#and i’m aware that probably there’s nothing i can do to make it not sound that way for someone who wants to read it that way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stunie · 7 months ago

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“DIDN’T MEAN TO HURT YOU, I SWEAR!”

WIND BREAKER BOYS + ACCIDENTALLY HURTING YOU. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, nirei akihiko, sakura haruka, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader.

filled request: “Hi there i want to request something, asking Sakura, Ume, Nirei, Kaji and Suo to play fight and they accidentally hit you hard (If it's to many you can just do Suo and Kaji, no pressureeee)”

sfw. 3.2K wc. a/n: added togame! & tried to make suo & kaji’s xtra long since those 2 look like they might be ur faves <33

HAYATO SUO.

in the time you’ve spent dating suo, you have never once managed to successfully sneak up on him. not even remotely close. it’s impossible to the point that you’ve started to consider the fact that your boyfriend may have developed a sort of sixth sense since meeting you, an intuitive awareness of your presence— because as soon as you step within a three foot radius of him, his head is swiftly turning to face you, greeting you with an amused smile and a “this again?” with that tone that has your eyebrow twitching all over again.

you continue to fiddle with the bottom of your shirt from where you’re hidden behind your apartment door, anxiously awaiting for the moment suo emerges from outside. your plan was nothing short of perfect, every little detail thought out— and you were entirely sure of it this time.

you had given suo a copy of your key ages ago, so that he could come in at anytime without you needing to be there. a second check of your phone’s messages has you mentally preparing yourself when you reread his “i’m coming~” text from exactly twenty minutes ago, and you smile to yourself. asking him to come by and babysit your cat while you went on a quick snack restock errand was the best excuse, and a part of you feels a little guilty for formulating such an intricate plan just to get a scare out of your boyfriend— but it had to be done.

the sound of suo’s key wiggles inside the doorknob, your breath hitching in your throat when you hear the lock switch just a few seconds after, followed by the eerie creaking noise that your door always seems to make.

“i’m here,” suo sings out to no one in particular, his usual smile etched onto his face as he takes a peek inside. dark, and empty. nothing unusual, not that he was expecting anything out of the ordinary in the first place.

as soon as he takes a step inside, he’s going to take off his shoes first, and you jump on the opportunity. you’re quick to lunge at him the second his thumb slips in his shoe, aiming to launch yourself into his middle and crush him in a suffocating hug. you don’t miss the way he tenses for a split second, eyes widening at the sudden movement— mind immediately flashing to his first thought…. an intruder?

he doesn’t recognize you at first, your figure reduced to a blur— and all he knows is that something is headed towards him. and fast. he’s moving on pure instinct, arm reaching for the closest thing to him at that moment: your arm.

you gasp when you realize just how agile your boyfriend really is. the truth is— you’ve never seen him fight, and he doesn’t really talk to you about it. he has a habit of leaving all the details out, and you don’t usually find yourself asking him about it after seeing the way he’s always coming out of fights unscathed. so sure. you knew he was probably pretty strong.

but you had no idea he was like this.

“w-wait!” you yelp when his foot comes to loop around your ankle, and you’re suddenly falling backwards. your hand desperately moves to catch onto something— anything to avoid falling onto the floor, so you grab a fistful of suo’s shirt.

he’s clenching his jaw in shock when you roughly yank him down with you, the familiar sound of your voice registering a second too late, because the two of you are crashing onto the ground a second later, suo’s weight knocking the wind out of your chest.

there’s a moment of silence as the two of you wince, your eyes fluttering open to meet with suo, looming over you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. genuine concern … and what looks to be .. shock?

it takes you another moment to take note of the subtle warmth you’re feeling until you finally recognize it as suo’s hand that’s currently cradling the back of your head— and you’re at a loss as to exactly when or how he managed to do that in only a split second.

“i’m sorry,” suo chuckles sheepishly, “you got me this time. i really thought you were an intruder.”

“but did you hit your head? hard? are you okay?” he continues, other arm coming to pull you up and hold you against his chest. “tell me.”

“i think so,” you’re barely able to mumble, heat rushing to your cheeks at the realization that suo’s first thought wasn’t to cushion his own fall, but to protect your head instead. “not that hard though… i think. it doesn’t hurt very much.”

suo’s gaze on you is suddenly much more noticeable, and you’re tearing your eyes away from him a second later, sneaking glances back and forth as he continues to search for any signs of pain.

none that he notices, and the way your lips are pressed in a nervous line is a good sign, at least. suo lets out a relieved sigh before he’s smiling again, as if you hadn’t just spooked the sealed spirits out of him.

“let’s not do that again, okay?”

KAJI REN.

you’ve never seen the night market this packed in your entire life.

it’s so busy that it’s almost suffocating, each breath taking double the effort from the way your body is being smothered between people as kaji leads you towards the food stands.

‘the best fried octopus you’ll ever try,’ your friend had said…but you’re seriously reevaluating you and kaji’s decision to come here— on the busiest night all summer to top it off.

it definitely wasn’t the best idea the two of you have come up with.

you’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve said the words “excuse me!” and “sorry, getting through!” tonight. a part of you feels bad for your boyfriend— because you knew kaji was way worse off than you, the scowl on his face running the risk of being permanently etched onto his face from the sheer intensity of his glare. the grip he has on your wrist is tighter than ever before, trying his best to weave his way through the crowd without losing you.

kaji knows his mood is worsening each time someone bumps into him, and twice— or even three times as much when he feels someone bumping into you instead. he can feel the way your body roughly jerks back from the impact, and it was stressing him out more than he could imagine. the possibility of losing you and leaving you all alone in an aggressive crowd like this was the last thing he wanted.

he’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear you call out his name the first time, or the second time. not even the third time. he doesn’t hear your voice trail off a bit when you mention that his grip is starting to hurt a little— to maybe hold hands instead.

he didn’t hear any of it.

kaji catches a glimpse of an emptier area, and he’s suddenly pulling harder at your wrist to lead you to it, not hearing you squeak out an “ouch, that hurts!”

and it hurts badly, warm tears welling up in your eyes as you struggle to try and keep up with him. it’s only when he suddenly jerks you around a corner that you’re tripping over the curb, stumbling and crashing into his back with a loud ‘ouch!’ that he finally turns to take a look at you.

kaji’s eyes are widening at the sight— your teary eyes peering up at him through wet lashes and your hand gingerly rubbing at your wrist. his words catch in his throat, barely able to sputter out an “are you.. okay?”

you shake your head quickly, lips tugging to a shaky frown. “you were hurting my wrist, kaji.”

his chest feels tight.

kaji is quick to bring your hand in his, gently cupping your hand as he looks at your wrist, and the guilt is flooding through him all at once. the thought of hurting you has him grimacing, feeling physically ill just thinking about it, and it’s not long before his mind is racing through all the scenarios.

he didn’t want to hurt you— and he doesn’t want to be someone you saw as ‘dangerous’ either. your wrist was so delicate, and it was a terrifying reminder of his strength— because he didn’t even realize that he was squeezing in the first place.

he truly had no idea.

“it’s okay,” your voice slices through the thick air, ripping him out of his thoughts, “i know you were stressed— it was scary over there.”

“i was scared too, kaji.”

the gentle smile you give him is the only thing that can bring him this much comfort, he thinks. it’s enough to clear his head, his heartbeat settling down, and he’s ripping another lollipop open before popping it in his mouth, turning and kneeling onto the floor.

“you can get on.”

even without his words, it’s a gesture you’re very familiar with— so you don’t hesitate for a second before climbing onto his back, arms circling around kaji as he lifts you up. there’s a subtle pink dusting the tips of his ears when you press a gentle kiss to his head, thanking him for carrying you.

“it’s not a problem,” he grumbles, voice coming out low as a futile attempt to hide the excited thump of his heart.

“get comfy up there, because we’re not leaving this damn market until we get a hold of that octopus.”

NIREI AKIHIKO.

nirei swears that he had no idea that the pillow he had just thrown towards you a moment ago had buttons decorating the outside.

he really didn’t know, and of course it was the only pillow that happened to land right on your face.

“i’m so sorry! are you okay?” his voice comes out frantic as he rushes towards you, terrified eyes watching the way you rub your eye and groan in pain. this was terrible, he was terrible. pillows were never supposed to cause you any pain.

“it…it hit your eye? i’m so sorry,” he repeats, hands coming up to do something— wave around you in panic, because he’s not quite sure if he should touch you or leave you be. his hands hover just in front of your face, mind racing with potential ways he could help.

he jolts when you laugh a bit.

“you really picked the worst pillow,” your laugh comes out strained as you try and blink, vision spotted with dots from the hit you’ve taken. “…it’s okay though.”

it takes you a couple more seconds to see nirei clearly, and you can tell that he’s absolutely devastated with just one glance, nervous hands finally coming to grab at your shoulders, keeping you still so he can inspect your eye.

“let me see.”

he’s leaning in a bit, until his face is just a couple inches in front of yours. “i think um,” he squints a bit, ignoring the warmth rising to his cheeks from the proximity, “i think your eye looks fine.”

the guilt is still eating him alive. a part of him wishes that you had been the one to grab that pillow instead, because he’s certain he would have jumped on the opportunity to tank a hit from a buttoned pillow a thousand times before letting it hit you just once. straight in the eye. anywhere. it doesn’t matter to him.

“it probably is,” you give him a small smile, “but you still cheated. i won that fight.”

SAKURA HARUKA.

“i-i didn’t know you were there!”

sakura’s a complete and utter mess, and he genuinely didn’t know any better. he didn’t hear you creeping up behind him, so when your arms suddenly wrapped around his middle, his reflex was to jab his elbow straight behind him— and it hit you square in the face.

he could feel his heart shatter into pieces when the sound of your yelp rang in his ears, jerking his body around only to see you stagger backwards, clutching your nose and peering up at him through those teary eyes.

sakura doesn’t know what to do. you’re sniffling now, your arms reaching out to hug him a second time, your voice barely coherent as you start babbling with a shaky voice, the only words he could recognize being “i deserve a hug for that.”

he’s a complete mess. he’s stiff when he lets you wrap your arms around his middle this time, face flushed with red at the simple touch and his heart hurting at the sound of you sniffling against his jacket, hand coming to wipe at the tears welling up in your eyes.

it’s impossible for him to not think of the worst— because he knows other guys wouldn’t be making this kind of mistake. his friends wouldn’t have elbowed you in the face in the first place. or at the very least, his friends would know how to comfort someone in this type of situation. he wants to kick himself for just standing there, words catching in his throat every time he tries and apologize.

“sorry…” your voice is quiet, but it’s enough to yank him out his thoughts. “i shouldn’t have scared you like that.”

it takes sakura a couple seconds before his mouth is falling at the apology. “huh?” he’s dumbfounded, hands coming to grab at your shoulders, “i should be apologizing!”

his face erupts in a furious blush when you giggle at his reaction, thumb coming to swipe at the tears that have spilled onto your cheeks. it’s only then when he tugs you back into a tight hug, hand cradling the back of your head to hold you flush against him.

he thinks it’s because he can’t stand to see you cry.

“o-oh?” you whisper against his chest. “this is new.”

sakura chooses to ignore your little remark, clenching his jaw as he glares at your wall, gaze locking on anything except you. “i should be sorry,” he repeats again, his voice barely coherent with the way he’s fighting against his blush, “so you should just … you know. tell me. when you want a hug..”

TOGAME JO. (pet name: doll)

“that’s not right, doll,” togame coos from below you, lips tugging into an amused grin as he watches you struggle to master the self-defense moves that you asked him to teach you an hour ago. or maybe two. it’s normal for him to lose track of time when he’s with you anyway.

your boyfriend doesn’t seem to realize that you don’t have the same stamina he does. or the focus, because you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again— unsure if it’s because you’re embarrassed of your confused attempts at grabbing him, or if it’s the fact that he’s so casually sprawled out underneath you.

“you listenin’?”

you perk up, followed by a delayed nod. a little too obvious, but he doesn’t say anything.

“you grab me here,” his voice is gentle, guiding your hands back to hover over his body, “and then you pull. remember?”

and you nod again. but the sound of his voice, slow and steady, paired with the way he’s lazily propped up on his elbows to look up at you through tired eyes has your mind spinning all over again, instructions already going out your other ear as you try again and take a large fistful of his sweatshirt.

“..like this?”

he hums, lips tugging into a smile. “that’s good, doll. now pull the way i showed you.”

and you do— or you try to. you tug with all your strength, but you can tell he hasn’t moved an inch. you can hear him hum in wonder above you, and that’s all it takes for your eyes to slam shut as you jerk and pull with all your strength— and you feel some movement for the first time tonight.

“wait…” togame interrupts, but you don’t stop, pulling and pulling— not realizing you’ve inched towards to very edge of your mattress. “wait— we’ll fall,” he repeats with a little more urgency.

it’s a second too late when you realize it, eyes shooting open the second gravity tips the balance, and you’re plummeting backwards with a shriek. togame’s twisting his body to catch you as fast as he can, but the frantic movement has his fist connecting with your cheek before he grabs a hold of you, yanking you upwards and into him.

“fuck,” you wince, rubbing your cheek with the back of your hand as you huff. “that hurt a bit..”

“sorry,” togame lulls, legs spread to have you seated right in front of him, “i was trying to catch you… didn’t mean to smack you like that. are you okay..?”

his hands come to cup your cheeks, tilting your head up to look at the him. the familiar heat in your cheeks returns as soon as you lock eyes with him, because he’s so close. you can feel his breath fan against your lips with the proximity.

and he’s looking right at you.

“‘m okay,” your voice is just above a whisper, “you barely even grazed me, anyway..”

UMEMIYA HAJIME.

“when did you take that?!”

your arms shoot up to reach for ume’s phone, cheeks burning with embarrassment— because that had to be the most foul photo you’ve ever seen of yourself. the sound of your boyfriend erupting into the loudest laugh you’ve heard all day only has you seething— and he’s effortlessly holding his phone just out of your reach, as if to taunt you even further.

“you don’t need to know,” he grins widely, watching the way you shift your weight onto your toes in a futile attempt to reach his phone. “and it’s cute! you don’t think so?”

“give it!” you hiss, and you lunge forward to start pulling at the arm that has the phone, “i’m deleting it!”

“no way,” he retorts with a huff, but you’re pulling his sleeve with your full strength, and it catches ume off guard a bit, foot stumbling forward a step. he’s never seen you pull with all your might— so he just wasn’t expecting it.

you’re lunging again before he’s regained his balance, and he shifts his weight backwards, lower back colliding with the table behind him. his phone slips from his grip too fast for either of you to react, and it lands on your nose with a sickening thud.

his laughter vanishes as soon as you’re letting out a pained yelp, hands coming to clutch your nose, squeezing the bridge to ease the pain.

“ow….” you whimper, voice cracking a bit as tears start to flood your lash line. his heart breaks in two when he sees you sniffle, desperately blinking away the tears that threaten to spill as you check your hand.

no blood. just a lot of pain.

“i’m so sorry,” he’s hovering over you within a second, nervous arms fluttering just above your frame— because he hasn’t quite figured out what to do, and you look so fragile like this. he just doesn’t want to break you.

“..are you okay?” he breaks the silence, “let me see you.”

your face is buried in your hands when ume kneels in front of you, hands coming to gently tug at your wrists so you can look at him. “i’m sorry,” he repeats even quieter, worry flooding his expression when you tear your gaze away from him.

it’s your attempt at trying to get rid of the tears threatening to spill, but he doesn’t know know that. his lips are tugging into a deep frown, eyes filled with worry as he tries to get you to just look at him again.

“look at me, okay?” he whispers, “let me see.”

a deep inhale, and you’re trying to make your voice come out steady again. “i think..i think it’s okay.”

your eyebrows furrow. “you klutz…”

the relief in his face is almost too obvious. he’s taking a sharp inhale, opening his arms to urge you to come for a hug. “i know,” he chuckles, “are you sure? you’re okay?”

you give ume a nod, ignoring the throbbing in your nose as your arms wrap around him, holding him close against you. “i think i’ll be okay if you delete that.”

“no way,” he retorts, relieved that you're at least not crying anymore. "but i'll give you cuddles. deal?"

he's pulling you tighter against him before you even give him your answer, and his shoulders relax a bit when you finally nestle into his arms, leaning into his hold with a soft smile and a throbbing nose.

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slxtslovebambi · 4 months ago

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Bodyguard 💋

Toji Fushiguro x Fem!reader | MDNI

"C’mon princess, use your big girl words. I know you can… where’d that smart mouth go huh?"

Synopsis: You’re a famous model and Toji is your bodyguard who used to be a MMA Fighter.

Warnings: SMUTTY! Power imbalance (physically), power play, fingering, nipple play (reader has pierced nipples), usage of the word 'cunt', slight breeding?, no protection

Wc: 3,3k

Being a model was always stressful for you.

Since your first shoot as a teenager you never got to stay anywhere for a long time and the diets your personal trainer put you on were brutal. Now you’re 22, still young and still just as pretty as you were when you started in the industry.

"Y/n ’m not gonna say it again, put your damn phone away 'n answer me…" Your bodyguard Toji speaks with his arms crossed and a stern look on his face as he pushes the button to the elevator. His black shirt is hugging his muscles and the scar on his lips slightly shrinks because of the frown planted onto his lips.

"What?" You look up from your phone and walk inside the elevator once the door opens.

Toji follows you quickly and first presses one of the elevator button to close the doors and then the one to your penthouse.

"What do you mean 'What'?! Why’d you change my schedule without tellin' me? That was my shift tomorrow, I was assigned to you!"

It’s not easy for Toji to not raise his voice at you, but the thought of you going anywhere alone was ridiculous to him. He’s clearly aware of the fact that you’re somewhat of an authoritative person to him, but he’s not fully willing to accept that yet.

"I wanted Kento for tomorrow…" You shrug.

"Nanami?!" He looks stunned at you, not understanding how you could replace him with someone he thought was the most bland and stuck up guy he ever met.

"Yes, it’s just for one day. You work too much overtime anyways." The bell chimes to signal the elevator has arrived and the doors of the elevator open wide. You and Toji both walk out, heading to your door when suddenly he slightly pulls you back by your upper arm.

"Why would you give my shift to Nanami? I never said I wanted to work less." Toji's voice is calm but very strict. He’s looking directly into your eyes, making sure you understand that he’s genuinely upset about this.

"I have a red carpet event tomorrow..." You’re not intimidated by Toji, you’d never be but you don’t like when he’s grabbing you like that. It’s just reminding you of the fact that he’s much stronger compared to you. You know he used to be a professional MMA fighter and you enjoy asking him questions about his former occupation but having him display his power over you is probably what you disliked the most.

"So? I don’t mind goin' to a red carpet with you." Toji genuinely looks confused by now.

"It’s not one of those events. I want Kento to go with me cause he’s a bit more suitable, that’s it."

You don’t care that your response sounded slightly dismissive since you were never scared to challenge Toji anyways.

He lets out an offended scoff at your comment.

"You think he’s more suitable than me? What’s that supposed to mean? I ain’t good enough to do my own goddamn job no more just cause I don’t got a stick up my ass, is that what you’re implying?!" He crosses his arms again, giving you another small glare.

"That’s not what I’m saying Toji, but this is a really big event and you don’t even wear suits…"

Your voice is slightly quieter than before, you still know there’s nothing to be scared of cause Toji would never do anything to you, but you don’t appreciate his sudden change in tone.

"Oh yeah? What do you think I am, some caveman? I can put on a suit and wear a tie if that’s what you want!" Obviously Toji noticed your reaction to him raising his voice a bit, so he quickly makes sure to be more soft spoken with you. His grip around your upper arm loosens and wanders up to your shoulder where his hand rests while his thumb slowly rubs your soft skin.

"You wanna tell me you’ll slick your hair back, wear a tie and let my make up team cover your scar?" You ask skeptically as you get the key to your door and unlock it.

"My scar?" Toji ask’s flabbergasted.

You nod as you walk inside and let him follow you in.

"What’s wrong with my scar?"

It’s not like he was ever insecure about any scars on his body, not even the one on his face but you implying he needed to cover it to be suitable didn’t sit right with him.

"Nothings wrong with it…"

You take off your jacket and throw it on the coat hanger next to the door, leaving you in your tight fitting top.

"I just don’t want them to think anything."

You say before taking your heels off ass well.

Toji would like to protest against your suggestion but he can't help but admire your figure for a moment, his eyes quickly trailing over your body, pausing briefly at your pierced nipples poking through your top before returning to your face.

"'m not trying to argue with you y/n."

He lets out a deep sigh.

"We’re not arguing Toji, I’m just asking you if you’re willing to do what I ask you for. I can always ask Kento." You say.

Despite the fact that you weren’t born rich and you like to believe that you’re quite humble you still show a bit of attitude sometimes.

Toji can do nothing but raise an eyebrow at you.

"Alright, I’ll cover my scar as well…"

He gives in.

"Good, you can go ahead and finish work for today then." A tired yawn slips of your lips.

"You just got home and you’re already trying to kick me out before I even get the chance to make sure you eat?" Toji lets out an amused snort at your comment.

"It’s not your job to watch me eat.."

At this point you’re just tired and ready to take a shower and go to bed.

"My job is looking out for you, no matter where. And when I think of the bullshit your personal trainer is puttin' you on, I think it’s better to keep an eye on your diet."

Toji chuckles.

"You don’t know anything about diets Toji…"

It’s not like you’re trying to provoke him on purpose, but it’s not just him that had a long day. You never liked explaining yourself or justifying your actions, unfortunately with Toji by your side that’s something you have to do a lot.

"I don’t know anything about diets? Sweetheart I had to maintain my body mass for years straight back when I was fighting, I think I know a lot more about dieting and nutrition than you do. So do me a favor and go eat something, yeah?" He gives you a slight pat on your lower back as you sigh and make your way over to the kitchen, thinking that giving in might be the only way he’s going to stop bothering you.

"You wanna eat something too?"

You ask Toji when opening your fridge.

You can hear him humming deeply before also walking into the kitchen and standing right behind you.

"No thank you… "

Both of his hands make their way to your shoulder before slowly dragging his warm palms down your skin. He’s gently rubbing over your upper arms while you look at the mostly old things in your half empty fridge. You really should’ve thought of sending someone grocery shopping for this week.

"You’re really cold doll…" Toji says, not happy about the observation he just made.

"I don’t feel cold." You shrug.

"Are you sure?" His hands travel to your ribs.

"Mhm.." you hum as you go reach for the bowl with the leftover fruit salad from the night before.

"What’s that? Don’t you want a sandwich or something?" He looks at the bowl skeptically.

"I don’t even have bread here Toji."

Your eyes roll yet again almost automatically.

"And thats the best you could find?"

He lifts you up and sits you down right on the kitchen island before getting a fork and handing it to you.

"I’ll leave once you’re finished."

He says as he leans against the sink across from you.

"You don’t have to." You mumble while carefully picking all the strawberries in bowl first since they were your favorite.

"I don’t have to? Five minutes ago you were practically beggin' for me to go home."

He snorts and looks at you with a small smirk.

"I was just mad cause you were pissing me off.."

You continue eating. You usually never minded any of your bodyguards being around you but Toji had a tendency of getting on your nerves.

It always seemed like he couldn’t accept that he won’t be able to always be in control.

"I was huh?" He chuckles. "Let’s hope you’ll still be able to sleep tonight." He says sarcastically.

His hand gently brushes some of your hair out off your face before gently grabbing your jaw and rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

Your eyes naturally look directly back at him, hesitating before removing his hand from your face, making him chuckle.

"I’ll be fine, let’s hope you don’t lose your job though." You answer just as snarky as he did.

"Is that a threat?" His smirk widens and his eyebrow rises quickly.

"You like testing me, don’t you?"

Toji leans in just slightly, his voice a low and steady.

Your breath hitches just for a second, but you quickly recover, poking him in his stomach with your right index finger.

Toji gently removes your hand from his stomach and laughs as he places it in the middle of his chest, putting his hand right over it to secure it.

"You think way too highly of yourself."

You shake your head in disbelief with a light smile on your lips, trying to pull your hand back to reach for the fork but Toji's grip is too tight.

Your heart skips a beat as his hand holds yours in place, but you keep your expression neutral, refusing to let him see the effect it’s having on you.

"Y’know what, maybe you should go home now."

You chuckle.

"'s too late for that now brat. You know what’s comin' now."

