanism. Your eyes start to adjust, making out shapes by the glimpse of the moon as it filters through the gap in the curtains.

There’s a creak halfway down the hall. You strain your ears, listening but no other sound penetrates your ears. It’s not Benji, you’d know his footsteps anywhere.

Which means…

There’s an intruder in the house.

You reach for the purse you dumped alongside the bed when you’d first gotten in. Your hand slips inside, fingers curling around the butt of the SIG P365 you’ve been carrying around since the Occidental Chemical Corporation sent a goon to put the shits up you last year. You remove it from your purse as you climb out of bed, your thumb flicking the safety off, Benji’s t-shirt fluttering against your thighs.

You check your phone on the nightstand, huffing when you see the blank screen. The damn thing is completely dead, the battery run down from using it as a wireless hotspot when you were out and about earlier in the day.

The best course of action is to try to make it to the panic room in Benji’s bedroom. It’s tucked away behind his bookshelf, a set of steel double doors with magnetic locks that swing open into an opulent clandestine space that mimics his study. Once inside you can use the satellite phone that’s stowed way in there to call for help.

Another creak, this time closer to the bedroom door. You stuff the pillows Benji was sleeping on underneath the sheets, so they look like the shape of a person before you position yourself alongside the bedroom door with your back to the wall.

The door opens. Your heart racing as you clasp the SIG between your hands, gripping it. You force yourself to take a deep breath, inhaling in through the nose and out through your mouth as the door shields from the intruder’s view.

The barrel of a semi-automatic pistol peeks past the edging, followed by a gloved hand and an extended arm shrouded in black. His footsteps are absorbed by the plush white carpet as he creeps towards the bed, the Beretta pointed at the form made by the pillows. His face is hidden by a black ski mask, black cam cream smeared around the eyeholes so only the whites are visible. He tucks the gun into the holster on his hip, reaching for the set of white zip-cuffs alongside it.

If it was someone from Occidental Chemical Corporation they would have just shot you in your bed, killing the case along with you.

So, this… this is something different.

Orders to catch, not kill, and that you can work with.

You step forward, your SIG jabbing into the back of the masked asshole’s neck as he hovers at the base of the bed, simply watching ‘you’ sleep. “Get on your fucking knees.”

He sighs, a slight deflation of his chest before he starts to comply. He sinks down to one knee as you steal the zip cuffs from his hand, and that’s when he strikes, twisting his body, driving a fist up into your stomach. The air rushes out of your lungs, your body instinctively curling in on itself as he surges up, grabbing for your gun. You fight to keep it, his gloved hand forcing your arms up towards the ceiling as he lands another punch, this time directly into your flank.

Kidney punches, they’re fucking debilitating.

The sudden burst of agony erupts through your body, disrupting your synapses, making your legs buckle. The blow forces you onto your hands and knees, the SIG skittering across the carpet as you try to choke out a breath. His boot collides with your ribs, the impact sending you sprawling onto your back across the white carpet. You lay there, every breath like fire lancing through your lungs as he stares down at you, tilting his head.

“Pretty.” He says, those godless eyes raking over your bare legs underneath Benji’s shirt. His boot jams between your parted thighs, the tip of it grazing your panties, nudging at that sensitive space. “Charles Laureate said I couldn’t kill you, but he didn’t say I couldn’t play with you.”

His hands slide down to his belt, grasping the tongue before he unthreads it from the metal clasp. The waistband of his combats loosen, bile climbing up the back of your throat as he starts to stroke himself through his trousers, his breath quickening.

“That would be a really bad fucking idea.” You hiss through your teeth, tasting blood on your tongue.

“Oh yeah, why?”  His hand reaches for the second set of ziplock cuffs on his hip.

“Because my fiancé’s about to blow your fucking head off.”

He turns his head just as Benji pulls the trigger, the sound tears through the room, making your ears ring as the body collapses alongside of you, the back of its head completely missing. You stare up at the ceiling, at the blood speckled across it as the oxygen floods into your lungs, the agony you’re feeling compacting into an ache.

“Lu.” Benji is on his knees beside you, his soft hand cupping the side of your face guiding your gaze to his. His eyes are a stormy blue, a wild and tempestuous sea underneath that buttoned up façade. His lips purse together into a grim line, his jaw set as he studies your features, searching for clues to your wellbeing. Your palm covers his, lips brushing over his pulse point and he releases the breath he’s been holding in his chest.

“How did you know?” You wheeze as he sets down the still smoking Ruger to help you into a sitting position. Pain radiates through your flank, your ribs, your stomach but it seems to be diminishing, not as acute as it was a few seconds ago.

“The security system.” He tells you, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind your ear. “I got a notification the second he cut the power.”

Your head tilts towards the body, to those lifeless eyes staring back at you.

“Who the fuck is Charles Laureate?” You ask, using the back of your hand to chase the bloody spittle from your lips. “And what does he want with me?”

“Ah yes.” Benji says with a sigh as he takes the handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit jacket and hands it to you. “Your father… he has some explaining to do.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

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[bullet-prooflove]

Family Ties: The Lawyer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lovelyreadersposts @lover-rep-fanfic @moderngenius94 @momdancingtomcr

AN: This ties into my Titus Danforth work. For those that haven’t read it here's a quick summary: Titus was in love with a woman promised to another family, The Laureates. He discovered a loophole in contract that allowed them to marry, enraging her suitor Charles. The loophole was that the Danforths were actually an offshoot of The Laureates. Charles’s ancestor had sent his illegitimate child to live in The Americas and he’d struck his own deal with the devil. The marriage contract only stated that Titus’s wife had to marry a family member but not which one – hence her ability to marry the man she loved, Titus. Charles wants to void the marriage so she'll be forced to honor the original contract with him.

