#Save Marriage After Abuse What

[borathae]

Bonded

“You didn’t think that having Jungkook save you from an abusive arranged marriage by marking you would mean that you would have to marry him instead. Yet here you are. Bonded to him for life, with his father threatening to ban you if you fuck it up and with your marriage night one step away. It wouldn’t be that scary if you weren’t aware that his family doesn’t bond with omegas.”

Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader

Genre: Werewolves!AU, forced marriage!AU, childhood best friends to lovers!AU, marriage night!AU, Angst, Romance, SMUT

Warnings: Hard Dom!Jungkook, happy sub!Reader, size & strength kink, he is a lot taller than her, angst & misunderstandings in the beginning, poor woman gets threatened left and right at her own bonding party, please protect her, Kook is hurt by her at first but the problem gets solved hihi, her brother is a dick tbfh, insanely protective!Jungkook, whipped Alpha in loveeee, lots of kisses and touches, he is really soft with her & just a lil nervous, he is so lethal tbfh no wonder she gets turned on by him so easily bahaha, kissing & biting of her scent spots, the spots are on her neck and her tits and her inner thighs, he accidentally stimulates them long enough that she goes into heat, which makes him go into his ruts <3, this is a really passionate bonding night for sureeee, intense and hungry nipple sucking, her poor omega tits swell and produce sweet liquid (not milk just idk omega liquid lmaloaooa listen I made this up as I was going and it's hot), Jungkook eats it upppp, sooooo much slick, lots of drool and tears hihih, rough penetrative sex with his big alpha cock, knotting, lots of orgasms for both, breeding with his hot cum mhmh, listen he fucks her roughly while he is knotted which means she repeatedly gets penetrated by his knot, she likes it cause she is so into him, stimulation of her cervix which feels really good for an omega, she is in heaven with him fr, he never felt as good before as well, sex in missionary then in mating press and then just tangled up in a mess of limbs, praise, hand holding, he calls her "baby" & "my love" & "princess", the cuddliest and safest and giggliest aftercare, they're not aware of it yet but they're true mates <3, oh yeah! they break the bed

Wordcount: 15.8k

a/n: YOU HOES (affectionately) ASKED FOR IT AND THIS HOE (me, derogatory) LISTENED!!! I FUCKING LISTENED!!! AND I AGREED!! We need more Alpha!Kook in our life and on this blog. This is the hottest smut ever like (tmi but) i need to jerk it afterwards, which rarely happens with my smut HFAHDSFH i need him to be my alpha husband and rearrange my guts daily tbfh 😔 have fun besties, i hope this is a worthy enough sequel to the first part 😩💛 ps: for all you omegaverse veterans, i'm still a newbie to this AU and this story is MY interpretation of the AU hehe any rule changes are done intentional to my comfort levels <3

If you knew that agreeing to Jungkook’s plan would mean This, perhaps you never would have agreed. Perhaps if the night hadn’t been so stormy and you so hopeless, you wouldn’t have said yes. 

But you did and now you are here. In front of the entire pack, in a long dress as your pack’s priest is talking about eternal faithfulness. You knew that being marked by an alpha would mean that you had to be with him, but didn’t think it would mean This. 

Your family is in the audience. First row, next to Jungkook’s family. Your brother stares at you with a look you can’t quite make out. You still can’t really stand his face. Jungkook’s father seems displeased and you don’t blame him. The little stunt you pulled made alpha Urquard furious and it was Jungkook’s father who had to take care of it. He wanted to trade another omega at first, but Jungkook stopped him before that could happen. You didn’t get to see Jungkook for two whole days after this incident and when he came back, his upper lip was chipped and he didn’t want to talk about what happened. 

“Urquard’s not gonna bother our pack again. That’s all you need to know”, he told you tiredly while you tried to nurse his lip. “And there’s something else. It’s about us”, he then continued.

“About us? What about us?”

“If we wanna keep living here, we have to do something.”

“What do we have to do?”

“And with this kiss, I may pronounce you husband and wife”, the priest says and howls. The rest of the pack follows. Everyone, except Jungkook’s father who is staring holes into you darkly. It is custom for werewolves to howl for a newly bonded couple. It is meant to bring luck and happiness into the marriage. Having the pack alpha refuse this ritual is not a good sign. 

You gulp down the heavy lump in your throat, shifting your nervous eyes to Jungkook. He seems nervous too, clasping your clammy hands. He closes the distance. Thankfully the howls are loud enough to mask your voices.

“He isn’t-”

“I know. Ignore him. He’s a stubborn idiot.” Jungkook cups your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” 

You hesitate, feeling dizzy from lack of oxygen in your lungs. His father isn’t howling. What if Jungkook doesn’t want this bond either? If you knew that your night with him would end in marriage, maybe you wouldn’t have said yes to him. He wants to kiss you, doesn’t he? His eyes are studying your lips. You want to kiss him too, but it is so scary to go for it. What if he doesn’t want this bond? You hesitate and hesitate. As a matter of fact, you hesitate long enough for the howls to die down. 

Heavy, thick silence follows. The pack stares. The priest stares. Jungkook’s father stares. Jungkook himself stares.

“Hey uhm, this is the part where you kiss me”, he whispers. 

“I know”, you whisper back.

The priest clears his throat. Jungkook licks his lips nervously, still waiting for your consent. Someone in the audience coughs.

If you knew that agreeing to Jungkook’s plan would lead to having to bond with him, perhaps you never would have agreed. He promised you that you would just have to pretend, that you wouldn’t have to be with him if you didn’t want to and yet here you are. You are now officially his mate. Well, not until you kissed him. You really want to kiss him, but it’s so scary. 

“You have to kiss for the bond to be sealed��, the priest whispers as well. 

You glance at the audience. Your family seems nervous. Jungkook’s father seems hopeful but also very angry. You look at Jungkook, whose eyes have darkened slightly.

“It seems that the bond is invali-”, the priest tries to announce loudly, but before he can finish his sentence, Jungkook silences him by pulling you into the kiss. 

You gasp, eyes wide open and body frozen. His big hand is on the back of your head, keeping you close. The priest sees it as a sign and begins the howling again. It fills the wedding house, almost sounding like melodies of joy. But you feel sick to the stomach. You are mated for life. Jungkook made sure of it and you made sure of how your marriage will be because you hesitated. You can see it in his eyes once he pulls back and they are as cold as ice. Holy fuck, you messed up.

The iciness of his stare continues long into the festivities. It is the duty of the newly  bonded couple to open the dance floor with a dance. You and Jungkook have to wait behind a curtain to be called to the floor. You arrive a little later than him because your mother wanted to talk to you before that. Something about being a good mate to him. You didn’t really listen because she pissed you off. 

Jungkook sends you an icy glare, tonguing his cheek.

“You”, you stomp to him. Your mother made you angry enough that you feel the need to take it out on him. 

He watches you with a cocked up brow. You shove at his chest. He doesn’t budge, but stares with widened eyes. 

“How dare you force the kiss onto me like this. You took away my choice”, you hiss.

“Tch.”

“Don’t tch me. You said that it was my choice. You forced me.”

He tenses his jaw, looking anywhere but you. You shove him again with no chance of moving him. 

“Did you hear me?”

“I don’t know if you already forgot the five prior conversations we had, but if we didn’t bond today, my dad would have banished us both. I made sure that this wouldn’t happen”, he answers you snappishly.

“This still doesn’t give you the right to kiss me like this”, you throw back, shoving at his chest.

He doesn’t budge, taking your hands to stop you from shoving him again. His grip is strong and possessive, but doesn’t hurt. 

“The priest was gonna renounce our bond. I had to act fast”, he hisses.

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to be forced into it.”

“I know that by now”, Jungkook spits and swipes your hands away, turning a cold shoulder to you. He crosses his arms in front of his chest so tightly it looks as if he is trying to hug himself.

“I want an apology for it”, you insist.

“I’m sorry.” 

You falter for a moment, not having expected it. 

“I’m sorry, okay? Just. Drop it now, please.”

“Drop it? Excuse me?” 

Jungkook turns his head away.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

No eye contact.

“Jungkook?” 

“I’m done talking to you”, he grumbles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that you hurt me.”

You gawk at him, holding your breath. He turns to you, meeting your eyes with such urgency it feels as if he is trying to drown you in the connection.

“All this talk about not wanting me to hold back. You told me not to stop telling you that you’re mine. Was it just empty talk?” he asks.

His heartbroken scent makes you feel heavy in your chest. 

“What? I, I don’t- what?” you stutter.

“Did it ever mean something to you?” 

“Kook, I-”

“Don’t call me that”, he hisses and steps closer. The thing is, however, that you don’t feel the instinctive need to step back. He doesn’t feel dangerous to you. Not because he isn’t scary, because he definitely is, but because you know for a fact that he wouldn’t hurt you. “Don’t call me that after what you did today.”

You gulp. He puts his hand over his heart, eyes showing how hurt he feels. His voice quivers as he speaks.

“You made me have my first knot ever. You, you made me feel so good that I bit you. You had your first knotting orgasm through me. I was fucking alive inside you”, he say and puts his other hand on your stomach where you once allowed him to feel himself in you. 

You gasp and tense at the touch, putting your hand over his’. His touch seeps into you, reminding you how it was to carry his warmth inside you. Everything inside you wants him within the first touch. The connection is so intense that you draw closer to him instinctively.

“I thought that it meant something to you too. So why did you hesitate?” he stresses, eyes racing between yours.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Jungkook pulls his hand away from your stomach. “Wow, okay.”

“Kook, please.”

“Forget it. Let’s just get it over with”, he hisses and a second later, the curtains open and you have to pretend to be a happy couple.

He takes your hand, leading you to the dance floor while howls and claps cheer you on. He positions you and him in the middle of the dance floor, looking down at you with a tightened face. 

The music starts. So does the dance. 

Jungkook leads it, you follow. He holds you so close. He looks so deeply into your eyes. To anyone else it must seem as if he can’t get enough of his wife, but you are close enough to him that you know his true feelings. He wants this stupid dance to end as quickly as possible. 

You can’t bear to look up at him any longer, lowering your eyes.

“Don’t. Look up.” 

You obey instinctively.

“You’ve already fucked up the kiss, don’t fuck up the dance as well.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s already a little too late for that, isn’t it?” he says and leans you back as part of the dance. For just a second you see the world upside down before he lifts you again, holding you against his chest as he twirls over the dance floor with you. It makes your dress dance with you and blurs the world around you. He furrows his brows.

“Did it ever mean anything to you?” he asks. 

“I don’t know.”

“Yes or no? It’s a simple answer.”

“I was desperate and I-”

“Wow.” 

“I, I just meant that I don’t know if it meant what it meant to you.”

“Stop talking, seriously.”

You gulp. Jungkook looks away. 

“You have to look at me”, you whisper panickedly.

“Don’t worry, the dance is already fucked”, Jungkook says and coincidentally enough, the music switches just this moment. The rest of the pack fills the dance floor, but you barely notice them.

Jungkook steps back and leaves you in the middle of the dance floor. Your chest feels tight. You didn’t want it to come to this. Of course it meant something to you, but he cornered you right now and you tend to say the wrong things under pressure. You didn’t want to give him a dishonest answer, but didn’t have the full answer ready yet. Oh god, this isn’t what you wanted to happen.

Sudden fear fills you. You know instantly that his father is next to you. You force yourself to look at him, holding your breath.

“Ruin this bond, you and your family can look for a new pack. Understood?”

You nod your head fearfully.

“Speak up!” 

“Yes! Understood!” 

“That’s better. Fucking, bratty omega. Just because my son can’t keep his dick in his pants. I’ll teach him how to discipline you, be sure of that”, he says with a deadly glare and turns his back to you, leaving you in the middle of the dance floor.

You bite back tears. 

Alcohol. You need to forget this night. Yes, that’s the solution.

Werewolf bonding parties aren’t that different from human wedding parties. There is good music, delicious food, lots of dancing and even more laughter. There is also, of course, the occasional friendly fighting between two wolves, which may seem scary to a human but is perfectly normal to your species. There is even a saying that if a bonding party doesn’t have friendly fighting, the bond will not last. A part of you had hoped that your party would be such a party just so it wouldn’t be you who ruins the marriage and therefore has to carry the alpha’s wrath. But your wish wasn’t granted the moment you watched Yoongi and Hoseok start a friendly wrestling march next to the margaritas bar.

Speaking of margaritas, you are drunk on them by now. Way too drunk, barely able to stand on two feet. 

“Fuck, I need air”, you get out and turn to leave. You run your eyes over the crowd. Your family is by their table, your brother follows you with his eyes. You must be way too drunk because for a second it felt as if he was hunting you with them. You break contact, spotting Jungkook next. He is talking to one of the betas, Seokjin. He also seems terribly drunk. You look away quickly, stumbling past him on your way outside. He follows you with his eyes as you do, but you are too drunk to notice.

The night is cold. A welcome change to the stuffy air inside. Tonight is a new moon. You look up at the moonless sky. Weddings under a new moon mean that they will last long. That’s what the legends say. The new life together starts with the new cycle of the moon. First the fighting, now this. Your marriage seriously wants to last, doesn’t it?

You stumble to a quiet corner, resting against the wall. The music is blurred behind a veil of alcohol and the thick walls of the venue.

The thing is, it’s not that you had to bond with Jungkook which upsets you so much. It is the fact that it had to happen under such circumstances. You are sure that if he didn’t have to mark you in order to save your life, he would have never even thought about taking you as a mate. You know how his family thinks. A wolf with the alpha gen should mate with another wolf with the alpha gen. Bonding with an omega isn’t a thing in Jungkook’s family. And this is what scares you. You are an omega in a family of alphas and his father seems to fucking hate it. What if Jungkook hates it too? He talked about keeping you safe and not wanting to let you go, but he probably didn’t think that he would have to mate with you. He was probably high on his afterglow and talked without thinking.

“Urgh”, you let out, grinding your fangs. 

But then, why was he so upset that you hesitated? Was it because he wanted to own you as quickly as possible? But he smelled heartbroken. Someone who is merely upset about not owning you wouldn’t smell like this. This is confusing you so much. 

“Who knew that you would be married before me.” 

You turn your head to your brother. You must be really drunk because his eyes still seem so different.

“It’s crazy to imagine that you came back and got bonded”, he says. 

“Only because you fucked up and I almost had to die for it. Otherwise, Jungkook would have never had to step in and I would have never had to bond with him”, you throw back.

Your brother studies you with furrowed brows.

“Look, I said that I’m sorry and I am. It was an accident. I thought that she was a deer.”

“Tch, sure. I know you were into her. I watched you sneak away sometimes to see her. You got jealous and decided to kill her because you couldn’t bear the thought that she was to be with someone else. Admit it”, you challenge him because you know that it was bullshit. Your brother would never kill someone out of jealousy. 

Something changes in your brother’s face, however. Your brother disappears, the face of an ice cold killer stares back at you. The face of a killer who killed before and who would do it again. He steps closer and you instinctively step back. Fear and the desire to flee overcomes you. It is difficult however when he has you cornered. It is a dark corner and there are no people around.

“What, what are you doing? You, you are scary”, you stutter.

“You know, you were never supposed to come back.”

“What?”

“If I were you, I’d be careful with your words from now on”, he warns, dragging the back of his hand down your face, “are we understood, sister?” 

You whimper instinctively, avoiding his eyes. His touch feels like sandpaper on your skin. He comes closer. You are so scared. 

“Are we under-”, he stumbles back as a strong hand tugs him away from you. It is so rough in fact that he squeaks against his will.

“Do we have a problem here?” Jungkook growls, stepping between you and your brother. He is huffing his air, torso stretching the fabric of his suit because his protectiveness is making his body grow. Your brother tries to take a step closer, but instantly stops with just one deep growl of Jungkook. 

Your brother looks at you for a brief moment. The person you once knew is gone from his eyes. 

“I was already leaving”, he presses out and turns his back to leave. He knows better than to pick a fight with Jungkook. He gets as far as one step before the latter pulls him back. 

He tries to fight him in reaction, but gives up quickly when Jungkook renders him useless with a strong grip on his chin. His claws dimple his skin, threatening to break through. He is towering over your brother by now. 

“You are the one who is going to start picking his words carefully from now on. She is under my protection now. Is that clear?”

“Is this supposed to scare me?”

“Don’t test me.” Jungkook hisses, shaking him by his chin. “I’ll let you go tonight because you’re her brother and I don’t wanna break her heart, but you threaten her again and you’re dead. Are we understood?” he snarls his words, eyes dangerously golden and sharp fangs on full display.

“Yes”, your brother croaks out.

“Speak up!” Jungkook barks, shaking him.

“Yes! I’m sorry, yes!” 

“Good. Now leave, you’re ruining my wife’s mood”, Jungkook growls and pushes him away. 

The man, who was once your brother, stumbles back and runs off with his tail tucked between his legs.

Jungkook stares him down until he truly left and only then, he turns to you. He puts his hands on your upper arms, touching you so gently one might never know how roughly he handled your brother seconds ago. His features are clouded over with worry. His body is smaller again and his muscles shrunk back to their relaxed size.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, studying you worriedly.

You shake your head, gasping for air in small, helpless breaths. 

“Hey, sshhh you’re okay now. You’re okay”, he says, hugging you against his chest. One hand is on your back, the other on the back of your head. The calming scent of him engulfs you, masking your own frightened scent.

“People need to stop threatening me tonight”, you get out, sobbing into him.

“You’re okay, baby. You’re okay”, he keeps repeating the words, placing little kisses all over the crown of your head.

The fight of earlier feels far away to both of you. Especially to him.

It wasn’t long after you stumbled past him, that he followed you outside. At first he followed you with the intent of confronting you again, but then he saw that you were talking to your brother and he stayed back. Because of his heightened senses, he heard everything of your conversation with him. He also smelled your fear even before hearing your whimper and it drove up his desire to protect you to such levels that he has to tremble now that he finally holds you safe and sound. 

“You’re okay. I’m here now. I’m here.”

You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes.

“This wasn’t my brother anymore.”

“I know, I’m sorry”, he says, wiping your tears.

“He murdered her. Kook, he is a murderer.”

“I heard everything. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”

“He looked at me as if he wanted to kill me too.”

“I wouldn’t have let him. He’d have been dead if he tried.”

“Kook”, you get out and hide away in his chest.

You smell so sad and heartbroken and scared. Jungkook feels parts of his body cramp from how much he trembles. He wants to protect you more than he already does. It is driving him insane that he can’t do more for you.

“Jungkook, I wanna go home but I don’t…” Your sad scent reaches its peak as tears roll down your cheeks. “I don’t even know where that is anymore”, you press out and sob. 

“Hey no, don’t cry. I’ll take you home”, Jungkook says and puts his arm around you to lead you away from the venue. You let your head fall against him, crying loudly because everything is just a lot for you. 

“Do we have to tell anyone? Can we just leave? What if they ask questions? I don’t know what to do anymore, I don’t-”

“Hey, everything is gonna be okay. We’re the bridal couple, they’ll just have to accept the fact that we left early.”

You nod your head in understanding. You are so glad that he took control right now. You would have been lost and overwhelmed without him.

You walk home side by side. It happens for comfort reasons that, after a while, you and he stop hugging so close. You are in nothing but your dress and he is in nothing but his suit. The streets are empty and quiet because the entire pack is currently at your wedding party. 

You already walked long enough that you managed to calm down from the initial shock. It is an unspoken truth between you and him that you don’t want to talk about what happened. This means, however, that your walk is silent and that feels really awkward.

The town you grew up in hasn’t changed much ever since you were a child. The same trees still grow along the same streets, except that they are a lot taller these days. The same houses are still home to the same people and bonding nights are still held in the town’s sports hall. 

Said sports hall is still close to the playground and the way home still leads through it. 

You and Jungkook slow down as you walk down a metaphorical memory lane. You scraped your knee on the slide when you were eight and he had to blow on it to make it better. Jungkook sprained his ankle jumping off the swing when he was nine and you had to hold his hand as his mother rubbed it better again. Under the weeping willow, you and your friends played the silly little dares and you had your first kiss with him. 

You look away from the tree, meeting Jungkook’s eyes. He looked at it as well. You turn your head away, feeling your throat tighten in panic. Jungkook feels his heart twist in reaction. The better voice in him says not to dwell on it, the love drunk idiot in him tells him to fight for it. He wins in the end. 

“Wanna sit on the swings?” he suggests.

“And do what?” 

“I don’t know. Swing? Sober up a little?”

You contemplate for a second, nodding your head in the end. 

You weren’t even aware of how much you needed to sit until you are on the swing, stretching out your legs. You hate heels. They’re the worst shoes ever invented. You swing back and forth slowly, Jungkook does the same. This is still the same swing set you and he played on twenty years ago. The chains still leave this weird metallic smell on your hands and the rusty hinges seem to creak even more these days. You look up at the sky. The stars are so clear without the moon hiding them in her shine. You know this view all too well. In your left vision there are some branches of a maple tree and in the right a electrical pole is peaking at you. The view is familiar to you because twenty years ago, you and Jungkook sat at the same swing in the same order like you do today. 

You dare to glance at him. He is looking at the sky, unaware of your eyes on him. His face is relaxed, his lips slightly parted in awe of the vast universe. His eyes are the darkest brown right now, reflecting the stars. The street lights behind him illuminate the edges of his silhouette, glimmering in parts of his dark hair as well. He is so beautiful when he thinks that no one is looking. 

To think that you subconsciously chose the same swing even after all these years. He broke your heart like this fifteen years ago and now you are back, bonded. Your heart feels heavy. You shouldn’t have hesitated. You don’t know how Jungkook feels about this bond, but you get a feeling that you shouldn’t have hesitated. 

A gust of wind sweeps through the playground and makes you shiver. Your teeth clatter and you wrap your arms around yourself to rub your freezing skin. He looks at you, studying you.

“Are you cold?” he asks. 

“It’s fine. I just wasn’t planning on being outside for so long. I only wanted to catch some air for a bit. I’m kinda drunk.”

Jungkook stands up from his swing.

You watch him, confused.

He shrugs off his suit jacket and closes the distance to put it over your shoulders. It is warmed up from him, instantly stilling your shivers. It also smells like him, making you just a little droopy. He hovers his hands over your shoulders because he doesn’t know if you want his touch, talking in a soft voice. 

“Is this better?” 

“Yeah, thanks”, you whisper, feeling your heart race. 

“Good. Keep it. I’m too hot anyway”, he says and leaves your side to sit down next to you.

He swings back and forth gently, watching some leaves dance on the ground as the wind carries them. Now is the perfect opportunity to talk, but he feels mute. He doesn’t want to fuck it up. Or perhaps he just doesn’t want to get hurt again. 

He dances his eyes over the playground, reminiscing on all the memories he shares with you here. You and he could have been so right and then his father fucked him up. Jungkook forces down the heavy lump in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” 

He looks at you with widened eyes.

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m an omega. I can smell when people around me are upset.”

“Ah. I don’t know. I guess, just thinking of old stuff”, he says and rubs the side of his neck. 

“Yeah. Lots of memories here”, you say and sigh.

Jungkook sees it as his cue to ask you what he had planned to ask you before he witnessed you with your brother instead. 

���Why did you hesitate?”