Toji’s eyes linger over your figure, a sly grin spreading across his face as he chuckles again.

"Nuh-uh.." you shake your head, trying to push him back with the hand that’s resting on his chest as he uses the hand that isn’t holding yours in place to wrap it around your waist.

He slips a finger between the soft fabric of your top and your warm skin, making your top lift slightly.

"What’s wrong princess? You don’t wanna play anymore?" He challenges you, letting go of your hand to wrap his other hand around your waist as well.

"You didn’t think all that teasing wouldn’t do anythin' to me now did you?"

He continues lifting your shirt, leaving you too stunned to speak. The palms of your hands are getting warmer and warmer and despite only you noticing it, you’re heart beat is starting to get faster as well.

Your breath stops for a second when he pulls your top right over your head and leaves you topless. Toji couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your pierced nipples hardening once they were exposed to the cold air.

"That’s a pretty girl."

He grins. As a model getting called pretty is like calling a bodybuilder strong or a scientist smart. It’s something that occurs often and usually it’s what people tell you when they first meet you, yet it feels like a genuine compliment coming from Toji. You can’t help but stare directly in his face, still silenced by his sudden actions.

Once realization hits you, you try to cover you chest but Toji quickly puts your arms back down.

"You don’t wanna let me see you?" He says in an almost mocking tone, slightly pouting with the same look on his face that he uses to make fun of you when you’re mad at him.

"C’mon princess, use your big girl words. I know you can… where’d that smart mouth go huh?"

His hands rest on your thighs, slowly making their way to the hem of your mini skirt.

"Toji…" Is all you manage to say in a quiet unsure tone before wrapping your arms around his neck.

You’d be lying if you said that Toji and you weren’t always dancing around that fine line of work and personal relationship, but despite some wandering hands here and there or a few flirty remarks on the side you never thought he’d take it this far.

It was easy to tell that you were attracted to Toji to say the least, but you still told everyone including your manager that you had no interest in him whatsoever.

Toji softly kisses your forehead as he spreads your legs further apart and lifts your skirt.

He smiles warmly at you as he traces around the hem of your panties before pushing the fabric to the side and gently rubbing his warm thumb against your clit.

Your body instantly reacts by flinching at the intense feeling, making Toji chuckle.

"It’s okay sweetheart, relax." He whispers, moving the other hand up to your still hardened nipples before tugging one.

His other hand keeps moving his thumb against your now swollen clit, making you grip harder into his shoulder.

As your core slowly begins to get wet he uses his index and middle finger to press against your entrance, leaving you gasping once he enters you.

"Atta girl." He looks proudly at you.

You use both of your hands to support your weight by leaning onto your palms and tilting your head back.

Toji slowly begins kissing your neck with both of his fingers still pushed deep into your cunt and his other hand toying with your nipple.

He trails his kisses further down to your chest before latching onto the other one, gently wrapping his tongue around it.

You can’t help but want more, you just need to feel more of him. You unconsciously start moving your hips more towards his hand in hopes of getting to feel more of his fingers but Toji quickly catches on to that.

He lightly catches your nipple between his teeth, making you stop your movements as he gives it a last rub with the tip of his tongue before letting go of it.

You whine when he stops, clearly not happy about his sudden halt.

"You want more princess?"

He grins, feeling you suck his fingers greedily deeper into you.

You nod at his question, sitting up straight to look at him and rub against the bulge in his pants.

"Say it.." He looks at you with a dead serious face.

"Huh?" You look confused back at him.

"If you want it so bad, then say it. Say that you want my dick, right here and right now."

He smirks.

"I’m not saying that." You refuse to participate in his power play, clearly just a weak attempt at an ego boost.

"Fine, as you wish." He shrugs before pulling both of his fingers out of you.

You gasp slightly at the sudden feeling of emptiness, still clenching around nothing.

"Noo, Toji!"

You’re surprised by how whiny your voice just got, but even more bothered at the stunt he just pulled.

"C’mon y/n 'm not stupid… you’re drippin' wet and you’re sitting here with your nipples all puffy, yet you’re somehow too prideful to admit that you want me? Just say the word and I’ll make you feel good."

He laughs, amused by your stubbornness.

"Fine goddamn! I want you Toji, I need you.. please…" you pout, immediately feeling shame all over your body…

"That’s all I wanted to hear sweetheart."

Toji's smirk widens.

"But I need you to get off there, alright?"

He chuckles as you take his hand and hop off the kitchen island, not sure where this is going yet. Toji doesn’t hesitate and pulls your panties down to your knees, leaving you just in your skirt. He stands right behind you and kisses your bare shoulder, making sure you’re not uncomfortable by tracing over your waist.

"Stop teasing me Toji…"

You complain frustratedly.

"Alright sweet cheeks, bend over then."

You immediately do as he says, leaning your upper body over the island and feeling one of his hands trails from your leg up to your ass.

You can quietly hear the buckle of his belt opening before he opens the zipper of his pants.

His other hand grips around your waist and you hear a small groan coming from Toji.

The side of your face, and your tits are pressed against the cool marble of the island and your back is slightly arched when you feel a tiny kiss being pressed on your shoulder.

"Let me know when it’s too much okay?"

Toji whispers in your year.

You nod quickly, not wanting to wait anymore when there’s suddenly a hand pushes one of your legs further apart.

It doesn’t take long until you feel his tip splitting your folds and rubbing against your clit, just like his thumb did earlier.

Toji takes a moment before starting to use a little bit of pressure to push into you.

He smirks smugly at the desperate sounds you’re making, trying to take his full length on the first try.

"Woah woah, calm down."

He pulls out again, before doing same thing all over again.

You try to relax as much as you can, feeling his hand rub over your back.

"That’s it princess, let me in. You’ve almost done it." He says before pushing much further this time. You bite your lip, holding any sounds back from slipping through your teeth.

"That’s a good girl, there we go."

Toji's voice is much gentler than before.

He hums with every thrust, feeling your warm walls suck him in.

Your eyes begin to water at the intensity of pain and pleasure mixing and your entire body starts getting warmer. Toji’s hand trails from your back up to your head and grabs the back of your head by your hair as he begins moving smother and faster.

You’ve never been this filled before and something in your body is telling you that you won’t be able to be that filled for much longer either. It’s not until you feel Toji’s other hand playing with your clit that you actually have to moan out loud. You try everything you can to hold back but it’s impossible.

With his full length inside you, the feeling of his fingers on you’re by now fully sensitive clit and your nipples rubbing themselves sore and perky against the stone of your kitchen island you just can’t keep it in anymore.

Toji immediately knows you’re climaxing by your cramping legs and tightening hole.

"Why didn’t you say you were close?"

He looks amused at you.

"I’m sorry…" you try to catch your breath.

"Oh no you’re good doll, don’t worry."

He still hasn’t stopped moving his full length in and out of you.

"You think you can spread your legs further one more time?" He asks you gently.

You nod, doing as he says.

Toji doesn’t hesitate and makes you suck him in a few more times before you hear him groan once more.

"Mhmmm, I knew you could do it."

He speaks and you feel him release himself deep inside you.

"I knew you were my good girl"

Can’t believe it’s been over a year omfg, I wanna start posting more especially since I have so many drafts, but I just can’t seem to finish them. :/ feel free to send requests, maybe it’ll help me get over my writers block and actually motivate me. Ly and don’t forget to reblog! 💕

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thelikesoffinn · 1 year ago

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„Astarion ending as the Vampire Ascendant is the correct ending for him, because it is what he wants.”

That is a claim I’ve been seeing pop up more and more often these days. And I think it’s both a very bold and a very odd claim to make.

But first things first: Hello, I’m a licensed social worker! So far, I’ve worked with children, refugees and youths with behavioural issues stemming from bullying and or abuse.

Please be aware that I will be mentioning different kinds of abuse, coping mechanisms, and victim/abuser relationships. If any of this is difficult for you, don’t force yourself through it. My jabbering about a traumatised vampire is not worth your wellbeing, not ever.

I will, however try to stick to Astarion and not use other examples. If, in any case, I do use a non-Astarion example, I’ll add a warning beforehand so that you can skip the part. And I’ll make it clear what will be discussed in the next bit, so that you have a chance to skip it entirely.

This is an effort to make this as accessible as possible for everyone that wants to indulge on a mad woman’s rambling – and I know there’s a few people that like this sort of stuff!

And, uh, there's obviously spoilers for all three acts. Serious spoilers, even.

Before I can get into the whole ‘why Astarion didn’t really want to ascend,’ we need to understand him a little more. And to understand this pretty boy’s brain, we first need to understand the gist of what we’re talking about when we throw around the word ‘abuse.’

“Abuse” is when someone is treated with cruelty, violence, or neglect – often to bad effect – on a regular basis. Repetitively. Check’s out for Astarion, I’d say, but we all knew that already. I mean, if one thing was obvious, it was this.

1. Astarions Abuse

Next we need to look at what kind of abuse Astarion faced over his long years of torment, seeing as different types of abuse will have different effects on the victim.

Not that that is anything we have to worry about with him – Astarion won the abuse lottery, to put it bluntly. In a horrible game of fate, he got everything. He himself indirectly mentions all the types of abuse he faced, albeit never using the correct terms.

The first we properly notice – fitting, seeing as it is often the most obvious form of abuse – is the physical abuse. Astarions scars are probably the biggest tell Larian could shove down our throats, only underlined by Astarion’s tale about the night itself. About how Cazador ‘misspelled something’ every time he flinched or screamed and had to do ‘many corrections. On top of this, Cazador locked Astarion up for months on end and tortured him – or had him tortured – on a regular basis both as a rite and as a punishment.

Next up, we have the fact that Astarion was forced to basically prostitute himself repeatedly. This is what we call sexual exploitation.

“I spent two hundred years using my body to lure pretty things back for my Master.” – Act 2

Two hundred years is a long time, filled with great many people. Now, we don’t know how many of those people actually tapped into the sexual exploitation and how many he could just lure back with other means, but the fact that it happened a lot is undeniable.

Next we have a form of abuse that we often disregard in adults: Neglect. It sounds odd, I know, saying that a fully grown adult was neglected. They can care for themselves, can they not?

Well. Yes and no.

Adult neglect is proceeded by the condition that one adult has to lean on another adult to fulfil their needs for whatever reason. This could be anything, from disability to income-based issues.

Seeing as Astarion had absolutely nothing, while Cazador had everything, we can assume this was the case. Cazador had the house, the money, the power. Astarion owns but one pair of clothes, assumedly, that he has fixes over and over again. Fair to say, that’s pretty neglectful. (And it’s one more reason to shower the guy in pretty armour and camp clothes. Go ham, people.)

Last we have the form of abuse we actually get to witness later in the game – emotional abuse.

Once again, it’s undeniable that this happened. Especially since we’re all seeing it in the flesh upon meeting Cazador in his crypt.

“Have you no respect for yourself?”

“I strove for perfection in all things. Even those as imperfect as you.”

“A pity you amounted to so little, despite my efforts.”

“A pathetic little boy who never amounted to anything.”

All Act 3, Crypt

Here we have just a few examples of things Cazador throws in his face. It’s like reading a textbook on emotional abuse, this one (and it’s definitely a reason to throw hands).

Blaming the victim, keeping their sense of self and their self-worth as tiny as possible to make them cower and flee. A true classic.

This pretty much shows that Astarion suffered all forms of abuse we commonly see and it is implied – once again by Astarion himself – that at least a few of those instances were ritualistic.

Now, what does that mean exactly? Well, I fear I need to use a real example here, so please skip the next paragraph.

Ritualistic doesn’t refer to a proper ritual – it can, but that’s mostly a thing for those in a cult. So, we’re not necessarily talking about a ‘Vampire Ascendent Ritual’. A husband, beating his wife every evening after his third bottle of beer is also called ritual abuse. It happens regularly. It is part of a routine. Both parties know what will happen.

I can’t find the exact quote, so I’m working of my memory here, but at one point he said that when Cazador invited him to eat and he said yes, he would be served a putrid rat. If he said no, he’d be beaten.

The way it was phrased made it clear that it happened more than once and that Astarion clearly knew what would happen. So, this can be classified as ritualistic abuse.

2. A Note on Conditioning and Compliance

By default, abuse victims are conditioned to behave a certain way or in a certain fashion. This is a natural response to avoid further abuse.

In Astarion, the thing we see most often is his inherent need to please. Not literally, he doesn’t mind being an arsehole. But he initially feels the need to follow Tav’s orders, even if they go against his own wishes.

This can be clearly seen in the conversation with Araj Oblodra. Astarion very clearly doesn’t want to bite her. He doesn’t. But he will do so, if Tav tells him to. This behaviour is not conscious – he doesn’t know why he does it, he just does – and it is to be expected. This is how he kept himself save for two centuries, so of course he will fall back into his usual pattern when the pressure is high.

This goes hand in hand with the fact that most abuse victims don’t fight. Maybe initially, but not after long term abuse. Especially not after two fucking centuries.

This is true in Astarion – offered by his ‘siblings’ during act 3 and unhappily acquiesced by the man himself. Astarion stopped fighting and, once again implied, cowered, and did as he was told in order to survive.

3. The Astarion we know and love

Obviously, all that abuse does have an impact on our vampire boyfriend. He shows various common signs of abuse and just like with the forms of abuse, Astarion raked every coping mechanism he could find. (Not really, but it feels like it.) It’s also important to note that nearly all of the following things happen inwardly. Astarion is not one of the victims, that tries to rationalise and minimise the actions of his abuser. Quite the opposite, actually.

I’ll note from the beginning, that rationalisation will not be covered in this bit, as most examples will be important later on. But he definitely does it.

One of his biggest skills is to hide every ounce of fear or hurt behind sarcasm and snarky theatrics. He doesn’t seem to hide his anger much, though, so that’s something! Our boy is cool with anger, not so much with being afraid.

“Ahahaha, now that you mention it….I might have done…that.” – Act 3, regarding the Gur children

“The thing that will decide my fate forever more? Yeees, it’s been on my miiiind. Why?” – Act 2, regarding the Ritual

And there’s many more instances that prove this. Honestly, half his dialogue is sarcasm, so it would really be too long to get into and we all know what I mean, right? We have alltalked to the guy before. It’s obvious that he’s sarcastic to a fault.

This goes hand in hand with his penchant for defensiveness. I would personally state that he’s simply not really good with guilt. When talking about fear, he usually just opts for sarcasm or avoids the topic completely, but guilt especially has his defences going up. This is also when he’s most likely to shove all the blame off to Cazador.

“Don’t look at me like that. Cazadors orders.” – Act 3, Crypt

“I just did what I had to!” – Act 3, Crypt

And don’t get me wrong, he does that anyway. And with good reason. Astarion didn’t have a choice for the most part, but he’s still easy to shove things off.

This kind of connects to his penchant for denial.

Astarion doesn’t really like to talk about most things. He firmly believes he is an ‘action’ sort of person that just does instead of plans, which invertedly just means he’s great at pushing the thinking stuff away. He also likes to get rid of stuff, so that he doesn’t need to face it ever again.

“I never want to see these little scraps of misery again. The world doesn’t need to know my shame.” – Act 3, about the children

And yes, this partly rings true. He’s probably ashamed and doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s done. But it’s also very clear that he himself simply doesn’t want to face his own actions, something that is just underlined by his extreme willingness to red rid of the other spawn.

As mentioned by Astarion himself, he’s big on manipulation. I mean, I don’t think there is much explaining necessary. The guy is willing to do a whole lot in order to get what he desires – which mostly revolves around safety and survival, to be honest – and he’s not really shy about it either. And that’s despite the fact that he doesn’t really like intimacy – especially in form of sex.

It’s not a secret that Astarion is not big on sex and anything surrounding it. This goes far enough for people to consider him either ace or ace coded.

A claim that, personally, I’m not super in line with.

Now, it’s not entirely wrong and if this is your head cannon I’m surely not going to stand in your way – but on a larger spectrum, I think he’s more traumatised than ace. And while those go hand in hand sometimes, it’s a bit difficult for the ace community if you attach traumatised characters to them because it can fuel a whole lot of stigma that is honestly neither needed nor wanted. But I digress!

If it comes to his own behaviour, he’s great at minimising his mistakes. Honestly, he’s a master of minimisation. A very obvious and famous example would be:

“’Killed’ feels like a…strong word. Not many corpses have your vigour.” – Act 1, after killing Tav

Astarion. You literally sucked poor Tav dry and left them flopping around, cold, and dead. Killed is exactly the right word and we all know it.

“Quite the deviation from my usual routine. Capture, not lure. I didn’t bring them in with sweet rolls or anything.” – Act 3, Gur Children

This is another attempt at minimising what he did, if a bit less obvious because at this point there isn’t much he can say. But at least he didn’t sexualise the gur children, right? They’re still spawn but whoo, at least that didn’t happen.

The next point would be dissociation, which is extremely common in abuse victims – of all forms of abuse.

Astarion himself mentioned certain moments that could be classified as dissociation over course of the story, which is probably the coping mechanism I personally expected the most.

The pale elf has a penchant for violence, but he’s not entirely shameless or abhorrently vile, which gets clearer the more the story progresses. So, two hundred years of forced prostitution, torture and doing whatever other horrible things? Yeah, I’d be more surprised if he didn’t dissociate.

Examples of that would be:

“A moment of disgust to push myself through and then I could’ve carried on, just like before.” – Act 2, after Araj

“I felt nothing the moment I handed them over.” – Act 3, Gur Children

“Did you enjoy it? It felt like you weren’t fully there.” – Act 1, Tav after Sex

The latter is generally more of an assumption than actual prove, but with context it does make sense.

The last common sign of abuse we find in our boyfriend would be his low self-worth. It’s a consistent trait that stays over the course of all three acts, noticeable in many different conversations.

We can see it in his reaction to wanting to break up before finishing his story. We can see it in his genuine surprise when Tav picks him over any of the other characters. We see it in his insecurity whenever Tav asks to sleep with another character. He’s fine with it, but he still worries their decision to sleep with someone else is based on something he did.

It eases up ever so slightly after Cazador is dead, but even then he’s still struggling which is once again perfectly illustrated if you try to break up with him.

“Oh shit. I- Did I do something wrong?”

That is the first thing he asks and I think it speaks for itself. He genuinely doesn’t believe he has much to offer and for Astarion, it’s likely that Astarion will always be the problem.

4. "Oh, I tried them all none of them answered.”

Another big thing that’s important to note, is that Astarion was never saved. No one came to save him from Cazador. There was no darling boy on a white steed riding into that castle to rescue him and princess carry him away. Not even the gods answered his desperate calls.

So, he never received any kindness or luck. To him, the world seems as cruel and horrid as before because he didn’t have the chance to experience goodness in two centuries.

But worse than that, he didn’t even get to save himself. Astarion didn’t stand up to Cazador, he didn’t run out of his own might.

He was beaten to near death and ‘saved’ by Cazador, who would become his abuser.

He tried to save someone and, in turn, was locked up and starved for an entire year.

He was abducted by mind flayers, i.e., saved from Cazador, only to end up tadpoled and on the cusp of getting a fancy, squiddy beard.

Anything that’s good, any kindness, any selfless action…it all came with a ginormous price tag.

5. Over the Course of the Story

Astarions behaviour changes a whole lot over the course of three acts – which is important once we talk about his quests climax – so let’s review what we’re working with!

Act 1 Astarion is guarded as fuck. The man has walls around him that are so high, even the gods can touch them.

A lot of his behaviour in act 1 revolves around staying save and staying liked. He lies, manipulates, and flutters his lashes in order to get what he wants and needs. Instead of asking, like Wyll, Karlach and Gale do, Astarion uses all he has to offer to get by. He is still very much in survival mode and tries to weasel his way through an unfamiliar situation with familiar methods.

On top of that, and most notably, he’s absolutely not fond of kindness or selflessness.

#I saved a child and now my boyfriend is mad

Here, we are most likely to gain disapproval for doing the decent thing – unless you sent him outside for a minute whenever you’re being a good person.

And I’d assume that this is because of two things.

First: The very traditional ‘Why not me?’

As I mentioned before, Astarion wasn’t saved. He hasn’t experienced kindness in a very long time so seeing that the world is literally filled with kind people is hurtful. Why didn’t anyone save him? Why was he left to his own devices for so long? Why should he care about others when it’s so clear that no one ever cared about him? No, dead to all of them. If he didn’t get it, neither will they.

“And what am I owed? What about the injustices I suffered? Am I not entitled to anything?” – Act 3, Crypt

“I was in the prime of my life when I was turned. Everything was taken from me too.” – Act 3, Crypt

And secondly is the fact that, as I mentioned, goodness always has a price. And it’s one most people won’t be willing to pay. That’s how his life has been, so why would theirs be different?

This is precisely why Astarion may disapprove of kind actions, but he mostly neither approves nor disapproves if Tav asks for payment. That’s just how the world works.

Once you venture out into act 2, after getting to know him a whole lot more, he starts to mellow a bit – if only towards Tav.

“He’s afraid, so afraid, of everyone but you, who she should fear the most.” – Sceleritas about Astarion

His approval is a lot easier to gain – or at least keep! – and he tends to approve of some more proper actions. He doesn’t throw a fit if you promise to find Mol, he approves of Tav being kind to His Majesty, of saving Aylin and he even approves of Durge apologising to Isobel after threatening to rip her to pieces.

He's slowly starting to open up, allowing Tav to see some parts of him he previously kept hidden. He accepts their offer to help, if hesitantly and, by god, the man starts experimenting with boundaries.

The social worker in me is shedding tears at this. It’s my favourite thing to see in my clients and it’s no different here. Yay to saying no!

Of course, it’s still a bit hit or miss. If Tav urges him to bite Araj, for example, he will only to later notice that he didn’t fucking have to. He recognises this on his own and he calls Tav out on it. Just like he calls them out on not helping him with his Orthon quest.

Good job, chap. Good fucking job.

And the growth-train won’t stop going even as we reach act 3.

In act 3, there’s not many things he disapproves as of right now – those he does, mostly have to do with how Tav treats him and not with anyone else. In fact, he’s more likely to approve good behaviour now, like giving Yenna food or money.

And yes, we need to consider that this could simply be because he gets used to Tav’s behaviour and just learns to roll with it. But it’s also highly likely that he notices that there’s truly good people around. At least one person. And that person is not only good, no, they’re in the process of helping him break free once and for all.

They’re helping him save himself.

By act 3, he has learned that he can absolutely say his piece where Tav is concerned and he’s more likely to disagree with them on certain things. It’s seen during a lot of small dialogue that he’s no longer terribly afraid to be honest with them, willing to listen and talk and he’ll ask for help if he needs it.

“I can do this. But I need your help.” – Act 3, Crypt

Something that can be viewed both positively and negatively is that he’s definitely loyal to a fault. He will stick by Tav’s side, no matter what.

“I really hoped we could avoid being pawns for a dark god, but here we are, I suppose. I’m with you, my dear, wherever this might lead.” – Act 3, After Jaheira confronts durge

As I said, this can be both positive and negative. On one count, it’s a recipe for disaster, seeing as he could be waltzing into a really bad situation for Tav alone.

But on the other side…this is a man who only cared about himself because that is the only person he could afford to care about. He needed to survive. He now has enough room to breathe and the capacity to care for someone else and I’d be inclined to count that as a good thing.

6. The Crypt

All the progress he made in act 2 and 3 is nearly tossed into the wind as soon as the crew enters Cazadors castle.

It’s not an immediate thing, of course.

At first, Astarion tries to stay light and simple and he hides behind flippant tones and relaxed faces. The way he recounts this is almost comically disinterested and the façade is actually quite good.

It’s start’s cracking after we meet Godie, one of the people who tortured him on more than one account, but he mostly manages to remain as upbeat as one can honestly expect for the first half of the journey.

All that, however, is done for the very moment we meet Sebastian. His mask not only slips, no, it full on shatters and there’s none of his apparent lightness left.

Which, of course it does.

The man is suddenly faced with years and years and years of victims. Innocent, unlucky people he lured back to his master over two centuries. People he liked, people he pitied.

“It’s sickening, seeing them again.”

It’s basically a room filled with guilt, exclusively for Astarion. And, as we mentioned before…Astarion is not great with guilt.

The guilt, however, is not where it ends.

No, he’s also faced with reflections of his own past. The spawn pose as reminders of what he did, sure, but also as reminders of what he was.

Weak, desperate, hungry.