Much blood has been shed between the two families since (he kidnapped them and tried to hunt them down in France leading to Titus losing his voice and his wife being branded/they lured his son to America and killed him horribly). It’s a war that has been raging for thirty years and now… he’s pissed off The Lawyer.

Summary: The Lawyer discovers the true purpose behind your marriage.

Companion piece to:

Deals With The Devil - After being sent on a strange errand by his employer Mr. Le Bail, The Lawyer realises the terms and conditions of his own contract may not be as cut and dry as they first seemed.

The Devil's Daughter - The Lawyer has some questions for you...

The Things That Make You Human - You discover more about The Lawyer's past after he invites you to stay at his home.

Performative - You begin to question The Lawyer's feelings for you.

Monsters - The Lawyer makes a discovery about your reading habits.

Six Days - You discover a certain clause in your contract.

A Goddamn Love Story (NSFW) - You become an absolute menace when The Lawyer works too late.

A Marriage of Convenience - You get a sharp reminder that your marriage is one of convenience, not love.

The Middle Ground - The Lawyer battles to make himself heard after the issue with his fuckbuddy.

The Toy (NSFW) - Make up sex has never felt so damn good.

The Lawyer doesn’t realise he’s been summoned, not until The Driver knocks at the door at two in the morning. He answers it blurry eyed, the scent of you still clinging to his skin as he reviews the chauffeur on his doorstep.

“He’s been calling.” The Driver says simply. “It would be wise for you to accompany me to the office.”

There are five missed calls when he returns to his bedroom and picks up his phone from the charging dock. He splashes cold water over his features, selects his favourite suit, adorning it like armour in the full-length mirror before retreating to the Blue Room where he’s left you dressed in his t-shirt, tucked underneath the sheets.

You barely stir when he kisses you goodbye, you simply mumble something in your sleep, drawing that purple Squishmellow even closer against your chest. His thumb chases over your cheek before he draws away, pulling on his black woollen overcoat from the coat stand alongside the door and keying in the code for the security system, locking up the house.

The car ride is quiet. The Driver knows better than to talk, and The Lawyer is lost in his own thoughts as he watches the city go by. Part of him doesn’t want this meeting, he has this needle in his chest, one that tells him nothing good can come from being summoned this early in the morning.

When he steps out of the car, he’s standing outside of a corporate skyscraper in Midtown that houses not only Mr Le Bail’s office but his own as well, the one he hasn’t been present in since you appeared in his life. He steps inside the building, shoes clicking on the marble floor as his fingertips sweep over the electronic scanner alongside the elevator. The doors open and he steps inside, pressing the button for the basement.  The elevator descends and The Lawyer clasps his hands in front of him, waiting to reach his destination.

It takes a couple of minutes, but soon he finds himself staring at the lavish hallway that leads to his employer’s office. It’s gilded with crimson walls, mahogany floors and oak panelling. The rugs are original Persian, relics that tell of a history long forgotten as they mute his footsteps. The doors at the end of the hall beckon him. They’re made of African Blackwood, the most expensive wood on the planet, with the same Satanic Goat emblem he wears on his lapel carved into them. The weighty gold handles tilt down on their own accord, the doors swinging open, granting him entrance to Mr. Le Bail’s inner sanctum.

The room is expansive with a tall, high vaulted ceiling painted the same charcoal grey as the walls. The floor is light European oak, fitted in a herringbone design that warms the tones the same way the minimalist gold scones that illuminate it do. The bookshelves behind the expansive desk are lined with intricate trinkets, items Mr. Le Bail has picked up throughout his travels including a barometer form the Titanic, an ivory idol from Pompeii and musket from Civil War. His gaze fixes on a gold picture frame amongst them, one he’s never noticed before. It’s of a young girl with a toothy smile, one that he’s become intimately familiar with over the past few days.

“You’re late.” Mr. Le Bail’s voice booms through like thunder as The Lawyer turns his attention to the fireplace. His employer stands in front of it with a fire poker in his hand, prodding the logs at the bottom with the point. They crackle under his attention as he watches the flames dance to a tune that neither of them can hear.

“Yes.” The Lawyer responds, taking off his leather gloves and tucking them into the pockets of his woollen overcoat. “But you knew I would be.”

From what The Lawyer gathers there’s a certain level of precognition when it comes to being the devil. He assumes it’s how your marriage ended up written into his contract over one hundred years before you existed.

Mr. Le Bail grunts his response before gesturing for him to take a seat in one of the two forest green leather Chesterfields residing in front of the fireplace. He places the fire poker back in the stand as The Lawyer removes his coat, hanging it on the hand carved coat rack made of antlers. He turns to see his employer standing in front of the side table, a bespoke English whisky decanter in his hand, encrusted with diamonds, rubies and a white gold inlay. He pours the honied liquid into two matching tumblers as The Lawyer approaches, offering him one as he takes a seat.

The Lawyer sinks into the chair, sipping it. It’s the Macallan Valerio Adami 1926, the holy grail of whiskies. Black cherry erupts on his tongue, along with the taste of spiced fruit, a deep warmth blossoms in his chest, radiating through his nerve endings with a gentle heat.