You almost fall off the swing in shock. Jungkook takes your hand, providing you with support. He feels vast of air when you instinctively squeeze him back and intertwine your fingers deeper. There they are again. Those mixed signals. You say one thing, but do the other. You do another thing, but say the complete opposite. Jungkook can barely take the confusion anymore, repeating his question again. 

“I get it that you were nervous, but it looked like you didn’t want to kiss me at all. Why?”

“I just…”, you pull your hand back, swinging gently to soothe yourself.

Jungkook swings as well, looking at you. 

“All of this is a lot for me. I went from a normal woman to a sex slave by a snatch to an omega marked, to a wife in the span of two weeks. This is a lot to work through.”

“Yeah, when you put it like this, it really is.”

“I didn’t think that our little stunt in the shed would lead to this.”

“Yeah honestly, neither did I. I thought that they would want us to date for a little and that’s it.”

“Yeah”, you agree and glance at him. “I’m scared that you are only doing this because your dad forced you. That’s why I hesitated. I saw the way he looked at me.”

“Don’t think about him. He is old and unhappy. He didn’t force me. Not when I…I dreamt of having you as my wife ever since I’ve known you.”

“What?”

You stop swinging. Jungkook stops as well, turning with the swing to face you.

“I think that’s why I kissed you. The priest wanted to announce that it’s invalid and I panicked and went in. I just needed to know that this wouldn’t be lost forever.”

“Oh my god, you dreamed of bonding with me?” you press out, eyes full of emotions.

“Ever since I’ve known you. Well, you know, ever since I knew what bonding meant. I always wanted it to be with you.”

“Kook…”

He rests his head against the metal chain, reaching his hands out for you. You turn with your swing and take his hands, feeling your pulse in your neck because of how high he raises it. His thumbs draw hearts on your skin, his eyes are so soft.

“Yeah, I guess it’s out there now”, he says, laughing softly.

“It is”, you whisper and squeeze his hands.

Jungkook squeezes them right back, smiling with his eyes before it washes over his lips as well. 

“I can’t believe you’re telling me this on the same swing set you best friend broke up with me when we were twelve.” 

He laughs, lifting his brows for it. It’s such a cute laugh, making you laugh with him. 

“Correction, where I was forced to best friend break up with you ‘cause my dad is a control freak.” 

“Right. I’m sorry that your dad sucks.” 

"Yeah, I guess I got used to it. He’s my dad, that’s how he is.” 

“I’m still sorry.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook says and lets go of your hands to twirl back to the front. He takes a deep breath and stands up.

“Where are you going?”

“If I remember correctly, you always loved the swing the most.” 

“I did, but what’s that got to do with anything?”

He walks behind you and puts his hands on the chain of the swing. 

“Hold on tight.” 

“Huh? Oh!” 

He pushes you, making you swing back and forth. You squeal, having to laugh afterwards. Jungkook snickers with you, pushing you a second time to make you swing higher. Your shared laughter dances through the playground and in this short moment in life’s series of moments, you and he feel like kids again. There are no responsibilities lingering in the back of your heads, no fears of the future, no stresses of past days nor dreams ruined by reality. You and he are twelve again, using the swings after a long day of playing adventurers in the forests. The stars shine brighter and the wind doesn’t feel that cold anymore. You are alive again, flying to the very stars with each push Jungkook gives you. 

“Not too high please, I’ll get scared”, you squeal, feeling tears of laughter run down your cheeks. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t push you too high. I never did, remember?” 

You and he talk as he continues to push you on the swing. 

“If I remember correctly, you sometimes pushed me way too high because you were a gremlin like that.”

“A gremlin? Wow, okay”, he laughs and pushes you extra hard as playful revenge.

“Hey! No, it’s too high!” you squeak, laughing way too much.

Jungkook does it again.

“Kook please! I’m gonna fall, ah!” 

And it happens. Your drunk ass falls off the swing. You squeal, preparing for impact which never comes. Instead he catches you in his strong arms, looking down at you with protective, caring eyes.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah, thanks”, you whisper, watching his lips move. You giggle, dropping your head on his shoulder, “fuck, I’m too clumsy for this.” 

“Hah, yeah.”

Jungkook noticed that you looked at his lips. For just a second, he wanted to kiss you. In the end, he didn’t. He won’t ever kiss you again without your consent. 

He sets you down gently, holding both your hands against his chest. You look up at him, feeling a little robbed of air. His eyes race between yours as if he trying to build connection between your souls with just one look.

“I promise to be a good husband to you. No harm shall ever come to you through my hands and if I should ever break this promise, it is your right to strike me down. You have my body as protection and my heart to find a home in, ___. You always have and you always will.”

“You keep saying that. Does it mean..?”

“It does. It means that I love you and that I’ll do anything to make you happy.” He exhales shakily. “I know that you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry again that I kissed you. Please, can you forgive-” 

You put your finger on his lips, silencing him. He whimpers a little because of it.

“Can I say something now? Please?” 

“Of course”, he says and steps back, fumbling with his own hands nervously. 

“I’m not mad at you anymore that you kissed me. I, I was planning to kiss you, I was. I just, I saw your dad and he wasn’t howling and then I thought that we’re only in this situation because you had to save me. And I panicked and I was scared that we’d regret it and yeah.” 

He nods his head in understanding, lowering his eyes sadly. You take his hand.

“It meant something to me too.” 

He meets your emotional eyes, feeling emotional himself.

“It meant something to me, maybe not the same as it did to you but it did mean something to me. I wanted to tell you this, but didn’t know how. I get nervous when I’m cornered and I forget my words and then say dumb stuff.”

“I get it. I’m sorry that I cornered you. I guess I have the tendency to be pushy when I’m nervous. I shouldn’t have cornered you, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah well, I should have said something. I liked what we did in the shed and it meant something to me.” You put his hand on your stomach. “You were alive inside me and it was the best feeling I ever experienced.”

Jungkook sighs your name, instinctively drawing closer to you.

“But we also barely know each other as adults. What if we realize that we’re not right as mates once we get to know each other?” 

“I don’t think that will happen. I’m still the same than I was before, just older.” 

“You’re an alpha these days.”

“I am and I’ll use this status to provide for you and to keep you safe. I promise.” 

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at him with those same puppy eyes you had in the shed. 

Jungkook feels weak in the knees. Those eyes are lethal to him.

“Yes, really. All I want is someone to provide for, someone to care for and protect. And for that someone to be you. I just. I wanna keep you safe, ___”, he says.

“Oh”, you let out and exhales shakily.

“Mhm, yeah”, he breathes and brushes the back of his fingers down your temple.

“But”, you begin.

“Yes?”

“But not too much. I don’t want you to get hurt”, you say and trace his upper lip. The cut healed by now, but the memory of how it looked is still in your mind. Jungkook chases your touch, closing his fingers around your wrists. He holds you tenderly, tracing the spots most sensitive with his thumbs. 

“Alright, not too much”, he whispers, smiling softly. 

You share silence, looking at the other. Jungkook is the one to break it. 

“We’ll get to know each other again and it’s gonna be nice. I want to make this work”, he whispers.

“I wanna make it work too. Not for the sake of my safety or anything, but because I wanna love you too.” 

“You do?” 

You nod your head.

Jungkook exhales shakily, closing the distance for a kiss. He stops just a breath away.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks.

You give him your answer by erasing the remaining distance, connecting your lips with his’. His knees buckle, his arms instantly fall around you to hold you close. The world around you seems non-existent as your lips are lost in the kind of kiss a bonded couple should exchange. It is epic. Jungkook feels so alive. He knows that if he tried hard enough, he could touch the stars. 

You feel the same. This kiss is your reminder that whatever you and he have is out of your control. It is a bond made by fate, formed under a new moon. This is how you felt in the shed when he was alive inside you. 

Those feelings are heightened because of the alcohol, forcing you closer to him. Which makes him lose control for just a second, ending in you pressed up against the swing set post and with his hand on your lower back. 

It knocks out a soft moan from you. Jungkook answers it in a deep purr, sliding his right hand to your cheek to tilt your head higher. He sucks on your lower lip, ending it with a gentle bite.

The effect is instant for you. Slick begins to gather between your legs, your head gets droopy and everything inside you screams at you to give yourself to him.

Breathing shakily, you break the kiss. He stays close, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes and parted lips.

“Oh my god”, you whisper, tracing your own lips. They’re tingling from what he did.

“Yeah. Right?” he agrees, scrunching his nose and stubbing your temple with his forehead in a gesture of adoration. “Who’d have known that we’d kiss like this here”, he says, gazing at you.

Your eyes soften in submission. Jungkook feels drawn to you beyond repair.

“Keep looking at me with those eyes and we won’t reach home tonight”, he rasps, touching your waist as he basically undresses you with his eyes. “I’d take you right here and now. Make you feel so good that you see new constellations.”

Drunk you cannot handle talk like this, breaking into giddy giggles and hiding away in his chest. 

“Are you laughing at me?” he gasps.

“No, oh god no. It’s just, nobody ever talked to me like this before”, you explain yourself between giggles, nuzzling closer.

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing your back. 

“Get used to it. I realised that I’m kinda outta control when it comes to you. Maybe it’s the alpha gen.”

“Maybe”, you look up at him with pretty puppy eyes, arms wrapped around his waist and chin resting against his chest. 

He stubs your nose with his own, hands groping your butt possessively. 

“Stop looking at me.”

“It’s hard. When you touch me, I also lose control. I think it’s the omega gen.”

“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just a lightweight.”

“Hah! So you’re saying I’m just drunk?”

“Basically, yeah.”

You snicker, Jungkook grins.

“Come on, let’s go home before I actually do something indecent to you.”

You gladly let him hold your hand now that his kiss triggered your affectionate instincts, following him in happy steps.

Your walk home ends at Jungkook’s house. Two stories high and with a big garden surrounding it, it was one of the more luxurious houses in town. 

“This is where we’ll live?” 

“If you want to. I figured, you know, given how you still live with your parents and I’m living alone, we could use my place. It’s totally fine if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay.” 

“Yes? Great then we can get your stuff in the coming days. But for now, let me do this right”, he says and swoops you off your feet.

“Ah”, you let out, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. “What are you doing?” 

“Carrying you over the threshold. Why?” 

“Nothing, it’s so”, you stop talking to giggle instead, nuzzling your nose against his cheek. “It’s so cheesy.”

Jungkook chuckles, heart racing in his chest. He kicks the door closed behind him and does a twirl in the middle of his hallway. 

“Wait! I’m too drunk for this! Eeek”, you squeak, hiding away in his neck. “Please stop, I’m too dizzy.”

Luckily for you, Jungkook listens. He stops and sets you down, holding you close as you sway. 

“This wasn’t funny. Oh god, I’m dizzy”, you laugh, dropping your forehead against his chest. He rests his cheek against your head, talking in a chuckle.

“See? Told you. Total lightweight.”

“I’m not a lightweight. You’re just a gremlin”, you say and shove at his chest. He laughs, holding your hands.

“You’re adorable. Come, dance with me”, he says, placing your left hand on his neck and holding the other.

“Dance? Right now?”

“Yeah. Just you and I. We’ll do it right this time.”

“But I’m dizzy.” You step on his foot, making him groan. “And I have two left feet when drunk. Sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m okay. I’m more than okay”, he says, smiling at you as your bodies move to silent melodies.

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, baby. Just look at me”, he whispers, right hand on your lower back. It is so warm. 

You look up at him. The pull is magnetic and fucking electric. You are so attracted to him. He has you feeling drunker than any amount of alcohol ever could. You are so fuzzy inside because of all the laughing you have been doing. 

“You have the most beautiful eyes ever”, Jungkook whispers, raising your pulse with it.

“Kook, I”, you begin, eyes flitting to his lips. Merely seeing the shape of them is enough to reignite the flames in your stomach. Dancing becomes a little harder now that you are so excited.

“What’s the matter?” he whispers.

“It’s embarrassing”, you confess with a heated face.

“Tell me.” 

“No, it’s so stupid. I don’t even wanna do it but it just happens.” 

He guides his touch from your lower back to your waist. Gentle and loving but insanely possessive at the same time. “I promise I won’t laugh.”

You hesitate.

“Promise.”

“I’m, uh, there is slick.” 

Jungkook draws closer, making you chase his kiss. 

“Shit. There is?” 

“Yeah”, you whimper.

He lowers his eyes, making you taste the idea of his kiss. It makes you so desperate for him.

“Is this normal for you or….” 

You shake your head, “it never happened before. Not like this. Or that easily. I don’t know, I’m sorry, I can’t stop it.”

“Holy fuck. Baby.”

“It’s so stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Just kiss me.” 

You kiss him. At least you try to because before your lips can touch, you step on his toes again. Vigorously.

“Ouch, hey”, he gasps, flinching back.

“Sorry! Oh my god, sorry. Are you okay?" 

“Ah fuck”, he laughs, “yeah, I’m okay. You’re a terrible dancer.”

“Hey”, you pout. 

He chuckles and pecks your cheek.

“I want to show you one thing before we make it official”, he says.

“Show me, please.”

“Follow me. You can leave your shoes by the door.”

Jungkook’s home is somehow exactly how you imagined it to be. It is neat and tidy, but doesn’t really have a lot of character. The rooms are spacious with little furniture filling them. The furniture is modern and there are barely any decorations present. It is the house of someone who doesn’t feel at home in it. The desire to make it cozy and homey for him becomes stronger and stronger within you. There are already a million ideas swarming your head.

“You’re quiet. Do you not like it here?” Jungkook asks you.

“No, it’s not that. I’m thinking.”

"About what?”

“It’s gonna sound silly.”

“Tell me.”

“I already have so many ideas on how to make it cozier here. Sorry, I know it’s your house and everything.”

Jungkook steps close and cradles your face, making you look up at him.

“And it’s your home. Make it as cozy as you want to”, he speaks softly, eyes warm and caring.

“Really?” 

He nods, kissing your forehead.

“This place never felt like a home to me anyway. It can use the caring touch of an omega.” 

You can’t explain how he makes you feel because you never experienced it before. The best way to describe it is cozy and safe. You want to curl up close to him and be yourself with him. This is how he makes you feel. As if you are allowed to be your truest You. 

“Speaking of cozy omegas, we’re here.”

“Here where?”

“My surprise for you. I worked hard on it these past few days.”

He opens the door for you, allowing you view of one of the coziest rooms you have ever seen. It is filled with soft surfaces to lie on. A bed, a big sofa, some bean bags, a window bench. Curtains frame the window and the bed. The floor is covered in soft rugs. There are pillows to sink into on every surface and he installed fairy lights on the wall and the bed frame. 

“What’s this?” you gasp.

“It’s your nest.” 

You look at him. He is clearly nervous, smelling of it as well.

“I’m still new to the entire omega heat thing. I know that they’re a thing, obviously, and I know that you like to get cozy for them. I looked up nest inspirations online. It told me that you like lots of pillows and blankets and that I should make it cozy and warm. You can totally change everything in this room, of course.” He touches the side of his neck. “I just thought that I’d try to make it comfortable for you. At least maybe? I don’t know, I just wanna make it nice for you.” 

Your lower lip trembles.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna make you cry. Is it that bad? I’m sorry, I suck at interior design.”

You shake your head and fall around his neck, “thank you.” 

Jungkook closes his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck. You smell of happiness right now. 

“Does this mean you like it?” he asks.

“I love it so much. I never had a nest before. I’m so happy.” 

“You are?”

“Yes, so much.”

You step back, giving him a smile. Jungkook retorts it. You giggle and turn so you can hurry through the room.

Jungkook watches you, enjoying the droopy feelings in his chest. The longer you are in the room and the more details you spot, the stronger your scent of happiness gets. It almost fills up the entire room by now, making him feel so warm and complete. He feels at home in his house for the very first time.

“This is so cozy, oh my god. So soft, wow. I love this colour, holy moly. Wow. So cozy. Wow”, you gush and gasp as you inspect everything and anything. 

You end up dropping into one of the beanbags, nuzzling into it as deep as possible while you purr in contentment. 

Jungkook feels his knees buckle. He got you to purr. Holy fuck, he was seriously placed on this earth to treat you right. 

He closes the distance between you and him, kneeling down in front of you. He comes closer, putting his weight on his elbow which he rests on the beanbag above your head. He leans down to kiss your cheek. 

You stop your nuzzling, gasping quietly as his sudden closeness surprises you. You look up and can’t look away again.

“You’re the most beautiful bride I have ever seen”, he whispers, cradling your cheek with his other hand.

“Oh”, you let out, feeling dizzy. 

“No wonder I had to kiss you.” He furrows his brows. “I know I shouldn’t have done this and I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not angry anymore. You built me a nest”, you tear up, “Jungkook, please give me my bonding night. I want to be with you.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“So sure, please. I can’t take it anymore.” You shiver. “I keep producing slick and I’m so cold without you and, and I wanna feel that good again. Like we did in the shed. I, I wanna feel like this again. Please.”

Jungkook closes his fist on the beanbag, trying to keep himself at bay. His instincts threaten to kick in when you beg like this.

“Do you want it here?”

“Yes, please.”

“And you know what I’ll do to you? What might happen again?”

You deepen the lethalness of your puppy eyes, taking his hand to put it over your stomach. You whisper your words, turning him into puddy.

“I want to feel alive again. Together with you.” 

“Holy fuck, ___”, Jungkook croaks and goes in for a kiss. He growls and stops himself. “I need you to say that you understand. Please, don’t make me do it without hearing it first.”

“Yes, Kook. I know what you’ll do to me. I need you to, please.” 

“Thank you. Oh my god baby, I wanna treat you so right”, he croaks out and finally falls into the kiss. “I’ll never ever force myself onto you again. Never. Fucking never. Holy fuck, baby”, he babbles between kisses, turning you into a weak, turned on mess. “Wanna treat you so right. My baby. Mine.” 

His touch is everywhere at the same time, unable to decide where to find its home. It feels so good. Each spot he touches, tingles and heats up. Whenever he changes spots, it leaves behind shivers and goosebumps before the entire process repeats itself again.

You want to keep kissing him, but soon have to stop because of his touch. You have to gasp for air, you would suffocate otherwise. 

Jungkook, barely holding onto the threat of humanity by now, doesn’t see any problem in being denied your lips. He kisses a path to your neck hungrily. Your aroused smell becomes stronger and stronger the closer he gets to your scent glands. He knows how good it feels when someone kisses his scent spots and he wonders if it is the same for you. 

He kisses the spot on your left side, forcing you to arch your back and gasp loudly. You instinctively grasp his back.

“Do you like this?” he rasps his words, nibbling on the sensitive spot. You smell so good. Jungkook has never felt such an obsession with another’s scent before. He needs it all over his body, melted with his skin so everyone can smell who his heart belongs to. He can’t stop kissing you, picking up more and more of your scent.

“Does this feel good?” he asks again because you were too busy gasping the first time.

“Ye-yeah”, you gasp out, staring at the ceiling in shock. Your fingers twitch and tremble on his back, claws threatening to come out and slice open his shirt. 

What is happening to you? You were kissed on your neck before, but this feels different. This feels lethal, fateful, like it is changing the way you view pleasure. You have never felt so electric before and so close to losing control. 

“You smell so good, I can’t get enough.”

“Wow, oh god, wow…”

Jungkook stays on your left side until he can smell your arousal on his lips. Only then, does he kiss a sloppy path to your right side. He moans when he witnesses you roll your head to the side willingly and he moans again when he goes in to worship your hard working scent spot. And it is working hard. Fucking hell, you smell like pure sex and arousal. Jungkook huffs it up hungrily, biting and licking at the delicious spot. 

All while you stare and gasp and lose control over yourself. The bites feel so good. You want to squirm and moan. Your head is fuzzy, your body so weakened. What is happening? What the fuck is happening to you? You can’t stop producing more slick. You are so hot. Seriously, so fucking hot. Oh god, you can’t think anymore. Anything you can think is how much you need him to fuck you. 

“Seriously, fuck”, Jungkook comes up for air, mouthing at your cheek drunkenly, “you smell so good. I feel high.”

“I wanna be naked”, you croak out, arching your back. You don’t have many thoughts except desire and sex. Being naked is all you crave right now. If you’re naked, Jungkook can potentially bite more parts of you. This is the logic of your fuzzy mind and it is driving you crazy that it isn’t your reality yet.

“Sit up then and let me open your dress.”

You obey gladly, almost dry heaving in desire. Jungkook reaches behind you and opens your dress. He wanted to pull it off slowly to make the moment romantic, but you shrug it off quickly for him. 

He meets your eyes. They are golden and clouded in desire.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks.

“Why not?”

“I never saw you naked before.” 

“Oh.” A little clarity returns to your eyes. “Right.”

He can smell hints of coyness in your scent. And a little bit of nervousness. 

“Wrap your arms around me.”

You obey his order and like this, Jungkook is able to lift you out of your dress and carry you to bed. He lays you down carefully, straddling your lap without sitting down. 

You are below him in nothing but your underwear, feeling small and fragile, but so safe. 

“Do you wanna take it slower?” he suggests.

“No, just nervous that’s all.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle. We can slow down whenever you need to.”

“Okay”, you whisper and make puppy eyes at him, “can you, uhm, can you bite me more?” 

“Yes. Wow this is…hah. Of course”, he lets out, “first, let me match you.” 

He is getting undressed. First his tie, then he opens his buttons. His shirt leaves him first, next his belt and last his slacks. He stays in his briefs, heavy cock straining the fabric as much as he soaks it. 

Now sharing in your state of undress, he leans down, taking your hands to pin them gently. He kisses you, blurring your thoughts into one big mess of arousal and safety. His thumbs caress your hands as he kisses you. Your scent is on his face, forcing even more slick to run out of you. Any sort of nervousness you felt is getting wiped out with each new kiss you share. He tastes so goddamn good. His lips are soft and the piercings on them are so exciting to feel.

The kiss breaks when air is sparse. Jungkook stays close to paint paths of worship down your body. He bites the softest spots and sucks marks of ownership on the firmer spots. And you are in heaven, wishing for him to never stop. Such heavenly feelings are unfamiliar to you. You had people mark you before, but it didn’t feel like this. With Jungkook, you need him to continue. You need to know that every single inch of you is marked by him in one way or the other. Whether it be a bite mark, a kiss spot or his scent, you need it on your body and each time he gives it to you, you leak more slick. It is out of your control, unfamiliar and amazing. So amazing. 

Jungkook is lingering over your sternum right now, hot breath tickling your skin. His strong hands are holding you under your armpits, reminding you that you were owned by the safest lover. 

“I know it’s difficult for you, but please stop me if I go too fast. I can’t stop myself once I let go, so I need you to yell it at me.” 

“Please. Don’t stop. Please, you feel so good”, you sigh, writhing.

“Wow, I….fuck, I want you”, he rasps, having to kiss every inch of you. “I want you. I want you so bad.” 

“Ah…please…don’t stop…”

Jungkook reaches your breasts. They are swollen and plumb from arousal. They aren’t always like this. When you are feeling normal, they also look and feel normal. They are how breasts are supposed to be, sagging from gravity and soft when lying down. Not right now. They stay in place. They are a little bigger, plumber and hot to the touch. They also smell like your arousal. Even through the fabric of your bra. It is so much sweeter and richer than it was on your neck. Jungkook moans like a druggy having found his drug, going in for a taste with an open mouth and way too much tongue. 