There’s an abundance of images of his worst moments, reflected back at him in the thousands. It’s probably like staring into a funhouse mirror, but instead of seeing yourself in a funky way he just sees everything he so desperately doesn’t want to be.

“It should be [who I am]! I don’t want to be like them. They’re pathetic, horrible…”

He’s forcefully made aware of how darn weak he can be, which claws at all the wounds he’s barely had time to close. Something, he of course won’t admit if asked.

“THEY DO NOT [remind me of myself]. That weakness in me is dead, IT’S DEAD. I have a higher purpose.”

The high pressure of the moment brings out all of his act 1 traits in but a few moments. You can pretty much watch how he starts to shut down mid conversation, one of his old walls snapping back into place to remove himself from the situation.

Thing is though, walls usually become a bit brittle after disuse. Especially when talking to a person you don’t usually want to wall out.

Or, in his case, when talking to Tav.

After meeting Sebastian, Astarion shows extreme reactions to Tav nudging any of his weak spots. His reaction varies on whatever choice you make, but it ranges from aggression to defensiveness, to denial and even to downright begging Tav.

“Don’t hate me. I just did what I had to. I swear I did what I had to.”

This probably the most shocking out of all of them, since that is not something we got to witness before. The begging is likely a mixture of intense fear of losing Tav, his low self-esteem and pre-Tav behaviour, since we can assume that Cazador made him beg more than once.

Another old coat he puts back on would also be the least surprising of them all.

Manipulation.

He falls right back into it, using Tav’s affection to get what he want if we trigger the right action.

“If they die and I ascend, I won't have to rely on the parasite to walk in the sun. I'll be free. Truly completely free. Isn't that what you want?”

This, to me, was probably the biggest tell that Astarion was back in survival mode. He’s panicking, for fucks sake, and who can blame the guy? He’s back. He’s about to face down his abuser.

Of course he’s fucking panicking.

Panic leads to an increased craving for safety and, in his case, power. This is why he clings to Tav, why he begs them to love him still. And this is why he jumps head first into the rationalisation pool.

“I will need to sacrifice them all if I want to perform the ritual. - [You can save them.] – What’s the point? They're as good as dead! I thought they were dead. If they are unleashed, they will cause incredible carnage. […] They must die. Better they serve a purpose.”

Another textbook example.

They must die anyway. They’re basically dead. No need to save them now. They’re dangerous, I’m doing the right thing by sacrificing them. I already thought they were dead, so it’s not changing anything for me. They’re a lost cause and I deserve all this power. I deserve it, because I suffered and nothing will change if they die.

So, seeing as we already spoke about his usual behaviour in act 3 – behaviour he showed after we allowed him to breathe and be himself for a while – I think we can fairly easily conclude he’s not thinking straight.

Astarion is right back in survival mode, where all that matters is he himself. If it weren’t for the seven thousand spawns, he might have moved through this more gracefully, but seeing those tipped the scales and Astarion is absolutely losing it.

Remember that for the last section, per favore.

7. The Ascension

“Astarion wants to ascend and Tav manipulates him into doing what they want.”

That is basically the essence of what people often claim and I can’t help but shake my head at such a blatant disregard of everything he has become. This is completely ignoring the change and growth he has gone through over the course of their journey.

Astarion wants to be free. He wants to be safe. That does not mean he wants to ascend.

And the claim that Tav manipulates him into doing anything is even more baffling. We are all aware that Tav is not manipulative by nature, yes? That is entirely on you. You decide who your Tav is.

And then let’s remember: Astarion is panicked. He’s afraid and he’s not thinking straight. His abuser is on his knees before him and he still feels so weak. And there’s seven thousand spawns that need handling.

Astarion is very much not okay right now.

In fact, reading his thoughts just proves this theory.

“You can see the fear in his eyes but also the hunger. The thick smell of blood in the air and the promise of power being so close is intoxicating to him. All he can see is the power of the ritual and the freedom that power brings. The freedom to do anything. To be anything.”

Tav, however, has none of those problems. They can actually see beyond the current situation and they are fully aware what the consequences are. Astarion is not. As we previously established, Astarion is a doer. Not a thinker. He didn’t think this through, not at all.

The only thing Tav is doing – the persuasion roll – is reminding him of the very real consequences he is facing. The consequences he hasn’t thought about before.

"I know you think this will set you free, but it won't. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador."

And that is the kindest thing Tav could do in this situation. They’re not bodily dragging him away from Cazador. They’re not even telling him to not do it. They’re just offering him the truth. He can do with that information whatever he desires.

“Astarion cries when he doesn’t ascend, that just shows that it was the wrong choice.”

A hare-brained point that I thankfully have only seen once so far.

That crying? That is healthy crying.

That is him, crumbling under the stress that suddenly dissipates. That is him mourning two hundred years of torment. That’s him letting out feelings he hasn’t been able to for centuries.

And, for the love of god, try to put yourself in his shoes.

Two hundred years of torment, ended in but a moment.

Astarion was abused and tortured for so long, afraid for so long only to see his tormentor die just like that.

Cazador died within a moment and all Astarion needed was a darn blade. Of course he fucking cries.

Seeing how pathetic a being the very core of your life’s misery actually is hurts. It hurts like hell because not only are you finally free – free! – no, you’re faced with the fact that this pile of nothing, the thing that’s bleeding out right in front of you…this was what tortured for so long.

This thing hurt you so much. That guy took everything from you, everything you once were, and broke it again and again and again over years.

You were so scared of this thing.

And yet he has the gall and the gumption to die just like that.

It was so easy.

And yet you suffered for so long.

8. Evil Playthrough?

An evil playthrough is really a different setting altogether.

All of this, as you can probably tell, is really only applicable on a good playthrough. Realistically speaking. I’m not sure how the game mechanics handle it.

On an evil path, Astarion never really gets to experience kindness and goodness. Evil Tav will just prove him right in his believe that the world is a vile and cold place, meaning that he realistically would be more inclined to actually want to ascend.

9. Final Conclusion

I think all of this should be enough to make it clear that no, ascended Astarion is not the best ending for the guy. In fact, it is probably the worst. Because it’s just him, running away. He’s running into a lonely and cold state of being, where cruelty and power lord over everything else and he’s running because he’s terrified of being hurt again. He’s running despite desperately wanting to stop running.

“I'll spend the rest of my life running watching the shadows, never feeling safe…no, this has to happen. Here and now.”

And, the worst part is: Nothing about Astarion is left after he ascends. Even his tone of speaking gradually changes, his theatrics fading. He’s slowly losing himself, until there’s nothing but an evil caricature left.

So, in the end, ascension will have proven him right.

That version of him is dead.

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #bg3 #astarion #the dark urge #tav #astarion romance #astarion ancunin #astarion and tav #bg3 act 1 #bg3 act 2 #bg3 act 3 #act 3 #act 2 #act 1 #araj oblodra

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littleredwolf · 9 months ago

Text

Hungry Eyes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: The team overhears Nat and Y/N's 'girl talk' through the comms and feelings surface as a result.

Warnings: Suggestive content. Sex references.

Words: 956

A/N: PART 2 CAN BE FOUND HERE

“Bucky's done nothing but undress you with his eyes since you walked in,” Natasha's husky voice came over your earpiece and your eyes snapped to the super soldier on the other side of the room, your cheeks reddening to find him already staring in your direction.

You let your gaze casually pass over him, playing the brief moment of eye contact off as a coincidence as you scanned the room for the mission, but your heart was pounding and you were sure he could probably hear it.

“Doubtful,” you scoffed, though you couldn't ignore the tingle that travelled up your spine at the thought of Bucky finding you attractive. You'd had the hots for him for months, but your fear of rejection strongly outweighed your desire to tell him so you'd kept your little secret to yourself…and Nat of course.

“Stop living in denial, anybody with half a brain can see how he practically drools over you every time he sees you,” Nat argued, and you rolled your eyes as you continued to survey the room. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, it’s true.”

“Stop watching me, you know it creeps me out when I can’t see you,” you hissed, eyes roaming the crowd in an attempt to spot the redhead.

“If you could see me, I wouldn’t be very good at my job,” she teased, and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes again.

“Just hurry up and do your job, Romanoff - the quicker we finish and I can get out of this dress the better,” you stated, readjusting the silky garment that Natasha herself had picked out for you. It suited your cover well, but it was a little provocative for your usual tastes.

“I’m sure Barnes would agree with you on that one…”

“As much as I’m enjoying watching Bucky squirm from this conversation, head’s up that this is an open channel,” Sam’s voice cutting in over the comms caused any reply you had prepared for Natasha to die on your tongue, the blood draining from your face as you turned to look at Bucky.

The super soldier was no longer on his mark, but as you searched the crowd you caught a glimpse of him as he was making a swift exit. More than anything you wanted to follow him, to defuse the awkwardness and recover from the embarrassment of him overhearing Nat’s comments, but you stayed rooted to the spot, unable to leave your position.

“Go,” Nat urged, as though sensing your inner turmoil. “Me and Sam have got this.”

A quick look towards Sam confirmed that he agreed, and you wasted no time in hurrying towards the same door Bucky had gone through moments ago.

Surprisingly, he hadn’t gone very far, and you found him leaning against the wall in the foyer. Heat rushed to your cheeks as his eyes landed on you, and you smiled sheepishly as you approached.

“Hey Buck,” you softly said as you reached him. “Sorry about what you heard back there - Nat was just teasing, she didn’t mean any of it.”

“Didn’t she?” He asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“What?” You frowned, unsure how to interpret his response. There was a way you wanted this to go, but you didn’t want to get your wires crossed and make even more of a fool of yourself.

“You said she didn’t mean any of it, but how can you be sure?”

He pushed himself off the wall and fixed you with an intense gaze, making your knees weak and your breath short. You didn’t dare look away - afraid that if you did, this moment would end.

“I-uh…I don’t know what you’re getting at here, Buck…” you stammered, too dumbfounded to form a better response. You were very aware of how close the two of you were and the smell of his cologne and warmth emanating from his body was making your brain short circuit.

“Then let me show you.”

There was no hesitation as he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours, and you melted into him with a whimper. The sound gave him the encouragement he was looking for and he spun you round so that he could press you up against the wall, moaning into your mouth as you raked your hands through his hair.

Everything around you ceased to exist and all sense left you as you gave into your desires, the feeling of Bucky’s hands roaming your body setting your skin on fire. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you’d never even let yourself hope that Bucky might actually feel the same, yet here you were, making out with him while his sizable bulge pressed up against you.

Had Sam not cleared his throat over the comms, you were sure you’d have let the super soldier take you right there and then, regardless of the fact that you were in public and on a mission.

“Channel is still very much open, guys,” he informed, and Bucky’s eyes widened in horror as he pulled away. You giggled and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“I’m not even sorry,” you told Sam teasingly, straightening up and readjusting your dress. You were aware of Bucky’s eyes on you and you looked up to meet his hungry gaze.

“I can’t wait to get that thing off you when we’re finished here,” he blurted, and you bit your lip as heat flooded your core.

“Then we’d better hurry up and finish,” you replied, taking him by the hand and leading him back to the main room so that you could get the mission, and later on your clothes, out of the way.

PART 2

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #mcu fanfiction #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes x female character #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky barnes x y/n #reader insert

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hoe4hotchner · 2 months ago

Note

hi! could I request singer reader dating Aaron and the BAU doesn't KNOW but founds out after she drops her album/song about him (I'm thinking juno, bed chem by Sabrina etc).

Valkyrie | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x singer fem!reader | WC: 0.9k | CW: No use of Y/N, but reader's stage name is Valkyrie in this, Fluff, relationship

The team had scattered across the bullpen, taking a rare break between interviews and paperwork. Penelope, however, was anything but quiet. She was vibrating with excitement as she stormed into the room, tablet in hand and an undeniable spark in her eyes.

“Okay, stop everything you’re doing,” she announced dramatically, catching everyone’s attention. “Have you heard this new album?”

Emily, sitting at her desk, glanced up with a smirk. “What album?”

She held up her tablet like it was a piece of holy scripture. “Valkyrie’s new album just dropped. I’m telling you, it is life-changing, soul-touching, cry-your-eyes-out amazing.”

You were Valkyrie - the pop sensation who had taken the world by storm over the last couple of months. Known for your breathtaking voice, and your way of writing lyrics that felt personal even to the audience, like you were pulling the words straight from your soul. What the team didn’t know was that Valkyrie, the woman with chart-topping hits, was Hotch’s girlfriend - and the subject of your latest songs? Well, that was him.

"Valkyrie? Isn’t she that singer you’ve been obsessed over lately?" Derek asked, teasing.

“First of all, it’s not an obsession; it’s an appreciation of an amazing artist. And second,” Garcia held her finger up for dramatic effect, “her new album, Into You, is… well, I’m not saying it’s about someone in her life, but these lyrics, guys… they’re personal.”

Spencer, ever the analyst, raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think it’s about someone specific?”

“Oh, Spence,” Garcia sighed dramatically, tapping her tablet to pull up the lyrics. “Just listen to this - ‘Your steady presence holds me still when the world spins too fast. In your arms, I finally find my way home.’ Does that not sound like she’s writing about someone she loves?”

JJ tilted her head, intrigued. “It does sound pretty intimate.”

Derek grinned. “Sounds like someone’s in love.”

Emily leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I wonder who it’s about.”

Meanwhile, Hotch had been quietly observing the conversation from his office, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. The lyrics they were quoting were all too familiar to him. He’d heard them months ago when Valkyrie - well, you - had played the demo for him late one night, curled up together in his living room. You’d been nervous, watching him for a reaction as your voice filled the room. But there had been nothing but pride in his chest, knowing how deeply you felt for him.

"Hotch!" Derek’s voice called as he stepped out of his office. “You ever listen to this stuff?”

Hotch looked up, his calm mask firmly in place. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?” Garcia gasped, horrified at his indifference. “Aaron Hotchner, how can you be so nonchalant about THE Valkyrie?”

He merely raised an eyebrow, his expression neutral. “I’m aware of her work.”

Spencer, still analyzing, added, “There’s been a lot of speculation about who her songs are about. She’s private, so no one really knows who she’s dating.”

Derek chuckled. “She’s probably dating some regular guy, someone outside the spotlight.”

At that, Hotch couldn’t help but suppress a grin. He supposed, in a way, he was that regular guy - well, as regular as the head of the BAU could be.

Just then, Garcia pressed play on the song, and your voice flowed through the speakers, soft and intimate. It was the song you’d written just for him, though no one else knew that. The one that talked about finding calm in the chaos, about love that was steady and unwavering.

JJ’s brow furrowed as she listened closely, some of the lyrics sounding a little too familiar, her eyes drifting toward Hotch, catching the subtle change in his expression. “Wait… Hotch, you wouldn’t happen to know something about this, would you?”

The team went quiet as all eyes turned to him. Hotch met JJ’s gaze, his lips twitching into the faintest smile. He debated for a moment how much he should reveal. You had both agreed to keep things quiet after all, your lives were public enough without everyone knowing about your relationship. But as he looked at his team, he realized it was time.

“I do,” Hotch finally said, his voice steady.

Garcia’s eyes went wide, her tablet nearly slipping from her hands. “WAIT… WHAT?”

Derek blinked in disbelief. “No way.”

“You and Valkyrie?” Emily asked her tone somewhere between astonishment and amusement.

Hotch’s small smile grew a little. “We’ve been together for a while now.”

The bullpen exploded into noise - questions, laughter, disbelief. Garcia was beside herself. “YOU’VE BEEN DATING VALKYRIE AND DIDN’T TELL US?”

Hotch shrugged slightly. “It wasn’t relevant to the job.”

Emily shook her head, grinning. “I can’t believe you kept this a secret.”

“Believe it,” Hotch replied, his tone light but still full of pride.

Penelope, still in shock, glanced at the tablet, then back at Hotch. “That song - this whole album - it’s about you, isn’t it?”

Hotch didn’t need to answer, but the look in his eyes was enough confirmation. Spencer, still processing, muttered, “Well, that certainly explains the lyrics.”

As the team bombarded him with questions, Hotch’s mind wandered back to you. Despite the craziness of your life in the public eye and his demanding career, you had found something rare and beautiful together. And now, it seemed, the secret was out - but somehow, he didn’t mind.

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neowinestainedress · 1 year ago

Text

SECRET — lee jeno

𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄: secret

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lee jeno x fem!reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: smut, fluff (at the end), established relationship, kink discovery, relationship development

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jeno has a secret he can’t tell anybody, not even you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: sub!jeno, dom!reader (it’s their first time reversing roles so they’re both exploring how it feels like), implied masturb*tion, n!pple play, kinda hand-free org*sm/coming untouched, an*l fingering, riding, overstimulation, praise kink, minor degradation, size kink (but reversed??? reader is not bigger than jeno but somehow jeno feels small and likes to feel like that), ch*king, names used for jeno (baby boy, good boy, pup/puppy, pretty boy), names used for reader (ma’am, miss, mommy), big d!ck jeno, there’s nothing wrong with being a sub but jeno has issues because he has to always be strong so it doesn’t feel right for him, count the times I say ‘please’ in this (not my fault jeno is the bestest boy ever), aftercare (and kink discussion)

𝐖𝐂: 10.202k

𝐀/𝐍: a gift for my love @yellowgirllsblog, I converted her to subjenoism so I’m on a mission to let more of you see the light of the day and appreciate sub!jeno more. ps: you will never catch me call twitter ‘x.’ enjoy and if you do, please reblog and leave feedback! love u!

Jeno has a secret.

Once you’ll find out what it is, it won’t seem a big deal, but to him, it is.

It’s so big, so stressful, and so shameful, he can’t even talk to you — his sweet, loving girlfriend — about it.

It’s stupid, really. Deep down Jeno is well aware of how dumb it all sounds, but every time he faces it, it looks like a big mountain he can’t climb — and that will probably crumble on top of him, smashing him on the ground.

Stupid or not, big or small, it haunts him every day. Yes, every day. At first, Jeno thought it was just a temporary thing, something that piqued at his curiosity for fun, but soon enough, he fell down the rabbit hole. Looking back at it now, he probably was buried deep in the rabbit hole since forever but he —and the perception others had of him— did a good job at polishing the place real nice and don’t make him realize where he was.

Jeno accepted he is far gone a while ago, but he still can’t wrap his head around it. How is that possible? How could he, out of all the people, like something like this, be like this.

And that’s why he keeps it to himself, praying that if he doesn’t act on it, if he pushes it out of his mind, it will just leave. He’s strong, and fit, and he pounds into you every night, giving it to you like you want it. He can’t be anything else other than this, nothing but a confident, strong man that can’t be vulnerable.

But it turns out that pushing it out of his mind is not as easy as it seems. Jeno might be weaker than he realizes when he keeps going back at it, sipping on it at small doses, almost as if whatever he is holding in it’s a drug he doesn’t want to get addicted to — not knowing he already is. But for now — and forever, he thinks — this is just a fantasy, he can’t get addicted to something that is not real, to a version of him, no matter how authentic it feels, that can’t come out. But he slips further every day, hiding in your shared bedroom with his laptop or phone when you’re at work and he can have a bit of time to himself, when he stares at the box with your toys and lets time pass by because he doesn’t dare to do the next step, and lastly when he fucks his fist with your used panties and calls your name… or well, how he wishes he could call you.

And then clarity hits him again, making him groan as he rushes to the bathroom on wobbly legs, throwing your stained panties inside and starting the washing machine while he questions himself; why? He feels pathetic; masturbating over you as if he needs to fantasize about you, as if he doesn’t have you every night, and every day, and yet, it’s still not enough, it’s not how he wants you. But he feels guilty, he feels like he won’t be enough if he confessed to you, if he let you know his secret. And most of all, he’s terrified he’ll lose you. This version of him is not the one you picked, is not the one you love. And he’d damn himself forever if he lost you for something so silly.

So, he sighs, takes a deep breath, and then exhales deeply, rubbing his teary eyes before pushing his tired body up from the wall to walk back to your bedroom and fix himself.

Jeno has a secret, and he will take it to his grave.

Your boyfriend has been acting strange for a while now. At first, you figured he was stressed because of work, but now, you don’t think that’s the only reason.

Your brain goes crazy, imagining the worst-case scenario, the top one: he wants to break up with you. So, you start acting strange, too. Panicking, over-analyzing everything, and mostly, bracing yourself for the worst. Every time he starts talking to you with a serious tone, you fear that those words will come out of his lips, especially when before starting the conversation he stares at you for minutes and thinks so loudly you can almost hear his thoughts.

But the worst never comes, this goes on for weeks, and even if your boyfriend does act strange, nothing of his weirdness leads to a breakup, literally nothing can make it plausible, and even your brain gives up keeping you up at night with the fear of you losing him.

Jeno has never been so touchy. His hands are always on your body, any excuse is valid to let his fingers wander on your skin; if he needs to help you pick up something, if he needs to reach for the remote, if he has to leave for work, anything as long as he gets to feel your warm body.

And that doesn’t shock you much, Jeno has always made it clear how much he finds you attractive and how obsessed and in love he is with you and your body, but well, not like this. His fingers seem almost fearful, and so are his lips when he kisses you, and even something about his eyes doesn’t seem quite right. And then there are those unsaid words that you can see pending from his lips, and yet, they never come out. Every phrase Jeno starts is followed by a stutter and a quick shake of the head, other times his cheeks turn bright red as he zones out and you have to shake him out of whatever he is thinking, and then he goes back to act though and shrug it all off as if nothing happened.

You don’t get it, and every time you try to ask if something’s wrong, he acts surprised and tells you everything’s alright. You don’t buy it, but you feel that if something’s annoying him, he will come talk to you when he’s ready, so you leave him alone.

Jeno has a secret, and you have to find out in a way you don’t like.

You don’t like to roam around and stick your nose in things that aren’t yours, honestly, you hate doing so because you would hate if somebody did that with your things.

But you’re bored, laying on your bed, waiting for Jeno to come out of the shower, and your phone is somewhere in the living room, and you’re bored.

Picking up his phone to play some games is not an invasion of privacy, it’s the only thing you do with his phone, and Jeno is fine with it — he even lets you download those ugly, ads-filled, games that pop up in ads of other annoying games, he doesn’t get them, he hates the graphic of most of them, and he doesn’t understand how you can survive so many ads, but it’s fine, anything that makes you happy because you saved the King from drowning, cleaned a hotel room or built a pretty land.

You would’ve minded your business if it wasn’t for one of those stupid games and ads, causing the app to crash and make you huff.

You’re pissed as you click the left bottom on the bottom of his screen to see all the apps and go back to your game, hoping it won’t die again, you’re so caught up that you almost miss the other window of Twitter and some other apps he used before.

But well, what you see is too shocking to make you go back to the business of your hotel.

You freeze, and a lump forms in your throat as you blink speechless with your mouth wide open. You feel the world could collapse under your feet but then you shake your head.

Dumb asshole, it’s fine. He might be bisexual, he’s not using you as a beard, right?

But you still stare at the video in shock, the only focus is on the naked man with a choker, moaning while the vibrator edges him, and the playful touches on his nipples make his hips rut.

And when Jeno comes out of the shower you’re still dumbfounded. Your eyes look up, and his smile drops as soon as he sees your face, it looks as if you saw a ghost, and he fears something has happened to you, but he barely manages to let out ‘are you ok?’ before you stop him.

“Are you gay?” You ask, nothing of the more rational questions you came up with before passing your lips.

He giggles nervously, eyes skimming you. “What?

You feel a lump in your throat and then reply. “What is this?” you lift the phone, video playing on mute, you can’t bear to hear the moans again. “Why are you watching porn and why are you watching porn focused on men? If you want to try something out you can tell me, but please, tell me I’m not your bearding girlfriend and this wasn’t all a lie.”

“A lie?” Jeno screams, feeling his heart pump hard in his chest. “It’s not and I’m not gay, I might be bi, but I never wanted to question much about it but... Wait, would it make you love me less?”

“No, God, no, but I don’t understand this,” you squeak, voice breaking a bit for the confusion you feel and also because his face dropped even more.

“It’s nothing,” Jeno says, abruptly taking the phone from your hand and closing the tab. His hands are shaking, he can’t believe he’s so fucking stupid, how could he not think about it? He always makes sure to close everything so that you can’t find out.

“Nothing?” You ask, eyes wide and a bit of sarcasm in your tone. “Why are you watching that kind of video...”