“I assume you didn’t summon me here to drink whisky.” The Lawyer remarks setting his glass down alongside a brown manilla envelope. His fingers skate across it as he looks to his employer. Mr. Le Bail inclines his head, and The Lawyer picks it up, placing his hand inside to remove the photographs the devil wants him to see.

There’s eight in total.

They fill him with a sense of trepidation as he studies them, his brain struggling to comprehend what he’s looking at. Each and every single one of them are of you, out and about in the world, conducing your business. They appear to have been taken yesterday he can tell from the outfit you’re clad in, the way you wear your hair.

The patisserie down the block from the brownstone, picking up breakfast.

The library you like to work out of because you love being surrounded by all that history.

The park where you spent fifteen minutes patting a white fluffy dog, that looked exactly like a cloud. You’d told him all about it only a couple of hours ago right after you’d forgiven him.

“You’re spying on her.” He raises his eyes to meet his employer’s. They simmer like embers, that slow flicker of fire ensnaring The Lawyer as the devil takes a deliberate sip of whiskey.

“Not me.”  Mr. Le Bail responds, his voice quieter now, softer spoken. “The culprit left his calling card in the envelope.”

The Lawyer inserts his hand into the envelope once more. His fingers grasping the black Swiss acrylic card, withdrawing it in one fluid motion. He stares at the gold pigment, the iconic diamond cluster, the name written in fluid italics on the front.

The Laureate Foundation – Charles Laureate.

His blood runs cold, chilling in his veins as his jaw sets and his nostrils flare. A low growl escapes his chest, an instinctive noise to a threat that even the devil himself didn’t see coming. He’s become familiar with this sadist’s handiwork over the years. He was the first one to arrive at the hospital after he took the Danforths from their hotel suite in Paris, the only one that knows the true extent of the brutality they succumbed to during the hours they were in his possession.

“What does he want?” He spits the words out like curses as the devil takes another sip of whisky.

“The same thing he always wants, the Danforth marriage voided.” Mr. Le Bail states, reviewing The Lawyer over the rim of his glass. “He doesn’t seem to understand that I can’t do that, that these bylaws were established at the dawn of time. I can no more change them, than he can stop being an arrogant little fuck.”

Those same bylaws that are preventing Charles from getting what he wants, are also protecting him too. It’s written into every contract that the devil can not assert his influence, that he can not raise a hand against the descendants of those who signed their deals.

“How did he find out about her?” The Lawyer asks, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. “I didn’t know about her until three days ago... how did he…”

The devil sighs, swirling the whiskey around the tumbler as he stares into the fireplace, the flames seem to rise, the heat climbing, making The Lawyer sweat under his suit jacket.

“Her mother’s a Laureate.” Mr. Le Bail confides seemingly unaffected by the temperature. “Titus’s ancestor wasn’t the only illegitimate child Louis Laureate shipped away to the Americas in the 1880s. The Cifers were another lost line, much like the Danforth’s, only I didn’t make a deal with them. I met her mother Bella during one of those Satanic orgies in the 80s, she became a favourite of mine and apparently, I favoured her a little too much because we made a daughter.”

The Lawyer vividly remembers the eighties. The orgies, the coke… he’s glad he got a vasectomy in the 60s otherwise he may have had a few mini Lawyers running around too.

“When Lucille was diagnosed with leukaemia, one of the treatment options was a bone marrow transplant. She did one of those genealogical DNA tests, searching for family members who could donate. None of the ones she came across would have been a close enough match, so she was put on the registry until she was too ill to be considered a safe bet.”

But that DNA would have stayed on file, and Charles would have been hypervigilant after what happened with the Danforths. He’d have his hooks into those ancestry data bases just in case another surprise popped up.

“It’s not too much of a stretch to imagine that he looked into Bella, that he would have asked around about the father of the child. Bella… she was proud that we made a daughter, she thought I’d chosen her, the truth is… I simply did a lot of coke and forgot to pull out when I should have.”

That is not something The Lawyer will be telling you if he recounts this story at a later date.

“By the time he figured it out the information was useless, Lucille was dying at that point. There was no leverage but…”

He trails off, his palm rubbing across his lips. It’s an odd gesture, one he’s never seen the devil make the entire time he’s been employed by him.

“But… you couldn’t let your daughter die.” The Lawyer finishes with a knowing ache in his chest. If he hadn’t cared he would never have sent The Lawyer with that contract, he wouldn’t have drawn it up himself, he wouldn’t have included all of those carefully placed stipulations.

“Beings like me… we’re supposed to be omnipotent. We don’t feel the things that mortals do, we don’t experience them the same away.” He brings the whiskey glass to his lips again, draining it before placing it back upon the side table. “However, when they placed that little girl into my arms and I saw she had my eyes… something happened. It was like a part of me was outside of my body…I don’t know how to explain it.” He shakes his head, his hands clasping together in his lap as his gaze lingers on the fire in the hearth. “So no, I couldn’t let her die. I also knew that that decision would leave her vulnerable, that Charles would hurt her to try and force my hand. There are no rules to say he can’t…”

“…because she is an anomaly.” The Lawyer finishes, the pieces finally falling into place. “There are no bylaws written for her because she’s something that shouldn’t exist. She can’t have the same protections as the Families because no deal was struck with the Cifers, she would never agree to the same boilerplate we use for them anyway…”

“So, you see, my lawyer.” The devil drawls, finally turning his gaze to The Lawyer. Those eyes, they burn like coals boring into his. “You were my only option. Your position affords you protection from all outside influences, it allows you to remain impartial throughout your tenure. That extends to your family members which is why I need Lucille to marry you. It’ll make sure she’s safe, that Charles won’t be able to harm her, that no one could…”

Except you…

The words hang in the silence between them.