“Ah”, you whimper, following it up with a submissive mewl. You are losing control again and it feels so good. Why does everything he does feel so good? It is as if you are a virgin being touched for the very first time, which is insane because you definitely aren’t. 

“Your skin’s so soft and warm. I can’t get enough of you”, he mumbles between his hungry kisses, turning you into puddy. You lost sense of how much more you can still take before you burst. 

His masculine, possessive hands hold your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh desperately. His spit soaks the fabric of your bra, leaving behind spots of coldness whenever he moves on to a new spot.

It happens again. You experience sensations you have never felt before. People played with your tits before, you played with them as well but it never felt like this. It never felt so otherworldly. They are so swollen. You can’t breathe because there is so much pressure building up behind your nipples. You throw your hand over your mouth to muffle the overwhelmed sob, twisting the sheets with your other hand. It hurts. The pressure really hurts not to be taken care of.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to hear your panicked whimper because he doesn’t slow down in his feast. 

“Your scent, I’m so high. It’s insane, holy fuck, so good…” 

It gets too much for you. The pressure hurts so much. You’re scared. What is happening to you? 

Jungkook squeezes your breasts and bites down gently. The pressure bursts. You wail, arching your back as warmth trickles out of your nipples, soaking your bra. 

The sweet scent of it hits his nose instantly. He tenses up and shudders, cock threatening to burst through his briefs.

“What the-”

Jungkook’s instincts tell him to rip your bra off and lick up the sweet scent, but he forces himself to be stronger than them. It is you who lies below him in such a vulnerable state. If he took advantage of that, he would never forgive himself. 

“Jungkook, help me. Please. I’m scared”, you beg him in a quivering voice. 

“Try to focus on me. Focus baby, right here”, he tells you, cradling your cheeks.

Your eyes search aimlessly for a moment, but soon find their home in his gaze. 

“Koo”, you whimper, grabbing his wrists, “I’m scared. What is happening to me?”

“I don’t know. It never happened to me before. My instincts tell me to clean it for you, but I don’t know if you want this.”

“Please, it hurts. Just make it stop, please.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, please”, you sob. 

“Sit up.”

You barely manage to obey. Jungkook supports you, using his other hand to open your bra and tug it off of you. He throws it to the side, helping you lie down again. 

Your breasts, normally victims to gravity, stay plumb and perky as you lie down. It is yet another proof that whatever he is doing to you is working beyond comprehension.

“Holy fuck, ___, your tits”, Jungkook gets out, gawking at them in total awe. They are seriously so swollen, your nipples are so hard and they seem to keep leaking pearlescent liquid. “You’re so beautiful, but holy fuck they’re so swollen. Baby, wow.,”

“I don’t know what’s happening. They’re so… so…there’s so much pressure.”

“I can’t. Oh god.”

If only you and he knew that this is happening to you because he stimulated your scent glands. If only you knew that simulation of said glands only works this well with your true mate. You could have a hundred other men play with your tits the same way Jungkook did, but your body would never fall into such helplessness with any of them. Only he will get you to such levels of pleasure. Because it is only his mouth which is destined to taste your sweet pleasure.

You and he are unaware of this fact however, because this is still new to both of you. 

“What, what do you need me to do?” He stutters, salivating.

“I don’t know. Your instincts, I don’t- ah.”

“Right.” His eyes glow golden. “My instincts”, he growls and gives in to the voices. “Stay still, I’ll take care of it.”

He picks up your tits and squeezes them together so your nipples are close to each other. He lowers his dripping mouth to them, taking in your right first but with the intention that your left will follow very soon. 

His instincts tell him to stimulate your nipples with soft bites first until they are throbbing and then change to sucking them. He listens to his instincts, getting you to moan so loudly that his cock throbs painfully.

“Is this working, baby?” he asks, drooling all over your sweet nipples.

“Oh god, yeah”, you croak, arching your back. You twist the sheets, curling your toes. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Koo thank you…”

“Fuuuck baby, so hot”, he drags out his words until it turns into a growl instead, loving you oh so right.

He bites and bites, licks whenever you sob and bites some more, all while his strong fingers knead your plumpness. And then it happens. You arch your back and wail up as his stimulation finally forces your breasts to tighten and throb. Liquid shoots into his mouth and down his throat. It is the sweetest taste he ever had on his tongue, intoxicating him beyond saving. Jungkook’s eyes roll back, he thinks that for a second he blacks out before he comes back to be totally guided by his instincts. 

He gurgles and moans, sucking the sweet nectar from your right nipple while his fingers play with your left just to keep it ready for him. It is a messy business and whenever he changes sides, he has to lick up the mess he made before he can suck on your nipple. It is not a terrible fate. On the contrary, it’s heaven. For both. Jungkook has never felt this high before while you love his tongue on your body. He is so hot and soft, giving you the perfect contrast to the sharp bites his fangs give you.

“Kook oh god, Kook ah! Ah! A-ah!” 

You spill tears, grabbing your own face to muffle yourself and make sense of what is happening to you. This is life altering. You are in a constant state of genuine orgasmic bliss and it doesn’t want to die down. You can literally feel how Jungkook sucks the liquid out of you, relieving you of the painful pressure as he does it. It helps so much, while at the same time making everything worse.

He might help you with the nectar of your breasts, but your body still keeps producing slick. And it is getting dangerously full inside you. Your panties feel like imprisonment to your cunt. 

You twist a bundle of his hair, sobbing in ecstasy and desperation.

“Koo, I’m scared, it’s so good”, you sob, trembling. 

Your touch motivates him. He is starving for you even though he is currently feasting on you. He seemed to have sucked you dry. No matter how much he bites and sucks, your nipples stay dry. The starvation remains. He needs more of you. 

“More, give me more please”, he orders, growling his words between vigorous sucks.

“I, I can’t. Ah, Kook ah.” 

“Fuck, I can’t stop. You’re so sweet.”

He can’t take a break, he needs more of you. He lets your scent guide him. It gets stronger and stronger, the closer he comes to your cunt. Don’t be mistaken however, it is not your pussy which calls him, but your inner thighs. Your scent glands to be more specific. Working overtime to produce your arousing smell and begging for attention. They are the most sensitive of your scent spots, but you don’t know that yet. You had men kiss you there before, but none of them were Jungkook. None were your mate. 

Jungkook shoves your legs open and buries his face in your right thigh with a growl. His fingers dimple your softness, his fangs tickle your skin. Not long and he bites you. 

Your entire body reacts to it. You tense and flinch as if he shocked you, letting out a howl of surprise. Your empty cunt aches, craving nothing more than him.

Jungkook lifts his head, eyes droopy and drugged and lips still glossy from your tits.

“Is like a drug. You is like a drug”, he lulls his words and drops his face back in your thigh. Your left one for a change. He kisses and licks it, grabbing your waist possessively. He holds you with such strength that he even manages to bring it in a little, forcing you to burn in a fire you were never in before.

“I fucking want you, fucking need you, fuck can’t get enough.”

“I’m so hot, I-I’m so hot.”

“So hot, so fucking soft. Fuck, your smell drives me insane.” 

“Oh god, Kook. I’m so hot.” 

The thing about omegas and heats is that it isn’t as common as one might think. Before an omega has reached maturity, heats obviously aren’t a thing. Afterwards, they are manageable when living with other family members. They feel more as if you were bad mooded and grumpy. You managed to sleep them off whenever they happened.

Burning in this unfamiliar fire as Jungkook repeatedly bites your sensitive scent spots makes you realize that perhaps you have never truly experienced a real heat before. Maybe it slumbers in an omega until they are with their true mate. Maybe the grumpy days are just nature’s way of saving the omega of embarrassing moments in front of family.

You can’t explain why you know, but this is it. This is the real deal. Jungkook stimulated your sensitive glands for long enough that he forces you to go into heat. It feels different from anything you have ever experienced, it even feels different from the thing you thought to be your heat when he was with you in the shed. You were wrong back then, this is it. This is the real thing.

And it scares you so much that you beg for him. He comes up when hearing your distraught, cradling your face. He is clearly far away, seeming changed as well. The only thing having forced him away from you is his stronger instinct of keeping you safe. His dark hair is a mess, his eyes are foggy.

“What’s the matter, baby?” he lulls his words. 

“I’m, I’m in heat.”

“What? It can happen like this?”

“When you bit my scent spots, it made me…oh god, please make it stop please.” 

“What, uhm, what do you need?”

“You. Please fuck me. I beg you.”

“Holy fuck, I-” Jungkook stops himself, growling deeply and twisting the pillow above your head, “something’s wrong with me. I’m losing control over myself.”

“Koo”, you croak, touching his chest. He is burning up, muscles swollen and tense. His heart races like crazy, unnaturally fast at that.

“What is happening to me?” he stresses.

“I don’t know.”

If only you and he knew that his accidental efforts of forcing you into heat, forced him into his ruts with you. If only you knew that these are the effects of being with your true mate. If only you knew that the only remedy is sex. But you don’t know and so you and he are fated to stumble through the unknown, still doing the right things because your instincts are stronger than anything else. It is as if your bodies do the talking without you and him having to speak their language yet. It is most certain that you will be fluent in it one day.

“I want to rip your panties off.”

"Please do.” 

Jungkook gives in and does as he wants. He rips your panties off, throwing the thin piece of fabric over his shoulder. He rips off his own briefs next, discarding the fabric. His heavy, thick cock slaps your stomach. He is so big and swollen by now that he can barely stand up despite his hardened nature. His slick pools in your navel and smears all over your skin. 

“Holy fuck, urgh fuck”, he drops his head in your neck, “it hurt so much to keep it in.”

“Kook, you’re so heavy.”

“I know, I’m so hard that I can’t keep it standing. I…” He lifts his head, cradling your cheek. “Say you want me.”

“I want you.” 

Jungkook shifts his hips so his cock probes at your entrance. You whimper and open your legs widely, putting them around his meaty thighs.

“Just the tip”, he whispers.

“What? No”, you get out and pout.

Jungkook chuckles, cradling your cheek.

“You know, like last time.”

“Oh”, a giggle shakes you and makes your face glow.

He chuckles, soaking up the moment of honest happiness like a dried up sponge would water. Each time he hears your laugh, he falls more in love with you.  

“Just the tip when it didn’t mean anything and we shouldn’t have done it.”

Your giggle changes into a sigh of his name. You gaze into his eyes, building soul consuming connection.

“Right?”

“Right.”

Jungkook allows his tip to fill you. Just enough to let you feel that he was finally there with you. You whimper, spilling tears of relief.

Jungkook wipes them, spilling his own tears. He loves you. This is it. The moment it is official that you are mates. And it happens exactly how he always dreamed it would. You under him, looking so vulnerable and safe as he can gaze into your eyes and see your face change in pleasure. 

“This means everything to me”, he croaks out and buries himself inside you to the base. “Ah.” He twists the pillow.

“Oh god. Ah.”

“Too deep? Hurts?”

“No, it’s perfect. I feel, ah, I feel whole.” 

Jungkook moans your name, eyes filling with emotion.

You touch his messy hair, scratching him behind his ear. Jungkook shivers, eyes threatening to roll back. You are stimulating one of his scent spots, forcing him deeper into his ruts.

“Okay. If you. Fuck. This is my scent spot. It feels. Ahm. I, I have to fuck you”, he struggles with his words, cock throbbing inside you as if it had his own pulse. 

Throb. Throb. Throb.

He fills you with more of his slick each time he twitches. It tingles whenever he does.

“Please don’t hold back. Fuck me like you need to, please”, you whimper, shaking in agony. You tickle his scent spot especially good and it’s over for him.

Jungkook’s fingers slip from control. He can’t hold back anymore. He knows that you can take it. 

He pulls out only to slam into you again in a deep, passionate rhythm. In and out. In and out. It is endless and harsh and feels so fucking good.  

Your eyes instantly roll back and stay there. Your fingers dimple the nape of his neck as you clutch him for dear life. Jungkook himself can’t keep his eyes focused, gazing at you through a veil of blurriness.

“Is this good for you?” he gets out through gritted teeth.

“Good”, you wail, writhing in ecstasy.

“Fuck, I’m fucking high on you.”

He thought that he knew the feeling of your cunt but this is different. This actually forces him to listen to nothing but his instincts. He thought that he was out of control in the shed, but he wasn’t. This is it. You are so hot around him, so soft and you are filled with slick to the very brim. It is Jungkook’s task to fuck it out of you in heavy, strong thrusts, making a mess of your bodies and the sheets in the process. He isn’t aware of it yet but this gives you so much relief. You were bursting inside and now it is finally leaving you. There is no muscle in your body which isn’t currently puddy. Everything you exist for right now is to be fucked by him. There is no other sensation to you than that of his thick cock reshaping your insides. 

“Baby, this is a lot. Holy fuck, this is argh”, Jungkook gets out, scrunching his face in anger. He wants to go deeper, but he can’t. It pisses him off, makes him want to break shit. He knows it’s this stupid position. Fucking good for nothing. Who thinks of something that unfavourable? (Jungkook will think back to this moment once he is clear in his head and wonder why he hated missionary so much.) But he hates it right now. He can’t even see himself inside you, his base is barely inside. 

“More, I need more”, he growls and pulls out.

“No please, please it hurts please”, you instantly beg.

“Patient, I’m rearranging you.” 

Jungkook takes your legs and guides them into a better position. You let him reshape you. This is what your body currently exists for and wants. It needs someone as strong and dominant as Jungkook to bend it to his will. Each second where he handles you feels like heaven. 

He puts your legs over his shoulders.

“Hands.”

You obey, giving them to him. He puts them on your own thighs, squeezing them against the back of them.

“Hold them for me there. I want you to feel yourself shake.”

“Yes”, you whimper. 

“Good omega. What a perfect thing you are”, he lulls and slides his hands to your ankles. He picks them off his shoulders and lifts them up. Like this, he opens you for him. Your butt is lifted off the sheets, your cunt instantly gushes out masses of slick. 

“I can’t keep it in”, you confess.

“It’s good, baby. You don’t have to. Relax”, Jungkook assures you in a hungry whisper, eyes a deep gold and mesmerised by you. He moves his hips close and buries his heavy cock back in you. 

You mewl, curling your toes. Slick drips onto the sheets as it makes space for his girthy length, you feel whole again. 

“There we go, fuck”, Jungkook growls and bottoms out. He stays there for nothing but a second before he pulls out again to pick up a punishing rhythm. 

It feels so good that your eyes roll back and you resort to moaning and wailing for him. Jungkook moans with you each time he is deep inside you. This finally scratches the itch. This is finally as deep as he can go. He can finally see himself inside you. Finally he can see how his thick cock reshapes your swollen cunt. He is so big and you take him so easily, moving and trembling around him as he repeatedly pounds you stupid. If you keep this up, he might get pussy drunk.

“I can’t take this. You’re so pretty. Is it good for you?” 

“Yes. More, please.” 

“You’re so perfect. Holy fuck”, he growls and throws your legs over his shoulders to hold your hips instead and pull you onto his cock each time he thrusts into you. You are tighter like this, jerking off his fat cock.

Your voice pitches and rises in volume. You were never fucked like this before. Your needs were never ever getting satisfied like this before. It is changing you and Jungkook makes it even better by taking your clit between his fingers to massage her. She is so swollen and big that he can jerk her off just a little, making you howl. Your hands drop from your thighs just so you can rip the sheets in your attempt to twist them.

You can’t take it. He makes you climax. It is so intense and fulfilling that your sensitive breasts leak again. You howl his name as it happens.

The scent of your sweet breasts and your pretty face sets off Jungkook.

“I have to. It happens”, he gets out and throws his head back. He moans loudly, falling victim to his orgasm. His toes curl for it, his tones stomach flinches.

And because you are currently in heat, existing for nothing but him, his seed sets you off again. It brings you back into this uncontrollable, intense state of bliss you experienced for the first time in the shed. It should be familiar to you by now, but it is not. 

You cry and sob, knowing that you won’t be able to stop orgasming for as long as your body needs to. 

Jungkook knots instantly, cursing so graphically that he is surprised himself. 

“Baby, I can’t stop. I can’t, I’m sorry”, he chants panickedly, unable to stop his hips from rutting into you. It forces his knot to keep leaving you and then popping back inside. The stimulation is unlike anything he has ever felt before, making his toes cramp from curling them so harshly and his hips become even more violent. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, it feels so good. Stop me, I can’t stop it”, he apologises because you cry so much. He wants to stop hurting you but he can’t. His hips rut against his will. 

“Don’t stop please. It feels so good”, you release him of his guilt, clenching down on him as he drills his knot back into you.

“What? You’re in no pain?”

“No pain. Oh god Koo, I’m cumming again…Ah!” You have to wail, squirting around his thick knot as he buries it inside you over and over again. 

“Ah! This is the best sex I ever had, oh god”, Jungkook moans, arching his back.

The knot fucking burns so deep in such a good way. You are so empty without him, the breach is so intense and once he is inside again everything is well. Your pussy sounds so wet, squelching around his knot sinfully. This is seriously the best sex he ever had.

“It’s so good, I’m so high”, he growls, following your orgasm with his own. It is so unbearable to keep moving but his hips have a mind of their own. They keep rutting and fucking even through Jungkook’s shakes. “I can’t stop this. Holy fuck, urggghh.“

If you knew that your little stunt in the shed would lead to having your guts knot fucked by none other than Jeon Jungkook, you would have agreed to this bond sooner. Yup, we have reached the point of total acceptance of your situation. Fuck that his father didn’t howl. Fuck that you only married Jungkook because you were forced to. Fuck that this wasn’t meant to happen. This right now is everything which counts. It is making this entire situation right. It was meant to happen.

“Jungkook, I can’t stop”, you sob, grabbing for him helplessly.

“I know. I can’t either”, he gets out, holding your hands and pinning them above your head. Like this he is lying himself down on you, folding your willing body in half and burying his knotted cock so deep inside you that you feel him against your cervix. In your state, lost in heat and his seed, it is the highest level of pleasure he can give you. And you thank him with loud cries and your claws digging into his hands against their will. 

His own claws come out to play. He angles his hands so they wouldn’t hurt you. Like this, your hands are under his’, shaking and twitching as he brings you over one edge after the other.

“I can’t stop. Jungkook please help me”, you wail.

“You’re safe. I’m here. Baby, I’m here”, he soothes you and shakes as he manages to bury his knot in you again. You are getting tighter and tighter and his knot more and more sensitive. “Urgh, baby you’re making me- ah!” 

He loses control, pumping your belly full of his hot cum. Now that he is pressed against your cervix, his seed pushes its way right past it, giving you the feeling of being alive you so dearly craved. Of course it sets you off again, of course you cry as if you never had an orgasm before and experience it for the first time. Of course it sets him off again. Of course all of this is happening. It was meant to happen. Of course it was. 

And as you cry and sob in relief and bliss, Jungkook can barely stop his claws from hurting you. He grew in size and strength. Your small, fragile body is in danger of being crushed under him. 

He does what he needs to do. Jungkook grips the headboard, growling like a rabid animal. You are so stretched out, so lose around his knot. And so wet. He can’t stop fucking you with his creamy knot. It feels so good to have you struggle for a second but then take him happily. It feels even better because you moan with such ecstasy each time he drills it back into you.

Jungkook growls and grips the headboard tighter. And tighter. And tighter with each heavy thrust. With each of your moans. Tighter and tighter until suddenly it cracks loudly, breaking into two right under his hand. The bed gives up, forcing you to sink a good ten centimetres. 

“What?” You squeak out, looking around you disoriented. 

“Doesn’t matter. Look at me”, he dismisses it, cradling your cheek tenderly. One might never know that seconds ago he broke the bed with the same hand. “Look at me, only look at me.”

You look at him and fall back into the pleasure, having to orgasm instantly at the sight of him.

You wail for him, watching with blurry eyes as he orgasms as well.

His seed hits you in the deepest parts of you. He fucked you so sensitive that you can feel his thick vein pump it out of him. His knot trembles as it happens, bringing you to your blissed limits.

“Again.”

“Me too. If you- I- me too.”

His hips freeze as he is deep inside you. Your walls tighten and force his knot to stay inside you. He can’t move. It is happening to you as his seed drugs you, his knot does the rest. You can’t stop climaxing. It is finally happening. 

Jungkook whimpers helplessly, dropping your legs and collapsing into you. Your limbs close around him, his own do the same with you. He is on top of you, but gravity forces him to fall to his side and take you with him. You are stuck together, shaking and flinching as your bodies are trapped in the most addicting state of being. You orgasm which sets him off, which sets you off and so on. You should know the drill, but it doesn’t get easier to bear. You drool and sob and moan, holding each other so close that you almost melt together.

Jungkook cries out as an especially strong high hits him, writhing helplessly which ends in your position changed. He is on his back, you serve as his warmest blanket. He hugs you so strongly, knotted cock shaking inside your tight walls. You drool all over his strong chest, feeling far away because you are so close to his scent glands. He smells like sex and ecstasy but also like safety. 

It feels more intense than last time. This kind of knotting orgasm isn’t just sexual, it is also emotional. You want to be close and you are and it is ecstasy. There is enlightenment that what is happening to you only happens because you are with your true mate and this enlightenment makes the orgasms only this much more intense.

The sun is starting to rise once you and he finally come down. You are fucked raw and sore by now, crying into the crook of his neck. 

“Holy fuck baby, urgh. I can’t do it again. I’m cramping”, he says, “sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m sore. Kook please I’m scared.”

“Don’t be, I’m here. Baby, my love. I can’t believe we did that”, he instantly falls into a love drunk, sappy state. He hugs you so tightly, feeling up your knotted pussy gently to soothe her. 

“I don’t wanna be on top, please”, you beg, shivering.

“You’re safe, princess. I’m here”, Jungkook says and changes positions for you. Somehow in a mixture of his strength and your refusal to give up his knot, you and he end up in flipped positions. He is still inside you, keeping you bred and warm. All while he gives you warmth through his body, adoring you right with kisses all over your face and neck. 

“I’m so proud. I’m so fucking proud. Holy fuck, I feel high. You did do well. Oh my pretty princess. My baby love”, he whispers between his loving kisses, hands caressing your sweaty, sore skin gently. 

This is instinct as much as it is his heart’s desire. He wants to soothe you, adore you, bring you down gently after lifting you so fucking high. He isn’t aware of how important this is to you. You feel so vulnerable and emotionally sensitive. It would be the same thing if someone decided to start open heart surgery on your aware self. This is how vulnerable you feel and it is Jungkook who makes it okay. It is Jungkook who calms you down and reminds you that you are allowed to be sensitive because he is there to protect you.

“I can’t comprehend this. I feel high. Wow baby, wow. How do you feel?” he babbles.

“Vulnerable.”

“Oh baby, I know. I’m here. Your Kook is here”, he assures you, nuzzling his nose against your scent spot. He hopes that if he nuzzles it long enough, he can spread some of his relaxing scent on you.

It works. Of course it does because your bodies need no instructions to communicate. It is natural and right and makes you and him feel fuzzy. 

You sigh. Jungkook smells the relief against your neck. He kisses a path to your face. Your glassy eyes await him,  eagerly building connection once they can. 

“Thank you”, you whisper.

“No, I have to thank you. This was the best bonding night ever.”