“I — I... It’s just something dumb the boys sent me,” he justifies, scratching his neck, but his eyes are everywhere except on yours.

You would believe him if only he wasn’t so evasive with his answers and body language, he’s a nerve wreck, he has to be hiding something. “Is it? Why would they do it?”

“I don’t know, you know they’re dumb,” he says and then pauses, biting his lips nervously before he gathers the courage to speak. “Did you watch it?”

You furrow, mumbling for a few seconds before replying as if it was obvious. “Yes.”

“All?”

“Yes, it’s not that long,” you reply without getting where he wants to go with these questions.

Jeno nods and bites his lips, strategically avoiding your gaze.

“Jeno...” You call and he hesitantly raises his face. “Are you sure you’re not lying to me? If you like men and only them it’s fine, I would be heartbroken, but I want you to be happy, and I —”

“Stop it! It’s not that,” he snaps, face burning red when your eyes meet and you’re looking at him with curiosity. He feels doomed, you don’t even get it so how can you be into it?

“Oh.” You gasp. “Oh.” It clicks. Your mind replays the video, catching the details you missed, and you get it. He wants those things to be done to him. He doesn’t want a man; he wants you to do that to him.

Jeno stills, fearing the worst from you. “I’m not into it, that video just came up and I was curious,” he tries to save himself but it’s too late.

“No,” you stop him, “you are into it. Don’t lie to me,” your tone drops a bit, and you study his reaction, he trembles, and his face reddens even more. You’ve never seen him so embarrassed and vulnerable in all those years you’ve dated. Jeno, Lee Jeno, blushing bright red and stammering on his words right in front of your eyes. You’re dreaming, that must be it, maybe you have a fantasy you’re not aware of yet and this is your brain poking the thought into you.

But you shake your head, rub your eyes, and he’s still there.

“Jeno?” You call his name again when he gives you his back, quickly trying to find his clothes and make this less embarrassing, considering the only thing covering him is the white towel he put on before. “Look at me,” your voice comes out stern when he doesn’t listen to you and with a big step forward you have him trapped against the wall. Your fingers reach his chin, lifting his face resolutely.

But Jeno still doesn’t reply; you see his Adam’s apple move in his neck and you feel his breath get discontinued, but nothing comes from his mouth.

You have two choices; play the game he wants you to play or have a serious conversation about this. You’d rather go for the last one, you’re not so sure you’d be a master at doing what he wants you to do, but it seems like there’s no room for a decent talk right now.

You cup his chin, squeezing it enough that his lips pout, something he always does to you. His eyes widen, and his hand immediately wraps around your wrist, yet he doesn’t try to push you away.

“Tell me, Nono,” you coo, voice low and teasing, “do you want to be teased like that?”

He shakes his head, quick movements causing some still damp strands of hair to fall on his eyes, “No, no, I don’t.”

You scoff, shaking your head before leaning closer. “Why are you lying to me?”

He mumbles, struggling to talk for the embarrassment and the hold you have on his face. “I’m not,” he cries out.

“Oh, really?” You ask, letting his face go, making him lose his balance now that he can’t hold onto you. “Then you have nothing to hide, right?” He nods, biting his thumb and looking at you like a dog with his tail between his legs. “So, I guess you won’t mind if I took your phone right now, right?”

His eyes widen and his thumb falls from his lips. “Bu-but wh-why?”

You burst out laughing, holding your stomach in an exaggerated mocking move. “Bu-but wh-why?” you taunt him, imitating his high-pitched trembling voice. “Phone, now.”

Jeno’s not sure how to feel. This is what he wanted, right? And you don’t seem… mad. So why does he feel so embarrassed as he grabs the phone and hands it to you?

You smile and then open Twitter. You notice he has two accounts and when you scroll through the likes, the retweets, and more, you’re speechless. Well, now that you have him in front of you, so pliant, shaking, and red in the face, it’s not surprising anymore, but the Jeno you’re used to is not like this.

Men tied up and edged until they whimper and beg to come, rough face sitting, pegging videos, and captions about ‘good boys’ being used as sex toys by their ‘dominant mommy’, are all you see. You sigh and throw the phone on the bed carelessly.

“I’m sorry,” Jeno cries out, falling on his knees right in front of you. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you. I don’t need that, I swear I don’t, I can still be your usual boyfriend, I’ll fuck you so good, I promise I —”

You shut him up with a kiss, it’s rough and quick, enough to leave him surprised and, momentary, speechless. “Will you stop mumbling no-sense?”

“But I —”

“No, shh,” you say, thumb on his lips to keep him quiet. “Did I say anything? Did I look disappointed?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and he shakes his head. Honestly, he has no idea, he was too worried panicking to actually pay attention to your reaction. “Did I ask you to apologize? Do I look disgusted to you?”

“N-no,” he mumbles, but his eyes are still leaking tears.

“No, exactly,” you reassure. Your hand moves to the back of his neck, wrapping around the long hair at the nape before tugging and yanking his head back. “Now can we be serious and face this or do you want to keep crying at my feet?”

That shouldn’t make his dick twitch in the — now incredibly tight —towel but it does, still, he hopes you didn’t catch it, and nods swiftly.

“Good,” you smile slyly. You saw it, but that’s something you’re going to deal with later. “Stop lying and be honest with me. Do you want me to do this to you?” Your other hand moves down on his neck, creeping on his toned chest until it reaches his hard nipples, and when you brush one, he whimpers. Jeno tries to hide it, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together, but his body is reacting on its own, and it has never been more of an open book.

You never paid his body much attention, always letting him do anything to you, so this is… new, and interesting.

Your fingers play with the other one, rubbing against the sensitive tip and watching him struggle to keep it all in. “Sensitive much, aren’t you?”

He nods quickly, head falling down but you tug it back again, making him groan lowly.

“Head up,” you order, leaning down to come face to face, breath fanning against his, “and answer me. Do you like it when I play with your nipples?”

“Yeah — yeah, I like it,” he breathes out, leaning in to kiss your lips but you pull away.

“Ah, ah,” you click your tongue, shaking your head, “not yet, baby boy. You’ve been naughty, keeping important things from me. So now you’re going to earn it, alright?”

Jeno nods faster than he would want to, hips shaking on his heels in excitement like a dog wagging his tail.

You think it’s cute, he’s cute. And you still don’t quite know how to do this, how to be on the other side, but something inside of you makes you feel confident enough to think it’s worth giving a try. You like to be on the receiving end, so you have to give him what you usually like to receive. Also, you’ve encountered femdom content before, even liked it, never explored it much, but this might be fun.

“Words.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You raise a brow at the title, but you like the way it rolls from his lips, and it makes your body react, pussy clenching around nothing and stomach twisting in anticipation.

“Good boy,” you reward him. You love being called a good girl, so you think he’s going to like that too, and he does. His smile grows bigger, cheeks tinting red again, and most importantly, his dick reacts, twitching against the towel.

You think it’s time to set it free, so your hand grabs the hem and pulls the white clothes off him. Jeno whimpers, hands quickly going to cover his hard, throbbing dick — well, trying to, it’s too big to hide anything.

You laugh at his lame attempt, slapping his hands away. “Getting shy now? I’ve seen it and felt it countless times, don’t you agree? Or, I don’t know, have you forgotten? Maybe your brain stops working when you’re… like this,” you finish with a teasing look from his head to his bent knees, rubbing against the hard floor and becoming red.

Jeno shivers, shaking his head, but for some reason, he feels even more embarrassed. He’s not used to being in this position, and all the times he imagined to be here, he didn’t think you would be like this. You’re not much shorter than him, but you are, and now you’re towering over him, your gaze is piercing through his soul, and your voice is sultry like it has never been. He wanted this so badly but even if he fantasized for months, now, he doubts he can take you.

You sigh, rolling your head. “How many times do I have to say it? Words.”

Jeno frowns momentarily, he knows you’re having a ball because usually, he wants you to talk back to him even if he’s fucking the fourth orgasm out of you. But his ‘anger’ doesn’t last. He nods, and then apologizes. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, ma’am. You can see it.”

“Of course, I can,” you say, kneeling to his eye level, “it’s mine.” Two of your fingers brush on his hard cock, tracing the thick vein that run on the side, the one that rub your sensitive walls so good when he’s pounding into you.

He nods quickly, swallowing hard to don’t moan shamelessly, and then stutters on his words. “You-yours. You can do — do whatever you want.”

You smile widely and tilt your head because it’s not a dominant smile. You might like this a lot. You might like this more than you anticipated. There’s something thrilling about having him like this, in your hands, to play with, to tease, to edge, to push to the limit. He’s yours, like always, and yet, in a way he has never been.

“Tell me what you want me to do?” You order, those videos are not enough to give you the green light. You need to hear it from him, a bit because you’re lost on your path, but also because you need to hear him describe those things out loud and beg you to do that to him.

Jeno thinks his face might burn up in a second. Sure, if he ever dared to bring this up to you in a conversation, he would’ve had to explain it to you, but he would’ve been dressed, not hard, and his brain would’ve been functioning. Now he’s none of these things. Yet, he tries.

“I — I want you,” he starts, wetting his lips. but he fails to find the words. You want explicit things, he knows it, he can see it in your eyes burning up with desire, but he wants to be honest first, at least now that he has a bit of rationality left. “I want to be your good boy. I want to — to just give up control for once and let you do everything. I want you to control me, to move me around, to make me feel light, to make me feel like I’m… nothing but not really nothing, I want to…” he gulps, forcing himself to keep eye contact because he wants to be good, but it’s not easy. Nothing happened yet, and he’s already a victim of the electricity that’s running in the air. “I want to don’t think. I want you to fuck my brain out until I forget who I am, I want you to tell me what to do, to order it to me. But I also want to feel safe… taken care of.”

It takes you a while to metabolize everything he told you, especially the last part, and you put a reminder in your brain to discuss that later. But now you kiss him, finally giving him what he craves. You wanted to make him wait a bit longer, but you feel like he needs it. It seems that all of this has been bothering him more than you think, and he needs comfort.

“And I’m going to give it to you, if you trust me,” you say when you pull away, softly caressing his cheek with your other hand.

“I do, I trust you,” he replies, hips rubbing against your hand. You give him a quick, stern look and he stops, smile dropping.

“Get on the bed and you won’t have to hump my hand like a puppy in heat,” you order and he’s quickly — stumbling and almost falling — on his feet, walking to the bed.

Once he’s laying on the bed, you follow him, crawling on top of him, your legs trapping him down. You leave kisses on his neck, and as a response his head rolls back, leaving you more room to paint his skin with bites and kisses. And while he’s distracted with that, your hands reach his nipples. His hips buck up and he whimpers.

He’s so sensitive, you can’t believe you didn’t discover this before.

Your fingers play with his sensitive buds, at first, you just rub your fingers on them, but then you get more adventurous studying his reaction. Jeno likes it when you pinch them between two fingers, it makes him hiss and moan, while his hips grind against you. He also likes it when you roll them, low curses escaping his tortured pink lips.

After a while, you decide to pay attention to his whole chest. You won’t lie, you always loved his tits, but you appreciated them from afar, when they were wrapped under the skintight white shirt he loves to wear, or when they played hide and seek under his loose tank tops. When he fucks you, your hands always wander somewhere else, busy trying to hold onto his arms and back for dear life. But now, your hands caress his skin, cupping them as you try to hide a giggle and stay in your role — you definitely need to work on your dominance — and tease his nipples every now and then.

“Fuck,” Jeno bites his tongue, dick rutting against your body, droplets of white shamelessly dripping from his head, staining his length and abs.

“You’re so sensitive it’s almost pathetic,” you try out, testing the waters. You fear you might trigger him, but instead, he moans louder at your words, throwing his head back more, and his dick throbs. “I’m barely touching you and you’re already a mess. You dreamed this so long, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he whimpers, his hips still grinding against you, desperately chasing for release, but you pull away. “No, please,” his voice breaks and tears swell at the corner of his eyes. Jeno is so fucking pretty like this, you have to fight back the urge to reach for the phone and snap a picture.

“Just relax, and focus on the parts I’m touching,” you say, kissing him to shut his whines down. “Let me take care of you.”

And he would, he does, he wants you to take care of him. If only this wasn’t so embarrassing, whimpering and squirming just from having his nipples played with. He wants to hold it in, he can push back an orgasm, but all his good intentions fly out of the window when your mouth wraps around the left sensitive one and your fingers pinch and twist the other one.

It’s not his fault he’s so sensitive.

“Oh God,” he cries out through gritted teeth, knuckles going white for how hard his hands are clenching around the sheets. Jeno feels dizzy, your mouth sucks harshly on his sensitive spot, quickly moving from one side to the other, never leaving him with no stimulation, your fingers are just as swift at taking the place your lips left. “Please, please, fuck,” he begs, hips stuttering messily, and legs parting as his body jerks with pleasure.

“Be a good boy and come for me,” you mumble against his skin, eyes looking up at his. And that’s the last drop for him; the realization that you saw him — and made him — this weak, even the slight humiliation he feels with it.

Jeno comes undone. Long, whiny moans and whimpers slurring out of his plump lips as his body stills before breaking into violent trembles, it’s powerful and overwhelming, and it makes him cry. Mumbles of your name follow when you don’t stop, fingers and tongue moving quickly on his nipples.

“Please, please, stop,” he cries, trying to push you away, “can’t take it anymore.”

You pull away, snickering as you watch the cum drip down his body. His chest is heaving, and his body is slumped against the headboard.

“Was it good?”

Jeno nods, his movements are slow, and his eyelids are almost close, but he still makes out your face, and smiles shyly. “More,” he begs and then adds, “please. If you want to.”

You smile, he’s so polite. “Are you sure you can take more?”

“Yes, yes, I just — I needed to calm down,” he explains, running a hand through his hair that covered his eyes messily.

“Lay on the bed,” you order before standing up.

He follows your order, feeling his body ache as he gets in position, but it all fades in the background when his gaze falls on your body, watching you move to throw your clothes on the floor.

“So,” you’re on top of him, you got rid of your skirt and top, the only clothes on your body are your — drenched — panties and the bra, “what do you want me to do with you?”

Jeno thought the embarrassing part had passed, but, lord, if he was wrong. Because he’s not prepared in the slightest to ask you what he’s about to ask. You will break up with him, this will be the last straw.

“Pup?” Your voice brings him out of his delirium, and he coughs. “You with me?”

He nods, struggling to find the words. “Please,” he whines, “don’t — don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” You ask, a small frown forms on your forehead while your head lightly bends to the side to look at him. You almost look so innocent and harmless like this, but you’re not. You have all the power and control, and Jeno loves this and hates this at the same time. Maybe all of this is more mental than what he thought in the first place, or maybe he needs to relax, stop worrying so much, and just beg you. Beg you to fuck him, beg you to turn him into a brainless mess in the same way he had done in these past few months: pleading with his face smashed against a pillow to muffle his pathetic moans and his fist wrapped around his cock or his fingers inside of him, fooling himself that was you doing that to him.

“Please, fuck me,” he breaks, eyes panicking and looking around the room before you grab his face with a strong old on his chin.

“Say it again,” you order. Your face is relaxed now and the pout on your lips is rapidly swiped away by a sly smirk.

“Please, please, fuck me, ma’am?” He asks, eyes softening as he looks into yours. He’s such a good boy, so obedient, so, so good. So, you’re about to give him what he wants, and what you want, grabbing the base of his hardening dick and teasing it against your pussy, moving the crotch of the panties to the side, but he surprises you.

“No,” Jeno cries, voice breaking again, “not like this. Not now.”

You stop, stilling and looking at him, eyes blinking as you try to understand what he means. “Not like this? And how do you want me to fuck you?”

“I — I,” he stutters, flashes of warmth heating his body up again, not that it ever really stopped, to be honest, it just keeps getting worse.

“You — you?” You urge, mocking him, mimicking his voice with a condescending tone.

He frowns offended — and his dick throbs, but he won’t pay attention to that — but then goes on. “I want your — your fingers.”

“Oh,” you say, a smug grin on your face. “A handjob?” You know what he wants, you know where he wants it, but what you want, is to mess up with him.

“No, no,” he whines, shaking his head, reaching for your hand with his before you slap it away, making him groan in annoyance. “Please.”

“Please and no, are those the words that a good pup says?”

“No, miss, I’m sorry.”

“Good, then use your big boy words and tell me what you want. Details, or I won’t give it to you.”

Jeno swallows, inhaling deeply before confessing. “I want your fingers in my ass, please. I want you to fuck me with your fingers, miss.”

“Oh, now that’s clear,” you say, smiling tenderly and patting his head. He melts under your touch, and you keep a reminder to yourself to head pat him more often. “Good boy, telling me exactly what he needs.”

You get up to grab the lube from the drawer but when you open it, it’s not there. You scowl, scratching your head as you try to remember if you finished it and didn’t buy it again, but you don’t use it that often, so it can’t be.

“Where the hell —” you stop when, turning around, you see the blue bottle peeking from under the bed, you kneel to grab it and see that it’s badly closed. “You fucked yourself before?” You enquire, tilting your head, watching his face flush bright red even more, he tries to avoid your gaze, but you trot to him and force his face on you. “You were so desperate you couldn’t help but fuck yourself with your fingers?”

“I’m — I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to,” he justifies, throat dry and heart beating fast. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, he would’ve waited, he wouldn’t have done that, but he needed that, he was terrible at putting this fantasy behind and he needed a release. But he’s still you’re good boy, right? You’re not mad at him for this?

You scoff, clicking your tongue, crawling on the bed. “You didn’t mean to, sure… fucking yourself behind my back, pff,” you scoff. “Tell me, were you thinking of me? My fingers deep inside of you? My hand wrapped around the base of your cock?” Jeno nods eagerly as you pour lube on your fingertips. “Were you calling my name? Whimpering like the desperate puppy that you are? Calling me ma’am and miss, maybe even mommy when you fuck yourself good enough,” all throughout the talk your fingers slip deep inside of him, making him gasp and hold onto the sheets under him.

“Fuck,” he curses, not expecting you to push two fingers inside with no warning. But the surprise turns into bliss in the beat of an eye. Your fingers are slender, and yes, they’re not as long and thick as his are, but they are yours. And you’re so good at moving them inside of him, curling them up, moving them with a firm rhythm, reaching the bottom, and then pulling out, that he has nothing to complain about. “Feels so good,” he somehow manages to let you know. You think it’s cute, his voice doesn’t sound like the usual, it’s whiny, trembling, and full of desperation. His eyes are watery, and you think the red on his cheeks won’t disappear soon.

Jeno is lost in the pleasure, thinking he has never felt better, he’s almost relaxed, lulling in the sensation that sends sparks down his spine. But you want to give him more and your other hand folds his balls, making him hiss and shaking him out of that haze.

“It’s alright, baby boy,” you reassure him, but he’s not sure. Especially when you spit on his dick, adding to the mess of his cum, and run your hand on his length. He wishes you would keep doing this, but instead, you torture him; while your fingers work him open, your hand focuses on his frenulum, massaging his most sensitive spot until he’s a crying and trembling mess again.

“No, no,” he whines when your lips start kissing his leaking tip. “Sensitive — I’m…” his voice breaks and dies in his throat when your lips wrap around it. He has you everywhere and he’s not used to this. He’s not used to feeling so much and giving so little — in his mind, to give you nothing, but to you, he’s giving you a lot. This vulnerable side of him is much more than anything else. “I — I can touch you, I can —”

You shut him up with a slap on his thigh. “You can lay there and take it,” you say firmly but without stopping your movements.

He nods quickly, lips pressed in a thin line, but the pleasure is so big that his moans and whimpers just rumble in his chest.

“Moan, Jeno,” you call him out. “I want to hear you moan for me.”

“But —”

“But?” You scold, glaring at him and stilling your fingers inside him. “Are you going to talk back to me and tell me what to do?” He shakes his head quickly, mumbling apologizes. “I think so, do you want to be my good boy?”

“Yes, yes, please,” he cries, hips bucking up, at first you think he’s doing that to feel your fingers but he’s just that desperate. He truly acts like a puppy too excited to be your good boy to even think straight, his body moving on its own. If he had a tail, he would wiggle it like crazy.

“You want to be my good pup?” You ask again, your fingers pull out and then push in, dragging a low gasp from his lips.

“Yes, I want to. Want to be your good puppy, please.”

“Then do what I tell you to do,” you remind him, your hands go back to his cock, throbbing on his abs and leaking pre-cum. It’s almost… funny how big he is —body and dick— and how helpless and powerless he looks, begging for attention as if he couldn’t just take it from you, ordering you, fucking you. But he lays there, pathetically drooling on the pillow, while his dick drips on his stomach and his ass clenches around your two fingers.

His sounds are like music to your ears, and the vision in front of your eyes makes your pussy drool more, you can’t believe you’re so turned on when fifteen minutes ago you were almost throwing a tantrum for this. But Jeno looks like the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you wonder if he feels this way when it’s the other way around. All you know is that you’re mesmerized, eyes stuck where your bodies connect, his hole fluttering around you, the lube squelching in and out, and his toned, strong legs spread open just for you. Then they move up, the way his dick is throbbing in your hand and spills pre-cum, his chest rising fast, his hands clenched around the sheets. And his face, his eyes are closed but you know they’re rolled back behind his eyelids, his lips are swollen and dark pink, parted open to fill the room with the most desperate whines, his hair is a mess again, scattered around the pillow and his forehead.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whines, lifting his hips from the mattress when you hit him deeper and your hand starts moving faster on him. “Feels good, feels so good, you’re so good, you’re — you’re perfect, I love you, I love you,” he cries out, head rolled back as he lets the pleasure rush through his body.

You smirk at his words, the desperation and devotion behind his voice making shivers run down your spine. “Are you going to come?” You ask, already knowing the answer, watching him nod quickly. “Yeah? Will you be a good boy and come from my fingers only?” Your hand leaves his dick, eliciting a disappointed noise from him, but his breath gets cut off when you add another finger inside of him.

“Please,” he cries, the stretch of the three fingers making his hips move even more from the mattress, only to stop when your hand, flat on his stomach, keeps him pinned down.

“Stop squirming, or I won’t make you come and keep edging you until you pass out.”

It should be a threat, but it doesn’t even sound so bad to him, but not now, maybe one day, now he wants you, and wants to come as soon as possible. So, his hips still, the nervous twitching passing down to his leg but it’s fine, it doesn’t get in the way.

“Good boy,” you praise, patting his head, and making him smile. “Be even a better boy and come for me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice before his orgasm erupts, his body shakes before stilling completely, spurts of white spilling on his stomach, even reaching the sheets as his cock throbs in release and his hole flutters around your three fingers that are still pumping in and out at a fast speed. Slurs of curses roll from his tongue, and so does your name, while his chest rises fast before his body slumps against the mattress.

“Please, please, stop,” he cries out, feeling overstimulated.

You listen, pulling your fingers out and cleaning them on his thigh before leaning forward to kiss him.

“Want you, mommy, please,” he pleads, tears rolling down his temple while his hands look for the warmth of your body. “Please, fuck me, need to feel you.”

“Calm down,” you say, giggling at his cuteness and eagerness and get rid of your panties, throwing them behind with no care, and then follows the bra.

Jeno feels less embarrassed now that you’re exposed too, and gets lost in your body for a few seconds before he bites back a moan when your warm and wet skin makes contact with him. “I — I can fuck you, I can make you feel good, too,” he promises. “Be your good boy and fu–fuck you well.”

You smile tenderly, teasing him as you grind your hips rubbing your pussy on his dick that’s resting on his stomach. “Oh, I know you can.”

“Please, please,” Jeno cries out more. His dick is incredibly sensitive, it’s painfully aching, begging to be wrapped by something after all this teasing. You barely paid it any attention this whole time. “Let me be your good boy, use me,” his voice breaks and he almost chokes on his words as his pleading eyes stare at you for mercy. “Use my — use my cock as you please. Use me like your toy,” he says, “your good toy.”

It almost breaks your heart; he needs validation so badly and you feel genuinely bad for never noticing this before. You just thought he was always so strong and confident; you didn’t think he needed reassurance so much.

“Here, pup,” you say, sinking into him.

Jeno’s head rolls back, his hands clasping around your waist, but his hold, even if it’s strong, is different from all the other times before.

“Fuck, mommy, feel so good.” The way your warm walls wrap around him send him straight to heaven, you’re wet and fit perfectly around him.