And The Lawyer understands in that moment the immense amount of trust his employer is putting in him.

“I’m in love with her.” He finds himself telling the devil as he sags back into the Chesterfield, his fingertips rapping against his temple. “It’s only been three days but my heart… it knows. It also knows that if anything were to happen to her, I would destroy everything in my way to seek vengeance, I would tear apart the man who harmed her regardless of the consequences.”

Meaning his head would explode if he killed any member of the Families, but he’d welcome that death if it meant he could be with you again in the afterlife.

“I’m going to need you to tell me where he is.” The Lawyer says, clasping his own hands together as he stares into the flames. “Then I’m going to need to borrow the Rugar 9mm you keep in your top drawer.”

“You can’t kill him.” The devil reminds him as he slips a crisp, white folded piece of paper out of his pocket and slides it across the side table. The Lawyer picks it up, studying the address of the hotel suite where Charles is residing, it’s right here in Manhattan, only a couple of blocks away. The devil was right, he is an arrogant little fuck.

“No, I can’t.” The Lawyer sighs, wishing there was the option to bend those rules. “But I’d like to have a chat before I summon the Danforths, we both know that once Titus gets his hands on him…”

There won’t be a single shred of that hateful man left.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[spiced-reads]

Thank you so much for feeding us this masterpiece of a fic!!🤍 AAAAaaaaah THIS IS SO GOOD!!!

[bullet-prooflove]

The Toy: The Lawyer x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lovelyreadersposts @lover-rep-fanfic @moderngenius94 @momdancingtomcr

Summary: Make up sex has never felt so damn good.

Set After:

Deals With The Devil - After being sent on a strange errand by his employer Mr. Le Bail, The Lawyer realises the terms and conditions of his own contract may not be as cut and dry as they first seemed.

The Devil's Daughter - The Lawyer has some questions for you...

The Things That Make You Human - You discover more about The Lawyer's past after he invites you to stay at his home.

Performative - You begin to question The Lawyer's feelings for you.

Monsters - The Lawyer makes a discovery about your reading habits.

Six Days - You discover a certain clause in your contract.

A Goddamn Love Story (NSFW) - You become an absolute menace when The Lawyer works too late.

A Marriage of Convenience - You get a sharp reminder that your marriage is one of convenience, not love.

The Middle Ground - The Lawyer battles to make himself heard after the issue with his fuckbuddy.

You have a toy.

The Lawyer doesn’t realise until he has you spread out in those sheets, lips swollen from his kisses, paperwork strewn across the bedroom floor. His breathing is hard, ragged. His skin humming with electricity as his cock juts against the inside of his pyjama bottoms. Already there’s a damp spot, his pre-cum staining the fabric as he grinds against your thigh, wanton and desperate.

“Do you want to watch me fuck myself?” You whisper with that wicked smile of yours and he nods his head, unable to speak as you roll onto your side and fetch something from the bottom drawer of your nightstand.

You hold up a rainbow-coloured vibrating wand he’s never seen before. One that looks like a unicorn’s puked on it. At the opposite end of the massager is a g-spot stimulator, one that he is very interested in experimenting with.

“Please tell me you bought that with my card.” He mumbles against your lips as he captures your mouth again. He can’t get over how soft your lips are, how a simple kiss from you can set his whole body ablaze.

“Of course.” You tell him as he reaches down between you, unfastening the button of your trousers. “I’m pretty sure my landlord sold mine on one of his fetish sites.”

That… that is something he’ll have to unpack later. For now his focus on helping you out of your trousers. He shoves them down over your ass, guiding them along your thighs. He bites back a groan when he sees your panties, pretty white things with tiny clouds on them that do nothing to hide how wet you are.

He wants to be the storm between those thighs. He wants to get his face against your pussy, inhale the sweet scent of your arousal, devour you completely.

But he’s going to be a good boy, at least for the next few days… no matter how torturous that may be.

You kick your trousers the rest of the way off as he reclaims your mouth, his fingers threading through your hair, tugging at the strands making you gasp. He hears the buzz of the vibrator as you melt against him, breath catching as you rub it across the front of your panties.

You focus on your clit, circling the wand over that delicate little nub through your underwear. He wishes it was his fingers, his tongue, but he knows if he touches you his restraint will snap, that he’ll be burying himself deep, making you howl his name out to the stars as he fucks you against the headboard.

The taste of you is in the air, and he swallows down your moans like they’re the finest champagne from that vineyard he owns in France. His hand slips down to your throat, fingers squeezing just enough to make you whine under his lips, your entire body arching into his.

“Fuck yourself with it, darling.” He requests between messy kisses. “Pretend it’s my cock inside you, that it’s me that’s getting you off.”

The vibration stops and you turn over the vibrator, so the curved g-spot stimulator is pressed against you. You slide it between your lips, coating it with your wetness, teasing yourself by rocking against the tip, so only the head catches, parting you around it.