“No, thank you”, you insist, spilling tears 

Jungkook wipes them, knowing that you want to tell him something.

“For what, princess?” 

“For, for making me feel like this. I, I was never in heat like this. I didn’t know that I could and it makes me feel really vulnerable. But you’re so gentle with me and it’s so nice.”

His eyes soften. He whispers your name adoringly and kisses your forehead.

“I feel the same. This was my first rut ever. I didn’t think that it would be so intense.”

“Kook, I’m scared. I don’t know what this means.”

“Don’t be scared, I’m here.” He kisses your nose, stubbing you with his own afterwards. “We can ask someone about it, but all I know for now is that I don’t wanna fucking stop having you close.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

He kisses your lips, making your heart race and feel at home. He breaks the kiss gently, giving you the fondest and warmest smile ever.

“I’m so proud of you. You did so well, my princess baby.”

“Oh wow”, you get out, having to giggle. 

Jungkook giggles with you, smiling as he steals a cheeky kiss. Afterwards he sits up. He is still connected with you by your middles, making you gasp and shiver.

“Sorry, I shifted. Are you okay?”

“Yes, oh god. What is happening to me? I feel so comfortable.”

Jungkook smiles, caressing your sides. He can’t stop looking at you. Your breasts are normal again, natural victims to gravity and so soft. They are still messy and wet from what happened before but nothing new leaves you. Your belly is bloated from his seed and covered in a layer of sweat. No wonder you sweat so much, you were burning up. Jungkook dances his palms over your bloated stomach, furrowing his brows in emotion. 

“So alive”, he whispers.

“So alive”, you sigh, placing your hand over his’. 

“___”, he says and meets yours eyes. 

“Yes?” 

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I didn’t get to say it as we were doing it because I was dumb in pleasure, but you are so beautiful.”

“You think so?” 

“I do. I can’t believe that you’re real and, and that you allow me to see you naked. I just”, he exhales shakily. “I’m just so happy”, he chokes out, throwing his hand over his eyes to hide his tears. 

“Kook, don’t cry”, you gasp and pull him down to you. He falls to his elbows, allowing you to hold his hands above your head. 

He is pouting and sniffling. You give him a  smile.

“Don’t cry.”

“They’re happy tears. We’re bonded, I’m so happy”, he says and smiles through his pretty tears. 

Your smile grows, you squeeze his hands. He was right when he said that you and he will get to know each and that it will be nice. You can feel it. You are right for each other. You are so right. 

You put your legs around him and push him deeper again. 

“Oh”, he gasps, squeezing your hands, “wo-oah this felt really intense”, his voice quivers as he speaks.

“It does”, you agree, rolling your hips up.

Jungkook gasps, “what are you doing?” 

“I want more of you.”

“Really? Baby, you’re sore. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please. Be gentle. Please make love to me, Kook baby.” 

Jungkook spills tears, whimpering your name. This is everything he ever wanted. He pulls out of your sensitive warmth to thrust into you. 

Crack! 

You and he scream in shock as the bed finally gives up completely and comes crashing down onto the ground. Jungkook keeps you safe with his arms around you and your head cradled against his chest. 

You and he share a moment of shocked and disoriented silence before you break it.

“Oh my god”, you let out, breaking into loud, honest cackles. Jungkook looks at you, having to break into laughter as well.

“Did we just get cock blocked by the bed?” 

“I think so. It might be my fault. I kinda broke it when I fucked you with my knot. Sorry.”

“Oh god, Kook.”

You laugh oh so loudly, throwing your head back for it. 

Jungkook has to almost squeak as he laughs with you, heart bursting in his chest. 

“This is so funny. Oh my god.” 

“Yeah, it’s hilarious”, he agrees and goes in for a surprise kiss. 

Your laugh cuts off, a gasp replaces it. Your eyes fall closed and your hands bury themselves in his soft hair. This kiss is emotional and it is deep. It has meaning. It is happy and filled with love. Jungkook lets you experience it to its fullest, ending it with a stub of his nose and a smile. 

“I promise to fix it. I’ll add steel in the frame.”

“So you think we’ll break it again otherwise?” 

“Yeah.” He laughs breathily, nodding his head. “If this is how it feels to be with you during stimulation induced heat, imagine how it will be once it’s your natural heat.”

You gulp, gazing at him dreamily. The rising sun shines on his face, making his skin glow golden. 

“Koo, I think you need to heat proof this entire room”, you whisper, making him chuckle and nod his head.

“I will. I’ll make it safe and cozy. Shit baby, I can’t stop saying it. You’re so beautiful. The sun is shining on you and you’re so beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, looking at him shyly 

“You’re beautiful too”, you whisper, making him blush. 

“Wow, thanks”, he mumbles, scrunching his nose. He does a little shift to be closer to you. The bed croaks and punishes him for it by making the headboard drop. He catches it before it can fall on top of you

“Piece of shit bed.”

“Oh god”, you laugh “I think we need to take care of this mess first and then continue.”

“Yeah shit, I think you’re right. The bed’s out to get us.” 

You laugh and snicker, kicking your feet happily. He chuckles and shoves the headboard to the side. 

“Come on, let’s take a shower”, he says and picks you up.

You nuzzle into him, feeling beyond safe.

“Do you have snacks too? I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.”

“Of course. You know what? First fact about me? I’m actually a really great cook.”

“You are?” 

“Mhm, I’m also a total foodie. So if you wanna bribe me into snuggles, get me food and I’ll be the cuddliest boy ever.”

You snicker. It makes your heart flutter when he talks cute with you.

“Do you like food?” he asks.

“Yeah, I like food. It’s comfort.”

“Yeah, right. Do you like cooking together?” 

“I never did it before.”

Jungkook holds you closer.

“Then I know what we’ll do. Shower and cook and I get to give you kisses. And later when you’re not sore anymore, I’ll make that gentle love to you. If you want me to.” 

“Yeah, I want you to. This sounds so nice. Koo?”

“Yes, love?” 

“It’s gonna be so easy for me to fall in love with you.”

“Wow, you. Urgh, you drive me crazy you”, he gets out through gritted teeth and presses you against the next best wall to attack your face and neck with tingling kisses.

You squeal his name, having to laugh in giddiness. It will not be the last time that you laugh because of him.

[cyarsk52-20]

When Tina Turner left her first husband - who was also her boss, captor, and brutal tormentor - she snuck out of their Dallas hotel room with a single thought in her mind: "The way out is through the door." From there she fled across the midnight freeway, semi-trucks careening past her, with 36 cents and a Mobil gas card in her pocket. As soon as she decided to walk out that door, she owned nothing else. When she filed for divorce, she made an unusual request. She didn't want anything: not the song rights, not the cars, not the houses, not the money. All she wanted was the stage name he gave her - Tina - and her married name - Turner. This was the name by which the world had come to know her, and keeping it was her only chance to salvage her career. Things could have gone a lot of ways from there. She could have labored in obscurity for decades, maybe making records on small labels to be prized by vinyl connoisseurs in Portland. She could have stayed in Vegas, where she first went to get her chops back up, and worked as a nostalgia act. And, of course, given what she had been through, she might have … not made it. What happened instead is that Tina Turner became the biggest global rock star of the 80s. I'm old enough to barely remember this, but if you aren't, it was like this: The Rolling Stones would headline a stadium one day, and the next day it would be Tina Turner. A middle-aged Black woman - she became a rock star at 42! - sitting atop the 1980s like it was her throne. She managed this because of whatever rare stuff she was made of (this is a woman whose label gave her two weeks to record her solo debut, Private Dancer, which went five times platinum); because she decided to speak publicly about her abusive marriage and forge her own identity, and in doing so give hope and courage to countless women; and also because - in a perhaps unlikely twist for a girl from Nutbush, Tennessee - she had her practice of Soka Gakkai Nichiren Buddhism, to which she credited her survival. She remained devout until the end. Tina's second marriage - to her, her only marriage - was to Edwin Bach, a Swiss music executive 16 years her junior. Of him, she said, "Erwin, who is a force of nature in his own right, has never been the least bit intimidated by my career, my talents, or my fame." In 2016, after a barrage of health problems, Tina's kidneys began to fail. A Swiss citizen by then, she had started preparing for assisted suicide when her husband stepped in. According to Tina, he said, "He didn't want another woman, or another life." He gave her one of his kidneys, buying her the remainder of her time on this earth and perhaps closing a cycle which took her from a man who inflicted injury upon her to a man willing to inflict injury upon himself to save her from harm. Born into a share-cropping family as Anna Mae Bullock in 1939, she died Tina Turner in a palatial Swiss estate: the queen of rock 'n roll; a storm of a performer with a wildcat-fierce voice; a dancer of visceral, spine-tingling potency and ability; a beauty for the ages; a survivor of terrible abuse and an advocate for others in similar situations; an author and actress; a devout Buddhist; a wife and mother; a human being of rare talent and perseverance who, through her transcendent brilliance, became a legend.

Credit: Will Stenberg

[neoanedotheart]

Lazy thing i wanted to do!!! they're just silly :3

I think dave is a pretty princess and John is awkward

I'll be yapping below

I believe that Dave texts John right after he gets his ass handed to him DAILY. It usually plays out like this where they banter and Dave never really goes through the extent of explaining what thoroughly happens to him so John lives in forever ignorant bliss. And this leads Dave to feel like there's more of disconnect because he first of all doesn't really know how to articulate his feelings and second abuse doesn't seem like abuse to the victim. So he goes about everyday unknowingly yearning to be saved by someone greater than him, which is why I put the snow white reference at the end hehe.

Snow white as a fairy tale is extremely cliche, you got the prince in shining armor showing up conveniently on a horse and saving the girl. There's always this hierarchy placed upon the story where the damsel in distress is saved by a man, that man being portrayed as a greater being.

And with John taking place as the prince in this context paints him as this greater being. And I feel like a part of Dave envies and despises John for being this way, for being "perfect" or in a way. Greater than him.

The thing is in the original snow white story she's unconscious, that's undesirable. But it adds to the desperation of wanting to be saved, shining a better looking light on a person who isn't really there for reasons you want them to be. However John is a sincere person, it's more so the lack of communication or true understanding of one another that leads to this rift, this belief that John isn't there for Dave because he loves him, but because he's his friend and it's John's duty as a friend to save him. Which also brings me to the last line where Dave never corrects himself, and how he insinuates that he'll be unconscious due to being placed in a glass coffin much like snow white was when she was poisoned. He's at this stage where he doesn't want to be saved by an outer source, a greater person than him. He wants to be saved by himself he wants to prove worthy, but then conflicting within his mind is also this idea he isn't good enough to. We all know that Dave believes he isn't a hero and explicitly states John is the hero multiple times throughout homestuck. So he stays waiting.

John however, refers to Dave as Cinderella, Cinderella gets abused and put through plenty of torture from her step sisters and is saved through marriage of some person she just met. There's still this base line of being saved by man however there's this more mutual understanding of what they're getting into, a similar yearn for one another. Though he never caught her name he was still willing to find her, the real her. Which is John in this case, he probably understands he's missing something in the big picture but can never find out what and the best he can do is hope that the other half still held on to what they once were and was willing to share.

This is a pre-sburb interaction btw they're just unknowingly foreshadowing a shit ton.

Sorry if there's like bad shitty writing in here, I'm rambling and it's like almost midnight hehe

[somethingintheforest]

I think a lot of modern Sherlock Holmes adaptations (as in, Holmes in the modern era) miss out by having Holmes work so closely with the police. A lot of people forget that Holmes was one of the original ACAB bitchies in fiction; he did not like the police. Yes, he worked alongside them sometimes, but he often talked about them with open distain. Sometimes he even worked directly against them (think of The Norwood Builder).

Granted this was mostly because the police lacked a lot of the skills they have today, such as forensics, something that Holmes was an advocate for, and tended to draw conclusions that did not fit the obvious facts. This has obviously changed - the police have a lot more resources at their disposal nowadays, but they are not a perfect institution - far, far from it, and if he were alive today, Holmes would have a lot to say about that.

I wish modern adaptations stayed true to the fact that in canon, Sherlock Holmes was the man you went to if you could not go to the police. If you had, perhaps, a criminal record, were homeless, were POC, were queer, were neurodivergent, an abuse victim, reliant on illegal substances, or even wrongfully accused, Sherlock Holmes would be the man you went to, and he would help you to the best of his ability.

Also, Holmes had his own unique sense of justice. Think of The Abbey Grange - a man murders the abusive husband of an old lover, and the wife is complicit. Holmes and Watson ultimately decide to let them go - Lady Brackenstall was being horribly abused, she was trapped in a loveless marriage with a violent husband. Captain Crocker murdered Sir Eustace, freeing Lady Brackenstall and perhaps saving her life. If the police had arrested Crocker, it would be very likely he would be hanged for murder, regardless of the circumstances.

Then there is James Ryder in the Blue Carbuncle. He, after Holmes pesters him, freely admits to stealing the jewel, but Holmes does not hand him over to the police and instead lets him walk free. It was Ryder's first offence, one he was manipulated into committing, and Holmes and Watson see him as a, quite frankly, pathetic little man. Holmes realises that if he were to turn Ryder in, it would destroy his life - he would be 'a jailbird for life'. Ryder committed a crime, but he is no criminal. Prison would turn him into one.

Holmes takes justice into his own hands, and in a way, it turns him into an anti-hero. But I think this a part of what makes him such a loveable, iconic character.

Holmes has created a 'safe space' within 221B Baker Street. I think this would be extremely intresting to explore through a modern lens.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 13

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: i have realized i dont link the polls to the fics. here's what won last time!! bask in your decisions <3 once again, the high valyrian might be wrong so roll with it and leave comments/reblogs ok!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Caraxes was never fond of being holed up in the pit, and yet, as King's Landing became apparent on the horizon, the dragon found himself beating his wings faster than normal. When the stench of the pit the creature's nostrils, he knew then, he was home.

Perhaps it was still because he was in his armor, but for Daemon, it was not until Viserys looked upon him, first warily then happily, and embraced him that he felt the realness of it all.

As the entirety of court watched the brothers' affectionate exchange, most thought the display touching... then there were the Hightowers. The only reason Alicent was here in the throne room to greet him was because she was queen and it was expected of her. And Otto did not want to look upon the dastardly prince's face, but he had to see what state he was in for the sake of his eldest daughter.

"My brother has returned!" the king announces, enticing cheers from the onlookers. Lord Hand promptly leaves after this, intent on going to you.

Otto asks the first servant he sees where you are, and is immediately directed to the garden. He is unsurprised to see that not one, but two of your wards are there, evidently on high alert. The moment they spot him, they freeze to greet him in unison, "Lord Hand."

"Does she know?"

The twins share a quick glance, and again, in unison, "everyone knows."

Otto releases a sigh. You know of your husband's return and yet you chose to remain in the gardens. He was about to ask the twins to step aside, but then he hears the sound of giggles. He peers past the two, finding you laughing with your nephew in your arms. He rubs his forehead and clenches his jaw, "what did she say?"

Erryk and Arryk stare at Otto's distressed face. The former speaks, " 'he did not wish that I see him off, I should not see to his return'. "

Otto sighs deeply and wipes his face, "Seven save us."

Arryk almost pities your father for how worried he looked... but almost is not enough; he'll never forget the tears you shed because of him. No one in your family seemed to grant you grace.

"As it is," Lord Hightower raises his hands, "the prince is in good spirits, and I am sure he will not so soon look for her as he would the cups of wine he wishes to share with the king. Do not impose upon the prince if he does come around," Otto raises a finger, "but do not let his entitlement get into his head."

The Cargll twins nod in sync, "my lord."

With that, Otto walks off.

Once he is gone, Erryk turns to his brother, "I would sooner fall on my sword than have her husband ruin the happiness she's so delicately built for herself."

Arryk gives him a look, "do not forget yourself."

"I do not," he snaps, "but perhaps you do."

Arryk does not take kindly to his accusatory tone.

"I cannot forget even if I wanted," Erryk looks off, "it my shift when she miscarried," he grits his teeth, "mine, when she tried to fling herself off the eastern tower."

"And it was mine when she locked herself in her bath," Arryk quips, "and when she threw herself at Caraxes, only to have the beast take her under his wing. Do not feel self-righteous in your suffering, for it is not yours," he points, "it's hers."

Erryk clenches his jaw so hard it's a wonder his teeth do not break. He spare his brother a glance.

Arryk turns forward and sighs deeply before repeating, "do not forget yourself."

"Do not forget yourself," he counters.

All three of them are wrong, Arryk, Erryk, and Otto. Otto was wrong to think that Daemon would not look for you before anything else. The prince notices your absence the very moment he notices your sister. He asks Viserys, "where is my wife?"

Viserys looks over to Alicent, who clutches her belly and finally approaches, "ah... she's probably with her boy."

Daemon pulls his head back.

"My prince," Alicent smiles half-heartedly to her good-brother, "I trust your travels home were smooth."

He completely ignores her, "her boy?"

Viserys thinks nothing of Daemon's words as he takes his wife's hand, "where is your sister, dearest?"

Dearest? Daemon's expression curls.

Alicent turns to the king, rubbing her swollen belly, "last I saw her, she was in the gardens with Aegon."

Aegon? Daemon's eyes narrow.

"Oh!" Viserys smiles, turning to Daemon, "you should go to the gardens and fetch them then. Your wife has brought forth new life to the Keep. I encouraged her to write about it to you, but she did not think you would find care to learn it through letters."

Daemon's face falls. New life? You brought forth new life? Without a word, he sprints off to the gardens.

Viserys is momentarily taken aback by this. Alicent is agitated by it, especially because she catches on to the ambiguity of his words. She squeezes his arm, "do you think this is a good idea?"

"What?" he pulls his head back, "that he see his wife and nephew?"

"He might not take kindly to Aegon. You called him her boy."

Viserys chuckles, "but he is. She loves him so dearly."

"I know, but you made it sound like my sister had a babe."

The king pulls his head back and chuckles. When he realizes Alicent's worry was apparent on her features, he thinks about what he said and shakes his head, "I was talking about the flowers she planted in the garden."

"I know," Alicent repeats, "but does Daemon?"

"Don't be silly, Alicent," Viserys squeezes her hand, "Daemon is not that slow-witted. Besides, does your sister not write to him everyday?"

She clenches her jaw, "yes."

"So," he shrugs, "why would he be so sorely mistaken?"

Except he was; Viserys is also wrong. And as Daemon makes his way toward the gardens, it becomes apparent why Arryk and Erryk too are wrong. Both of them immediately forget themselves upon seeing the approaching prince. They block his path instinctively.

Daemon stops in his tracks, "out of the way."

Erryk stares blankly at him. Arryk shifts on his leg, "allow me a moment to announce your presence to the princess."

"Why would I need to be announced? She is my wife."

"She is with Prince Aegon," Arryk raises a hand and steps forward, "it is in her best interest that I ensure you are welcome while he is present."

Daemon is flabbergasted. He clenches his fists, "why wouldn't I be welcome around my own flesh and blood?!"

"My lady has only recen-"

"Do you deny it!?" Daemon snaps.

They do not reply.

"Do you deny the boy is my flesh and blood?"

The twins know the prince is riled up. If they persist, a fight will surely break out. Though they cared little for the consequences of quarrelling with the newly returned prince, they did care greatly for your peace of mind. This was why Erryk replied, "no, ser."

"Then get out of my fucking way," he snaps.

Arryk and Erryk stare at him. Eventually, they reluctantly step aside.

Daemon, in all his rage and pettiness, makes sure to knock into them as he passes. It was good he was still in his own armor, or else the collision against their steel shoulder pads would have hurt.

"Right, shall we go back now?"

The sound of your voice makes him stop in his tracks. How was it that he was so angry to be denied going to you just now, yet he now can't seem to move from his spot.

"No, my love, we do not pick roses so carelessly."

"Flower!"

Daemon's breath hitches at the sound of the boy's voice.

"You want the rose?" your voice is soft but audible, "you want to pick the rose for mummy?"

Mummy? Daemon slowly inches foward.

"Mummy?" the small voice repeats.

Daemon witnesses the moment the babe reaches for your curls. You brown hair is completely undone, spilling all the way down to your waist. A gentle breeze makes your tresses and skirt flow. His lips part at the beauty of you.

You chuckle when Aegon tries to eat your hair and pull it away before he manages to, "silly boy. Shall we ask Ser Arryk to pick the flower for us?"

"Flower for mummy!" he bounces in your arms.

You bounce him back, making him giggle as you repeat, "flower for mummy!" You flip your hair back, "Ser Arryk, could you-"

Your mouth goes dry when you see Daemon staring back at you. His hair is short and his eyes shine. You nearly choke on your breath, feeling your knees buckle as he slowly walks over. Your hold on Aegon tightens as he reaches out.

You step back. It takes him off-guard. It feels just like when an arrow was shot to his chest. Daemon moves towards the rose bush, picking out a flower, carefully removing its thorns.

"Flower!" Aegon coos and reaches out.

Daemon turns to him, handing the blushing bloom, "rūklon, ñuha tresy." Flower, my son.

You freeze. You freeze because you understand him.

Aegon gives a gummy smile; he shows all his teeth but he only has two at the bottom. He happily groans and grins at you when he has the flower in hand, "FLAWOW!"

You turn to the boy. His shining face instantly shatters the tension and unease you feel. You huff and brush his silver hair back. You freeze again when Daemon's hand comes upon yours.

You turn to him with wide eyes. His eyes are fixed on Aegon, "Rūklon, Aegon. Kostagon vestrā rūklon syt kepa?" Flower, Aegon. Can you say flower for father?

Daemon takes Aegon's chin, making him look to him, "rūklon, Aegon. Rūk-lon."

Your initially shocked expression melts into molten anger.

Aegon looks at his uncle, "rūklon."

Daemon is surprised but immediately pleased. He lets out a rich laugh as he turns to you, "he is good."

"Daor kirimvose naejot ao." you snap, pulling Aegon away from him. No thanks to you.

He pulls his chin back. He watches in shock as you turn to move the prince away. You glare as you do so, eyes beady and pink. His forehead wrinkles.

"Eman gūrēntan Valyrio Eglie sīr bona kostan bodmagho zirȳla. Emā daorun naejot jiōragon zirȳla." I have learned High Valyrian so that I can teach him. You have nothing to offer him.

Your frosty words make him pull his head back again. "daorun?" Nothing.

"Kessa," you nod, "daorun." Yes. Nothing.

His eye twitches as he shakes his head in disbelief, "iksan se valītsos kepa." I am the boy's father.

The severity of your laugher is haunting. His eyes widen and his skin pricks with goosebumps. You throw your head back, feeling a tear run down your face. You sigh and shake your head as you turn back to him, "you are completely devoid of both heart and mind, aren't you?"

Daemon is too stunned to do anything but stare.

You turn. Daemon finally sees Aegon playing with the flower. You catch his attention by brushing his hair back, "my love," you start, "qilōni iksis aōha kepa?" who is your father?

Aegon looks up at you with little interest.

"Kepa, Aegon, kepa."

"Kepa?" he repeats.

"Kessa, skoros gaomas kepa gaomagon?" Yes, what does father do?

Aegon raises his rose, "dārys!"

King? Daemon's face falls.

You smile and bounce the child in your arms, "rōvēgrior!"