“Yeah, you too, baby. You feel so good,” you curse through gritted teeth. He might be a mess underneath you, whimpering, crying, and begging, but that doesn’t make his cock shrink. Jeno’s big, and you should be used to it by now, but somehow it still feels like it splits you open every time.

“Please, fuck me!” Jeno laments loudly, bouncing his hips against yours, but a stern look from you makes him stop and apologize, “So-sorry, fuck me, please?” This time his voice is soft and polite, a desperate edge but with no eagerness behind — yes, there is, but he tries hard not to show it.

“Oh, fuck,” he screams when you lift your body up and slam back into him. You’re a lazy rider usually, and to be more honest, you’re just never a rider, 90% of the time riding his dick is a punishment to make you work for it, but now… well, you kept your skills well stored in. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” he whimpers, hands clenching hard around your waist until his knuckles go white.

“What? You wanted me to fuck you so badly, and now? Bit more than you can chew? Is this too much for you, pretty boy? You can’t take it?”

Jeno shakes his head. “No, no I can, ma’am, I can,” he whimpers, biting his lips harshly.

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” you hum in satisfaction. Your hands fall at the sides of his head, your smaller body somehow still hovers over him and makes him feel smaller than ever. Your intense stare pins him to the mattress even more, making him shiver. “Give me your hands,” you order, but Jeno doesn’t listen — he doesn’t even hear, too lost in you to pay attention to your voice. “God,” you huff, rolling your eyes back, “I really have to do everything on my own because you’re just that dumb.” You forcefully grab his wrists, pushing his arms over his head and keeping them locked against the bed.

“No, I’m — I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you weren’t,” you mock, stilling before starting to pick up the pace again, “you weren’t listening ‘cause you can only focus on how good I’m making you feel, right? Stupid, dumb puppy can only think about his pleasure.”

“No, no, please, forgive me,” he begs, tears streaking down his face, and words coming out between gags and moans.

“Can you fuck back into me? Or are you too fucked out to do that?”

“No, no, I can. I’ll be good, I’ll be good for you, miss,” he promises, lifting his hips to meet you halfway, but his body feels so heavy and his brain is mush, unable to send signals to his muscles.

Your head rolls back and your hands wrap tighter around his wrists, you find yourself grinding against him, rubbing your clit every time you bottom all the way down. But Jeno’s thrusts are sloppy and messy, he’s not even that bad when he’s about to come. “Stupid puppy,” you taunt, slapping his ass. “Can’t even fuck me after all the pleasure I gave you.”

Jeno sobs, literally, loud cries coming from the back of his throat making him almost choke, and you’re about to stop everything in worry before you realize that’s not because you went too far — partially, maybe, he’s not really happy to be said he’s bad — but because he’s close again and he loves the way you talk down to him and slap him.

“Are you coming again?” You ask in utter surprise because you can’t believe it.

But he shakes his head, he’s fighting against himself to hold it back, and for the sake of having at least an orgasm too, you stop your movements.

“I won’t — won’t come,” he mumbles, lips quivering. “Can’t you… can’t you just use me?” he wails. “Please, I’m too tired. Just… use me like a…” The last words are a slur lower than a whisper, and his head turned to the side doesn’t help you hearing what he said.

You tilt your head to the side, cupping his chin to force him to look at you. “Repeat loud and clear if you don’t want to regret it.”

Jeno gulps, nodding vigorously, but his voice still shakes, and his cheeks burn red again as he repeats. “Use me like a dildo, please.”

“Oh… so, this is how you want to be good to me?” You ask, grinding your hips against him, the stimulation is bare for you but so much for him that you trigger whines and whimpers out of him.

“But it will feel good, even if I don’t move, you know it,” he tries to reason, pleading with his glossy eyes. “I can eat you out after, or — or now, whatever you please, miss.”

“Whatever I please, uhm?” You ask, grinning.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do whatever you want.”

You smile, caressing his face, smearing the wet mess around before your hand pats his head. “You’re lucky I want you exactly like this, like a toy.” You start fucking him with no warning, and a gasp rips from his vocal cords before he starts moaning again.

His eyes roll back at each of your hard thrusts, and you see his hands itch because he can’t touch you, but you don’t loosen the hold on him. You feel strong, a kind of power you didn’t even know you had in you, and you don’t want this to stop.

Jeno’s entire body trembles when your hand wraps around his neck, squeezing just enough to dim the flow of air in his lungs. It’s hot but unexpected, just like it’s unexpected that he almost comes on the spot.

“Oh, oh,” you hum in delight, the corner of your lips lifting as you stare at him. “You like it…” Jeno tries to deny but you can read his body; you felt his dick throb inside of you, his eyes flicker to you in light panic before rolling in his skull again, and his breath falter. “Don’t deny it, it wouldn’t be the most pathetic thing you get off to,” you mock, making him blush again. “It’s alright, you can be my naughty boy, I won’t judge.”

He can only hum, and now that you look better in his eyes, you see there’s something completely different behind them. He’s in a completely different headspace, and you fear he won’t last much longer.

It’s the same for you, the thrill and adrenaline can only push you so far, you’re not used to this, bouncing your hips harshly on his cock and having control, your thighs are starting to scream, and your brain doesn’t want to pay them attention but you both know you’re both at the finish line for this first time. Not to add, you’re in desperate need of an orgasm.

“Ti-tight,” Jeno gasps when your hold on his neck loosens enough to let him breathe in normally again, just the time that he can take a few breaths before it fastens again, it’s not too tight, it’s your first time, you don’t want to end with him passed out on the floor, but it’s enough to do its job.

“Yeah? Too tight for you? Can’t take it?”

He moves his head randomly, frenetic movements as he moves his lips to talk, useless. Your cunt is sucking away every coherent thought in his mind, the only thing filling his brain: you and the need to release.

“Don’t talk, don’t need it. I know you’re too sensitive, wanted me so much only to shake underneath me because I’m fucking you too well. Can’t even form a coherent thought in that stupid, little brain of yours, can you?”

He shakes his head, tears streaming down, but you kiss them — lick them — away.

“It’s alright, I don’t want you to think. I like it when your brain is empty. Your just my pretty boy, right? Pretty, good boy that let’s mommy fuck him?”

His nods are eager, and without even realizing his tongue lolls out. You pout at the view, patting his head when you let go of his neck, making him breathe. “Good pup. Just look pretty for me.”

“Pre-pretty,” he whimpers before a fucked-out smile paints his face.

“Yes, baby, you are,” you kiss his lips, petting his hair another time.

“Co-come, wanna come, please. Let me — let me come, ma’am,” he cries out when he has enough air in his lungs and sense in his brain. “Be-begging. I’m beg — mmph,” his words die in his mouth and his eyes squeeze tight when you voluntarily squeeze harder around him.

“Begging? Is this how a good boy begs?” You ask, looking at him sternly, not that it lasts long, because when his eyes open into yours, you fold.

“’M sorry, so-sorry,” he apologizes, “please, miss, let me come, let me come inside of you, let me fill you up. You’ll — you’ll feel good, I promise,” his words are all slurred out together, spit drips from his lips down to his chin and neck, and his body is burning up, if it didn’t mean to edge and denying an orgasm to yourself too, you would probably push him farther, curious to see how far he can go. But for now, it’s fine, he’s a good boy, he deserves it, and so do you.

“Please, please, please, ma’am.”

“You’ve been so good, baby. You can come.”

When you give him the green light, his body explodes, his hips even shyly chase the orgasm up against you, fucking back into you lazily. His head rolls back and as soon as your hand sets him free, his hands find your hips, holding them tight, hissing and groaning when you hold yourself up on his chest, nails digging into his skin as your body keeps bouncing up and down, riding your orgasms.

Your body collapses on his, exhausted and boneless just like his, and his arms wrap around it right away while he still sobs and whimpers in the crook of your neck.

“Shh, it’s alright, you’re alright,” you whisper in his ear while your hand caress his hair, wet again but not with water.

“Don’t — don’t pull out,” he whines when you lift your body, “nooo, don’t leave me.”

“I’m here,” you reassure him right away, carrying his body with yours so you lay on the side and can pull him in a hug. “I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” he mumbles, hiding between your chest and neck. “Tha-thank you, mhh, thank you for —” his voice breaks and his sobs get a bit louder as he hides more in your hold.

“Hey, it’s fine, take your time,” you say, still soothing him with circular movements on his back and soft rubs on his hair.

Jeno wants to talk, he has many things to say, damn, even an explanation to give to you, but he feels his body is heavy, he feels on a cloud, and you are the softness all over him, he feels safe, something he’s not used to feeling. You didn’t get mad at this, you won’t get mad if he falls asleep for a while, right? If he lulls in this sense of comfort and the aftermaths of what happened.

And almost as if you read his mind… “You can sleep if you want,” you say, kissing his forehead gently and rubbing his nape.

And he has no strength to reply as his body falls into a deep sleep.

When he wakes up, he’s not naked anymore, a big white shirt is around his body, covering just enough so he’s not completely exposed. The mattress is stripped from the dirty sheets and there’s a glass of water on the bedside table, but you’re not next to him.

Jeno almost panics, feeling the post-nut clarity made you run away scared and disgusted, but then the door opens, and you’re there. And it’s the same you he loves deeply. He can breathe again.

“Oh, hi, babe,” you greet with a big smile. You’re holding something in your hands and you’re wearing one of his shirts. “Feeling better?”

Jeno gulps, nodding and smiling at you, words are hard to find.

“Still too fucked out to talk?” You joke, slumping on the bed next to him, handing him the package of his favorite snacks. “Figured you needed some sugar after all that whimpering and squirming.”

“Oh, please, shut up,” he says, hiding his red face behind his hands.

“Hey, you were cute,” you say, grabbing his hands to move them out of the way. “I — I liked it. Did you?”

He nods quickly, okay maybe he’s still a little into that headspace.

You smile and then pout. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it. I’m always so loud and open about everything I want to try and… it never crossed my mind you might have different needs. I don’t know if you’re hiding anything else, but you can talk to me about everything. I love you and even if I might not be into something I won’t let it be the reason for a break-up, or a fight, or worse, making fun of you,” you say, grabbing his hands. “We can always try and then see the outcome. I mean, all that dominance before was improvisation, I was nervous as fuck too, I just tried to act like you usually do, tell me I was good,” you say, scrunching your face as you wait for his opinion.

Jeno laughs, it’s a genuine laugh, and you can almost see the weight being lifted off his chest. You still feel guilty for not making it feel like you could be a safe place for him, but it’s over now.

“You were really good,” he reassures you. “And… yes, I was a bit afraid of your reaction, but it was also something that had to do with myself. I’m — I’ve always been the strong one since I was a kid and then growing up it also turned into being this big ass man with muscles, so the pressure didn’t help.”

You nod in understanding. It makes you feel a bit less guilty, but you feel like there’s something else. “Is this all?”

“I also always have to be confident, but… I get insecure. I just feel like people are so used to me never making mistakes that they don’t even see my struggles or how hard I work for things, so all my hard work goes unnoticed. But I… I want to be… praised, I want to be told I’m doing good, I want people to tell me they’re proud of me.”

You cup his cheek gently and then kiss his nose, making him giggle. “I’m so proud of you, I tell you that, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do, you’re the only one,” he says, leg bouncing nervously as he tries to find the words. But you’re holding his hand, rubbing circles on his palm and that’s calming him down a bit, or maybe not because he feels like he’s about to cry again.

“Hey,” you caress his chin and then rub your thumb on his cheek, your touch is soft, and his brain shuts off once again. It’s like he’s taking back all the wasted time he had to act tough and don’t melt in your touch. “I’m here, alright? Take your time.”

Jeno nods, small hums slipping out of his lips before he finds the courage to talk. “I don’t know, sometimes I just… I want to feel small. And I want to be the one getting cuddled and petted, and just taken care of. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love doing that for you, but… I always see you being so carefree when you’re with me and sometimes I get… so, so jealous because you can… you can loosen up, turn your brain off and no one will judge you. But if I do it, if I get… vulnerable in your hands, I don’t know what people will say.”

You caress his cheek before your hand runs in his hair, not only because it’s covering his handsome face again, but also because you learned he likes it a lot, and as expected, he smiles. “Do people need to know?”

He tilts his head and furrows in confusion. “They don’t?”

“I doubt people care about our sexual life, or what we do in our home. So, this can be our secret, at least until you’ll feel comfortable enough to let loose even outside of these walls. If you’ll share this with me, it will be less heavy, right?”

Jeno nods, smiling and pushing back tears.

“Hey, crybaby today, aren’t you? Come here,” you say, pulling him into a hug. He holds you tight, still afraid you might slip from his hold, and breathes deep your scent.

When you pull away, Jeno’s looking into your eyes and you hum to signal him he can talk.

“Thank you, I don’t know what I would do without you. Seriously, you made me feel safe and not judged, it means the world to me.”

“It’s the way you make me feel always, I’m glad you could feel that way too. And I proved I can protect you even if I don’t have all your muscles,” you joke, lifting your arm and flexing your not-trained bicep, making him laugh. “But seriously, I would never judge you, and I really love this version of you, so, unleash it more often.”

Jeno smiles widely, his eyes turning up in his usual half-moons, and then he lays on the bed, tapping the space next to him. You beam and crawl next to him, pulling him closer again, his head rests on your chest while your hands caress his hair and you just relax in the silence of the house.

“I love you,” you whisper, kissing the top of his head, his hair tickling you for a second. “And I’ll love every version of you, in any universe.”

Jeno still has a secret, but luckily, he has you to share it with.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @rbf-aceu ; @shiningnono ; @jaeminsbebu | general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo

© neowinestaindress; all rights reserved. do NOT repost, modify, or translate any work from this blog on any other platform and claim it as yours. you can find my works on ao3 (neowinestaindress) and wattpad (winestaintedress_; currently inactive).

#nct fanfiction #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #sub!jeno #jeno hard hours #jeno hard thoughts #nct dream smut #sub!nct #sub!nct dream #nct smut #dom!reader #sub!idol #nct dream hard hours #nct hard hours

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steddiealltheway · 1 year ago

Text

Steve sighs as Robin cackles and opens the door to the break room to add yet another tally to the “You Suck” side of her whiteboard. He hopes she lingers for a bit so he can get a break from the constant reminder that yes, he does suck. But the stupid hat and sailor uniform is enough of a reminder already.

And okay, maybe he enjoys Robin’s company a little bit, so maybe he doesn’t want her to linger for too long.

But he’ll never tell her that. Not in a million years.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone walk into the entrance and he turns to give his “ahoy there” speech that Robin refuses to utter a single word of. Only, he gets a little choked up when he realizes he knows the person.

Well, not exactly knows him. But it’s hard not to know of Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Especially if you go to high school with him and happen to be a jock, god forbid. Not that Steve ever disagreed with the things he said, although some of it went right over his head - okay, most of it did. But! All things said, Eddie had a habit of making himself known to people.

“Ahoy there!” Steve announces louder than intended. “Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain.” He leaves out his name because what’s the point? It’s not like Eddie isn’t aware of his existence or at least his last name which sometimes made a feature in his tabletop speeches.

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie says for him, apparently knowing his first name. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Surprisingly, it’s not said in complete distaste. In fact, Eddie is smiling widely at him, eyes roaming over the uniform and landing on the hat.

Steve sighs, “Trust me, I know. So, what can I get for you today?”

Eddie smiles wickedly and asks, “Why don’t we set sail on this ocean of flavor and you can show me around, captain?”

A blush creeps its way up Steve’s neck and begins to burn at his cheeks. Probably from the humiliation. Nevertheless, he points out each different flavor and goes into detail about what’s in each since Eddie seems to be enjoying the humiliation, but Steve doesn’t mind it too much since he feels like he’s getting his undivided attention. And something about that makes Steve feel… less sucky.

He glances up at the end of his speech about the last flavor and catches Eddie staring at him with a small smile on his face, more genuine than before.

“What?” Steve can’t help but ask.

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, but the lie is clear to both of them. “I’ll get the USS Butterscotch.”

Something about the flavor makes Steve hesitate.

“What?” Eddie asks this time, slightly defensive.

“Nothing,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “Cup or cone?”

Eddie laughs, “Come on, you can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Eddie gestures at him. “Make that face and then pretend like you weren’t thinking anything.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “And you can?”

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he leans across the top of the glass dramatically and puts his head in his hands. “I’ll get a cone please.”

Something about the image makes Steve laugh as he grabs a cone and scoop, making the order for Eddie. "You know." he says, wishing the ice cream was the slightest bit softer, "I was expecting you to get something like death by chocolate or coffee."

"Why's that?" Eddie asks curiously.

Steve glances up at him and shrugs. “Those flavors are more…” he struggles to find the right word.

“Metal?” Eddie asks, sounding almost hopeful.

“Exactly.”

The smile on his face grows. “Well, I’m glad you see me as someone metal, Steve. But what, just because you’re a jock, I’m supposed to expect you to like some gross flavor like bubblegum?”

Steve frowns. “I like bubblegum ice cream.”

Eddie sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Of course you do.” He takes a moment to look over Steve again. “But looking at you now, I’d assume your favorite flavor would be the USS butterscotch.”

“Because of the stupid hat, right?” Steve asks as he drizzles extra caramel on the top of the cone.

“I think the hat is cute,” Eddie replies.

The comment sends Steve’s heart into a bit of a frenzy for a moment before he collects himself and hands the cone over in exchange for the bill in Eddie’s hand. He counts the change two times, trying to make sure he doesn’t make a mistake as a bunch of panicky thoughts go through his head. He hands the change over quickly but hesitates when Eddie stares at it and frowns. “Something wrong?” Steve asks.

Eddie glances up at the menu, down at his change, and takes a moment before saying, “Sorry, you just charged me for a single scoop when this is a double with an extra topping.”

Steve frowns and looks at the cone. “The topping is on the house, but that’s a single scoop.”

Eddie glances up at him and raises his eyebrows.

“A generous single scoop,” Steve corrects himself.

There’s a pause before Eddie’s smile widens, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up cutely. “I think i just found my new favorite ice cream place.”

Steve laughs, “Better than Linda’s Ice Cream Parlor?”

“Linda would call this a triple scoop and wouldn’t give me a topping but she would still make me pay the extra just for asking,” Eddie complains with a smile.

“Well, I would never do that to you.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asks, leaning forward a bit.

Steve’s eyes glance down at Eddie’s lips momentarily as he tries to come up with a response.

“Hey dingus, there was a horrible delivery you missed…” Robin trails off as she looks between the two, effectively ruining the moment.

“See you around, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink, tongue darting out and gathering up a bit of white ice cream and letting it disappear into his mouth.

Steve feels a familiar heat in the pit of his stomach and nearly groans. Instead he hurriedly tells Robin, “I’m taking my break!” And effectively ignores the look she’s giving him.

Back in the break room, Steve walks up to the board and stares at it, glancing at the “You Rule” column and whispering, “Almost,” before sighing and putting his head in his hands.

He can’t believe that Eddie Munson is sending him into a sexuality crisis. Yet, he hopes he comes back often the rest of summer. And maybe he’ll finally be able to get that “You Rule” tally.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #scoops ahoy #season three steddie #scoops ahoy steve

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navybrat817 · 3 months ago

Text

Here's Stud

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky's cardigan reminds you of something straight out of a horror film and you have some fun with it.

Word Count: Over 1.2k

Warnings: Established relationship, banter, teasing, silliness, implied sex, very slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he adores you. Also references to The Shining and my apologies to Stephen King.

A/N: I dedicate this silly Stud and Smartie ficlet to @targaryenvampireslayer for being so awesome. ❤️ @yenzys-lucky-charm , I may have included something from the "spooky" bouquet. 😉 Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky pushed some of his hair back as he got comfortable in his chair. With the gentle rain coming down outside and the chores done for the day, it was the perfect time for him to curl up with a book. Naturally you took a moment to watch him from the kitchen. In your head you were giving him dreamy eyes, but in reality you probably looked like some sort of creep who stared for far too long.

“See something you like, Smartie?” Bucky asked, not looking up from his book as he turned the page. Of course, he felt your eyes on him. “You don’t have to just look. You can touch, too. I don’t mind.”

You rolled your eyes with a giggle. “Oh, I know you want me to touch you, Stud, but you just started reading,” you pointed out. And, really, didn’t you want to touch him, too? He had such a touchable, sexy body. And his hair. So soft, thick, good for pulling. And that beard. Sweet fucking Jesus.

But that cardigan he was wearing…

“So, you do want to touch,” he smirked once you went into the living room, his eyes flickering up to yours. His brows furrowed when he saw your phone in hand. “I guess you want to look and touch?”

“Yeah, we’ll say that,” you said, making sure you were recording. “Looking handsome as ever.”

“And you look as beautiful as ever.” His eyes swept over you, making you weak in the knees and a giggle escape. It would never get old receiving a compliment from him. “Wait, are you snapping a picture or recording a video?”

“Video,” you replied, a happy sigh escaping. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiled, tenderness in his eyes and voice. To be on the receiving end of that was something else. Your heart was warm and full.

“I’m so glad to hear that,” you sighed again, clearing your throat to sound a bit more serious. “And now that we’ve established that we very much love each other, please look right here and say you won't chop me up with an axe.”

You remembered the day you went to check out the apartment and Bucky had to assure a loved one that he wasn’t going to murder or do anything to you if you moved in. He took it in stride and promised he’d be nothing but a caring and respectful roommate. But now a horrified look crossed his face, which nearly made your heart burst. He didn’t like you experiencing any sort of pain, even hypothetical or unrealistic. “What the… Of course, I’m not going to chop you up with an axe! I would never! Where is that even coming from?”

“Are… Are you serious? Did you not notice the pattern on the cardigan?” You turned the camera to face you for a second before you focused it back on him. “Under normal circumstances, I’m very much aware you would never do a thing like that, but today you look like you jumped out of a horror film. You know the one I’m talking about.”

He tugged a bit at the fabric, realization filling his eyes after he took another look at it. “You just said I look as handsome as ever!”

He's so cute.

“And you do. You look good in anything and everything, carpet patterns included, but I’m half expecting you to go, ‘Hello, Smartie! Come and play with me!’” He laughed when your voice changed. “‘Come and play with me, Smartie! Forever and ever and ever…’”

He laughed harder. Yeah, you were a dork at times, but you were his dork and he enjoyed your humor. “But I do want you to play with me forever and ever and ever.”

“I will happily play with you, but if you say we’re checking into a secluded hotel in the mountains soon, you better cancel the reservation and demand a refund.” You smiled at the ridiculousness of this, but silly moments meant the world. “And don’t even think about that as a honeymoon destination. No way.”

“Oh, we both know I can be a little bit more creative than that,” he said, closing his book.

“Hold on, where are you going?” You called after him when he got up and left the room.

“You’ll see,” he said over his shoulder, heading toward your bedroom.

You followed him a bit, still recording and very much curious as to what he was doing. “Should I be scared or horny? Or both? That’s a thing, right?” A small pout formed on your face when he didn’t answer you. Did you hurt his feelings? That was the last thing you wanted to do. “Hey. I’m sorry. It’s still a nice cardigan and it isn’t your fault that-”

“Heeeeeeeeeere’s Stud!”

You nearly dropped your phone when Bucky popped his head out from your bedroom door with a wild look on his face and his hair disheveled. He looked unhinged, which made your heart pound. But when he held up his hand to show you what he was holding, you almost burst out laughing. “Oh, my God! That’s my vibrator!”

His eyebrows wiggled up and down. “It sure is, Smartie. Darling. Light of my life.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you smiled. And you adored him.

“Look, I’m not chopping you up with an axe, I’m not a total psycho. But I don’t mind using this weapon on you.” He twirled it around in his hand with ease. How the hell did he do that? “Though if I am going to murder your pussy, it’s going to be with my cock and not some toy.”

You shrieked when he smirked that filthy, gorgeous smirk of his, your face hot and tingling between your thighs. He said it so casually, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t go back to his book for the rest of the day. He’d drag you to bed and try to “kill” you with his cock. “Have I created some sort of monster or are you possessed by some… pussy murdering spirit because of the sweater?” Your breath caught in your throat as he fully opened the door and advanced on you, making you step back. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“What am I doing? No, it’s we. And we are going to make our own version of The Shining.” He slowly ran his tongue along his lips as his eyes drifted down your body. “You getting that shine all over my face, fingers, and cock.”