“Is that how you’d fuck me Lu?” His teeth sink into his lower lip as he watches, his cock twitching at the sight. “Get me nice and desperate so when you finally give it to me, it’s like nothing else I’ve ever had.”

“I’d want to remind you exactly who you belong to.” Your lips ghost over his jaw as the dildo breaches you, filling that first filthy inch. “That none of the ones you had before even compare to me.”

That possessiveness, it’s more of a turn on than he’d ever dreamed. His fingers tighten around your throat, heightening your ecstasy as the dildo slides home, filling you completely. The noises are wet, dirty things as you start to fuck yourself, your hips rocking against his, stimulating his dick with every caress.

“That’s it darling.” He drawls, his forehead resting against yours. “Take me deeper, clench around that dick for me, show me that I’m yours while I fuck you nice and hard like this.”

His hand slides down between you, covering yours, seeking out the buttons. He clicks the vibrator setting and you curse like a sailor, starting to tremble as it hits that sweet spot, the one that has your skin flushing as you whine and writhe against him.

“Eyes on me darling.” His voice is like honey, thick, sweet, treacherous. “I want to see the moment you give yourself to me.”

Those eyes, they remind him of the universe. Bright, beautiful and filled with an eternity he can only hope that he’s a part of.

“Benji.” You whisper, and he feels it coming, hears it in your voice. “Oh God, Benji.”

You shatter like a star, combusting underneath his manipulations like thousands of elements scattering across the sky. And Benji, he erupts with you, completely untouched, his own climax hitting him with the force of sun as white hot come spatters against the inside of his pyjama bottoms.

Your kisses are messy, lazy things as he clicks off the vibrator and gently removes it from you. Each one is slow, sweet, and filled with a love he feels in the very depths of his heart.

“Jesus.” You murmur, your legs tangling with his as his palms rove over your body, grounding you, reminding you he’s here, that he’ll always be here, no matter what happens. “All those orgies and fuck buddies really paid off. We haven’t even fucked yet, but I feel like I’m having the best sex of my life. Remind me to send them a thank you note.”

He envisions it. Expensive white envelopes with his seal turning up on doorsteps, your words written on his stationary. He laughs, burying his face into the curve of your shoulder as your fingers run through his hair, relaxing him. He could stay like this forever, basking in your afterglow. He wants to spend the rest of his life, tangled up in you, playing with rainbow coloured dildos and finding what else makes you say his name in such a deviant way.

Down the hall in his bedroom, resting on the charging dock his phone chimes, a summons he can’t hear through your closed door.

Mr. Le Bail: When you’ve finished with my daughter, your presence is required. Urgently.

Love The Lawyer? Don’t miss any of their stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[spiced-reads]

WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE!! 🤍🥵

[castledevil]

BENJAMIN POINDEXTER / BULLSEYE

Daredevil: Born Again (2025) 02x04 "Gloves Off"

[spiced-reads]

[bullet-prooflove]

The Middle Ground: The Lawyer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lovelyreadersposts @lover-rep-fanfic @moderngenius94 @momdancingtomcr

Summary: The Lawyer battles to make himself heard after the issue with his fuckbuddy.

Set After:

Deals With The Devil - After being sent on a strange errand by his employer Mr. Le Bail, The Lawyer realises the terms and conditions of his own contract may not be as cut and dry as they first seemed.

The Devil's Daughter - The Lawyer has some questions for you...

The Things That Make You Human - You discover more about The Lawyer's past after he invites you to stay at his home.

Performative - You begin to question The Lawyer's feelings for you.

Monsters - The Lawyer makes a discovery about your reading habits.

Six Days - You discover a certain clause in your contract.

A Goddamn Love Story (NSFW) - You become an absolute menace when The Lawyer works too late.

A Marriage of Convenience - You get a sharp reminder that your marriage is one of convenience, not love.

You don’t come home until after eleven.

The Lawyer doesn’t know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing, only that you let yourself in quietly, creeping up the stairs like a mouse. He hears your footsteps drift past his bedroom, where he’s reading your minotaur book on the Kindle. They retreat to the Blue Room further down the hall, the guestroom he’d allocated to you when you first arrived here.

You’re not joining him tonight it would seem.

He sighs, picking up the Kindle and tucking Squashy the purple Squishmellow, that’s been taking up residence in his bed as long as you have, underneath his arm before he draws back the quilt.

He opens the door revealing the dark hallway. The light from the lamp in your room glows like a beacon, illuminating the tiny slit underneath your own door. Empathy has never been his strong suit, but when it comes to you, he feels your hurt like a fire poker, searing through his skin, twisting at his heart.

He raps his knuckles on your door, a low methodical sound followed with a silence that stretches far too long. He tries again and he hears papers shuffle as you sigh.

“Come in.”

He pushes the door open to find you sitting on the bed, still wearing the clothes you left in, surrounded by dozens of pieces of paper. There’s photographs attached to some of them, different generations, different ethnicities.

“Not planning on sleeping tonight?” He asks surveying the mess. There’s an order to it, one he can’t quite discern as he strides towards the bed.

“Just reminding myself of what’s important.” Your gaze doesn’t move from the documents as you continue to lay them out across the mattress. “Why I signed the damn contract in the first place.”

“These are your casefiles.” He says quietly. It makes sense now, the groupings. You’ve ordered them in small pockets of location. Seeing them like this… he didn’t realise the true extent of what you were facing until this moment. “Is this what you’ve been doing all day?”