He tenses at the sound of the word. Rōvēgrior. Excellent. There was a time where you could not say that word at all. He taught that to you. And yet as you turn to him, your face destitute of any happiness that you had offered Aegon, it felt at though it was a memory he just conjured up.

"You are no more related to the boy than I am," you quip, "she is my sister's first born."

"Viserys said you brought for new life in the Keep," he mutters, as if he was afraid he heard wrong.

Your jaw feathers, but as the wind blows, you catch sight of the flowers, "he meant the roses," you turn to the said blooms. You laugh, bitterness pulling out a mocking smile from you, "how could you expect a son from me?"

Daemon shifts in his spot, ready to argue, but he quickly finds he had nothing to say to that. He thinks of all the seed he's spilled on your skin. He thinks of his persistence in leaving your womb empty. He thinks of the discipline he employed to ensure he would never finish in you. He clenches his jaw.

You turn to him; tears begin to fall from your eyes. Aegon notices and reaches for your cheeks; his flower falls to the floor, forgotten.

You and Daemon stare at each other. You feel your breath begin to shorten the longer you do.

Your expression falls when you hear Aegon begin to fuss. You immediately steel yourself away as you turn to your nephew; the boy looks like he is on the brink of tears. You sniffle and shush him, "no, no, no-"

It's too late. He begins to cry.

You push past Daemon with little regard. Your wards turn to you upon hearing Aegon's cries. You say nothing to them, your full attention on Aegon as you rock him in your arms, "the fishes swim in seas of blue, and dragons breath fire so red..."

Arryk and Erryk follow after you.

Daemon is left alone in the middle of the garden.

He has no word to describe what he felt in that moment. He was stunned, hurt, saddened, torn. He was angry. How could you do this to him? You had begged him not to go, and now that he's returned, you treat him like... like you hated him.

He laughs dryly under his breath. Was this a game? Was this your way of getting back at him? He laughs louder as he walks off. He could hate you back better.

Daemon joins the luncheon the king throws in honor of his return. He does not waste his time and makes a show of himself.

It is easy for him to fall back into his old ways once he is in his princely garbs. He openly and unabashedly flirts with all the ladies he can set his eyes upon and eagerly annoys and offers backhanded compliments to all the lords present.

It gets so bad that Viserys has to intervene. Even Alicent and Rhaenyra, who had not spoken to each other since the king's wedding, find each other's company just to momentarily agree that Daemon is being completely callous and tactless.

The king pulls him by the shoulder and Daemon manages to snag a cup of wine as he is pried away from the offensive conversation he instigated.

"I understand that you are overjoyed to be home," Viserys leads him off, "but please, control yourself."

Daemon pouts, facetious, "kessa, kepa." Yes, father.

He bristles, "iksan issare dokimare. Emagon mirri iotāptenon syt aōha ābrazȳrys." I'm being serious. Have some respect for your wife.

Daemon immediately shoves Visersys's hand off him at the mention of you. He snaps, "gaomagon daor ȳdragon naejot nyke hen bona aspo!" Do not speak to me of that bitch!

The queen and princess, along with the rest of the people present, turn to the brothers upon hearing raised voices.

"Uncle!" Rhaenyra calls him out, offended by the conversation only she and they could understand.

Daemon turns to her, chucking his drink to the side before storming off.

Viserys rolls his eyes and sigh, "Daemon."

Alicent walks over to her husband.

"Daemon!" the king snaps.

"Leave it to me, father," Rhaenyra says, following after her uncle.

Daemon is back at the gardens. He snaps over his shoulder, "fuck off!"

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, "what has gotten you so sour?"

"HER!" Daemon whips back around, eyes red and glassy, "THAT HIGHTOWER BITCH!"

Rhaenyra recoils and pulls her head back in shock. She carefully mutters, "you can't possibly mean Alicent, can you?"

"Her and the whole lot!" Daemon throws a hand out, "they can all drop dead for all I care."

The princess watches him pace around. Her brows knit, "I would say I am comforted that you share in my offence over my father and Alicent's union, but I cannot say I do. I know you have long hated Otto, and Gwayne, as he's bested you in tourneys—"

Daemon steps forward, "have you followed me to further spur-"

"But what has -"

"Don't you fucking speak her name to me!"

Rhaenyra is taken aback by this. The two stare at each other, and as Daemon heaves. Her face hardens, "what could you possibly be angry about?"

"She did not even greet me!" Daemon points to nowhere.

Rhaenyra laughs. It goes dry when she realizes he was being serious. Her face contorts, "Daemon."

He looks away.

Her lips curl, "she just got better"

His brows furrow.

"You do know that?" she tilts her head, "right?"

Have you been sick?

"Seven hells," Rhaenyra's face falls, "you don't know."

"..."

"She writes to you everyday," she motions vaguely, "I have not been in King's Landing for many moons, but even I know this."

"War makes time for-"

"Then why are you angry?!"

"..."

Rhaenyra raises her brows at him. Daemon remains unable to respond. She rolls her eyes, "welcome home, uncle."

Daemon is left alone in the garden for a second time. He goes back to his personal quarters.

You see him from across the hall just before he enters but he does not see you. Before you can take another step, Arryk and Erryk each take hold of your arms.

"Release me."

"Why should you be the one to go to him?" Arryk asks.

You turn to him, "you know why."

"If he does not want to go to you, do not waste your grace on him," Arryk says, just as you pull away to turn to them.

"He does nothing to understand you," Erryk adds, "and he will misunderstand you so long as it suits himself."

Your eyes immediately water, "why are you turning against me?"

"We are-"

"You think I want to live like this?"

Erryk speaks your name, "he is not ready to face you."

"It's been three years!" you chuckle dryly.

"Let him come to you," Arryk adds.

You scratch your eyes and shake your head, "the bodies of my babes remain unburied, wrapped and sealed in a crypt, because I insist that they be given but one respect due to them in the tradition of their house, and you would deny me-" your voice breaks. Tears run down your cheeks as you try to compose yourself. You clear your throat, "you would deny my son and daughter this?"

The twins do not speak.

You wipe your face roughly with your hands, "well? What say you?!"

Arryk lowers his head. Erryk cannot look at you, but he cannot keep his peace either, which is why he says, "I say they would not want their mother to suffer at the hand of their father."

"Damn you, Erryk!" you shove him back.

Erryk looks at you in shock.

"You dare presume to know my children when I-" gasp, "did not-" gasp, "even-" gasp.

Your guards reach out for you when you begin to topple. They keep you upright and you find yourself too stubborn to faint. You wrangle out of their grasp and lean on your knees as you struggle to catch your breath.

When you straighten up, you look and see Erryk's teary eyes. You feel terrible. It nearly makes you lose your breath again. You groan and sink your face into your hands, "I can never win, can I?"

"Princess," Erryk mutters, "forgive me, I-"

"Enough," you raise a hand to him, "I will not have my children be the cause of conflict."

Erryk nods and keeps his head bowed. Arryk turns to him before doing the same.

You sigh, belly churning with sadness and guilt, "come," you take their hands, "my twins waited this long for their father. They can wait a little longer."

Daemon, though in his adamant refusal to read your letters, kept every single one of them, even the ones he trampled on in his anger. Three sacks of letters, there were three sacks that contained all of the letters you sent him, one for every year he was gone. He empties them out on his bed. He walks to his trunk of clothing and grabs the only one he ever read and rereads it.

He walks back to his bed and sits a the floor. He flattens out the parchment beside him, then haphazardly reaches for another one.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔬 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔶. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔰𝔬. ℑ 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔠𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢.

Daemon flattens the parchment, stacks it on the previous one, and grabs another letter.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰, 𝔶𝔢𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔏𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔏𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔙𝔢𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔬. ℌ𝔬𝔴 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔶 ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔬𝔴 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. ℌ𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔶 𝔬𝔣𝔱, 𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔡𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔰. 𝔇𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔯𝔶 𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔪; ℑ 𝔯𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔣𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔰 ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔖𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶, 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

He knits his brows, flattens the parchment, stacks it on the previous one, and grabs another letter.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔏𝔢𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲'𝔳𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔲𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℌ𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔩𝔶 𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔢𝔫𝔳𝔶 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡. 𝔓𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔩𝔶.

His face falls at your sentiment. You think this? He wonders for a moment what he and Laenor argued over, but he cannot recall anything for the life of him. The next letter he opens makes him sit up straight.

ℑ'𝔪 𝔡𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔓𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢.

This letter drives him mad, because it is the only one like it. He rips open more than a dozen letters, yet all of them are like all the rest. He reads some more about Laenor, some of Gwayne and Alicent, some of Otto, some of Arryk and Erryk, some of Viserys, but most of them are about the mundane things you busy yourself with. Mundane things you do to distract yourself from him.

He does not know what to make of it.

Then, he unfolds a piece of paper with hastily written script.

𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫, 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱ℯ𝓇 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝓅𝒾𝓇ℯ 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹, 𝓁ℯ𝓉 𝒾𝓉 𝒷ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈. ℐ 𝒽𝒶𝓋ℯ 𝓃ℴ𝓉 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓃 𝒶𝒷ℴ𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷ℯ𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈ℯ ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒻𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝓉ℴ, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒟𝒶ℯ𝓂ℴ𝓃, ℐ 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹. ℐ 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝒶𝓇ℯ𝓁𝓎 𝓈ℯℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝒶𝓅ℯ𝓇 𝒶𝓈 ℐ 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉ℯ 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℐ 𝒻ℯ𝒶𝓇 ℐ 𝓂𝒾ℊ𝒽𝓉 𝓃ℯℯ𝒹 𝓉ℴ 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃ℊℯ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒸𝒽𝓂ℯ𝓃𝓉 𝒶ℊ𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝒞ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒽ℴ𝓂ℯ. ℐ 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁ℴ𝓇ℯ 𝓎ℴ𝓊, ℐ 𝒷ℯ𝓈ℯℯ𝒸𝒽 𝓎ℴ𝓊— 𝒸ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝒽ℴ𝓂ℯ.

"I was with child?" Daemon repeats to himself.

He frantically grabs a bunch of letters and skims through them, desperate to learn more of this. He goes through 5, 10, 20, 50, 100 letters, but none of them ever mention such a thing ever again.

At some point, the letters become singular.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔞𝔱. ℑ 𝔭𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔶𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔱𝔬 𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔯 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔞 𝔡𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔰𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔰𝔢. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔪𝔟 𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

They all speak of your apparently imminent demise.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔢, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔦𝔱. 𝔉𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔶 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

It goes on for far too long.

𝔐𝔶 𝔥𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡, ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔫𝔲𝔪𝔟. ℑ 𝔫𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡. ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔱 𝔫𝔬 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔱𝔥 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢. 𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔡𝔦𝔢 𝔟𝔶 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢. ℑ𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰. 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢

Daemon's stomach rolls. He cannot bare to read any more, and yet his guilt urges him to drink up this pain, as if it would make it go away, as if it could make up for what he had done.

The moon begins to fade as the sun begins to rise. He reads hundreds of letters that speak nothing but your pain and desire for death. His face is wet with tears and bitterness linger in his mouth. He no longer is on the floor. He lies on his bed, surround by his wife's misery.

He wails. He can do nothing else as he takes in your words.

Then, for the final time, the tone changes.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔰𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯'𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪, 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪. ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢. ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞 𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔦𝔰𝔢. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

... mine own son or daughter. Daemon wipes his face.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔄𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔡𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔬, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔩𝔶 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔲𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔴𝔫. ℑ𝔣 ℑ 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡, ℑ 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔰𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔧𝔬𝔶. ℑ 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔱𝔬𝔬. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

He knits his brows and sits up. All the remaining letters are about Aegon.

𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔫, 𝔗𝔬𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔰 𝔞 𝔶𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔪𝔶 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔄𝔢𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔪𝔢 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔡𝔞𝔶. ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔪, 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡. ℑ𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔬. 𝔙𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰; ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔞𝔯 𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 ℜ𝔥𝔞𝔢𝔫𝔶𝔯𝔞. ℑ 𝔡𝔬 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔣𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔣 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯; 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩, 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔡𝔞𝔶 ℑ 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔤𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔬 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔪. ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔡𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫. 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 ℌ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯

You speak of nothing else save him. You do not mention your affliction, you do not mention your everyday life, you speak only of your affections for Aegon.

The sun rises.

Daemon did not realize he fell asleep until a voice of a servant wakes him. It did not feel like he slept at all; he is still exhausted.

He groans as he sits up. He sees a servant girl staring at the thousand pages scattered across the room. He comes to a stand and begins pick up the papers, "do not mind this. Prepare me a bath. I will break fast with my wife."

The servant watches the prince clean up after himself. She curtsies and does what is instructed.

Daemon had stacked the letters by date as he read them and now tiptoed around the room, gathering the papers in chronological order. He grabs his trunk and files the papers there. By the time he is finished, his trunk is stuffed and his bath water is barely warm.

Neither did the bath wake him fully, nor did it refresh him. What's worse was the scent of his soap broke forth dam of memories for it smelled like you. Resentment for his own folly began to choke him with tears.

His face scarcely resembled him. His angular features were softened with woe, namely his eyes. He cared little for the puffiness rendered him by his tears as he made his way over to your room.

Arryk and Erryk instantly spot him, both of them raising their brows and curling their lips at the look of the prince.

"Is my wife awake?" Daemon asks once he is before them, voice telling of how he had clearly been crying.

Neither of them find sympathy, only disgust and irritation. Erryk particularly despises how readily he refers to you as his wife; he was just a stranger, an evil-doer you had tragically married, "do you see that she's awake?"

Arryk's jaw tenses at his brother's response. He slowly turns to him with knit brows.

Daemon is numb to their hostility, too wrapped up in his self-loathing, "it is nearly noon. Doesn't she wake earlier than this?"

"Yes," Erryk instantly responds, "she did three years ago."

The prince stills. He now recognizes the twins' acrimony. He takes in a breath; he has no desire to start a fight, not when he's freshly just read about your affections for them and how they cared for you in his absence. Daemon wipes his face then raises a hand, "alright. Let me pass. I will wait for her to rouse."

The twins' shoulders hit each other as they block the prince's passage. Arryk tilts his head, "rest does not come easy to her. It would be best if she is not disturbed."

"I will not disturb her," Daemon quips, "I said I would wait for her to rouse."

Erryk raises a brow and motions, "of course, my prince. Feel free to wait for her out here with us."

Daemon stiffens. He grinds his teeth as he debates the truth of the sentiment. He stares at them.

They stare back.

He shakes his head and storms off.

Erryk scoffs in disgust, clutching his scabbard. Arryk scowls at the prince then his brother, "you dunce. This is what we want, for him to go to her."

"Yes," Erryk eyes Daemon hotly, willing his body be burned by his glare, "yet watch how easily he retreats. He wants only to go to her for his own sake, not because he wants to see her."

"Erryk," Arryk places a hand on his arm, "you overstep."

Erryk turns to his brother, "I step my foot exactly where it should be." He looks forward, "if he really wants to see her, he would come back."

And he was right. Daemon really wanted to see you. Why then would he waste his time and patience in quarrelling with your wards when he could simply take the hidden entrance to your chambers? He knew the passages well, after all; this was his home.

Daemon's senses are flooded as he emerges from the darkness.

Your fragrance is nearly tangible to him. He walks towards your vanity and takes a vial of your body oil. He inhales deeply, feeling warmth cascade through his body. He smears a bit on his philtrum. He missed this.

He sets the vial down and brushes his fingers over your jewelry. He takes the robe hung on your vanity chair and smells it. His eyes begin to water. He hangs it back in its place and finally, finally, he turns to you, throat uncomfortably tight.

Your brown hair is fanned out behind you. Your skins glows with invitation to be caressed.

He kneels beside you the way you did before your beloved statue of the Mother. He scratches his eyes when his tears begin to fog his vision. He strokes the back of his hand down your cheek. He fixes the blanket around you.

He watches you intently. He so badly wants to bury his face into the crook of your neck, to feel you, to smell you, to kiss you, but even he knew it was selfish; even he could admit he was undeserving.

The memory of the very first time he had ever beheld your sleeping form plays in his mind as you act it out in real life. Your lips and forehead curl; you stir slightly in your spot. He sighs when the corner of your closed eyes begin to water.

Daemon wipes your tears away, speaking the same words he spoke you then, "amīvindigon sesīr isse ēdrugon." Tormented even in sleep. He strokes your cheek and hair, "mundagon riña." Miserable girl.

He cannot help himself any longer. He shifts on his knees and moves in to press a kiss upon your temple. He leans his forehead on you, closing his eyes to savor your presence.

All is still.

All is solemn.

That is, until you begin to fuss.

You mutter incoherences and begin to moan.

He squeezes your shoulder and kisses you again, "gīda ilagon, ñuha jorrāelagon." Calm down, my love.

You moan out in response.

He pulls his head back with and opens his eyes. You moan again and it becomes clear that you were moaning a name.

"Alyrie."

A line forms between his brows.

"Alaeric."

He feels his chest tighten. What?

You moan as your arms reach out, "stay."

Daemon pulls back, eyes burning with tears. You repeat those names and a pit forms in his stomach, deep and dark. You whine as you embrace your pillow. He watches you press your lips into your pillow. He hears you mutter, "love you."

His throat constricts and he clenches his jaw. He does not like this dream.

You speak those names again and he pulls back, deciding he's had enough. He repeats it, mutters under his breath what he thinks he heard you say, "Arryk and Erryk." After all, how would he know the names Alyrie and Alaeric when you couldn't bare to even think of them, let alone mention them?

And just as he did moments ago, he wastes no time.

Daemon storms away, grabbing a pitcher of water on his way. He is upon them the moment he throws the doors open.

Before either brother can react, one has a pitcher bashed to the back of his head, and the other is kicked from behind. Shrieks pierce the air; your incoming servants witness the brutal onslaught.

All that was not enough to wake you, nothing would.

You startle awake, terrified out of your mind. Not only did you wake from a melancholic slumber, you wake to the sound of screams and battery.

Daemon would have managed to knock out the brothers had they not worn helmets. Still, the blow to the back of Arryk's head left him in a daze and Erryk, who was kicked from behind and shot off to the parallel wall, was no better.

The prince focuses on the closer twin who managed to face him. He kicks Arryk on the chest, knocking him down. He quickly climbs upon his felled body and removes his helmet before splitting his knuckles on his face. He manages to land two punches before he is throttled to the ground by the other Cargyll.

Erryk did not mean to merely subdue him, he was eager to retaliate. He crushes his knee into the prince's back, squeezing the air out of him before flipping him over, intent on breaking his nose at the very least.

Erryk underestimated the raging sense of betrayal that fuels his opponent.

Daemon manages to grab Erryk's neck and squeezes it with all his might. The latter begins to choke but he thrusts his shin-guard into the prince's side, giving him little choice but to scream and loosen his hold due to the the pain.

Erryk finds the upper hand in no time. He pries Daemon's hands off him and launches a right hook. The prince shields his head, still, the knight manages to land some nasty punches.

"ERRYK!" Arryk shouts, prying his brother off. He drags his brother away, and in that moment, you emerge from your room, running barefoot in nothing but your shift.

You notice the twins first, for they were closer to your door. You release a horrified sound at the sight of them. They look at you with hard faces as you walk over, "what is the meaning of this?!"

Erryk shrugs his brother off and points an accusing finger, "the prince attacked us from behind!"

You turn to where he points.

Blood trickles down Daemon's face as he struggles to get on his knees. His lips are busted, nose ruptured, eye swollen. Your face falls at the sight of him. He looks horrendous, even worse than what Gwayne looked like when he fell from his horse during the tourney. A dozen horrible memories begin to flood you. You clutch your chest as you feel it tighten.

Erryk continues, "we would not let him disturb your sleep, but he managed to sneak into your bedroom-"

"What?" you turn to him.

"- then he attacked Arryk with a pitcher," Erryk points to the pitcher on the floor that laid beside a puddle of water, "then he kicked me on the back."

You turn to Arryk, finding his hair, neck, and armor wet. You whimper and wipe your face. You snap at Daemon, "what is wrong with you?!"

You watch your husband come to his feet.

He clutches his side and grunts out your name.

Goosebumps shroud you.

Daemon shudders as he walks over, "gaomagon ao jorrāelagon nyke?" Do you love me?

You instinctively step back where the Cargylls step forward. Your face curls in mortification. Your lips wobble and you shake your head in disbelief. You repeat, "what the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Gaomagon..." Daemon lowers his head, "ao ēdrurys yno?" Do you dream of me?

You knit your brows tightly. You grit your teeth and clench you fists. You take a step towards him.

He lifts his gaze when you do.

A shiver runs down your spine as he speaks your name.

"Īlē mirre hen ēdrurys nyke mi—" You were alll of the dreams I ev-

You slap him before he can finish his words.

The blood from Daemon's nose sputters to the wall. The action hurts more than the act. He does not look back at you.

You are trembling, neither from your affliction or fear, but out of pure, blinding wrath. You do not tear your gaze from Daemon though you do not speak to him, "the both of you go to the maester's ward."

Arryk and Erryk nod and regard you, "princess."

"Drag him with you," you blurt, turning to your open door, "I will be there shortly after dressing."

[kityana]

there's an interesting moment in "sinsmas" that i think far too many people misunderstood.

it's this one.

Stolas is a sucker for romantic fantasies.

we know this from pretty early on. he referred to blitzo in fantastic romantic terms like "my knight in shining armor".

he crossed blitzo's boundaries again and again because he thought their relationship was more intimate than it actually was, and he was sure blitzo was on the same page.

and he's constantly shown consuming romantic media- romance novels, telenovelas and rom-coms.

and honestly? i was constantly surprised by how much the narrative didn't punish him for it. not to say he didn't experience heartbreak. not to say some illusions weren't shattered. but at no point was the narrative ever saying stolas was wrong for having those dreams.

no, not even in sinsmas. because you know what happens five minutes after stolas gets angry at himself for doing it all for a fantasy?

this.

blitzo, slaying a literal dragon with a literal sword to save stolas. it's a scene straight out of a fairytale. and just because subtlety is for losers they even call it out.

the narrative literally tells stolas, your fantasies weren't foolish. you were right to believe in them. they came true.

it's a reoccurring theme in a lot of hellaverse characters. because you know who else is a dreamer hanging on to impossibly grand fantasies?

this guy.

sure, they aren't romantic fantasies, but blitzo's business aspirations are not all that different in the level of grandness or delusion. the theme of blitzo aggrandizing himself as a boss and the success of his business have been present since the pilot. they've been hammered home several times, with him, much like stolas, steadfastly ignoring any bit of reality that doesn't settle with his fantasy.

will blitzo ever get to be the big boss of a circus business with clowns and horses? probably not. does blitzo make plenty of mistakes about the way he runs his business? of course, so many. does he have ridiculous notions about what being a boss means that he needs to unlearn? yes, definitely!

but despite everything, he pushes through. and slowly but surely, his business becomes more successful as time goes on.

charlie from "hazbin hotel" is actually another good example of that. she also has a ridiculous dream that no one believes in. she also has ridiculous notions inspired by that dream. and the narrative also rewards her for hanging on to it when no one else would believe in it but her.

the point that seems to repeat in those stories is that those fantasies are important. that the act of believing in them is important. it can inspire you. it can help you push through when the odds are stacked against you. it can provide you with the drive you need to achieve your goals.

if stolas hadn't clung on to his ridiculous romantic fantasies, he wouldn't have believed in what he and blitzo could (and did) eventually become. he wouldn't have persistently tried to reach blitzo for as long as he did, even after he realized blitzo views their relationship so differently from him. he wouldn't have jumped so readily at the chance of what they could be, and found the courage to break free from his miserable, abusive marriage. he wouldn't have let blitzo become his light, and he wouldn't have become blitzo's heart in turn.

and it's not that stolas' is completely blind to reality. he doesn't literally wants to live in a rom-com. it's actually spelled out for us in "apology tour".

stolas doesn't want to actually be chased in the rain every day, he just wants someone to show this level of care toward him, because no one ever has.

and he finally gets it. and i'm sorry to break this to you, if you're one of the people who seem to be chomping at the bits for the narrative to slap the dreams out of stolas until he gets over them, but he wouldn't have gotten all of this without his fantasies.