“Holy shit,” you gasped. Yeah, you could get on board with that. You could very much get on board with that. “Okay, but maybe I should stop recording for this next part?”

“Actually, you should keep recording. More camera sex makes Stud a happy boy.” Your eyebrows shot up as he smirked and got closer, close enough for you to inhale his cologne and make your knees weak all over again. “What do you say?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

“I take it back. I haven’t created a monster. I think I’ve summoned a demon,” you teased.

“There’s always a price to pay when a demon is summoned. Time to pay up,” he smiled, his lips meeting yours in a dizzying kiss.

And for the rest of the day and well into the evening, Bucky was very happy indeed.

I can't help it, lovelies. I will adore them forever. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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jeonstudios · 6 months ago

Text

dextrocardia | 14

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 9.7k

warnings: a LOT of bodyshaming and fathobia and sexism

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 14/?

“I hope you know that I appreciate all the things you’ve been telling me. I know it can’t be easy, all the things you’ve gone through. So I appreciate it, even if I unfortunately…”

“Don’t have much to say?” you smile at him as you turn to close his bedroom door behind you.

“Yeah. It’s a lot different than when I’m talking to someone who maybe just got out of a… situation because, while that’s always hard, you just have to listen and assure them they did the right thing, going to the cops and that we’ll guide them through the rest and hopefully help them get justice. That it wasn’t their fault, you know? But you know all that already, and I’m not much help; in fact, I was a big part of your problem and going to the police probably made it worse in your case because we let you down instead of helping you.”

It’s sad, the way he says it, reaching for the collar of his t-shirt at the back of his neck. He pulls it over his head before he suddenly stops, the shirt stuck across his lowered arms. You meet his deer-in-the-headlights eyes and see how it dawns on him that despite explaining earlier that he wants to keep his shirt on–at least with you in the house?–he hasn’t actually been committing to that promise. You wonder if it had anything to do with his scars, if he wanted to spare you from seeing them or just not risk you being uncomfortable.

“It’s fine, take it off,” you comment casually, “but do know that I might warm my cold feet against your skin.”

He grins, finally removing the shirt entirely and throwing it onto the chair in the corner. “Feel free.”

Flicking the lights off, Jeongguk joins you in the dark, getting under the duvet and getting comfortable.

It’s silent for a while, and you’re halfway between sleep and consciousness when Jeongguk says something you definitely weren’t expecting.

“Are you still scared of me?”

You roll over to face him, even though the room is almost pitch black.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I think that I will always be aware… of what you can do. Even right now, if you in this moment decided to hurt me, there would be nothing I could do about it. I can spend my days in the gym but odds are a vast majority of men could overpower me anyway. If I were to trust my gut, it would say that you’re a… good guy, but I know that most women murdered by a man they knew or even their male partners didn’t fall for someone openly abusive. They’re sweet at the start, and then they change. Hoseong was like that too; kind until he wasn’t. I know you know that because he fooled you too.

“When it comes to you, I think the only reason I’m here with you is because of what you did that night. I would’ve found any reason to believe that you were still playing a game of making me trust you, just waiting for the right moment to strike, if I hadn’t seen you fight them. No matter how talented of an actor you are, they were prepared to kill you, and you… were prepared to die.

“And this…” you move your hand under the sheets, tentatively finding his chest and the scar. “I don’t like looking at it, and it feels like it’s my fault your mom almost lost her son, but it’s also… almost a relief. I don’t have to second-guess if you really want to help me or if it’s just a long con to… finish something. But like I said… just because you haven’t tried to kill me yet doesn’t statistically mean you won’t. I don’t think you will, but then again, there are a lot of dead women who probably wouldn’t have imagined their murderer being someone they knew.”

Jeongguk places his hand over yours on his chest. “For what it’s worth, I could never hurt you. I know I did; that I hurt you emotionally and scared you, but not even when I thought you were the most selfish person on the planet would I have physically hurt you.”

“I will let the fact that I came to live with you speak for how I feel about you, or at least want to feel about you. Also the fact that I’m sleeping in your bed with you.”

“That you find me entirely irresistible, dying to be close to me at all times?”

You roll your eyes, however, blood rushes to your cheeks. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Good that we’re on the same page then, cause I’m kinda stuck on the fact that you kissed me.”

Inevitably, your cheeks warm up further, but it’s okay since it’s dark anyway.

“I did. It was a good kiss.”

“Yeah. I totally wouldn’t hate it if you did it again. In fact, I am open to kisses anytime, just as I am hand-holding.”

“You’re sure? Even from me?”

You hate that you have to ask, but… you do.

“Absolutely.”

You consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to trust his words, at least tonight. Empowered by the dark, you move your hand from his chest. It travels over his warm neck before it reaches his jaw. Your heart beats so hard you’re almost convinced he can hear it, but you ignore it and move closer. Despite the dark, you see his face and how he’s smiling, patiently waiting. It’s both a blessing and a hellish curse how handsome he is; he truly takes your breath away.

Using your hand, you move your hair away, and you lean down to connect your lips. His are so soft, and he kisses you back so sweetly, letting you set the pace. You move your mouth against his, pulling back an inch just to do it again. Jeongguk lets his hand hold your waist, and even though kissing him is… a dream, you’re reminded that there’s a limit you’re not comfortable crossing.

So you pull back, but you still let him hold your waist.

“There.”

You fall asleep quicker than the nights before. A few hours later–and a few hours before morning–you blink your eyes open, finding yourself entangled with him. You’ve got your arm thrown over his middle, your cheek resting on his naked chest, right below his chin, and one of your legs lies between his.

For a while, you listen to his breaths, thinking about what it is that you’re doing. He’s so warm, and he feels so… safe, but there’s still a certain thought in your head.

When you wake up the next time, you’re once again alone in Jeongguk’s bed, and the first thought crossing your mind is how unnecessary boarding up your window really was when you’re practically almost always sleeping in his bed these days. Also, does he count on being able to hear a potential intruder trying to break in through his window? Because there is one, and it’s definitely not boarded up.

Your curiosity grows when you hear Jeongguk move throughout the house, and the sound of a…. what is that?

Rolling out of his bed, you yawn as you open the bedroom door to almost run head first into a stressed-looking Jeongguk. The sound you heard you identify as the now turned off blow dryer, something you’ve borrowed yourself but never seen him use. Looking up, you realize that, yeah, his hair is still wet from a shower and blow drying it means that he either doesn’t want to wait for it to air dry or he can’t.

“You’re going to the station?” you ask, noticing that he is actually indeed wearing his dark blue, almost black uniform.

“Yeah, uh, multiple trafficking victims on their way. Want to be there before they arrive.”

A very specific feeling moves through your chest; an uncomfortable sadness that someone has most likely been through hell, but there’s a warmth there too, for Jeongguk.

“What are you looking for?”

He looks around, patting his pockets, “Uhm, I have my phone, wallet, house keys. I need the… bike key and the helmet. The helmet is probably in the garage, but I’m not sure where the key is.”

You blink, trying to remember what jacket he was wearing the last time you recall him using the bike. The leather one, right? You step up to the coat rack, looking through the jackets until you find it. Swiftly, you search the pockets until…

“Found it. Do I put it in your uniform jacket?”

“Oh, thank you. Yes, please,” he says over the sound of the blow dryer that he grabs once more.

You watch him dry his hair, incessantly running his fingers through it to speed up the process. A few minutes later, he turns the machine off and runs his fingers through the black hair one last time, “It’ll have to do.”

Then, he’s gathering his stuff, taking the jacket from your hands and heading toward the door leading to the garage as he throws it on. “Not sure when I’ll be back, it might take a while cause I don’t know how many they are or what they’ve been through, but I can update you?”

“Jeongguk?”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Come here for a second.”

Confused, he takes the four steps until he’s in front of you looking down curiously but a little stressed at you.

You smile at him, at how pretty and caring he is. “Be careful.”

He grins, a little surprised. “I always am. But it’s mostly just letting them talk and writing it all down, and–”

“I meant on the road. With the bike. I know you can handle the case.”

“Oh. Will do.”

For a millisecond, he looks at you, his bottom lip bitten. Then he’s pulling you closer by your waist, pecking your lips sweetly.

“I’ll see you later.”

With warm cheeks, you watch him enter the garage, thinking of his kind, brown eyes. You don’t know what to feel.

When Jeongguk returns, he’s angry. He doesn’t say much except frustratingly relaying that apparently, one of the women had called the police about a creepy neighbor appearing to watch her house six months ago. The two officers sent did absolutely nothing at all. Couldn’t offer any protection, didn’t talk to the neighbor, couldn’t even give the woman any advice, just left. Two weeks later, the neighbor takes her. You understand Jeongguk’s frustration toward the system, but when he’s spent two hours in the gym without any kind of break, you decide to check up on him.

You hear the brutal beating of the punching bag long before you spot him.

“How are you doing? You’ve been in here a while…”

Jeongguk stops and looks at you from behind the sand-filled bag, breathing heavily. He’s shirtless, and there’s sweat covering his skin and wetting his hair.

“I’m alright.”

But you can tell that he’s frustrated by the turmoil in his eyes. Although it’s hot to see him work out, you don’t like seeing him like this. It has an uncomfortable feeling growing in your stomach.

“You’re doing what you can.”

“Yet there’s always more to do. It never ends, and it’s never enough.”

He’s definitely right about that, but does it help to be so worked up about it? Or are you the weird one, more likely to go apathetic when reminded of the injustices of the world these days?

“But you did your part today, and I know you made an impact in their lives.”

He looks disappointedly at the sandbag, as if your words didn’t affect him at all.

“Hey,” you call softly. He looks at you.

“If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.”

‘Right now’ as in alive.

“But I–”

“If you never transferred, they would’ve gotten me at this point.”

“Bare minimum,” is all he mumbles.

“It meant a lot to me. Everything, actually. And I’m really grateful.”

At that, he finally smiles a little, and you find yourself dangerously lost in his eyes again.

Thirty minutes later, at nine p.m., the power goes out. You stop what you’re doing, your hand, holding the kettle frozen in mid air over the mug. Even the very, very low humming of the fridge and freezer stops. You put the kettle down, glad that you probably managed to fill your mug with enough tea water.

Where is your roommate? Last you heard, he was about to take a shower.

“Jeongguk?” you call, but the moment you peek out into the hallway, you run straight into him, still wet from the shower and with a towel around his hips, you think.

“What happened?” he asks, his hands steadying your elbows.

“Uh? I don’t know? I was pouring tea and the lights and everything went out.”

“Oh? So that means it wasn’t our doing. I’ll check if there’s a blown fuse; you never know.”

“Okay,” you pat the pockets of your sweatpants, “Here’s my phone if you want a flashlight.”

“Thanks,” he nods, grabbing it from your hand.

He taps the screen to turn the flashlight function on, the light pointed down immediately illuminating every little crevice in his abs and the glints of water still on his skin. The white towel hangs low, exposing a bit of a happy trail.

You look away, and Jeongguk, seemingly none the wiser, turns around to find the fuse box somewhere other than in the kitchen, guided by your phone.

Sighing to yourself the moment you’re alone again, you go back to your tea, removing the bag from the mug. Opening the fridge, you’re once again reminded of how dependent on electricity you are when the open door doesn’t trigger the built in light. Still, you find the milk, and you manage to pour a little bit into the mug and put the container back in the still chilly fridge.

By the time you finish stirring the tea spoon around, you hear Jeongguk’s steps approaching you, and you see the ray of light illuminate the floor in front of him.

“No blown fuses. I’m gonna see if there’s anything on the provider’s site or else I’ll give them a call.”

“Are you gonna get dressed as well, or?” you joke, watching him smile cheekily.

“Yeah. I was just barely done washing my hair when the light went out.”

“I can see that; you’re dripping all over the floor.”

“Sorry,” he says and shakes his head like a dog, launching drops of water at your clothes and face.

“Jeongguk!”

Laughing, he leaves the kitchen and steps out into the dark.

“What if I slip and fall?” you call after him, wiping the drops from your face before returning to your mug to take a test sip. It tastes good, but you’ll definitely try to remember to buy honey next time you go grocery shopping because you’re a sucker for a little sweetness.

Half a minute later, you hear footsteps approaching, and when you turn around from the sink, Jeongguk is drying the floor with the towel he was just using, now wearing what looks like a pair of sweatpants of his own. He doesn’t say anything, just makes sure the floor is dry and then he leaves again, much to your amusement. Like you said; you’re a sucker for sweetness.

While he’s gone, you use your phone’s flashlight to pour the rest of the water into another mug in case Jeongguk wants some tea too. Then you venture carefully into the living room, trying not to spill the hot contents. It goes without accidents, and so you set the mug down onto the coffee table before reaching for the remote. Which doesn’t work.

“Fuck, no TV,” you mutter to yourself. And you’ve used your laptop without the charger all day. Even more fuck.

“Jeongguk, is your laptop charged?” you call out, praying to the gods.

“Uh, yeah,” he appears behind you, having matched a black hoodie to his gray sweatpants.

He’s holding something in his arms, a lot of smaller things. Candles, you realize when he leans down to gently dump them onto the table. From his pocket he then produces a lighter.

“You wanna watch something?” he asks, lighting the candles one by one, the coziness factor doubling with every flame added.

“I was gonna watch this documentary, but my laptop isn’t charged,” you pout. “Oh, and also, the Wifi won’t work.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Mine should be fully charged. And we can use my mobile data.”

Wow, way to flex.

“Great. I made tea, do you want some?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

While he goes to grab his laptop, you return to the kitchen to fix his mug of tea as well, returning as he’s setting everything up, the screen illuminating his face where he sits on the couch. The flickering candles are doing their best too, casting a more yellowy glow across the room.

“Thanks,” he says once more when you place the mug in front of him. “Here.”

You accept the laptop, navigating to the specific streaming site and the documentary released just last week about the development of the space shuttles. Due to the size difference between Jeongguk’s TV and that of his laptop, you take your seat closer to him than usual.

Jeongguk sips his tea, but the moment he’s put the mug back safely on the table and is leaning back against the couch and watching the screen, he slowly lets his hand find yours.

In turn, you find yourself moving closer, leaning your head against his shoulder. He smells nice, and he feels nice. And it’s suddenly like someone started some kind of wordless game. You don’t say anything, but there’s also a kind of tension that builds, no less in your body.

Perhaps also feeling the… electricity building, Jeongguk makes his next move, this time slowly lifting his arm to put around you, making you lean against his chest instead. The action has his hoodie riding up just a little, exposing a sliver of his stomach.

When it’s your turn again–and you feel your shared anticipation grow–you try to psych yourself up. He likes you, he likes you.

So, you place your hand on the exposed section of skin, caressing it carefully with your thumb.

Besides the documentary, it’s quiet, although you’re almost positive Jeongguk can hear your heart beat erratically; it’s definitely beating loudly in your ears. For his next turn, Jeongguk somehow both swiftly and slowly pulls you onto his lap, and before you know it, you’re straddling him, staring down at his smiling face.

The narrator speaks in the background, but you can only focus on Jeongguk and how your heart might soon beat its way out of your chest.

You could kiss him. You could.

He looks at you like he’s hoping for it but not expecting it, and you pray to God he actually does want you to. Because you want to kiss him so badly.

He’s got his gentle hands on your thighs, and you place yours softly on his face, holding his jaw and rubbing your thumbs slowly over his cheeks. Until you move one thumb and press it even softer against his lips.

This man is too good to be true, he has to be. As you let your eyes admire him, you think about the fact that, even if you disregard how he literally took a sword to the heart for you, he’s done more for you in the short period of time you’ve known him than any other man in your life.

So you move your finger from his mouth, nervously switching it out for your lips. You can’t even describe how much you like kissing him. When it’s sweet and innocent and just lips and a wordless confession of ‘I like you,’ or when you use a little tongue, and he chooses to follow your lead, kissing you back with the same growing heat. But there’s still something bothering you that you can’t ignore.

In the midst, you pull back an inch, eyes glued to his lips to avoid his eyes. “I like kissing you, but… “

“But what?” he wonders, his hands drawing innocent shapes on your thighs. Your heart pumps even harder as you choose your next words.

“I’m not really your type.”

He smiles, looking carefree, “You are. I think you’re a sweet girl.”

Jeongguk kisses you again, and you try not to think about it, but even with his lips against yours, it’s hard. A sweet girl. Letting one of your hands fall from his face, you grab the collar of his hoodie, clumsily placing your hand inside it to touch his chest, feeling for the scar.

Taking it as you wanting it off, he pulls away to yank the hoodie over his head, and it ends up somewhere toward the end of the couch. Even without it, his bare skin is just as warm under your hands, but before you know it, you’re on your back on the couch, and he’s above you. He’s very sweet, and in this moment–with your hands splayed across his back and the scar there–you know he won’t hurt you.

A sweet girl.

Right?

A sweet girl. You hear the voices and feel the anxiety and fear return to fill you. You go with the flow, unsure of what to think or do. Jeongguk helps you out of your shirt and then your bra, and you watch him sit back to throw them onto the floor somewhere.

But the moment he returns his attention to you underneath him, he stops. Because you’re covering your naked chest with your hands like your life depends on it, eyes teary and absolutely and helplessly begging him to look anywhere but at you.

He still does, and you can tell he’s surprised, his wide eyes taking in the situation from above you.

So you plead quietly, “Please don’t look at me.”

It takes half a second, and he’s immediately closing his eyes, turning to feel around for something behind him. Your shirt probably lies somewhere farther away on the floor, and so his black hoodie is what he ends up grabbing, handing it to you still with his eyes closed.

And he of course moves off of you, the only sounds in the room being the documentary, the slight rustling as you’re putting the hoodie on, and your quiet breaths.

When he assumes you’re dressed, he opens his eyes, heart visibly breaking when he sees how absolutely shaken to the core you look, hugging your body and sitting up. You turn your eyes to the documentary on the screen even though both of you know you haven’t been watching it.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he starts to explain, sounding genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, wanting desperately not to make a big deal out of it. If you could just will your hands to stop shaking.

“No, I–”

“Jeongguk, please. I’m fine, okay. I’m not… I’m not ready, but… Can we not talk about it, please?”

Reluctantly, you meet his eyes and see the somber worry in them as he watches you from where he’s sitting, still shirtless.

“Okay. If there’s anything I can do…”

You smile tentatively at him, desperate to move on from the subject, “Watch the rest of the documentary with me?”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “I’ll, uh, go and change so you can get your hoodie back.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Keep it,” he’s quick to rise to his feet, already on his way somewhere–presumably his bedroom.

The forty seconds he’s gone you use to calm your breathing and stabilize your voice. It wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t going too fast or not listening to you. He listened to what you gave him; you, yourself only figured out where exactly the line was drawn when it was basically already crossed.

He’s wearing a black t-shirt when he returns, taking a seat next to you and focusing his eyes on the screen, probably more so for your sake than his. “I hope you know that you can tell me anything. And I have no certain expectations you have to fulfill or so.”

You already know that he’s not asking sex for rent, if that’s what he’s wondering. But regarding his first statement… there are definitely things you don’t want to talk to him about.

“Yeah,” you answer regardless.

When the credits roll only a few minutes later, you know that you have two options. If you sleep in your own bed like you ideally want to, you risk there being an awkwardness tomorrow and that you definitely don’t want. Or you sleep in his bed with him like you have the last few days, and sure, it might be a little awkward, but he probably realizes you’re not up for cuddling, and it’ll be easier tomorrow.

“Oh. Finally,” Jeongguk exclaims when the ceiling light flickers on, signaling the return of the electricity. “I was starting to worry about all the food in the freezer.”

Subsequently, he leans over the coffee table, blowing out the small candles one after the other. It’s late anyway.

“So, uh…” he rises from the couch, “I’ll keep my door open, but I’m not offended if you choose to sleep in your bedroom.”

“Okay,” you nod at him, watching as he leaves to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.

You stand up too, but no matter how much you want to crawl into bed next to him and have him hold you the entire night, you get ready for bed, and you lie down in your own room. You’re still wearing his hoodie because it smells like him, and it ironically brings you comfort. Still, you lie there in the dark, and you think about his face, and his eyes, and his body. His voice, even, and how he might actually be a good guy. Maybe even everything you want, even if it doesn't matter. And you curl up, a few tears running silently down your cheeks. Because Jeon Jeongguk is so very far out of your league, it’s not even funny.

After waking up, you trudge toward the kitchen, still feeling half asleep. After everything that happened yesterday, you still managed to sleep pretty well, most likely because you were exhausted and sleeping alone.

“Morning.”

You stop, hands mid eye-rub.

“I… thought you’d be at the station?” you say, redirecting your focus to taming your hair. Jeongguk is sitting at the kitchen table, donning a white t-shirt and black, what looks to be cotton, shorts.

“No, I’ll use today to go over some of the potential leads you helped find. Can do that from here.”

He takes a bite of a cupcake, and you catch his eyes linger a second on your body and how a small smile pulls on his lips before he looks into his phone in front of him. Glancing down, you realize that since you didn’t expect him to be home, you didn’t change out of his hoodie so what he saw waddle into the room was you, swallowed by his hoodie, sweater paws rubbing your eyes.

“It, uh, smells good,” you mumble quietly, realizing way too late that it’s not that great of a defense. “But I’ll wash it and you can have it back.”

It smells good because he smells good.

He waves his hand, still looking almost… fond. “It’s okay, keep it as long as you’d like. I have a ton of them.”

“Okay, uh, thank you.”

“No problem.”

At least the awkwardness was for another reason.

You decide to do a bit of laundry, although skipping the black hoodie and hiding it away under your duvet for a little while longer. Doing the laundry, vacuuming most of the house, and emptying the dishwasher takes you almost an hour, and then you find yourself outside Jeongguk’s office, knocking on the open door and peeking inside.

“Making any progress?”

He lifts his head from the laptop screen and swivels around in his chair to face you, a pen in his hand.

“No,” he sighs, “I’m looking into the girlfriend angle and so far, we’ve put detectives on a recent ex of Seunghwa’s and on two of Ryung’s flings, but it hasn’t resulted in anything. Regarding Hoseong… I’m not sure I ever actually heard him mention anyone by name, at least not any name that I can seem to match to anyone.”

“What about… I remember him talking about this Jimin?”

“Who’s that? I think we’ve covered most of his friends?”

You search your memory, but it’s hard to remember details. It’s been years since the conversations you try to recall, and as far as you remember, he only mentioned her in passing. “It was a woman, and I think they were more than friends. Or at least she wanted to be.”

“I didn’t even think of that; I only know male Jimins. Tell me more,” he urges, and you can tell he’s trying to recall if there was ever a mention of a Jimin.

“Well, I heard him complain about her a few times; said she was clingy and honestly a little obsessed with him. He made it sound like he didn’t care for her that much. In retrospect–besides being a very red flag–it sounds like something he could’ve said about me when I liked him.”

“Someone who maybe is mostly just a regular woman and would still maybe help them if they’re desperate enough to ask. Or him, at least.”

“Yeah.”

For a few hours, you and Jeongguk work together in his office, and you nearly forget about yesterday’s mishap, trying to find more info on this ‘Jimin.’ Until you find yourself nearly chest to chest with him after turning around too quickly and not expecting him so close. Instead of meeting your eyes sweetly and slowly lowering his head to kiss you like he probably would’ve even yesterday, he smiles and… backs up a few steps.

“Hey, should we take a break? Have a late lunch?” Jeongguk stretches his arms out in front of him.

You continue noting down some last names from your phone onto a paper, using the chair Jeongguk wheeled into his office specifically for you as a table while sitting on the floor. “Uh, you go ahead. I had a late breakfast.”

He stands up. “Oh. I didn’t notice.”

“Mhm, you were already in here.”

“I can wait then, and we can eat together.”

“It’s alright; go ahead.”

He mumbles something you don’t quite catch, but he does leave you to your notes and disappears from the office.

For the rest of the day, it’s just as if you’ve taken two or even three steps back. You don’t… touch a lot, and you definitely don’t kiss. A part of you misses it, but another part is relieved that he’s giving you space. He’s still very, very sweet, of course. You didn’t expect anything else.

Like when you open a cupboard, gaze set on a specific mug of his you’ve taken a liking to thanks to the very big ear that prevents the hot tea from burning your hand even through the ceramic. Compared to your male roommate, you’re lacking a little more in the vertical department and for some reason, whoever emptied the dishwasher placed the mug on the top shelf.