“I got sidetracked for a while playing house with you.” Your jaw is set tight, your lips clamped together in displeasure. “It won’t happen again.”

“Lu.” He begins.

You hold up a palm to cut him off. “I don’t want to talk about it, Benjamin.”

His full name. He didn’t realise just how much he hated it until it rolled off your tongue in that tone.

“Well, I do.” He pushes because he has a feeling if he doesn’t bang his head on this particular wall, then it’s going to stay erected the rest of his days. “So, I suggest we figure out the middle ground.”

It’s a mediation tactic, one that he uses on the families when they’re squabbling to resolve their ridiculous disputes. It’s something you’re familiar with too, he can see as you roll your eyes towards the ceiling as if praying for help.

God won’t help you here, he wants to say but he keeps his mouth shut because he knows it’ll only add fuel to the fire that’s burning behind your eyes.

“You get thirty seconds.” You say finally, setting the paperwork down into your lap. “Thirty seconds and then you leave me alone for good.”

For good...

Well, he does not like the finality that that conjures.

“Alright, where so I start…” He asks himself as he runs through the sequence of events.

“Twenty nine.” You count down, your attention returning to the documentation.

Oh, you’re playing hardball. He does the same thing himself when someone is dithering.

“Alright…” He drops down onto the bed beside you, tossing Squashy and the Kindle onto your carefully arranged paperwork. “Athena and I fuck when she comes into town. We had a pre-arranged appointment booked long before I even knew you existed and with everything that has happened over the past few days, you, the contract, my work, I completely forgot she was due back in New York. I did not call her, I did not summon her. She simply arrived.”

You scoff and it’s a harsh sound, one that grates across his nerves as much as his story does on yours. “You expect me to believe a man like you isn’t ruled by his calendar? That you forgot to check it? Give me a break.”

“Lu.” He says firmly. “Since you’ve arrived in my life my schedule has gone to hell. I sleep late, I finish early, I take breaks. Sometimes I hear you doing something around the house and I just… I want to be part of it, so I set everything aside and end up spending two hours trying to make cinnamon rolls or watering the garden despite the fact I pay people a lot of money to that for me.”

“So, what you’re saying is that I’m so disruptive to your life that you forgot your fuckbuddy was coming over.” There’s still a harshness to your words but that fire it’s tempered, less ferocious.

“Yes.” He says frankly. “You are disruptive in the very best way, the way that reminds me to live, to take a breath, to appreciate the things around me. That’s why I told Athena I won’t be seeing her anymore, why I contacted my other ‘fuck buddies’” -he makes bunny ears with his fingers because it is not a term he’s accustomed to using- “and told them the same thing. They were displeased but… that has always been the arrangement.”

“Wait, how many fuckbuddies do you have?” You ask, shifting to face him. It’s the first time you’ve met his eyes tonight and he knows he’s on the precipice of being forgiven.

He does the math in his head, counting under his breath. “Fifteen.” He tells you. “But some of them are part of a group situation.”

“Like an orgy.” You say slowly, trying to wrap your head around the number.

He clicks his fingers because that’s the word he was missing. “Yes, exactly like an orgy.”

“Jesus.” You mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose as if to relieve some phantom pressure between your eyes. “Benji, this is not a real marriage, you don’t have to swear fidelity to me and live like a monk.”

“Lu, clearly you’re not hearing me.” He says, drawing his feet up onto the mattress so he’s sitting crossed legged, directly facing you. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. I want nights wrapped in our bed with this”- he holds up Squashy-“and your oddly sentimental minotaur porn. I want mornings with you dancing around the kitchen to heinous 90s music. I want a real marriage, with a real partner, and that is you.”

“Benji…” You trail off searching for the words and he waits with apprehension gnawing in his chest. “I’m not sure I can be that for you. I mean you have fifteen fuckbuddies and I’m guessing a lot of orgies, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to measure up on that side of things.”

“Lucille.” He uses your full name as he raises up onto his hands and knees, crawling across the bed towards you. Your breath catches and he takes note of that for future liaisons as his palms bracket your hips. The heat rolls off his skin as he brings himself into your proximity, so tantalisingly close it’s hard not to kiss you. “Last night, touching myself while I watched you was the most alive I’ve ever felt. I have never come so fucking hard in my life. I don’t think we’re going to have a problem in that department.”

Your fingertips ghost over his jaw, over the light stubble that lines the shape of his features. “I think it’s important for you to know that I’m pretty sure my fuck buddy thinks I’m dead, so you don’t have any problems there.”

“Hm.” He murmurs, his lips brushing over the palm of your hand. “Best text him to make sure. I want him to know that your husband is going to give you everything you need from now on.”

“Is that what you’re promising me?” You whisper, your breath ghosting over his lips your fingers slide into his hair, threading through it in a way that makes his entire body light up. “Everything I need.”

“No Lu.” He returns, his mouth capturing yours in a salacious kiss that is definitely going to result in him taking a cold shower if he wants to stick to that vow of chastity. “I’m promising you forever.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[spiced-reads]

[bullet-prooflove]

A Marriage of Convenience: The Lawyer x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lovelyreadersposts @lover-rep-fanfic @moderngenius94 @momdancingtomcr

Summary: You get a sharp reminder that your marriage is one of convenience, not love.