[strawberrymochin]

𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 🎐...!—MASTERLIST

Sanemi shinazugawa x fem!reader

You were living your life in a brothel working as a courtesan....till the day you were supposed to be bought out by a man, a demon attacks. Luckily, a demon slayer saves you all.....what you didn't expected was him wanting to buy you out instead....

Genre/ warnings- 18+ suggestive content, smut, marriage of convenience, dub-con, profanity, abuse, death, pregnancy, blood (tengen and giyu having their his best life teasing sanemi) minors don't interact.....

Note- this series will contain spoilers

Taglist is open

𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 :-

𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒

╰┈➤ Things get bloody the night you are supposed to be bought out from the brothel, your father sold you eight years ago. Fortunately an accidental presence of a demon slayer saves you all. As the dawn breaks, the owner devastated from destruction and latches out on you. Much expected from your fate, you say nothing but lower your head swallowing insults but what you didn't expect was the slayer ready to compensate, buying you out instead of the man.

𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑

╰┈➤ After the wind pillar sanemi shinazugawa bought you out from the brothel, things started to become a hassle for him. His heart seems to jolt sometimes; his breath hitches; tengen uzui, the sound pillar teases him out of no reason. What annoyed him the most was when you started appearing everywhere— in his thoughts, in his dreams but he didn't expected you to appear in the middle of his mission.....

𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 (soon)

╰┈➤ Nezuko overcame the sun. Lurking of the demons decreased all of a sudden. Everything became quite. The silence became so overpowering as it were to be compared to the silence before the storm. And amongst the silence before the storm you found yourself pregnant.

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╰┈➤ @andysdrafts @huh01011 @yuka20 @wutap @nightingale-slayer @ephemeralninon @vixenlusts @keiixxee @justyoonsworld @deeeeexx @itsmscoco @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @munichiro @s0uldarling @heinousbloom @crywolfix @tsukumomei @iimichie @bxddiebloss @oneiratxxia10 @risa-chansblog @aemiliabruno @atashiboba @lechilankikyou-blog @etaerealboy @lyyzzei @may-machin @livelaughlovetoru @pinksilk @b1loop @neji85 @coleisyn @lunaastars @sleepyfxce @kenqki @matchat3a @lolololololhanma @gojosluts7789 @tartagliahoar @neji85 @coleisyn @lunaastars @jaeminlilsmirk @call-me-nyxx @rosiesareblu @tedbunny333 @luvsymai @okedai-san

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[thecharacterchronicler]

Bloodline (Part 1) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: Your family arranged for you to marry Marvolo Gaunt. Fortunately, your best friend Ominis steps up and makes sure to save you from such a fate.

Word count: 4’515

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so possible misspelled or misplaced words, arranged marriage, abusive families (mentioned), first time s*x, friends to lovers and explicit smut.

(( Part 2 - Please )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))

The familiar flip-flap of owls entering the great hall through the windows resounded in Ominis’ ears, excited chatter rising from the students sitting at the tables as, one by one, they received their mail. The sound of paper falling on a wooden surface nearby piqued his curiosity, he didn’t receive letters often, nor did you or Sebastian but an envelope had unmistakably landed in front of one of you.

Your clothes rustled as you moved to take the paper in your hand, tearing apart the top of the envelope as your owl took flight again, its wings almost grazing Ominis’s hair on its way back to the owlery.

Despite the noise of other students all around, Ominis distinctly heard you take a sharp inhale of air, your silence as you read the letter addressed to you feeling somewhat tense.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, but you didn’t reply right away, too focused on whatever you were reading.

He waited a few more minutes, noticing the way your legs grew restless and your movements became agitated. You were sitting at the opposite side of the table from him and your foot bumped into his a few times as you nervously readjusted your posture.

He was too polite to insist and didn’t want to push you to share something you might want to keep for yourself, so even though he was dying to question you about the mysterious letter you had received and why its content seemed to upset you, he simply cleared his throat to remind you that he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“It’s a letter from my family.” You explained, with a slight tremble in your voice. “They say that they arranged a partnership for me, effective immediately after graduation.”

“A partnership ? You mean some kind of professional training ?” Sebastian asked, before biting into an apple.

“That would be an internship.” Ominis corrected him, shaking his head. “I think she meant something more intimate than that.”

“Like… A relationship ?” Sebastian inquired, still munching on his fruit.

“A marriage.” You stated, defeated.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“I am not.”

“It’s common for wealthy and powerful families such as hers to arrange weddings, especially if it’s a matter of keeping their bloodline alive and pure.” Ominis explained, a shiver running down his spine. That was something his family did too, they were obsessed with maintaining the quality of their bloodline, suitable matches were carefully chosen, sometimes within their own family members.

“It’s more of a business contract than a marriage.” You added, with a sigh. “And my parents are making it very clear that I don’t have any say in the matter.”

“Do you know who’s the lucky fiancé, though ?” Sebastian asked, seemingly taking such terrible news lightly. Way too lightly. It was a tragedy, really. You deserved better than to be forced into a loveless marriage under the pretense of keeping a bloodline going, securing the pride and superiority of the worst kind of wizards to exist. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what you had been asked to do but Ominis knew all too well how you must feel, being robbed of your free will and freedom by a controlling and corrupted family.

“It’s Marvolo Gaunt.” You answered, bluntly, before getting up from your seat on the bench and leaving the great hall in a rush. Although Ominis couldn’t see, he felt the intensity of your gaze piercing right through him, until you were no longer in the room.

His chest tightened and his body tensed at the sound of his older brother’s name. Marvolo probably was the most cruel wizard he knew, aside from their father. Although they shared the same blood, the same family and the same education, Ominis wasn’t afraid to say that his brother was immensely deranged and should have been locked up in Azkaban a long time ago, like the rest of his family actually. The only reason rules didn’t apply to them and they were free to commit the most vile and cruel crimes without facing punishment was because they were Gaunts, descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and held more power and wealth than any other family of wizards in the country.

And now you were going to be one of them.

He couldn’t imagine you, taking part in the cruel acts his family committed for fun. And if you didn’t, they would find a way to punish you for it, just like they had punished him in the past. The Gaunts were dangerous, and you needed to stay away from them, no matter what.

Ominis stood up, reaching for his wand to guide his steps through the corridors and halls of the castle. He needed to find you and he knew his wand would know exactly where to take him. He was racking his brain, trying to find a solution to save you from such a doomed fate as he followed mindlessly the path his wand indicated. Eventually, he found himself outside, in a narrow courtyard. Wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree and caressed his face, sending a cold shiver through his body. He couldn’t feel any rays of sunshine warming his skin, meaning it must be a rather cloudy afternoon. He could hear the sound of water moving in the fountain at the center of the courtyard, birds singing in the sky… And soft muffled sobs. His wand twitched, tugging him in your direction.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Ominis told you, once he was standing in front of you. He could hear the sobs shaking your body as clear as day but still felt compelled to bring his hand to your face, wiping the warm teardrops away from your cheeks with his thumb. “Marvolo really isn’t a suitable match for you.”

“It’s alright, I knew this day would come eventually. I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t force me into this as soon as I was done with school.” You replied, another teardrop falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek..

“There must be something we can do about it.” Ominis said, instinctively brushing off the fresh tear from your face. “What if you were engaged to someone else ?”

You laughed although you didn’t find anything amusing about the situation.

“During my seven years here, no one ever courted me, no one attempted to ask me on a date, I have no other prospects. And you know as well as I do that my parents shouldn’t risk angering the Gaunts.”

Ominis furrowed his brows. You were right, if your parents broke their promise to marry you off to one of his siblings, they might not make it out alive. If his parents had arranged for you to be wed to Marvolo, it meant they considered your blood pure enough to perpetuate their dignified bloodline. It was a rare occurrence, usually no one was deemed worthy enough so chances were that they’d do everything in their power to ensure that you’d become a Gaunt now that they had approved of you.

If you broke the arrangement to be with someone else, a wizard of lower class and reputation, his father would take it as an offense and you’d have to pay for such a daring act. If you married Marvolo, then surely he would take advantage of you and of your obligation to satisfy your family and his, he’d be cruel and violent, he wouldn’t care about you and would never treat you with the respect you deserved… There was only one option left.

“Marry me.” Ominis stated, determined.

“What ? What are you saying ?” You spoke, dumbstruck by the sudden suggestion.

“My parents want you to ensure the purity of our bloodline, your parents want you to earn the status and power that come with my last name… So marry me instead.”

“Ominis, you don’t have to. I can’t ask you to do that for me, that’s…” You argued, shaking your head.

“It’s a matter of time before my parents arrange a wedding for me too. I think I’d much rather be married to someone I consider a friend than a stranger they would have picked for me. So really, you’d be the one doing me a favor.” Ominis continued, his heart beating faster as he spoke. He knew it was a good idea, it would save you from Marvolo, from his family and, despite being a Gaunt himself, he would do his best to treat you well. He would never hurt you, never mock you, never give you any reason to regret choosing him instead of his brother…

So please, say yes.

His mother adjusted his tie. She told him that the all black suit she had gotten tailored made for him suited him better than anything he ever wore. She said it brought his blue eyes out, and that everyone would be able to tell that he was one of the heirs of the Gaunt name. Ominis wasn’t sure what was meant to be a compliment and what was meant as a jab, but he simply nodded at everything she said.

By the time he walked down to the garden of the imposing manor, his mother’s arm looped in his, he felt dizzy with anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out at any minute. His ribcage felt so tight around his lungs that he could barely breathe correctly, and the more time went by, the more sweaty his hands became.

He could hear the chatter of the numerous guests his parents had invited as they took place around the lectern that had been placed at the very center of the garden. The familiar smell of roses tickled his nose, meaning the white rose bushes must be in full bloom in this season. He could feel the sunshine on his face and the warm summer air on his skin. It was a beautiful day on the gloomy manor.

His mother let go of his arm, leaving him standing on his own in front of what he imagined was an impressive audience of grumpy wizards. He still couldn’t quite catch his breath and, the moment the ambient chatter died down, his throat instantly felt constricted and his body tensed up.

He heard the whispers among the crowd and the footsteps approaching in his direction. It was unmistakably the way of walking of a man, confident and determined while the lighter steps next to his were more hesitant. In the past seven years, Ominis had memorized the sound of your steps. He also could recognize your smell in a crowd and knew exactly how soft your skin felt under his fingers. He could tell if your hair was up or let down from the way you touched and played with it and he knew that the quiet, almost imperceptible breaths you let out meant that you felt nervous. He knew all of this and more yet, he had no idea what it felt like to kiss your lips or hold you in his arms and that felt awfully wrong, considering what you both were about to do.

The man that had accompanied you walked away, leaving you standing with Ominis in front of prying, curious eyes. You didn’t say anything to each other, too busy trying to not pass out from how anxious you both felt. The contract was written and placed on the pupil in front of you, its tricky clauses oozing with dark magic.

It wasn’t just any contract. It was a cursed one, meant to bind you together forever. The words til death do us part took a different meaning as you signed your name at the bottom of the page, knowing that if you ever tried to leave him, you’d most likely be instantly killed by some kind of dark spell that probably was forbidden to cast. The promises you made by signing this contract were definitive and the consequences if you failed to hold them were deadly. At the very least, you both could feel thankful that you weren’t making such vows to a complete stranger.

Ominis signed the parchment too, the ink dripping from the quill dark red like blood. The contract was sealed with applause and illegal magic, making you his wife. For the rest of your lives.

The dinner that followed the ceremony was dull and mostly boring, a display of Mister Gaunt’s power and a lecture on his narrow views about muggles and mudblood wizards, as the guests listened quietly to his speech, nodding in agreement every once in a while. Eventually, Ominis took his leave, pretending that he was exhausted from the events of the day. You excused yourself too, glad to find him waiting for you in the hallway.

He knew the manor he grew up in in details and could navigate it without the help of his wand. He guided you upstairs, through the dark corridor that led to his bedroom. He opened the door for you, letting you step inside first before following you in and shutting the door behind him. He had never had any guest in his bedroom before and that realization made him feel uneasy. He knew that the servants kept his room neat and tidy - just how he liked it - but he wasn’t sure of what you were going to think about the ancient desk he sat at to write his letters to Sebastian, or the books that lined the shelves of bookcases that reached the ceiling. And what about the four poster bed he slept in, he had always found it large and comfortable but suddenly he worried it might be too small to share with you.

“Once we move into our own home we’ll be able to sleep in separate rooms. But for now, I think it’s better if we share mine.” He said, hoping that you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here until then.

To convince his parents to let him marry you instead of his brother, he had pretended he was madly, irredeemably in love with you. At first, they didn’t like it, saying that love made men foolish and pushed them to their demise but, eventually, they came to the realization that him wanting you so badly would serve the purpose of continuing their bloodline. Many heirs could be born from such desires.

Now that you were here, in the intimacy of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think about it. How amazing it would be to kiss you, touch you, make you his as everybody expected him to. But he wouldn’t do it. Mainly because he was a gentleman and had promised himself that he would never, ever, disrespect you. And also because he was determined to not give his parents the satisfaction of having any heirs from him. The Gaunt bloodline was poison, corrupted with dark practices and immorality. Sooner or later, one of them would cause unforgivable chaos in the world, so he was determined to prevent it from happening anyway he could.

“I’m sorry that you had to do this.” You told him, taking a closer look at the books on his nightstand. You sounded sincere, as if you felt guilty that he now had the privilege of calling you his wife. “You should have been able to marry someone you love.”

Ominis had never felt anything remotely close to what was described in the books he read for someone, nor did he experience the crushes Sebastian so often had on a random person every once in a while. The only woman that had somehow interested him was you. He cared about you. And maybe it was an acceptable foundation for a marriage.

“You should have been able to do that too.” You sat on his bed, your wedding dress crunching up above your legs. He approached, heart hammering in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I consider myself lucky to call you my wife.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand in yours. His palms were sweaty, as per usual when you were around, but you didn’t seem bothered by that, pulling him so that he’d sit on the bed next to you.

“Do you mind if I try something ?” You asked him, a bit hesitantly. He took a sharp inhale of air, his body straightening up with sudden tension. In appearance, he seemed quite uncomfortable to be sitting so close to you, and even more now that you had asked him such a question, but he nodded despite hating being unsure of what to expect.

You moved closer, slowly. Your scent tickled his nose, he knew it by heart, he had fell asleep more than once to the faint perfume you left on the common room’s couch pillows, usually prompting him to dream of you. He felt your soft, warm breath caress his skin, indicating that your face was inching impossibly close towards his. He held his breath as you pressed your delicate lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss to seal your union, far from prying eyes.

He kept his eyes closed when you moved away, conflicted emotions passing on his face. He wasn’t expecting to feel so many tingles in his stomach after such a light and short kiss, yet even now that you had moved away, he still felt millions of butterflies tingling under his skin. He left out the breath he had been holding, taking just enough air to say your name, softly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You apologized, and he knew from the sound of your voice that you must be blushing.

He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss you too, more than he’d like to admit. A friend shouldn’t be curious about such things, it felt wrong to him, like he was betraying you by having such intimate thoughts about you. He hated how conflicted he felt whenever he woke up with an erection because he had spent the night dreaming of you touching him, and he hated how his primal instinct sometimes took over and he’d end up brushing against your chest or your back under the pretense that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for his friend to kiss him again, and surely he shouldn’t want to be given permission to explore the body of his friend in details… But perhaps, if such desires weren’t acceptable between friends, they could be considered reasonable ones to have for his wife…

“Don’t apologize, we’re married now after all.” He gulped, feeling the temperature of his body rising. “Kissing is one of the many things that will be expected from us.”

You moved, suddenly growing agitated next to him. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of your wedding dress, the sound of clasps being opened and knots getting untied. He didn’t dare to move, not even breathe, as he carefully listened for a clue as to what you were up to. Then, he felt your hands on his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest, one by one.

“What are you doing ?” He asked, his breath catching in his throat when his hands, resting on his lap, brushed against your bare thighs.

“Another thing that is expected of us.” You simply replied, now dragging his vest down his shoulders, before repeating the same actions to remove his shirt. He heard your surprised, yet quiet, gasp and the way your breathing became labored at the sight of his chest. He felt your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, brushing against the blond hair under his navel and grazing the elastic of his pants.

He said your name in a whisper, wanting it to be a warning but coming out like a desperate plea. You shouldn’t be touching him like this, not because it was what your families required of you. You should only do it because you wanted to. So he knew he had to stop you before it went too far, before he wouldn’t be able to refuse, before his body was set ablaze by his repressed lust for yours otherwise, there would be no way of stopping him anymore. He would consume you. Worship you. Devour you. And his promise to never disrespect you would be just a distant memory already, because none of the things he wanted to do to you were respectable.

But you weren’t making it easy for him to keep his word. Your hand was still tracing the lines of his chest like he was some kind of sculpture you were admiring, taking in every detail like he would. And when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him and trapping him between you and the bed, he tensed up and groaned.

He brought his hands to your hips, telling himself that he’d gently guide you off of him so that he’d be able to remain a gentleman and not take advantage of the admirable loyalty you had for your family with your determination to complete your marital duties right away, but when he felt nothing but your warm skin under his fingers, when you leaned forward to press your naked chest against his and plant another soft kiss on his lips, the remaining of his will power to resist you dissolved.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, we’re friends.” He said, because that was what he usually told himself whenever he thought about you while rubbing himself in the shower. Except he wasn’t the one gripping on his erection this time. You had easily opened up his pants and now the evidence of his desire for you was held tightly in your hand. Your thumb stroked the tip of his erection, spreading the clear drop of precum that had escaped from it over the sensitive pink skin.

“We’re not friends anymore, Ominis. We’re married.” You corrected him, your words destroying the only argument he had to convince himself to not behave like some kind of wild animal as he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from exploring your naked body. “I wasn’t allowed to organize my wedding, chose my dress or invite my friends… Don’t rob me from having a beautiful wedding night. Please.”

His erection twitched in your hand. You were asking so nicely, so politely, for something so intense and passionate, it made him even harder. He put his arm around your waist, securely holding you as he removed you from his lap and laid you down on his bed with a strength you never expected him to have.

“Are you sure this is what you want ?” He inquired, holding himself above you with his hands gripping the headboard, his pants and underwear down to his knees.

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, with a shudder of excitement.

“Very well.” His voice was low, revealing just how badly he wanted this too. He placed a hand on your knee and followed the path all the way up to your core. He could feel the wetness and warmth coming from your center, begging for his attention. He traced the slit between your legs a few times, making you gasp with anticipation. Then, he pushed a finger passed your entrance, your whimper resounding in his ears. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion, not really aiming to pleasure you this way but trying to memorize a path he couldn’t see.

He took his finger out, bringing his hand back to his impatient cock. He wiped your wetness over his tip, mixing it with the fresh drops of precum that coated his skin. Once most of his hard length was slick and sticky, he brought his tip exactly where his finger had been, rubbing it between your wet folds to gather even more moisture before finally pushing it inside you. He heard you gasp loudly and he did too, the tightness of your cunt taking him by surprise.

He easlily managed to slide even deeper, burying his entire length inside of you with a satisfied sigh. He could hear your panting breaths, your soft cries in reaction to his movements inside you and the way you moaned his name, encouraging him to rock his hips against yours a few times.

It was nothing like he had thought it would be. His hand had never made him feel as good as you did, your warmth, wetness and tightness around him were intoxicating. The most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.

He slowly pulled himself almost all the way out, only to shove himself back in with more force. He could feel his tip hitting deep inside you, pleasure building in his abdomen with each of his quick pushes.

The sounds you made were music to his ears, the way you reacted to each of his thrusts was delightful, better than what he had imagined in his most vivid fantasies. He never expected you to be so loud, perfectly showing him how good he was making you feel. He increased his speed and you moaned even louder, practically crying out his name.

He felt your legs closing around his waist, keeping him close while your nails dug into his back, the whole bed shaking in rythym with his movements. Was he too rough ? How could he not be ? It was impossible to be more gentle when the pleasure he felt with each thrust kept intensifying, he was going to lose his mind, chasing the feeling, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You cried out one more time and your body tensed up, tightening around him so viciously that he finally reached his climax, instantly filling you up with his release. You kept your legs around him, your body spasming with intense pleasure as he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back into order.

He waited until your body stopped twitching to remove himself, feeling your shudder as he pulled his spent erection out of you. You still were softly panting, your chest rising and falling under his hand while the other still clasped tightly the headboard. He leaned over, easily finding your lips from which breathless gasps still escaped. He kissed you, gently, as a way to apologize for losing control of himself and felt relieved when you returned his kiss even more fervently.

He moved to his side, lying down next to you to give you enough space to catch your breath but you inched closer, nuzzling your naked body against his in a cuddle that felt even more intimate than what he had just did to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, sounding truly happy. Ominis smiled, his fingers absently caressing your back, playing with strands of your now messy hair. “I’m glad to have you as my husband.”

Husband. The word turned in his head, reminding him that you now were officially a couple. Mrs Ominis Gaunt; his best friend, his wife, his lover… His.

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[b-00-biez]

Would you be able to write if {Michael, Brahms, and Thomas} found out their s/o had a breeding kink.

Breeding kink

With Michael, Brahms, Thomas

Michael

He honestly doesn't know what to do with this information but he will save it for later.

One night you were particularly stubborn and the easiest way for Michael to coax you into doing what he wants is to abuse your poor little entrance. You know he hasn't touched you for weeks and him just teasing you with just his tip probing at the entrance that awaits his full length, fluttering and welcoming him with open arms but he doesn't give in.

"M-michael please.. " you tried to beg for him to just fuck you, insert his full length into you despite him not wearing a condom right now. "Please Michael I'll do whatever the fuck you ask me just fuck me outta my misery.. " you said frustrated already, you know despite his mask, he's smirking underneath. Without a warning, he shoved his whole cock inside making you yelp and ease up around his length. He hooked your legs onto his shoulders and started fucking. His balls slapping your ass and you can hear it making lewd noises. On how rough he was being you can't help but feel your orgasm coming. You grasp whatever words you have left in your cock drunk brain and said "cum in me! Get me fucking pregnant!! " you screamed. Now, he's curious. You want his seed? You want your tummy full of his babies, your breasts swollen with milk? He's not too sure about this but hell you were such a good girl for him right now looking all needy and disheveled, maybe just this once he will fuck you full of his seed.

Brahms

The fact that he was spying on you watching porn and your fingers melting into your very Nectar. He has to know what you were watching so he can replace those damn fingers with his cock. So while you were asleep he swiped your phone and in the safety of his walls he played the video he saw.