You look at it for three seconds, debating on whether you should grab a kitchen chair and climb or simply admit defeat and choose the next best mug. You’re about to go for the latter option when your hero swoops in, wordlessly and casually picking it down for you, a mug of his own raised to his mouth.

“Thank you,” you take the offering from his hand, a smile growing on your lips.

“You’re welcome.”

Or how he’ll still open whatever door you run into for you, to the point that it wouldn’t surprise you if he tried to open the automatic doors and hold them open with his hands when he takes you grocery shopping.

And sometimes, you do touch. Whenever he’s quick enough to exit the driver’s seat and open the passenger door for you, he holds his hand out for you, and when you take it, he helps you out as if you can’t step out of the car on your own.

When you watch a movie, you don’t sit glued to each other, but he’s not scared to gently pull your feet–which you’ve complained all day of being tired–onto his lap to briefly massage them for you. He smiles at you, all crinkle-cornered sparkly-eyed and dimpled. On two short occasions, he holds your hand carefully, something you don’t object to because it feels nice, it really does.

But despite all these things, you still sleep in your bedroom. You don’t lock the door, but you do sleep alone.

Three days after the incident during the power outage, you’ve worked a long day in Jeongguk’s office. Alone, because he had to leave for the station at nine a.m.. You’ve had a lot of time to think, not only today but ever since what happened–and before that honestly–and it’s become very clear that you need to make a decision. Maybe you should simply gather your courage, give it a shot, and tell him how you feel about him, no matter what happens after?

Despite feeling somewhat determined and having some kind of honestly not very thought out plan, you’re anxious, wandering around the house as you wait for him to return.

An hour before he comes home, you find yourself in front of the washing machine, throwing the black hoodie into it finally. With the machine on, you head into the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of wine. It helps a little, and the remaining nerves that still reside in your chest, you decide to just try to ignore.

The sound of his bike is what notifies you of his return, and you leave the kitchen to meet him in the garage, watching as he swings his leg over the bike and takes the black helmet off, holding it under his arm.

“Hey,” he greets when he sees you waiting, a genuine smile on his face. “How was your day?”

“Uh… good. Narrowed down the Jimins a bit, I think.”

“That’s great,” he grins, his elatedness infecting you too, causing you to smile a little hesitantly despite the nerves devouring you. “Have you eaten yet? I know it’s kinda late but if not; I could cook something?”

He puts the helmet on one of the shelves that line one of the walls, and then he comes to stand before you.

You keep your eyes on the jacket with the police emblem on it before you peer up at him. A little hesitantly, you reach for the zipper of his jacket, fiddling a little with it.

“I, uh… actually have something else I want to do. Something I’d like to try… If you’re up for it…”

Tentatively, you reach your hand out, fingers pulling down the zipper of his jacket. He watches you curiously, doing nothing to stop you.

“What is it? That you want to do?” he asks, his warm voice definitely sounding curious but not overly so.

You swallow, deciding to just go for it and slowly placing your arms around his neck, “Well… Do you have any… handcuffs?”

He tilts his head, holding your waist while looking at you, searching. “For me? I do, but we don’t have to do anything; you know that, right?”

“Yeah, but if I really want to? Or maybe you…” you realize that he might just not want to. Like, at all. Oh, how embarrassing.

Seemingly noticing the way you take a step back, lowering your arms from around his neck, he stops you, his hands keeping them there.

“No, no. I’m always willing to let you do whatever you’re comfortable with. I don’t mind.”

His encouragement has a more genuine smile pulling on your mouth.

“Meet me in your bedroom then?” you ask, “And bring the cuffs.”

Not waiting for a confirmation, you drop your hands from his neck, and you turn around to head inside the house. Your heart is pounding, going absolutely haywire while you wait for him on the edge of his bed. Maybe you should’ve worn something else? Something other than just a pair of mom jeans and a blue sweater, but it’s too late now, you guess.

He shows up only a minute later, eyes curiously observing the heavy chair you’ve moved from the corner and into the middle of his room. The first thing he does is unbutton the dark blue shirt of his uniform, sliding it down his arms and throwing it onto the bed. You look at his chest and his arms and his stomach, and you see how he notices. This… humble confidence looks so good on him, and it’s so insanely different from how he acted during the mission. You’ve never seen anyone so attractive.

The next thing he does is approach you where you’re sitting, offering you his hand all while smiling sweetly… but still a little cheekily.

Placing your hand in his, you’re pulled up to your feet, basically chest to chest with him. There’s heat in his gaze, but it’s not scalding; it’s just warm.

You give in.

“Kiss me?”

He searches your eyes for hidden answers, but you really do want him to kiss you, and so he does. He places one hand on your lower back, moving your body with him as he steps back and sits down on the chair. Ending up sitting across one of his thighs, you open your eyes when he pulls away just enough to speak.

“I don’t mind you doing… whatever you want to do, if that’s just sitting on my lap or… exploring me. I’m all for it. Do what you want to do. But,” he says, emphasis on that last word. “Only do what you actually want to.”

You nod, and he reaches down to pull something out of his pocket. The handcuffs. You take them from him, pocketing the small key.

“By the way, how did you get out of the cuffs at the house?” you ask, weighing the metal in your hand.

“I went and got another key before. So I threw you one key and kept the other.”

You feel your forehead crease as you think about what that means. You were only able to relax when you thought he couldn’t hurt you, but he… could? At any point, he could’ve simply unlocked the cuffs himself?

“I didn’t keep a key because I had ulterior motives or anything. I was just worried you might hurt yourself or pass out for real, like, stop breathing and everything, so I needed a way to get to you if that were to happen.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” you admit quietly. It’s true; the fact that you had multiple pairs of handcuffs with you to the house, and they all use the same universal key entirely slipped your mind. “But of course. How stupid of me.”

“It wasn’t stupid. You were under a lot of stress, and I used that to my advantage, hoping you wouldn’t think about it.”

Standing up, you round the chair to kneel behind it. Without having to be asked, Jeongguk puts his hands back and waits for you to cuff them together.

“So I’m tightening these extra hard and making sure I have all keys,” you joke, still fastening them tight enough for him not to be able to slip them off.

“If that’s what you need to feel comfortable. But I hope you know that I’ll always listen to you.”

You nod, maybe more so to yourself when you stand in front of him again. He looks up at you where he sits, shirtless and looking gorgeous and absolutely mouthwatering.

You bite your lip briefly. “Can I… kiss you?”

“Whatever you want,” he grins, a smile that widens when you sit down on one of his thighs again.

“Okay. Close your eyes?”

Without a word, he obeys your request, and you feel yourself get almost hypnotized, looking at him. You’ve truly never seen anyone so stunning, even to the point that you could sit and gaze at him for hours. The best of mankind but still very much a man. You remember how you used to hate him, thinking God wasted this incredible beauty on someone so ugly, but although you’re not entirely sure how you feel about him, you know you don’t hate him.

Carefully, you trace your fingers along his sharp jaw, and despite his eyelashes fluttering, he doesn’t open his eyes. Unable to help yourself and because you truly don’t think he minds, you allow your gaze to drop. His neck is relatively thick, and the veins are only slightly visible compared to when he’s physically active. Your eyes then land on his collarbones. Then his wide, muscular shoulders and pecs. Then the scar, before traveling across his abs.

“You’re so pretty,” you state quietly, looking up at his face just in time to watch him smirk.

“Pretty is for girls; I’m a man.”

You can’t quite explain the emotional wave that hits you as you come to terms with what you have to do–the decision he’s made for you–but you know that you have to hide it, can’t make a sound of hurt in the silent room. Pressing your lips together, you look around the bedroom before you rise from his thigh.

“What are you doing?” Jeongguk asks, still smiling and oblivious, his eyes closed.

Already at the window, you untie the white curtain’s tieback and hold it up. “What about this?”

He opens his eyes and looks at the white piece of fabric in your hand, but doesn’t appear too skeptical. “For what purpose?”

“Blindfold.”

Trying to keep a positive and somewhat fear free mindset, it still hurts when you see how he immediately connects the blindfold to how you shielded your chest from his eyes. There’s pain and there’s guilt swimming in his dark eyes.

“You can, but please don’t do anything you don’t want to.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Okay then.”

With his permission, you place the folded sash over his eyes and tie it in the back, careful not to trap any hairs. When you’re done, you take another second to look at him. There is something so irresistible about him, something that has your heart yearning and your body pulled in. He’s so warm, both body and presence. You bite your lip, using your hand to trace his cheek softly while thinking about how he’s so conflicting. What if you want to stay here forever? Curl up like this where he can’t touch you, and lean your head against his neck where he can’t see you?

Like the time when you kissed three days ago, you touch your thumb to his soft lips, and you let the smile and the mask you’ve been wearing fall. Quietly, you stand up, and you take a step back.

“I thought you were going to kiss me?” Jeongguk jokes lightly.

You don’t know what to say, stuck in your footing to the floor and how he can’t see you. It’s like a weight has dropped from your shoulders, but your heart still feels heavy.

“I’m sorry.”

Not picking up the real meaning behind your words, Jeongguk tilts his head. “Okay. It’s alright. Why don’t you uncuff me and we can maybe order dinner instead?”

“I’m leaving tonight.”

“Wait… what?” he straightens up, struggling to process your words, “Why?”

But you go silent again, unsure of exactly how you’ll ever be able to tell him everything. He calls your name, sounding stressed, and you hear how he tugs on the cuffs.

“You scare me.”

He stops, and you can tell by the way he seems to almost be holding his breath that it wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I… I understand that you’ve been through a lot, but I’m never going to hurt you.”

You keep your eyes on him, feeling like he, himself most likely believes what he’s saying. But it’s not that easy.

“I know… that all in all, you’re a good man. You want to help me and others, and I know you said that not even when you thought I was the most selfish person in the world would you be able to hurt me physically. But you had no problem hurting me in other ways.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry for what I did. I’ve apologized for that, and I’ll keep doing it.”

“I don’t know how to read you,” you add, disregarding what he said because he has apologized, but not in the way that you needed. Not in a way that really matters to you. If this man hasn’t had you broken in a thousand pieces and still insisted on stepping on the remains.

So you keep going. “You look sweet–you’ve been sweet, but you look just like him. Hoseong was sweet too, until he wasn’t. And you… you have this desire to hurt, you want to inflict pain on those who wrong you or who you think have done you wrong. What happens if you think I’ve done something you don’t agree with?”

“I’m not jumping to conclusions without talking to you, I’m not making the same mistake again–”

“What if I actually do something you don’t like?”

For a few seconds, he goes quiet. “I’m not going to hurt you ever again, I promise.”

You fiddle with your hands, glancing down at them. “Are you sure? It was so easy for you, using all my weaknesses against me and breaking me down without ever asking me for my side of the story. And it scares me how you, during the mission, showed just how easy it was for you to one moment act like you could stand me–looking just as sweet as you do now–then angrily tear me down the next.”

It hurts in your whole body but the worst pain originates from your chest. You feel small, insignificant, but also like you take up too much room.

“I know that you probably don’t want to hurt me physically, and that you’re a better man than most, and at first when we came back, it wasn’t too difficult to ignore what you…. think of me, but now…? I kissed you, and you kissed me back, and it just… everything is coming back. I’ve been trying to tell myself that you wouldn’t hurt me at all anymore and that maybe you even like me like I like you, but I know that you don’t. Which in turn makes it hard to know why you’re doing all of this. I think maybe you feel guilty or want to be nice? Give me a chance even though I’m not your… type. But I… I like you. I really, really like you.”

It’s easier to admit than you originally thought, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I want to look at you every second of the day and my hands absolutely yearn to touch you all over. But I don’t want you to touch me. I don’t want you to look at me. I don’t want to be perceived at all. I know that if I stay here and show myself to you, you will not like what you see. You will be disappointed.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, not straining against the cuffs anymore but taking on a calmer approach. “It’s not true. I really do like you, and I think you’re really pretty. Please, I apologized for the things I said, and I’ll do it again. I’m really sorry; I just said those things because I wanted to hurt you. “

“You did. You hurt me, and I’m hurt. You apologized for wanting to hurt me, but you’ve never impli–actually, It doesn’t matter. I know what I look like, it’s kinda hard to forget when you’re constantly reminded. You and your friends came for every single flaw of mine, Jeongguk. “

“I only continued because you never seemed fazed by it.”

“‘I never seemed–’”, you stop to chuckle in disbelief. Your eyes are tearing up as you recall the moments you’re about to remind him of.

“Are you saying that you never noticed that I stopped eating lunch at the cafeteria after what you did? Hoseong said that maybe someone would actually like me if I ‘ate less,’ and you laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. That was the day after you walked past me in the cafeteria, saying ‘leave some for the rest of us, why don’t you?’ Jihyo brought cookies for her birthday two weeks later, and you suggested–in front of everyone–that maybe I should do something else with my mouth besides eat. I criticized the fact that no male officer wanted to work on ‘low-rewarding’ cases like my trafficking case, and you… Do you remember what you said?”

Your eyes are already blurry with silent tears, and you feel the humiliation drown you. There’s no way to go, nowhere to hide. People like Jeongguk are watching, inspecting and observing every little part of you. Your bottom lip trembles.

Jeongguk is silent. If he could see, he’d be looking at your feet. You were right to blindfold him because you would’ve never been able to speak so earnestly had you not. Although you like him, and he’s been so kind and sweet to you, you’re back to feeling like nothing in his eyes.

“‘It’s not about the case; it’s about you. You couldn’t pay me to even look at you. In fact, I bet not even the traffickers would take you, otherwise we would’ve definitely traded you.’”

The pain radiates from your chest, leaving no cell of your body unaffected at the implications. You are so ugly and disgusting to him that if he had the chance, he would’ve sacrificed you to a fate no one should ever have to face.

He doesn’t give you a reaction now either; he just sits there with his head lowered. But this is your one chance to tell him how you really feel. You take a big, shaky breath.

“I was doing okay before all of this. Sure, I’ve always known that I have a lot of flaws, but I was doing okay. But you’ve said over and over again that I disgust you, my body makes you want to hurl, you wouldn’t fuck me if your life depended on it, etcetera. It takes its toll. Eating around men gives me anxiety, even if I try to hide it. I cover up my… shoulders as much as I can because I can hear you describe them as ‘manly,’ and how every man within earshot chuckles.

“I wear thick bras and tops, especially around you, because you made it a habit to comment on my breasts and how unfortunately shaped and sized they are. I remember how you asked me how on earth I ever expected Hoseong to like me when I had the ‘saggiest tits in the district.’ And I remember the field day you had when you found out they’re a bit uneven, finding a way to lower your rating of me from a 0.5 out of 10 to a 0.1. Then you asked the other men for their opinion and rating. Or how you’ve so kindly informed me that I didn’t have the tits for that pretty, blue dress and that it looked awful on me. Are you saying that you didn’t notice that whatever you’ve commented on, I’ve never worn again? Not even anything similar?

“I don’t wear tighter pants without a longer shirt to cover my ‘misshapen,’ ‘unfeminine’ hips and the ‘weird dips’ you’ve laughed at, and whenever work dress codes require me to, I’ve avoided you and other men the best I could.

“I wore a skirt to work once, and when I ran into you before changing into my uniform, you said that skirts are for pretty girls and that no one wanted to see my… cellulite. You took every chance to remind me that I have myself to blame for being undesirable, and that men weren’t the problem, I am, and ‘how wasn’t I ashamed for thinking someone like Hoseong could ever like me?’

"Believe me, I was ashamed. I am ashamed. Do you think I never considered just… drinking the poisoned coffee? Or just starting the car even though I knew the brakes wouldn’t work? If there was a way to get rid of one’s body, believe me, I would’ve. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know what he did to me at the time because how I looked never changed. But looking like you do, I get that you don’t understand how it is to walk around, filled with shame for existing in such an unfortunate body, but I can tell that you want to be better. Maybe you feel bad and want to give me a free trial of how it is to be with a Good Man. Or you want to do the ‘right thing’ so that your dad would be proud? I don’t know, but I can’t ignore the fact that I know how you really perceive me and how you are so far out of my league, it’s embarrassing to even stand here and say it.

"So while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me cause I’d be dead and gone without you, I can’t stay here. You want someone to hold hands with and to buy flowers for, but that’s not for people like me.”

Finally done, you wipe the tears that fall, and you shakily swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“Take the blindfold off and uncuff me,” he begs, once again straining against the handcuffs. You know he isn’t getting out of them, and while he could stand up, the chair is too heavy for him to just pull along with him when he’s got the blindfold on and no sight. He knows, just as well as you, that there’s no use.

“No.”

“Then listen to me; none of that was true. You are so pretty, so breathtaking. I like you so much.”

“Forgive me for not believing you. If you really thought I was even remotely pretty, there have been countless opportunities for you to say so. Or even just a ‘hey, you know you’re not actually as revolting as I told you.’”

“I… I didn’t want to overwhelm you or have you doubt my intentions, but I’m telling you now that I’ve always thought you to be beautiful.”

You scoff sadly. “Yeah, now when the consequences of your actions have arrived,” you glance down at your feet, feeling so insignificant.

“Please don’t leave.”

“I’ve already packed my stuff.”

“Where are you going? You can’t go home; it isn’t safe there.”

Truly, at this moment, your safety doesn’t seem like your top priority. “I’ll be careful.”

“Can’t you stay with someone, at least?” he bargains, “Jihyo or Sana?”

Another tear falls, and your voice goes quiet. “I want to go home.”

You really do. You haven't been home in months, and you feel like a child sleeping over at a friend's, missing your mom so much it hurts and just wishing she'd come and pick you up.

“I know, but you just gotta hold out a little bit longer. Call Jihyo, please. Do you want me to watch your house twenty-four seven, cause I will.”

You consider his words, and if there’s anything you don’t want, it’s to have him so close again. “Fine. I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah…”

With nothing really left to say, you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the Uber app.

“I’ll uncuff you in a few minutes, I’m just ordering an Uber.”

Luckily, a car is only three minutes away, and so with quick fingers you confirm it. You packed your stuff three hours ago in case this would be the outcome, something you’re very grateful for now. Maybe, maybe, if he had said something, you would’ve kissed him and decided to stay, hoping that he was being honest. But you know that you might be a sweet girl to him, but you're not a pretty girl.

A minute passes, and you sigh sadly. “Okay, I’m gonna open the handcuffs, but I’m begging you, Jeongguk, stay there until I’m gone, okay? Don’t remove the blindfold, please?”

It’s his turn to seemingly consider what you’re saying. What you did, agreeing to call Jihyo, was for him and respecting his wishes. So he has to respect yours. He can’t rip off the blindfold the moment you twist the key in the cuffs and try to persuade you to stay, no matter if he wants to.

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You decide to trust him, and with the key belonging to the cuffs, you round the chair where he’s sitting. Kneeling like before, you manage to unlock one of the cuffs in two seconds, and the metal clinks as it falls off his wrist. Instead of freeing his other wrist as well, you grasp his free hand and put the key into his palm, closing his fist around it.

Though you shouldn’t have expected him to be entirely quiet and still, because while he doesn’t make any move to rise from the chair or remove the blindfold, he does swiftly grab your hand, holding it firmly. Despite being blindfolded, it definitely feels like he’s staring straight at you behind him.

“Don’t believe anything any of us said, please. You really are so gorgeous, and not only that but you’re incredibly smart and hard-working. You’re amazing, and I will regret what I did to you for the rest of my life.”

But you hurt so much on the inside that you don’t say anything to that, you just pull your hand out of his grasp.

author's note: so.... anyway, uh... like, comment, and subscribe <333

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 8 months ago

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

This is just a short reminder for your (and everyone else’s) sanity: commenting stuff like „and meanwhile people are dying :/“ under, like, a slime video or a recipe for chocolate cake achieves absolutely nothing.

That’s not spreading awareness. That’s not rallying people to take action. That’s not activism. That’s just unhealthy.

It’s impossible to think about the horrors 24/7 with absolutely no break. You can’t do that without burning yourself out and ruining your mental health. You’re not going to help any cause or anyone if you’re drowning in depression. The only way to make a sustainable difference in this world is to keep yourself alive and well. Life is like a plane ride: you gotta put your own oxygen mask on before you can assist other passengers.

I don’t want to sound rude or dismissive here. I get it. You care so deeply and you feel crushed and helpless because you don’t have the power or influence or money to just singlehandedly save the world and you just want to do something, and typing „Baking cake while people are literally dying feels cruel, you should use your time better :/ “ under that Instagram video relieves some of that pain and guilt. It feels like you are doing at least a tiny bit - but let’s be honest here, that comment doesn’t achieve anything beyond your temporary relief. The opposite, actually: you are just making others (and yourself) feel bad, and that has never been a great way to make people care.

It’s pretty presumptuous too: that person sharing their recipe probably does not think exclusively about chocolate cake, they just run a baking account! They lead a whole life offline. They could be very actively involved in your cause off of social media already.

I’m not saying never start conversations about the causes you deeply care about or that all social media based activism is useless. I’m just saying be mindful of how you go about it. Start conversations - don’t just try to relieve your guilty feelings by making others feel guilty.

And allow yourself to just take a break and have some cake. Sometimes that’s the best thing you can do to fight the horrors: by replenishing your energy, so you can continue to help in the long run.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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strangererotica · 5 months ago

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Dom!Eddie Munson x Reader

Includes: oral & vaginal sex, cum play, spanking, somnophilia, Eddie comes on Reader’s bush, thigh riding, & a bit of degradation

Eddie’s voice is calm, as if pinning you against his lap is an effortless action. For him, it probably is. “You can squirm around all you want,” he murmurs. “I’m not lettin’ go of you anytime soon...”

You believe him. There are few things stronger than Eddie’s grip, except maybe his love for you.

The steady blur of interstate traffic rumbles outside the motel window. Eddie brought you here as a little treat. It’s nothing fancy; nothing ever is with Eddie. He’s a simple man. He knew how much you needed a change of scenery, even if it’s just a few nights staying in a cheap hotel on the other side of the highway. It’s easy to please you, Eddie has learned. The only thing you really want from him, he gives in abundance: his love. Apart from that, everything else is just material, superficial. Not having expensive things like designer clothes and jewelry doesn’t bother you, especially since when you’re with Eddie, you’re usually naked anyway...

He bounces his knee, and you along with it. Eddie won’t let you sit on his cock, not yet…not when you make such pretty sounds on his lap like this, your naked cunt spreading a little damp patch on his thigh. Eddie gives you his cock as a reward; you’ll have to earn it. And the way to earn Eddie’s cock is to show him what a good girl you can be by controlling yourself and not disobeying him by coming on his lap. Tonight, you’re only allowed to come on his cock.

Your eyes shift to Eddie’s erection, where it rests against his other thigh. He’s hard as a rock, leaking precum onto the hair covering his leg, his cock rising now and then as it pulses. You bury your face again in the safe space of Eddie’s neck, your lips parting to taste his skin. His big hand presses against the small of your back, holding you in place as he gently rocks you forward and back on his knee. You coo against his neck, soft little sounds that force Eddie to touch himself. His eyes close in pleasure as he strokes himself, three slow pumps from his base to his tip, but no more than that. Eddie isn’t just edging himself; he’s saving his cum for you.

He tilts his head to yours, nuzzling your cheek. “How bad do you need it?” Eddie asks, his breath soft and warm against your ear. He lets go of his cock and brings his hand to your lips, feeding you the slippery precum collected on his fingertips. You moan around his touch, sucking the pearly liquid off his skin. One finger isn’t enough, Eddie decides. He needs to see your mouth full, just like it is when his cock is buried inside it. Eddie presses a second finger between your lips, and then a third, feeling the pad of your tongue curve as you’re forced to make room for him, the softness of your inner cheeks spread by his fingers.

Being so full of Eddie in this way reminds you of his cock, and you begin to feel your self control faltering. You know you’re not supposed to come yet, and you’re trying hard not to, honestly…But it feels too good on Eddie’s lap, your pussy weeping gently onto his thigh, his fingers pumping shallow thrusts between your lips as you suck them, wishing they were his cock…

You grind down against Eddie’s thigh, scooting back and forth at a deliberate pace. Eddie knows that you’re trying to come, and he won’t stop you, even though it’s ‘against the rules.’ He knows you’re well aware of what awaits your disobedience.