Set After:

Deals With The Devil - After being sent on a strange errand by his employer Mr. Le Bail, The Lawyer realises the terms and conditions of his own contract may not be as cut and dry as they first seemed.

The Devil's Daughter - The Lawyer has some questions for you...

The Things That Make You Human - You discover more about The Lawyer's past after he invites you to stay at his home.

Performative - You begin to question The Lawyer's feelings for you.

Monsters - The Lawyer makes a discovery about your reading habits.

Six Days - You discover a certain clause in your contract.

A Goddamn Love Story (NSFW) - You become an absolute menace when The Lawyer works too late.

You wake up in Benji’s bed, his arm draped over your waist, his face burrowed into the curve of your neck. His breath ghosts across your skin as his chest raises and falls against your back. His legs are tucked under yours, his socked feet rubbing lightly over your bare ones.

“If you don’t let me go we’ll end up breaking that vow of chastity and spending all day in bed.” You murmur as his nose chases up along the slope of your shoulder, a kiss placed just under your jaw.

He huffs into your ear, a low growl that makes you laugh as the doorbell rings throughout the house. It’s a loud chime, old fashioned like the gong from a grandfather clock. It’s one of the charms of living in this brownstone, parts of it are still as antiquated as when it was first built in the 1869.

“That might be my wedding outfit.” You say scrambling from his arms and hurling yourself out of the sheets. There’s an excitement in you, one that you haven’t felt for such along time and you know that’s because of the man you’re going to marry, that he’s out the spark back into you. “They said they’d be able to deliver it today after they’d made a couple of alterations.”

You’re already halfway down the stairs before you hear his footsteps on the landing behind you, there’s an urgency to them. A game, you think as you quicken your pace.

“Lu…” He calls after you, a plea you don’t understand.

But you’re already opening the door, already face to face with the person on the other side.

A woman stands there, an absolutely stunning one with a sleek ebony bob, and a ruby red trouser suit that screams couture. She breezes past you, making a beeline directly to Benji, her lips brush over his cheek, leaving a bloody lipstick mark smeared across his skin.

“Oh, darling you’ve invited a friend for us to play with. How delightful.” Her voice is melodic, a light breezy air as Benji’s eyebrows furrow into a frown. You open your mouth to speak but already she’s undressing in the hallway, that blazer goes first, followed by the black silk shirt she was wearing underneath. A black leather corset hugs every single one of her assets, accentuating everything you don’t have. Her head tilts towards you, her gaze assessing every single one of your attributes, lingering in places that have only been seen by the man you plan on marrying in a few days’ time. “Why don’t you go on upstairs my lovely, The Lawyer and I can take turns ravaging you.”

“Anthea.” Benji’s tone is sharp, like a stinging slap across the face as he steps between you.

“Or I can watch if you’d prefer to keep her to yourself-”

You slam the door and both of them stare at you as you straighten your shoulders and hold your head up high. You’ve made a mistake, you realise, you’ve forgotten that Benji already has a life, one that didn’t include you up until three days ago. That comes with lovers, people who know him more intimately than the woman he’s going to marry.

This is a contract, a marriage of convenience. This isn’t a real commitment, it’s an obligation, one you both have to fulfil otherwise your heads explode.

 “I’m going to get dressed and leave the two of you to participate in whatever this is.” Your voice is entirely devoid of emotion, your walls re-erected. You’ve been living in a fantasy over the past couple of days, driven by your death experience. It’s time to change that, to accept the reality of it.

"Lu..." Benji begins but you shrug him off.

“You can fuck who you want.” You tell him as you ascend the stairs without looking back. “Separate lives… remember?”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[spiced-reads]

THE ANGST!!!

BUT ALSO..!!

[bullet-prooflove]

A Goddamn Love Story: The Lawyer x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lovelyreadersposts @lover-rep-fanfic @moderngenius94 @momdancingtomcr

Summary: You become an absolute menace when The Lawyer works too late.

Set After:

Deals With The Devil - After being sent on a strange errand by his employer Mr. Le Bail, The Lawyer realises the terms and conditions of his own contract may not be as cut and dry as they first seemed.

The Devil's Daughter - The Lawyer has some questions for you...

The Things That Make You Human - You discover more about The Lawyer's past after he invites you to stay at his home.

Performative - You begin to question The Lawyer's feelings for you.

Monsters - The Lawyer makes a discovery about your reading habits.

Six Days - You discover a certain clause in your contract.

The Lawyer doesn’t realise how late it is. Not until the door to his study opens and he finds you standing there in another set of his pyjamas. You’ve chosen white cotton this time, the sleeves rolled up to your elbows. He tried to keep his eyes on your face and not on the dark shadows of your nipples, beckoning to him underneath the thin fabric.

It’s been a while since he’s taken a lover, his desire it comes in ebbs and flows, nearly always born out of frustration. But since you’ve been living with him, it’s a constant thrum underneath his skin, in an impatient want every time he’s in your presence.

“It’s past eleven.” You say stepping inside and leaning against the doorframe. “Maybe you should think about coming to bed.”

He looks down at the paperwork spread out across his desk, the knot between his shoulders growing the longer he stares at it. The Laurate’s lawyers are attempting to argue the Danforth loophole again. It’s been over thirty years since Diana and Titus married and Charles Laurate can still not let it go. It’s immensely frustrating.

“Soon.” He states despite the fact his eyes are stinging.