He couldn't take off his eyes on that pussy being abused and edged by this guy's long shaft. The video was about to end until the guy pulled out a mix of their cum oozing out of her cunt onto the bed as she shivered from all the orgasm she had. You were watching this while your fingers were desperately trying to make you cum like the needy slut that you are? He didn't want you to suffer when all you needed was his cock and his buckets of cum in you.

After he persuaded you to do it with him he's already in you with no foreplay whatsoever rubbing your clit so roughly while snapping his hips with yours. "Ugh.. All mine Mine!! " he said going faster just burying you on the bed, ass up. He slapped your ass until it was red making you yelp while you felt his cock ramming itself in and out. You had no energy to tell him to slow down but gosh it felt so good when he's this rough! "Get pregnant Get pregnant Get pregnant!! " he chanted while rearranging your insides. Gosh how many orgasms have you had and how many loads does he need to fill you with until he's satisfied?

Thomas

He couldn't help but imagine how your legs wraps around his waist pulling him closer to you while he ruts your very hole. He couldn't help but notice how unresponsive you were after 2-3 rounds and he just couldn't get his mind off on how his meaty cock was a bit visible on your cute tummy while he fucked you up.

He didn't understand what a breeding kink was until you blurted out that he should cum inside you that day.

In the morning while you and his family were having breakfast, Luda Mae asked if you two were gonna have children soon since you couldn't even be separated from Thomas. You choked on your water then looked at Thomas who was already blushing but nodded that he indeed plans to have children with you sooner or later but until you get married to him.

One particular night after that you couldn't take it anymore. He kept cumming outside and on you! He was so careful not to get you pregnant until marriage. "T-thomas please.. Just cum in me! Please I can't wait till marriage I'm already yours!! " you blurted out. He stopped for a moment but then picked up the pace as he rutted into you fucking your g-spot over and over again as he groans in agreement. Mixing your juices and his pre-cum so deliciously and night after night he kept fucking you full of his loads and every time after that you felt satisfied even after you conclude that you were indeed pregnant now.

[targaryenluvs]

OUR LITTLE DOVE

pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray

summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.

warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal

word count: 3.0k

a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!

he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.

you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.

you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.

you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy

And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.

As rough as a briar

Like walking through fire

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary It's why

I need you

so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.

You're as pure as the driven snow

your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.

your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.

hope could only get you so far.

your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.

what on earth could you provide her with?

“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!

your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.

“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”

you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.

“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”

but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?

his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.

“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.

was this your chance?

you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.

but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.

your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.

even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?

“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”

“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.

you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.

crack.

you’d been found. you fucked up.

“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”

his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.

the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.

you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.

“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”

“she should eat something better.”

“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”

he was smiling, you could tell.

“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”

you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.

“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”

“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”

“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”

coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.

“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”

you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.

coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.

“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.

“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.

his, his, his.

with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.

lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.

your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.

don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.

not with her in the way.

you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.

here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.

obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.

“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”

and you did.

when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.

when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.

through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.

through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.

when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.

when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.

you had no idea why at this point.

for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.

for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.

you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.

and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.

maybe you’d grow up and find love.

maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.

maybe we’ll heal.

you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.

you’ll always be his little dove.

[battleczar]

The day that straight women stop subjecting female children, female friends, and female relatives to the presence of their male partners in the home is the day they will be able to claim that lesbians have no right to comment on feminist celibacy.

The experience of male violence begins in the crib for most women, including lesbians, and we are deeply harmed by the presence of men in the domestic sphere. I could name a dozen women on radblr who have spoken about being abused or assaulted by the male partner of a woman they lived with.

I feel like there's a massive amount of denial happening with feminist OSA women. Don't we all discuss the way men will wait until after the marriage, the mortgage, the pregnancy, to become controlling? He'll wait until you open a joint checking account, he'll wait until your three-year anniversary, he'll wait until you gain twenty pounds, he'll wait until he gets fired from his job, and there is not a single feminist on this planet who can accurately predict whether or when a man's behavior will turn abusive. There is no level of red flag awareness that can save you when men deliberately hide their true nature and tell you all the things you wanna hear. (And all of these points are discussed and acknowledged by straight/OSA women on radblr regularly.)

So when I, as a lesbian, hear feminist straight/OSA women discussing all of these points about how unpredictable men are and then immediately defending their choice to partner with and live with men, including insistence that lesbians don't have a right to take a stance here, mostly what I hear you saying is "I acknowledge the danger that men pose, I acknowledge that men deliberately hide their intentions, and I am still willing to put myself and every other woman and girl in my life in that danger in order to achieve personal gratification."



[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia" word count: 23k important tags: cruise ships, fake marriage, mutual pining, gay disaster!eddie diaz, first kiss, making out 'cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: kid fic, marriage of convenience, slow burn, friends to lovers, getting together, soft!buddie, miscommunication burn the straw house down by: rarakiplin "buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through" word count: 40k important tags: time loop, angst, car accidents, happy ending all i can see (is you) by: trippedandfell "buck and eddie agree to fake date to win a reality tv show. it goes... well, pretty much exactly how you'd expect." word count: 21k important tags: reality show au, mutual pining, idiots in love, only one bed, gay disaster!eddie diaz for a holiday (and forevermore) by: wikiangela "eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. he only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more..." word count: 94k important tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, sharing a bed, pre-relationship, soft!buddie, family feels, fluff, pining little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: idiots in love, mutual pining, christopher diaz is a national treasure, fluff you and tequila make me crazy by: cranberrymoons "in which buck and eddie lose chimney because they're drunk and horny" word count: 1.5k important tags: drunken flirting, season 7, sexual tension, pre-relationship fireflies where my caution should be by: littlesnowpea ".....“there are people on the porch,” eddie says, voice even. “saying they want to meet their grandchild.”" word count: 13k important tags: TW: past child abuse, fake marriage, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, self-esteem issues, protective!eddie diaz what if i fall in love backwards by: redridingstiles "five times buck and eddie saved each other by pretending to be together and the one time christopher helps" word count: 9.8k important tags: 5+1 things, best friends, protective!buddie, teasing, homophobia, marriage proposal i'd never let you fall and break your heart by: autistic_nightfury "four times buck and eddie pretended to be in a relationship so people wouldn't bother them, and the one time they actually were together" word count: 5.8k important tags: 4+1 things, friends to lovers, holding hands, forehead kissies, getting together, mild smut

[dippedinmelancholy]

I’m back on my bullshit thinking about ACOSF again.

Comparing Nesta and Feyre’s journeys is just so . . .wrong. Regardless of who you like more, when you take the time to reflect on how both of their love stories “end”, objectively, one is at best an abuse victim, at worst a horror story.

Feyre gets everything she ever wanted, absurdly quickly. Five homes, endless power, a baby boy within a couple years of her marriage when many fae try for hundreds of years. Her mate/husband is a piece of shit, but she forgives and loves him regardless. All of the most powerful people in the Night Court, and not a single one who will ever be anything less than an echo chamber for Feyre.

Nesta is berated like a dog for all of ACOSF. She is trapped, only let out to complete tasks, her own body’s abilities hidden away from her, and used as a sexual object to control a man. She is emotionally berated by her jailer while he continues to fuck her. All of her sharp edges are filed down until she is acceptable. When she steps out of line, she is then physically abused via the hike, forced to carry more than her body is meant to endure. The abuse continues mentally, despite the man she is with knowing she is suicidal.

Yet, Nesta endures. She does as she is expected. She breaks. Against all odds, she survives the Blood Rite, despite no one in the Inner Circle caring to try and help her.

She saves the entire Night Court royal family. High Lord, High Lady, son.

By the end, mere months after Nyx’s birth, Nesta still has no place in the Night Court. She is emotionally abused, still. She exists to serve. Her te refuses to defend her, even when her life is threatened. The only home she has is very nearly trapped inside of, being forced to other perform extreme physical activity, or ask another person to let her leave her own house.

Nesta is an abuse victim. I honestly do not care what mean things she’s said to Feyre when they were literal children. I do not care that the “cruel” voice in Feyre’s head is Nesta’s. That does not justify or excuse that Nesta is trapped and emotionally and mentally abused on her best of days. She has nothing in this new life that is hers. Everything is held within the palm of Rhysand’s hand.

Feyre has gotten everything she ever wanted. She has faced no consequences for the hundreds of lives she’s utterly ruined. For the theft or laws she broke. She is loved, cherished, protected, adored.

Nesta is eternally paying the price for childhood sins. She is trapped, violated, and has become the thing her mother wanted her to be. A woman taking the abuse men offer, all for the sake of her family.

Nesta will never see the world. She will never know what the world has to offer for a woman with a good name and coin to spare. Nesta is a horror story.

[kelin-is-writing]

Not some peoples on here and TikTok going:

“You don’t like the ending because your favorite character died”

Hell yeah? Literally why wouldn’t I be pissed that my favorite character who could be saved died? Dabi has one of the most realistic backstories and best characterizations in Mha, actually not only in Mha but Anime/Manga in general and do you know how taboo of topics domestic violence, child abuse and raping are in Japan? Mind you, Japan is a country that has domestic violence normalized in their country as part of marriage and somehow education too. Y’all might think I’m joking but victims of domestic abuse in Japan are struggling very much to this day, but Japanese peoples rarely talks about it because Japan is a “Family Image” oriented society (Endeavor and the Himuras showed it enough me thinks) so they categorically refuse to let people know abuse happens, especially the abusers.

“Oh BuT aLL aBuSeRs DoN’t WaNt It To Be KnOwN”, I know but in Japan it’s normalized to just live through it and that (together with bullying) it’s one of the reasons the suicide rate in Japan is one of the highest globally, hope it helps to get a better grasp on everything I’m trying to say.

Horikoshi has depicted it perfectly, because you know… He lives there and even the final outcome (Rei becoming Enji’s caretaker after years of abuse) it’s very much Japanese style. Which is why the Todoroki family ending it’s wrong and disturbing. Wrong, and disturbing.

And as if one of Enji’s victims becoming his caretaker isn’t enough, one of his other victims had to die because of his actions.

“No BuT tOuYa WeNt OfF wItH hIs QuIrK oN hIs OwN”, and who was the main reason and cause he went off like that with his Quirk? Endeavor.

Yep. Thought so too.

I don’t get why some of you are bending backwards, doing backflips and cartwheels to defend Endeavor just because he’s an Hero like— I’m sorry but he is the depiction of a realistically fact that even if your job (YOUR JOB!) is to save other people, behind closed doors that same person who saves other people can still be a shitty person who’s a curse to his own family, because Endeavor is just Enji Todoroki’s façade.

And he’s a well-written character because the depiction of abuser Horikoshi did of him it’s accurate to reality. Enji is egotistical, narcissistic, greedy, self-centered and selfish, which are all the characteristics that made him physically unable to actually address any of what he did until Dabi’s reveal, despite knowing that he was dead wrong and that together with the fact that he waited almost a decade to apologize to his family, is the reason why I genuinely don’t give a flying fuck about his “redemption”. If sorrow was eating you alive why didn’t you apologize sooner, trash?

Touya never got the closure he deserved, actually none of the Leagues got it and you know why? Because the whole War arc was rushed, you can tell by the way Shigaraki was offed. From a writing standpoint it was laughable, seriously.

What’s even worse is that… Nothing has actually changed in the Hero society despite the fact that nine years have passed, because people like Touya, Shigaraki and Toga will never be actually saved because Heroes have failed miserably to save the prime examples of what’s to be saved.

And no, they weren’t saved because death isn’t salvation for people who want to live, be accepted and loved. You guys that think this way genuinely scare me and I want y’all far away from me.

Like— To sum what I’m trying to say: We can’t cry and hate Mha’s ending because of all this, but some of y’all can cry, kick sheets, throw up, crashout and hate the ending over fucking ships?

Wow…

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 10

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN T_T blah blah canon stuff/high valyrian inaccurate blah. please please leave comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon does not come home to you that night. When you awaken, you feel sick to your stomach. The thought of food repulsive though, so you spend the morning looking for your husband, until your body betrays you and feels sick because of not having eaten. You realize that your state is not borne simply from worrying about the prince, but probably also because of this supposed life you carried within you.

You try to deny it though, chalking it up to your mind playing tricks on you. After all, it's laughable that you suddenly experienced these symptoms just after all the fuss of learning you were with child.

You thought you finally found Daemon when you heard Caraxes was in the dragon pit, and so you run there, run, much to the protest of Arryk, who was hot on your heels. He managed to convince you to slow down by telling you that you would eventually get to the dragon pit if you walked, but you would never get there if you pass out.

You'd never been so happy to see the blood wyrm.

"Daemon?" you call out, searching for him.

Caraxes is busy feasting on meat and Arryk is busy watching him, body tense and senses on high alert.

The dragon keeper comes to you, shaking his head, "se dārilaros iksis daor kesīr dombo." The prince is not here anymore.

You understood nothing, save dārilaros, which you knew meant prince, and figure he's probably telling you he is not here, which you could gather from simple observation.

You turn to Caraxes and point, "zaldrīzes." Dragon.

The man brightens, as he understands, "Caraxes."

You nod, placing a hand on your chest. You do a walking motion with your fingers towards Caraxes.

His eyes widen and he shakes his head and hands.

You clench your jaw and turn to Caraxes, nodding your head in understanding.

The dragon keeper relaxes.

He mistakes you.

"Arryk," you turn to your ward, "can you come here please?"

Arryk's eyes linger on the dragon a moment before turning to you. You settle him in front of the dragon keeper, and while he is distracted from trying to figure out what you were doing, you circle behind your knight and sneak past both, making a beeline towards Caraxes.

The dragon notices you immediately and watches you near. He lifts his head and sniffs the air, and only then do the two men realize what's happening.

"PRINCESS!" Arryk shouts, sprinting towards you before coming to an abrupt stop.

Enraged, Caraxes cranes his long neck, roaring at Arryk, making him topple back on his bum.

The dragon keeper screams a command and raises his hands.

Amidst the peril of it all, you are calm as you look up at Daemon's companion. It stems from the truth that it would be far less complicated and less painful to be eaten by a dragon than to tell your husband you are with child and deliver it.

The red creature screeches as snaps his teeth at the two men, causing his keeper to step back and Arryk to crawl back with him.

Caraxes then averts his attention, shaking his head as he circles around you, effectively blocking the two from seeing anything other than his massive, scaly body.

In truth, you think your heart might be impaired, because it doesn't race at all as the beast seemingly imposes upon you. He cannot seem to stop pacing around you, as if he was restless, anxious even.

Your face contorts at the bleating sound it makes. He lowers his head slightly inhaling and exhaling deeply. He makes another noise and you swear to yourself, the creature looks like he's fidgeting.

You feel bad, for it seems... you've upset him, "apologies... I was hoping you'd eat me."

Caraxes screams loudly again when he spots two other dragon keepers come to you from the other side. He threatens them with a snap of his teeth.

"Daor!" they scream in unison. No.

Caraxes seethes and screeches, as if saying, 'do not tell me what to do'.

He circles around you again, and this time, he shoves you forward with his wing. You yelp as you are knocked to the ground with a thud. You manage to brace yourself, grazing your hands as you did, but your chest still hurts at the impact.

The keepers scream in horror because of this, fearing that you would soon be eaten.

"HEY!" Arryk screams, thinking he can distract Caraxes. He can't, and he is losing his mind. Hoes not know what to do but to shout your name in terror. He can't help but draw his sword and immediately the dragon keeper is yelling something, motioning that he stop.

You whine as you roll on your side. Caraxes growls as he bites your arm. The fear finally sets in as he does this, and his powerful maw pulls you up to sitting position.

The dragon keeper, who ran to retrieve you, shrieks out upon witnessing this.

You gasp when Caraxes roars back, and you squeal when his wing comes over you. The strangest thing occurs to you in that moment, and your heart finally begins to race— not because it sinks in how much danger you were in, but because, suddenly, you knew you were not.

You come to a stand, and with no regard for your safety, you reach out for the dragon's skin, somehow shocked by how warm and hard it is. "Caraxes."

He hears you, though you barely raised your voice. He is sensitive to the sound of his name. Caraxes moves back, pulling away enough to be able to coil his neck and look at you.

The dragon keepers, who were so on edge, altogether fall silent when they see you in the midst of the blood wrym.

Arryk nearly broke into a other sprint upon finally seeing you, but he manages to hold back and lowers his sword, unwilling to sheathe it.

Caraxes produces a sound you think is akin to a mewl, as much as a mewl a ten foot beast could make. You huff and feel your breath hitch. You close your eyes and reach out to him, ready to accept whichever fate awaits you, companionship or death.

You gasp, eyes instantly opening when you feel the wetness on your hands. Caraxes presses his snout to your palms, and you squeak, quickly pulling back at the heat of his huff.

He lifts his head and begins to pace around again. You are certain now that the beast was, in fact, restless.

"Paez ilagon!" you exclaim, raising your hands at him.

Caraxes huffs, debating if he should heed your command.

"Paez ilagon," slow down, you repeat as the dragon fully faces you.

You, and everyone else who witnesses it, are shocked that Caraxes listens. He quits his pacing and slowly comes to a halt, looming over you.

Your lips wobble, humbled by the idea such a fearsome creature would obey the commands of such a pathetic being. You begin to weep, as Caraxes lowers his head, sniffing you. Your hands dart out to him when he gets too close. You slightly topple when he nudges you with his snout. You feel the warmth of his breath seeping through your dress as he brushes against you. You can tell he is trying his best to be gentle, but even then he is too strong that you have to repel him. He makes the faintest of sounds.

"Gods be good," you mumble as you gaze upon the creatures scales, "you can smell him, can't you? Daemon?"

Caraxes remains pressed against you a moment longer.

You sniffle and momentarily fantasize about the child growing within you. You lean into him in defeat, "you silly thing."

His throat emits a low rumble.

"It would have been better if you made me a snack," you mumble against him, feeling your tears drip.

Caraxes slowly lowers his head until he is laid on the floor. You remain leaned on him for a moment, and then you pull away with a sigh. You look upon the dragon, thinking he is so much like his rider, and stroke his cheek one last time before pulling away.

You walk towards the dragon keeper you had blindsided and lower your head in shame, speaking the word you had learned for Daemon, "usōvegon." Apologies.

He stares at you for a moment, taking in your now messy hair and dirtied face, and replies with something you do not understand.

You nod at him without meeting his eyes then hurriedly walk off. Arryk is quick to follow after you, and his skidding makes Caraxes screech at him. He flinches at the sound, looking behind him warily. You do not.

When Arryk finally catches up to you, he takes your arm and calls out your name. He is alarmed by the red smeared down your philtrum and cheek.

"Forgive me," you mutter, unable to meet his gaze. You do not stop walking, "I- I was overcome... I did not think of anything but myself. I did not mean to cause anyone such immense distress."

"What were you trying to do?" Arryk quips, taking in your dirtied face. He did not know if it would be appropriate to wipe it with his cloak.

You shake your head, still unable to look at him.

"Princess," Arryk speaks like a plea, "did you know Caraxes would not hurt you?"

You gulp, quickening you pace.

Arryk huffs in frustration, calling out your name.

He forces you to stop by dashing forward, coming in front of you. You look up at him, eyes teary and mouth parted.

"I beg you," he clenches his fists, before succumbing to his urges. He grabs his cloak and wipes your face, brushing the dirt and blood as neatly as he can, "please tell me you did not knowingly put yourself in danger."

The tears running down your face help him clean you off. You honestly say, "I don't know if I should tell you."

Arryk is heart broken. He clenches his jaw tightly and releases his hold on you. He steps aside and you begin walking again.

You feel awful as you look at him. He is sullen as he walks beside you. You wipe your nose on your sleeve, "apologies, Arryk."

He shakes his head and opens his mouth. His jaw hangs for a moment, but then he closes his mouth, saying nothing.

You turn to your side when you hear your name called.

Alicent, who was making her way to the king's quarters, runs up you, eyes widening at the blood on your face. The red had spread as it mixed with your tears. She quickly pulls out her handkerchief, "your nose is bleeding!"

Your eyes widen, as you did not know this, but you quickly take her wrist and slowly pull away, "it is nothing."

"What happened to her, ser?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk is eager to tattle, "she was at the dragon pit and-"

"I fell," you cut him off, blocking your sister's gaze upon your ward, "I-"

"You fell in the dragon pit?!" she bristles further. Your feigning backfired. "What did Daemon do?!"

"The prince is nowhere to be seen," Arryk scoffs.

"I was- am looking for him!" you blurt

"Caraxes nearly attacked her," Arryk adds.

"Arryk!" you whip your head to him then back to your sister, "he did not!"

"He shoved her back and she fell!" he explains, "that's why her nose is bloody."

Alicent calls your name as you call Arryk's.

Your sister takes your shoulders, eyes immediately watering, "did you want to get hurt, sister?"

Your jaw slacks, "I- I-"

"Does Daemon posses you to do such things?" your baby sister begins to cry.

You shake your head rapidly, "no! No. I swear to you, this has nothing to do with him."

"Then what?" Alicent asks with a broken voice.

You gasp for air and feel a shiver run down your spine. You cannot tell her the truth, so you explain instead, "my nose already bled yesterday, which is why it's bleeding now."

"What?!"

"I already fainted yesterday and fell quite hard, which is why my nose is bleeding again."

"Mother, please," Alicent whispers.

"Alicent, I swear to you, you need not-"

"How could you let this happen to her twice?" Alicent turns to Arryk.

Arryk lowers his head, "I have failed-"

"I snuck behind him," you blurt, "do not fault him for my impulsiveness."

Alicent's heart is crush as she watches you wipe your face.

"It is not Arryk's fault that my nose is bloody. It is neither Caraxes fault for shoving me. It is mine. My body is weak and I have spent all day looking for my husband, against the behest of my maester."

Alicent clenches her jaw. It is Daemon's fault.

"I will go to the maesters' ward and submit to whatever is prescribed to me," you place a hand on her shoulder. You sniffle, "do not speak to father of this."

"Make sure to go to the maester's then," you sister warns.

Dejected, you look away and walk off.

Alicent takes in a breath before grabbing her skirts, marching over to the king's quarters.

Viserys is in the middle of gluing his diorama of King's Landing when he hears a knock on the door, "come in."

Alicent enters, sighing deeply before pulling a smile.

"Alicent," his blank expression slightly lightens.

She curtsies, "your highness," and walks over to him. She turns her attention to whatever it was the king was building.

Viserys shows raises a block, "a new tower."

Alicent smiles softly, "pretty."

The king raises a brow upon noticing the stiffness to her demeanor, "is everything alright?"

Alicent betrays herself on purpose by nodding her head too quickly.

Viserys puts the tower down. He reaches for her arm, "what's wrong, my girl."

She takes a sharp breath, "my sister—"

He furrows his brows.

"—she... she has a bloody nose from falling."

"She fell?"

"Twice," Alicent fidgets with her hands, honest agitation for her sister taking over her, "because she's been looking for Daemon."

His reaction to the name is instant. Viserys' jaw clenches and his fists ball in anger, "Daemon."

Daemon struts down the great hall, making his way towards the Iron Throne. The night was now deep and the few candles lit in the room only increased the tension between the brothers.

The prince looks up at the king. The king and two kingsguard stationed on either side of the throne look down at him. Viserys clenches his sword, "and where have you been?"

Daemon scoffs, aimlessly looking around, "have you summoned me to nag?" He clasps his hand in front of him, leaning on one foot, "I already have a wife for that."

His brother laughs, hard. It echoes across the hall, but it is by no means genuine, "I would not have ever known with all the time you waste in brothels."

Daemon grinds his teeth, face contorting, "so you've summoned me to reb-"

"Did you say it?" Viserys snaps.

"... what?"

"An heir for a day— did you say it?!"

"..."

The king's nostrils flare.

"... we must all mourn in our own way, your grace."

Viserys sighs, lowering his head in defeat for a second, then erupts, "MY FAMILY HAS BEEN DESTROYED!" He seethes, "and instead of staying at mine, or Rhaenyra's side you celebrate your own rise with your whores and your lickspittles!

"And wife," he scoffs, "your poor wife... do you even know that your mount has injured her?"

Daemon stiffens.

"She came to the pit looking for you and the beast caused her a bloody nose."

"What?"

"You chose her Daemon. And in choosing her you prove time and time again, I bend to your desires only to be repaid with disrespect. You have no other allies in court but me, yet-"

"You do nothing but distance me from court! From the City Watch, even with- with her... you do nothing but heed the whispers of that leaching old man."

"Leaching old man?" Viserys raises his brows.

Daemon nearly vibrates in anger.

"You mean Otto Hightower?" the king's lips curl, "the man who begged me—"

He laughs dryly.

"—over and back to spare her sickly daughter from enduring a lifetime with a the likes of you!"

Daemon is wounded, "I am your brother."

"Then why do you cut me so deep?"

"I see that man for what he is."

Viserys huffs, "a loyal and faithful-"

"A cunt!"

The king leans back. His kingsguard are ready to draw their steel. Viserys realizes there is no getting through to him. He looks away then turns back to glare at him, "jiōragon hen ñuha laehurlion." Get out of my face.

"Lēkia," Daemon steps forward, muttering the word that meant older brother.

The kingsguards step forward, showing a glimmer of their swords as a warning.

"I hear it is the first time your Hightower bride has been separated from her twin. It would do her health good to visit Oldtown."

He clenches his fists tightly.

"Perhaps she might get strong enough to grant you a child," he clenches his jaw, "maybe once the gods have granted you a boy or girl, you will understand my grief." Viserys motions with a nod, "you are to return to your lady wife with no quarrel. Take him out of my sight."

Daemon does not wait to be apprehended and storms out of the room. He is bristling as he gets out.

"Mazeman bona ziry gōntan daor jikagon sȳrī." I take that it did not go well.

Daemon turns and sees Corlys standing by the door, hands clasped in front of him.

"I wanted to speak to you of something important earlier today. I hope your mood is not too bad foul-"

"Ȳdragon se sagon gaomagon lēda bisa jenigon," Daemon snaps. Speak and be done with this bother.

Corlys straightens his back and motions with hand, "it is regarding the Stepstones, your grace."

Daemon furrows his brows, vaguely recalling this topic being broached during one of the council meetings. The two of them discuss this as they walk down the hall. By the time the prince reaches your shared quarters, he's agreed to help the Seasnake with his concern.

You leap from your bed when the door opens. Daemon freezes as you scurry to the door, hastily running to him without even putting on your slippers. You stand before him barefoot, heaving as you clutch your nightgown. He stares at you, hands clenching into fists.

"Usōvegon," your lips tremble.

Daemon's face falls a fraction as he watches your eyes water.

"Usōvegon," apologies, you repeat. "Please..." you slowly reach for him.

He watches your palms press against his chest. He makes no attempt to move.

"Do not be cross with me any longer."

A deep breath flares through his nostrils. He realizes then that he is exhausted and shuts his eyes. He leans his forehead on yours and takes your wrists. He huffs at your feel, "you are freezing."

"I-"

Daemon seals you into an embrace and the warmth of his body quickly seeps onto your much colder one. A shiver runs down your spine. You immediately wrap your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his chest. He mimics you, brushing his cheek against your hair, taking in the faint smell of citrus. He remembers what his brother said and repeats it, "ñuha mijegindita ābrazȳrys." My poor wife.

You don't know what he says, so you make sure to tell him what wants to hear— what you think he wants to hear, "I will not defy you ever again."

He does not care about that. He pulls back and looks at you. He wipes the tears off your face and a line forms between his brows, "Caraxes attacked you?"

One of your hands instinctively comes to your philtrum, "no. I-" you shake your head, "I fell."

You don't know why you think Daemon would be satisfied with your answer. He presses, "tell me exactly what happened."

You huff, "I was... yesterday, I fainted—"

"Fainted?"

"—then I fell."

He shakes his head, "this happened in the dragon pit?"

"... no. When... when I was chasing after you."

Daemon brushes your hair back.

You cannot hold his gaze, "I went to the pit, hoping you'd be there and-" you realize you cannot tell him what happened. You cannot tell him you walked to his mount and his mount did not attack you because he could smell part of him in you. You huff, "-and Caraxes got close and knocked me over."

"Did he try to bite you?"

You debate for a second before shaking your head.

Daemon sighs, "he must have smelled me on you and got excited."

Your throat tightens. Goosebumps form on your arm when Daemon traces your nose with his thumb.

"And your nose bled?"

You do not want to answer.

He sighs, "I will reintroduce you to him, so that he does not act so-"

"It's not his fault!" you blurt, "not really."

He knits his brows.

"When I fainted and fell, my nose already bled, so..." you motion with a finger, "Caraxes simply... set off a previous injury."

He says absolutely nothing.

"My body is weak," you mumble, hoping to explain it better, "I've had worse injuries."

"Do you tell me this so that I will not bring you to Caraxes?"

"No," you shake your head, "no. Just... so you do not..." worry, you almost say, but then the idea feels presumptuous.

"Not fault my beast for acting like one?" Daemon asks, as he heads for his cabinet.

You look at him for a moment then follow. You decide to hum and proceed to help him get undressed.

Your husband examines your face. The moonlight mixed with candlelight makes your skin glow. He is loathe to think your tears add to it, but it's unfortunately true. Your being glistens because of all these things. He interrupts your unbuttoning by taking your cheeks and slowly wiping off the tears on your lashes.

You blink at him, "better?"

"Gevie," he says, brushing your throat with his thumbs.

You nod, though you still did not know what that meant. You push his doublet past his shoulders and once his dress shirt remained, he is quick to remove his shoes as you bring his clothes to the hamper. When you walk back to him, he is picking out clothes from his closet. You are deeply confused when he hands you a stack of shirts.

Daemon moves to his other cabinet and says, "pack those in my trunk for me."

You freeze and blink rapidly, "I-" you turn to his truck, which was atop his closet. Your heart races, "I cannot reach it."

Daemon pulls out more clothing before looking at you. You watch him closely as he stands and reaches for the trunk. He places it on the floor and opens it.

You slowly kneel on the floor beside it, doing your best to keep calm in this moment. Are you leaving? You nearly ask him, but you don't because he clearly is. You begin to fold his clothes, but you cannot hold your peace, "where are you going?"

Daemon stuffs his clothes into his trunk and sighs before crouching down to fix them, "the Stepstones."

"W-what?"

"The Seasnake needs help with the Crabfeeder, so I will help him."

"Why?" you blurt all too quickly.

Daemon straightens up. He looks down at you as you shake your head and quickly finish folding his clothes.

"Why must it be you?"

The voice of his brother rings in his mind. Do you carry such low regard of him just as he? "Why can't it be me?" he snaps, "you think I will be of no help?"

He is taken aback by how you chuck his clothes into his trunk rather aggressively. His face begins to harden with anger but then you make a noise and lean into the trunk, heaving deeply in and out.

"Wha-"

You cut him off by reaching for his legs. He is frozen in place as you embrace him from where you knelt on the floor.

Whatever choler was building in him quickly dissipates and morphs into... fear, or rather, worry. He calls out your name, reaching for your head.

"You cannot leave me," you shudder, gripping his calves for dear life. You look up at him, face wholly distraught but not teary. You find yourself too tired to shed a tear.

Cannot leave you? He does not like the way you imply he would be unable to if he wanted. Daemon watches you as you slowly bring yourself up to a stand. He does not help you as you pull yourself up using his legs and waist.

Your hands remain gripping the sides of his shirt as you stare at him. You take in his stoic expression as you gather the nerve to repeat, "you cannot leave m-"

"And why can't I?" he quips as his insecurity gets ahead of himself.

You hear it in his voice. You hear how he thinks you're challenging him. You shake your head and correct yourself, "n-no," you shudder, "no, Daemon, no. I- I want you to stay." You brush your palms up his chest.

He can feel the tremble of your hands as they come to his cheeks. He knit his brows at your confession. He has to ask, "why?"

You could tell him many reasons. The one possibly most relevant to him is that of the fact you were carrying his unborn child. A shiver runs down your spine; you are not foolish enough to believe this would be something that would make him want to stay. You could always tell him you needed him, your health needed him, because it was true. As much as he clawed your fragile heart, he made it soar in ways you've never experienced. But there was a rather simpler truth to that need, though attached to a very complicated feeling, "because I love you."

Daemon's expression falls. Though his lips barely part, you can tell that he is gobsmacked. You release a shaky breath as you swipe his chin and jaw with the pads of your thumbs.

Should he be so shocked? Love in a marriage is not so uncommon, even if it is arranged, even if it felt opposite in the beginning.

So, what?

What was your love to him? It would wax and wane like his brother's— and his brother, his fucking brother. He could not grant him the satisfaction. Daemon takes you by the wrists and slowly pries you off, "you are mistaken."

You take a deep breath at his words. You are perfectly still.

"I do not feel the same," he mutters.

Daemon was not one to lie, convinced such an act was beneath him, reserved for incapable, lesser men; half-wits, and yellow-bellies. The only reason he could say this was because the cup in which you held your love for him was far deeper than the one he had for you, and he was aware of it. He loved himself far more than he could ever bring himself to love anyone; he would always be first.

Still, he was not an incapable, lesser man, nor was he a half-witted yellow-belly. He knew of the cup he held, which oft overflowed. The mere thought of you triggered a smell in the air, and at the mention of your name, his bones ignited. You were his, and you held his regard, his affection, his lust, and, yes, his love.

All of this, he was about to explain, but then your reaction blind-sided him.

You nod, "I know."

How terrible it was to hear it. He knew his words where callous. He knew wuch an admission is a gash from a jagged blade— to not be loved by who you loved. Yet your casual resignation to this information stung, nay, scorched his heart.

Is it cold? Is his love so dry you cannot even feel it?

His grip on you falters.

You bring your hands to his shoulders. You rub his bicep and smile softly in reassurance, "I do not mind."

"What?"

Your smile widens a fraction, "I know you enjoy the... delicateness of my body, both intimately and-" you motion to yourself, "-regarding my affliction."

He knits his brows.

"It is wholly contrary to yours, and it is mirthful to you," you nod again, "I understand."

"Do you?" he raises his furrowed brows.

You slowly loosen your hold on him. You pull away to fidget with your fingers, "do I not?"

"No," he scoffs under his breath, chest tightening far too much he has to move past you, "I don't think you do."

You are quick to grab him but it slips, "then make me understand."

Daemon stops in his tracks, turning back to you as his breathing picks up.

Your own does the same, but your gasps get shorter and shorter, so much so, you feel yourself get lightheaded. Your husband has to grab you to keep you upright, but you want to show him you have the will to overcome this, that you aren't dead weight, so push him away and mutter, "I- I can do it, Daemon."

He misinterprets you. You scorch him again. He squeezes your arms, "you don't want my help now?"

"No," you say as try to catch your breath, "I- I just-" you cannot continue.

Daemon has to sit you down to help calm you down. He tried to keep you upright, but then he realizes you were consciously trying to lean into his chest, so he lets you. You press your cheek against his warm muscles and sigh at the beat of his heart. You wrap your arms around him, "I want this."

He stares at your brown hair for a moment.

"I want all of this," you sigh, "which is why I want to be what you want me to be."

He finally lets himself embrace you, but just then, you pull away to look at him.

"I can do it," you nod as you take a final deep breath, "I can be a dutiful wife— I will be a dutiful wife. I will not defy you. I will do as you please. I will not expect more than I ought."

"You cannot do everything for me," Daemon says with slight contempt, a line between his brows.

"I-" you shake your head, "... I know," you shake your head faster, taking his hands, "but can I make you stay?"

He looks at how you hold him. He feels sick.

"What can I do to ma-"

"You do not understand," he pulls his hand away, "my brother wants me to leave. He is sick of me and prays for my riddance."

You watch as Daemon stands and paces around.

"He told me to bring you to your twin in Oldtown, and I would sooner eat Caraxes' shit than be tossed aside to the fucking Reach."

You shake your head, "why does he want you to leave?"

"He is weepy over the drunken words I spoke."

"Well, what did you-"

"Does it matter?!" he snaps, raising his hands, "I must leave!"

He is clearly upset. You nod your head and come to a stand, "then I will speak to the k-"

"No!" he shouts, "I will not have my wife act on my behalf, as though I rolled my belly."

"You are not rolling your belly, I am."

"You think there is a fucking difference?!" he quips, marching in front of you, "no! I am to leave in the dawn, so pack my fucking things, woman!"

You grit your teeth in an attempt to steel yourself away. It does not prevent the tears from running down your cheeks.

Daemon's nostrils flare as you go back to his trunk and sort out his clothes. He hears your soft whimpers and slowly begins to deflate. He wipes his face, slowly turning to you. He watches tears drop onto his garbs, "have you nothing to say?"

You sniffle and shake your head rapidly.

"No?!" his expression pinches.

You stand and grab the rest of this clothes. You sniffle with difficulty then sigh deeply. Your voice is shaky, "I want only to please you."

Daemon chuckles dryly, aimlessly looking around, "you think this pleases me?"

"Then tell me what will!" you whip your head around, clutching his clothes tightly in your arms, "I implore you." You step forward and haphazardly drop everything to his trunk, "I cannot please you if you refuse to tell me what you want."

"I want to go to the fucking Stepstones!" he points to nowhere.

You are shattered. How terrible of him to make it so painfully clear that what he wants does not even involve you. He does not want you, or even if he did, you cannot be enough. You lower your gaze.

"I want you to beg me to stay."

You look up at him. You chuckle dryly under your breath when you realize he's being serious. Your sorrow is not enough, it seems, now he wants even your shame.

Daemon tenses when you get on your knees.

You grip the fabric of his trousers as tightly as possible in an attempt to steel yourself, but it does not prevent your tears from falling. You shudder, "please."

"..."

"Stay. I beg you."

Your prince gazes upon your bitterness. He brushes your cheek and feels the coldness of your tears. He sighs because this does not affect him the way he had hoped.

It is not enough.

Dawn breaks, and Caraxes is restless. Daemon's things were being secured on his dragon, but that is not why so many dragon keepers had to keep him in check.

There, by the entrance, you stood with your hands clasped together and your head hung low. Both your wards behind you, eyeing your prince, who was doing his best to calm his ride as the last of his things were readied. Daemon did not know Caraxes was acting this way because of your distress, but the keepers slowly began to realize this was the case.

One of the keepers call out, "ñuha dārilaros, aōha ābrazȳrys." My prince, your wife.

"Rȳbagon, Caraxes!" Daemon snaps at his dragon to listen. Caraxes shakes his head and the prince spares the dragon keeper a glance, "skoros hen zirȳla?" What of her?

"Aōha zaldrīzes kostagon yknagon zirȳla boter." Your dragon can smell her suffering.

The prince turns to you, back to Caraxes, "iksis ziry zirȳla, Caraxes?" Is it her, Caraxes.

You lift your gaze when you hear Daemon call for you. He beckons you over and before you can move, Arryk grabs your arm and whispers, "I do not think this wise."

You slightly turn to him, "he will not harm me. You saw how Caraxes acted yesterday."

"It is not the dragon I worry about."

You look at the man, seeing how his jaw is clenched. You place a hand on his shoulder plate before walking towards your husband.

Rather immediately, there is a shift in Caraxes's demeanor. He huffs and screeches, neck coiling so his head could come near you. Daemon barks out multiple commands and his mount finally obeys.

The prince knits his brows then turns to you, reaching out a hand. You take it and find yourself pulled into your husband's arms. Your skin pricks with goosebumps when he whispers in your ear, "he wants you."

You sigh and close your eyes, resigning yourself to Daemon. He links his fingers into yours and places it atop his dragon's snout.

Caraxes sighs and slightly leans in.

Daemon is astounded by this, "I did not know he could possibly care for someone more than his rider."

You slowly open your eyes and look at the creatures ruby scales. "He does not," you mutter, rubbing one hand on your belly.

He does not hear this. When he turns you around, he catches you rubbing your stomach. He sighs and takes your hand, "do not weep so bitterly."

You cannot do anything but the opposite. Tears stream down your cheeks, "do not be so cruel then."

Daemon watches how your lips wobble. A line forms between his brows, "do not make this harder than it should."

You pull away from him and lower your gaze, "then just leave me now, and spare me the slow torture."

He tenses at your words. His expression hardens, "I did not ask you to see me off."

"Shall I leave then?" you snap, eyes red as you look back at him.

"Yes!"

You grab your skirt and walk towards the twins.

Daemon is stunned. He turns around and watches as you storm off. He calls your name, once, twice, and then he is sobered by the scream of Caraxes. You do not even stop by the entrance anymore, and walk past your kingsguards, who are quick to follow after you.

Here you were doing his bidding, following his wishes, yet there was no satisfaction. All there was... was less of you, less of your strength, your light, your fire.

Daemon turns to Caraxes, who was restless again. He pushes past the dragon keepers and saddles up. He orders Caraxes to start walking, so he does. The blood wrym begins to crawl towards you and the prince has to reel him back, barking out orders of obedience far too loudly.

Caraxes gives a loud screech before following the order. He huffs so deeply that the wind it produces makes you topple.

Your knights are quick to keep you upright, and though you so badly want to turn around, you remind yourself that your husband has done nothing but all he wants since you've wed. If he wanted you to stay, he would have told you.

You wouldn't know then that Daemon made Caraxes stop in his tracks. You wouldn't know that as he watched you walk off, he was mumbling under his breath that you turn around. You just kept walking yet he still waited for you to turn back, even after your figure had disappeared.

He would also never know that you headed down to the docks near the Keep, just to watch Caraxes fly away one last time. He would never know how your skin pricked with gooseflesh at the sight of the red winged beast soaring above. He would never know how hard it became for you to breathe.

"Gods, please," you mumble as your eyes endlessly watered, "swiftly return him to me."

Arryk and Erryk, stood on either side of you, glared at the sky as they heard your broken voice. They were on high alert as the docks were busy at this hour, and yet, it was necessary to convey their contempt, even if the person it was meant for could not see.

"Give me back my husband," you look at your reflection in the water, "or take me to my mother."

Before your words even register to either of the twins, you've already jumped into the water. Erryk nearly jumps in with you before realizing his armor would surely make him sink. "PRINCESS!" he screams as he undoes his armor.

"THE PRINCESS!" Arryk screams to the fisherman, "SHE'S FALLEN INTO THE WATER!"

The commotion is great. It is loud and frantic, yet as your body plunges and slowly begins to float, you care little. You feel someone fish you out of the water by the arm, and you want nothing more than to break free and swim towards your demise. But then, you hear your wards calling out your name, and you realize you cannot.

You say nothing once you are on land.

Both Cargylls has a hand on your arm, and each of them are worriedly questioning you, "are you alrigh- what happe- what were you thinki- are you faint- my princess-"

"I need to see him," you say.

Arryk and Erryk freeze. The look at each other, not knowing what to say. Arryk offers, "my princess. I fear you cannot see Dae-"

"Not him," you look between them as you gather your skirts. It is arduous, as it is soaking wet.

Otto was on his way back from the scrolls room when hears the shout from across the hall. He tenses like a rock at the recognition of his daughter's voice.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until you saw him. Your knees immediately buckle and you fall to the floor as you call out, "papa!"

The Lord Hand dashes to you, dropping the scrolls he had along the way. He gets on his knees and picks you up. He is aghast by your dripping state, and his anger is soon turned on your incompetent guards, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GIRL?"

"Papa," you mutter once you are in his arms.

Otto cradles you, looking down at your sorry form. A deep line is between his brows.

"He left me," you whisper, tears wetting your already wet cheeks.

Daemon. Lord Hightower clenches his jaw. It's always fucking him. "Come, my girl," he mutters, trying to bring you to your feet, "let's get you-"

Your voice is soft, yet it still cuts him off, "you must not leave me."

Otto is frozen. Arryk and Erryk are frozen too.

"If you leave me too, I do not think I will survive."

[galactic-rhea]

Why is it that you people refuse to see Padme is in an abusive relationship when the evidence is right there lmfao

Not to impose my opinion onto you,anon, but:

A) It cheapens the narrative, a lot. If it was always abusive, if she was always in danger and under Anakin's thumb, then why would be the Mustafar scene be such a painful shock? Why is him force-choking her what actually tells you "Damn, he's really gone insane"? He just massacred the Jedi, including kids, and yet is that scene of Anakin hurting her what takes you by the shoulders, and makes you look in concern and realize "Damn, it really is over"?

Also cheapens the OG too! Why? Because Vader saved Luke out of love, love for the son he had with Padmé, love because "That's wonderful", he doesn't personally know Luke, there's no much of a reason to love him if he didn't already love Padmé and their marriage. He loves Luke unconditionally because he's Padmé's son. And Luke is able to sense that.

Star Wars is all about love, actual love. And if the twins didn't came to be from what was an actual devotedly in love couple, it just feels empty and cynical.

B) The only actual evidence in the movies is the scene I mentioned , in which Anakin was in this weird evil manic sleep-deprived drugged state lol In AOTC Anakin is nothing but a dork cringefail (that also happens to murder a whole village, but when it comes to Padmé, he treats well). And I'm assuming you read my answer about the Clovis arc, so even if you want to accept that as absolutely canon and in character, up to that point there wasn't evidence either. Even the Clovis arc treats Anakin's reaction as an outlier, and even then Anakin let's her go, because he actually can let go of her if she doesn't want him anymore. In the 2003 shorts they just look dovey-dovey. I can't speak of the novels and comics, but only by the movies? There's nothing.

C) Why would I actually want Padmé to be abused???? She already was done dirty by having so much of her development/scenes cut, and on top of that you want to add an abuse narrative? It's not as if over the 70% of women in media have an abuse narrative one way or the other, because writers apparently think giving a woman a history of abusive relationships, rape or something similar is making her deep and call it a day. And your excuse can't be "because is realistic".

She already had an awful life and died because she couldn't stand the idea that the only person that really saw her as herself turned against her, she didn't get to raise her kids, she didn't get to finally have a break from her job, she didn't get to have that lovely family she wanted, she had a full-time job since 14, she was manipulated by the evil guy that groomed her husband, she didn't even get to spend that much time with the love of her life at all, and after she died she became nothing but a figure of speculation because her real self was a secret only Darth Fucking Vader knew, and it died along with Anakin.

And on top of that you want me to have her as an abuse victim too scared to leave her husband despite him being away for most of the time? Sorry, no. Your alternative is just too cruel.

...Besides, an abusive relationship could never have such a banger as Across the Stars, that track is just too beautiful! /Hj