You push off the wall, your soft footsteps padding across the thick carpet as you round his desk. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, your thumbs pressing into that sore spot at the base of his neck, massaging it lightly.

“Oh.” The word escapes out of him like a gasp, the muscles unfurling under your touch, giving him blissful relief.

“You carry so much tension in this area.” You murmur as your hands shift along his shoulders, easing the tightness underneath. “I’m gonna spend the rest of this marriage working out all of your kinks, aren’t I?”

A pulse of excitement runs through him at the thought of exploring his ‘interests’ with you. His cock jerks, the scent of tangerine flooding his senses as your hands start to wander. Your hair tickles the back of his neck, your breath ghosting in his ear as you begin to unfasten the Windsor knot at his throat.

“You should come to bed with me.” You tempt as the fabric parts and the knots loosens. “It’s a lot more fun than hanging out alone in here.”

The things he could do with that tie, they play out in his head as you slip it from around his throat, tossing it across his paperwork. Blindfold you, bind you, use it to caress every inch of your skin while he holds you under his spell.

Your palms roam lower, scorching him through the fabric of his clothes. Your chin is on his shoulder now, your soft cheek pressed against his as he watches your hands skate over his chest, gliding over the buttons of his waistcoat. His breath catches as the first one flicks open.

“Isn’t this better?” Your lips brush over his jaw, soothing him. “Winding down after a long day with your wife?”

The second button slips, leaving just one more to go.

“We’re not married yet.” He reminds you as the third button pops open and the waistcoat falls away.

“Is that important to you Benji?” You ask, affectionately rubbing your cheek against his as your palms roam over his chest. His hands capture yours, guiding them into a tender embrace around his neck.

“Yes.” The word comes out like a secret, one even he didn’t realise he was keeping. “I have given myself to so many others over the decades, but no one has ever had that part of me. I’ve never wanted them to.”

“But you want me to have it.” There’s understanding in your voice, a tone that makes him realise that it’s important to you too in your own way. “When you fuck me, you want it to be as your wife.”

“Yes.” He whispers, squeezing your arm as your lips grace that delicious little spot just underneath his ear. “You’ve become very dear to me over the short amount of time we’ve spent in each other’s company. Even without the contract…” He chuckles as your teeth graze his skin, making his dick jump in his trousers. “You are being terribly naughty right now.”

“I know…” You tease, your breath ghosting in his ear as you huff out a laugh. “I guess I’ll have to wait until the wedding night for my spanking.”

He groans as you draw away, turning his chair so that he faces you. His resolve almost breaks as he takes in those pert nipples straining at the fabric, the damp patch on the front of those pyjamas at face height.

“You know… there are other things we could do instead of having sex.” You say, coming to stand between his legs, your thighs forcing his knees apart. He can smell your arousal, it calls to him like a siren’s song as you push the pyjama pants down revealing that perfect pussy. “You could just watch me”-you swipe your fingers through your wetness, and he bites his tongue as the sound filters through to his ears-“and I could watch you.”

Your knee nudges against his cock, and that brief second of contact has every single nerve ending in his body igniting.

“Take it out for me Benji.” You coax, his gaze fixed on your glistening pussy as you smear your arousal across your clit making it shine. “I want to see what I do to you.”

He obeys, hissing with relief as he frees himself from the confines of his trousers. His dick stands proud, red, cut, needy. A single drop of pre-cum blossoms on the tip and you can’t seem to take your eyes off him.

“Stroke it for me.” You request, your fingers slipping from your clit to that deviant little place he wishes he was thrusting his tongue inside. “Imagine it’s your dick I’m fucking instead of my fingers.”

The moan tears from him as he smears the pre-cum across the head with his palm before he grips it in his fist, that wet glide feels like heaven as he watches your fingertips disappear inside your pussy.

“Fuck that’s hot.” You tell him, your hand coming to rest on his shoulder, nails raking across his skin through his shirt as you steady yourself. Your pussy is right there in front of him, this beautiful, sinful thing that has him fucking his fist with a desperation that orders on fanatical. Your fingers move faster, your breathing coming in ragged little pants as his own ghosts over that swollen bud. “Almost like your licking my clit Benji, God that feels so good.”

Already he’s on the precipice, that wildfire burns inside him, chasing through his loins, stealing away his breath as you climax right before his eyes. It’s a stunning sight, almost enough to sent him hurtling over the edge…

“Open for me.” You whisper withdrawing your fingers from your pussy and tracing them over his lips. He parts them, moaning as your fingers delve into his mouth, the taste of your cum erupting on his tongue.

His cock pulses, one final tug and he’s ejaculating all over his fist, his spent spattering all over your thigh as he sucks on your fingers, his groans stifled by them as you press down on his tongue. He whines when you remove them, sagging back into his chair with a sensation of weightlessness he’s never felt in his entire life.

You pluck a couple of tissues from the box on his desk, using them to clean your thigh before you pull up the pyjama bottoms and make a start on him. He lets you, emotion rendering him speechless at the care you take as you tuck him back into his trousers.

His hand captures yours as you drift away, bringing you back into his proximity, pulling you down onto his lap so he can wrap his arms around you. He buries his face into your hair, inhaling tangerines as you curl up into him, his palm smoothing up and down your back.

This thing between the two of you, it may have started as a marriage of convenience, but he knows in his heart, it’s a goddamn love story.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[spiced-reads]

When it goes down they are going to go crazy!🥵