You come on Eddie’s thigh, whimpering and gurgling around his fingers, your body trembling in his arms. He lets you finish, then spanks your ass hard, once. “Did I say you were allowed to come?” Eddie asks, his tone full of authority. Your voice is breathy and strained as you drift down from your climax. “N-no Eddie, I’m sorry-.”

He spanks you again, harder than the first time. You wince, giggling immediately after the sting subsides.

*spank!* You bite your lip, stifling another giggle. “Somethin’ funny?” Eddie growls. “You think making a mess all over my lap is something to laugh about? Answer me-.”

*spank!*

“Mm-no, I d-don’t,” you reply, your brain fuzzy and stupid. “Just feels so good when you hurt me; can’t help but smile about it…”

“Hmm,” Eddie nods. He lifts you off his lap, placing you on the floor between his knees. He pats his thigh, the sound of your wetness audible. “Go on,” Eddie gently commands. “Clean up your mess, and if you do a good job, maybe I’ll let you sit on my cock...”

You release your lip from between your teeth, scooting forward slightly so your head is suspended over Eddie’s thigh. You place your lips to his skin, kissing and sucking at the moisture your orgasm left there. Eddie clutches your hair inside his fist. He presses your face into his leg, smearing your nose and lips with your own cum. “Gotta treat y’like a fuckin’ dog, don’t I honey?” Eddie muses. “Have to rub your face in your mess just to teach you a lesson…”

Eddie guides your head sideways and places your face against the underside of his balls. You continue to lick and suck; Eddie’s cock bobs against your nose and forehead. “Open your mouth wider,” Eddie says, and you oblige. With his hand still bunched in your hair, Eddie eases his balls inside your mouth, as much as you can take, anyway. “Stay still,” he instructs, spitting on his hand and wrapping it around his cock. “Keep my balls warm for me while I stroke it.”

You feel Eddie’s fist moving above you, pumping along his shaft. Drops of precum land on your forehead and in your hair as he fucks himself. You stay on your knees dutifully, holding as much of Eddie’s balls in your mouth as you can fit, while he masturbates above you. After a few minutes, Eddie can tell he’s getting close. His voice is huskier when he speaks, his breath shallow, needy. “You’ve been such a good girl for me,” he praises. “Go ahead and climb back up on my lap, angel.”

You spread your legs around Eddie’s waist, sinking onto his cock. His chest dips in a deep exhale of relief, of gratitude, as your pillowy walls hug his cock in a perfect fit. You hum softly against Eddie’s neck, little tears forming in your eyes because the sensation of him filling you after you already came so hard is overwhelming. You’re sleepy and horny all at once, snuggled in Eddie’s arms, cuddled from the inside out as he bucks you gently on his lap. He holds you tightly, knowing how sleepy and needy you are. “You can relax baby,” Eddie murmurs at your ear. “I’ll do all the work from here on, alright?”

A happy little tear drips down your cheek and lands on Eddie’s shoulder. You nuzzle against his neck, feeling sleepier and sleepier by the second. Eddie humps up into you gently, tenderly, letting you fall asleep in his arms. When he realizes you’ve drifted off, he carefully hoists you up, carrying you to the bed with his cock still nestled inside you.

He lowers you onto the mattress, your body limp and pliant beneath his, a contented smile on your face as you softly dream. Eddie hovers over you, admiring the beautiful angel in his arms, pressing kisses to your cheeks, your neck, your breasts. He strokes your hair, fanned out across the pillow, his cock pulsing deep inside you. Eddie knows he’s going to come any second. He’s afraid he’ll disturb your sleep if he finishes inside you, so very carefully, he pulls out.

Eddie strokes himself over your body, teasing apart your labia with the head of his cock. He spreads your cum up and down his shaft, using it as a lubricant. With the head of his cock aimed between your legs, Eddie ejaculates into your pubic hair, covering the soft tuft in milky white. The image of your hair covered in his cum is unexpectedly beautiful to Eddie. With a delicate touch, he ghosts his fingers over your pubic mound, spreading his cum inside the hair there.

The glossy liquid shimmers in the fading light of evening, a lavender sunset visible through the motel window. Eddie doesn’t know if he’s ever seen anything as beautiful as you wearing his cum this way. He’s finished on your face and your back countless times; but there’s something so intimate and private about seeing this part of you covered in his cum that has left Eddie awestruck.

He lowers his face to plant a tender kiss between your legs, and then another, and another…because now that he’s gotten a taste of your pussy, Eddie can’t stop. His tongue wakes you, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as he catches your clit just right. “Eddie…” you purr, arching your back against the bed. “I fell asleep; I’m sorry.”

He smiles up at you from between your legs, his expression assuring you he’s not upset. “I know, angel,” Eddie replies, his lips wet with you. “It’s okay. I told you, I’ll take care of everything.” He licks a fat swipe up your center, prompting your entire body to seize in a shiver of pleasure. “And now,” Eddie adds. “I’m gonna take care of you…”

He sinks his mouth over your lips, sliding his tongue inside you. Looking between your legs, you can’t be sure where your pussy ends and Eddie’s mouth begins; he’s eating you up like a dessert. His mouth searches your most sacred space, making love to your pussy with every stroke of his tongue. The sheets are balled in one of your fists, while your other hand is in Eddie’s hair, locking him in place between your thighs.

A string of incoherent words leaves your lips as you climax around Eddie’s tongue. You can feel yourself squirting, cum gushing against his mouth and dripping down your ass to the bed. He murmurs praises against your cunt, words neither of you can hear over the sound of your moaning Eddie’s name. He eats you through your orgasm, and the one after, and the one after that, till you’re so sensitive you’re begging him to stop.

By this point, Eddie is hard again. He climbs up between your legs and enters you easily. “Such a greedy little cunt,” he grunts as he sinks inside. Sweat and cum drip off his chin and onto your tits. As he fucks you, Eddie feels his previous ejaculate rub against his belly, now cold and sticky where it’s matted in your pubic hair. When he’s close to coming, he pulls out of you and presses his tip against the coarse hair below your belly. You both watch his ruddy tip empty into your pubic hair, a deep growl leaving Eddie’s lips as he relieves himself onto you.

He uses his finger to scoop some cum from your bush, bringing it to your lips, feeding it to you. “Such a good girl,” Eddie praises. He kisses his way up your body, pausing for a moment at your breasts, tugging your nipple lightly between his lips. You reach for Eddie and he lets you pull him close, resting his head against your breasts, his breath warm on your skin. “Sweet dreams, Eddie,” you whisper, watching his eyes go heavy, stroking back his hair. Eddie falls asleep with his head against your heartbeat, and the taste of your cunt on his lips…

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hisfavegirl · 15 days ago

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Veil Of Betrayal - King!Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

Summary : You are safe and sound in the Red Keep, but that's probably what you think. Because after you escaped from the clutches of your father and mother, they did everything they could to bring you back.

Aegon Masterlist.

As Daemon’s figure disappeared from view, the weight of the moment bore down on you like a collapsing tower. Your knees gave out, and you fell to the cold floor, barely aware of Aegon’s arms catching you.

“Aegon…” you whispered, your voice choked with sobs as tears streamed down your face. The sound of your grief filled the room, raw and unrestrained, as you buried your face into his chest.

He knelt with you, holding you tightly, his arms a protective cocoon around your trembling form. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice steady even as his own heart ached at the sight of your despair. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his tunic as if letting go would shatter you further. “I didn’t want this,” you managed to say between sobs. “I never wanted to hurt him… or anyone.”

Aegon pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it as he whispered soothing words. “It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “None of this is your fault. He’s the one who forced this on you, not the other way around.”

The memory of Daemon’s cold stare haunted you, and the weight of his words felt like daggers in your heart. You could see the pain in his eyes, even beneath his anger, and it tore at your soul to know you were the cause of it.

“I just wanted peace,” you said, your voice trembling. “I just wanted my family to be whole.”

“And you will have that,” Aegon said, his tone resolute. “We’ll protect what we have—our children, our future. No one will take that from us.”

His determination steadied you, and for a moment, you found solace in his presence. But the ache in your heart lingered, the guilt of choosing one part of your family over the other an unbearable weight.

As your sobs subsided, you leaned into him, drawing strength from his warmth. “What if he comes back?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then we’ll face him together,” Aegon promised, his hand tightening around yours. “You’re not alone in this.”

The words were a balm to your shattered heart, and though the pain remained, you knew Aegon’s love would be your anchor in the storm.

You lay silently, feeling the warmth of Aegon’s hand as it gently caressed your hair, each stroke soothing the tension that had coiled within you. For a moment, with him beside you, the world outside seemed distant, the chaos muted by the safety of his presence.

Opening your eyes, you turned your head slightly to meet his gaze. His violet eyes softened as they met yours, filled with concern and unwavering devotion.

“Aegon,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but heavy with emotion. “I don’t want our children to grow up in a world torn apart by war.”

His hand stilled for a moment, resting gently against the side of your face. Aegon’s expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his features before it was replaced by determination.

“I know,” he said softly, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “Neither do I. I never wanted this, for us or for them. But I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to protect them—and you.”

You reached up, placing your hand over his, grounding yourself in his touch. “I just want them to be safe, to be happy. To have the childhood they deserve.”

“They will,” Aegon vowed, his tone firm now. “I’ll make sure of it, no matter what it takes.”

He leaned closer, his forehead pressing gently against yours as he closed his eyes. “You’re my family. You, the children, and the one growing inside you. Nothing else matters more to me than keeping you all safe.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you allowed yourself to find comfort in his promise. For now, it was enough to hold onto hope, even as the shadows of war loomed on the horizon.

The grand doors of the council chamber opened, and Aegon walked beside you, his hand resting protectively on your lower back. The weight of the moment pressed on your shoulders, but you steeled yourself, knowing this was where you needed to be—beside your husband, at the heart of the storm.

As the two of you entered, the lords and council members rose briefly in acknowledgment of the King. Their eyes flickered toward you, whispers already buzzing about your presence. Some seemed approving, others curious, while a few held unreadable expressions.

Aegon pulled out the chair for you, his hand lingering for a moment on yours as you settled beside him. Alicent sat to his other side, her expression calm and composed, but her gaze betrayed a flicker of relief to see you here.

“My lords,” Aegon began, his voice firm as he addressed the room. “Let us proceed. The matters at hand will not wait.”

As discussions began—strategies, alliances, and whispers of war—you found yourself absorbing every word. Though the conversation revolved around battle plans and the growing tensions with Dragonstone, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of each decision. Every choice they made could shape not just the realm, but your family’s future.

From time to time, Aegon glanced your way, his eyes seeking your reassurance. When his hand found yours beneath the table, you squeezed it gently, a silent promise that you were here with him, through every trial.

Alicent leaned toward you during a lull in the meeting, her voice soft but steady. “Your presence here strengthens him,” she said. “You’ve always been his anchor.”

You nodded slightly, though the weight of it all was not lost on you. Your place here was not just as his wife, but as someone who might help guide him in a time where every decision could mean peace—or destruction.

The council chamber was heavy with tension, the air crackling as Aegon’s voice boomed across the room.

“How in the name of the Seven did this happen?” Aegon roared, his fists clenched on the armrests of his throne. He turned his furious gaze to Ser Criston and Aemond. “Daemon now holds the largest fortress in the Seven Kingdoms, and we allowed it to slip through our fingers? Explain yourselves!”

Ser Criston bowed his head, his tone firm but laced with regret. “Your Grace, the garrison at Harrenhal was undermanned. Daemon arrived swiftly, using Caraxes to instill fear and force a surrender. The men there were overwhelmed before they could mount a defense.”

Aemond, standing stiffly at the side of the room, interjected coldly, “I warned you, brother. We should have acted sooner. I could have dealt with Daemon before this ever came to pass.”

Aegon turned his anger toward Aemond, his expression darkening. “You think I would risk losing you to him? Do you forget who he is? He’s not just our enemy—he’s a monster with no regard for life or loyalty!"

The tension in the room became suffocating, and Alicent, seated beside you, looked between her sons with worry etched on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Aegon cut her off, his voice raw and desperate.

“This cannot continue. Harrenhal is a dagger pointed at the heart of our campaign. If Daemon holds it, he can strike us where we are weakest.” He turned his gaze to you, his anger momentarily replaced by a desperate plea. “Tell me, what should I do? How do I fight a man who seems unstoppable?”

You felt all eyes on you, the weight of their expectations pressing down like a physical burden. Taking a deep breath, you met Aegon’s gaze, your voice calm but steady.

“Harrenhal is a strategic loss, but it does not mean defeat,” you began. “Daemon is bold, but his arrogance is his weakness. Let him think he’s gained an unassailable advantage. Meanwhile, we fortify our positions and rally more houses to our cause. Strength in numbers will be the key to outmaneuvering him.”

Aegon listened intently, his jaw tightening as he absorbed your words. “And what of Harrenhal? Do we simply let him keep it?”

You hesitated, then spoke firmly, “For now, yes. Fighting him there would cost too many lives. But he cannot hold it indefinitely—not if we cut off his supply lines and force him into a position of weakness. Let him sit in that castle, isolated and vulnerable. When the time is right, we’ll strike.”

Aegon leaned back, his gaze lingering on you, a mixture of frustration and admiration in his eyes. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. We’ll do as you suggest—for now.”

The council murmured in agreement, though the tension remained palpable. Aegon reached for your hand beneath the table, gripping it tightly as if drawing strength from your presence. You squeezed his hand in return, silently vowing to stand by him, even as the storm of war loomed ever closer.

Ser Criston’s low murmur cut through the tense silence like a blade. “She thinks like Daemon,” he said, his tone carrying a grudging respect. “And that is to our advantage.”

The words struck you like a physical blow, and your breath hitched. You realized the truth in them—you were helping to craft a strategy that could very well be used to harm your parents, your family. The very people who raised you, who fought to bring you back to their side.

Your hand trembled slightly in Aegon’s grasp, and your gaze faltered. The room felt stifling now, the walls closing in as guilt twisted in your chest.

Aegon noticed your change in demeanor and leaned closer, his voice soft yet concerned. “What is it? Are you unwell?”

You forced a weak smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m fine. Just… overwhelmed.”

Aegon frowned, his free hand brushing over your cheek. “You’re with child. If this is too much, you don’t need to—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, a little too quickly, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

The murmurs of the council faded into the background as your mind swirled with conflict. You were supposed to be loyal to your family. You had told yourself that staying with Aegon, with your children, was the right choice. But now, as you sat here among your husband’s council, offering insight that could spell disaster for those you loved, you felt the weight of betrayal pressing down on you.

Could you truly stand by and watch as the two sides of your heart clashed in bloody battle? Or had you already chosen, your actions betraying where your loyalties now lay?

As the council continued to debate strategy, you stared at the table, your thoughts a whirlwind of guilt, love, and fear.

You rose from your seat, your movements slow and deliberate as you addressed Aegon and the council. “I need to excuse myself,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “I’m not feeling well and would like to rest for a while.”

Aegon’s gaze immediately softened, concern etched into his features. “I’ll take you to your chambers,” he offered, already rising from his chair.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm, stopping him. “No, Aegon,” you said softly, shaking your head. “This meeting is more important. You need to be here with the council.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, managing a faint smile. “Ser Criston or one of the guards can accompany me.”

Aegon hesitated, his violet eyes searching yours for any sign of deeper distress. But when you held firm, he reluctantly nodded. “If you need anything, send for me immediately,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“I will,” you promised, squeezing his arm lightly before stepping away.

Ser Criston moved to escort you, but you shook your head, indicating you wanted to be alone. With a slight bow, he stepped back, allowing you to leave unaccompanied.

As you walked through the halls of the Red Keep, the weight of your emotions pressed down on you. The betrayal you felt—not just toward your family, but toward yourself—gnawed at your soul.

By the time you reached your chambers, tears pricked your eyes. You closed the door behind you, leaning against it as a heavy sigh escaped your lips. The weight of your divided loyalties was becoming unbearable. How long could you walk this fine line before everything crumbled?

Sitting before the mirror, your brush moved gently through your hair as you tried to steady your thoughts. The soft hum of the wind outside was the only sound in the room until faint laughter reached your ears. Your hand froze, and your gaze shifted toward the door.

The laughter grew louder, filling the hallway with its sweet, carefree melody. A small, hesitant smile crept onto your face as the door creaked open.

There they were—Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Maelor, their smiles bright enough to momentarily chase away the weight on your heart. Jaehaerys stood proudly at the front, holding his wooden sword, while Jaehaera clutched her favorite doll, and little Maelor peeked out from behind them with a toy dragon in his hands.

“Mother!” Jaehaera called out, her voice brimming with excitement.

Your heart swelled as you set the brush down and turned fully to face them. “What brings all of you here?” you asked, your voice warm as you opened your arms.

They didn’t hesitate, running toward you with gleeful laughter. Jaehaera was the first to throw her arms around your waist, followed by Maelor, who nestled into your lap. Jaehaerys remained standing tall, declaring, “We’ve come to cheer you up!”

Your laughter, soft and genuine, bubbled forth as you hugged them close. “You’re all doing a wonderful job,” you said, pressing a kiss to the top of Maelor’s silver head.

“Father said you weren’t feeling well,” Jaehaera added, looking up at you with concerned eyes.

“I’m better now that you’re here,” you replied, cupping her cheek gently.

As you held them close, the room seemed lighter, the burden on your heart easing just a little. In their presence, the world’s troubles felt like a distant storm—one that could wait, if only for this moment.

You sat alone in your chambers, the evening light filtering through the windows as the sun began its descent. The faint murmurs of the castle’s activities reached your ears, but none of it could quiet the unease twisting in your chest.

The long hours stretched endlessly, and your gaze flickered toward the door every so often, hoping Aegon would return soon. Yet you knew the council’s discussions were far from over, especially with the looming threat of war.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on the armrest of your chair as you let out a weary sigh. Thoughts of the impending war plagued your mind, not for the first time. You hated the idea of it—the bloodshed, the division, the destruction it would bring. Most of all, you despised how it forced you into a corner, caught between loyalty to your husband and your birth family.

And then there were your children. Their laughter and innocence were a fragile balm to your fears, but the knowledge that this war could shatter their futures made your heart ache. What kind of world would they inherit if this escalated?

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Your hand instinctively went to your belly as if to shield your unborn child. “Come in,” you called softly.

One of your ladies-in-waiting entered, bowing slightly. “The king is still in council, your grace, but he has sent word that he will come to you as soon as it concludes.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, offering her a small smile before she left. Alone once more, you leaned back in your chair, your hand still resting on your belly.

“I won’t let this war take you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Any of you.”

The words hung in the air, a promise to yourself and your children. All you could do now was wait—and hope.

The night had fully enveloped the world, and only the soft whispers of the wind could be heard outside the windows. Feeling slightly weary, you took your warm robe and draped it over the nightgown you had already changed into. Your hand instinctively rested on your slightly rounded belly, a comforting warmth filling your heart despite the lingering worry about the impending war.

You made your way to your children’s chambers, walking through the torchlit corridors of the Red Keep. When you opened the door to their room, soft laughter and hushed whispers greeted you. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were quietly talking to each other, while Maelor sat in a corner playing with his toy dragon. The moment they saw you, bright smiles lit up their faces.

“Mother!” Maelor exclaimed, running toward you with enthusiasm.

You chuckled softly and knelt down to embrace him. “It’s time for bed, my love,” you said gently, brushing his hair with your hand. “I wanted to make sure you’re all ready for sweet dreams.”

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera quickly climbed into their beds, each clutching their favorite toys. You settled into the chair between them, opening a storybook they adored. In a soft and soothing voice, you began to read, weaving tales of dragons and knights, stories that had once been shared with you in your own childhood.

Maelor was the first to drift off to sleep, his tiny hands still clutching his dragon toy. Jaehaerys tried to stay awake, his eyes struggling to remain open as he listened intently. Jaehaera, meanwhile, cuddled her doll and watched you with a contented smile until her eyelids grew too heavy.

One by one, their breathing slowed, and peace settled over the room. You leaned down to kiss each of their foreheads, whispering, “Goodnight, my loves.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine as the door to your children's room creaked open unexpectedly. You froze in place, heart racing.

Two figures stood in the doorway, their faces obscured by dark hoods. Before you could react, one of them stepped forward, drawing a blade with a smooth, practiced motion and pressing it against your throat.

"Stay quiet," the figure hissed in a low voice, the threat unmistakable. "We only want one thing from you."

Your breath caught in your chest, and a sharp panic gripped your heart. The intruder's words came next, each one more chilling than the last.

"You must choose one of your children," the voice commanded coldly. "One must be sacrificed. If you do not choose... we will decide for you."

Terror surged through you. Your mind raced, but no coherent thought could form as you stared at the blade, the gleaming edge reflecting the dim light of the room. You wanted to scream, to shout for help, but your throat was dry, your body frozen.

Your eyes darted to the children, peacefully sleeping in their beds, unaware of the nightmare unfolding around them. Maelor's small form curled in sleep, his toy dragon still clutched in his hand. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, their faces serene, seemed so innocent, so far removed from the terror that now threatened to tear their world apart.

"Choose," the second figure said, their voice colder than the first, a menacing echo in the silence. "Or we will!"

Tears welled up in your eyes as the impossible decision loomed before you. No mother should ever have to make such a choice. They were your children-your heart, your everything. The thought of losing any of them, of condemning one to death, was unbearable.

But you had no choice. The threat to your family was all too real, and time was running out. You could feel the desperation clawing at your insides. You had to act. You had to find a way to save them, to protect them from whatever dark force had brought these monsters to your doorstep.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"Don't hurt them. Please don't make me choose."

The figure with the blade pressed harder against your neck, causing a sharp sting.

"Choose, or we will."

Your mind raced. A plan began to form, fueled by a fierce determination to save your children.

You wouldn't allow them to suffer. You wouldn't let your family fall apart.

"Let them go," you whispered fiercely, not just to the figures in front of you, but to yourself as well. You needed to outsmart them, to protect your children. Somehow, you would find a way.

Tears streamed down your face as the cold steel of the blade pressed against your throat.

You could feel the weight of the decision crushing you, every heartbeat a reminder of the life-or-death choice that loomed over your children. The figures in front of you were unmoving, their demands clear and unforgiving.

"I'll offer myself," you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper, desperate. "Take me. Please.Spare them."

But the cold, emotionless reply that came back from one of the figures made your stomach drop.

"It must be a son," the voice declared, sharp and uncompromising. "A son must pay the price."

You trembled, feeling your entire body shake under the pressure of the impossible demand.

You could feel the world around you spinning, your mind unable to accept what was being asked of you. The thought of losing one of your children, your precious sons-Maelor or Jaehaerys-was more than you could bear.

"Please," you sobbed, your voice breaking.

"Please, I can't choose. I can't."

But they were relentless, their gaze unwavering, their stance threatening. The second figure, who hadn't spoken yet, stepped closer, looming over you with the blade still pressed at your neck.

"You must choose, or we will."

Your eyes darted desperately toward your sleeping children. Jaehaerys, so brave, even in his sleep, and Maelor, the innocent child with so much life left to live. Your heart shattered at the thought of them being torn from you, of one of them being sacrificed for some twisted reason you couldn't even understand.

The silence felt deafening as the seconds stretched on, the room heavy with the weight of your indecision. You could feel the heat of the tears on your cheeks, the pain of your helplessness building to an unbearable point.

"Please," you whispered once more, the words nearly lost in the depth of your agony. "Please don't take them from me."

You couldn't bring yourself to choose. Your love for them was too deep, too overwhelming. You couldn't bear the thought of losing either of them.

The room spun as you were shoved to the floor, the sharp crack of your head hitting the ground sending a wave of dizzying pain through your skull. For a moment, everything blurred, the edges of your vision darkening, but through it, you could still hear the men’s cold voices and the terrifying calm in their words.

As you lay on the cold floor, the pain from your head throbbing fiercely, you could feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of your vision. The room spun as the men’s words pierced your heart, each one more cruel than the last. Your body trembled with fear and desperation, tears streaming down your face as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

They had pointed to Jaehaera’s bed, and in that moment, you knew. They weren’t asking for someone to be sacrificed—they were demanding the life of your child.

“He’s the eldest,” one of them had said, his voice cold and unforgiving.

Your breath caught in your throat as your heart stopped. No. They couldn’t be serious. They couldn’t.

Then the horrifying sound of Jaehaerys’ scream echoed through the room. A scream filled with pain and terror, and it shattered your soul. He was awake, and he was in pain. He was fighting for his life.

Before you could move, before you could protect him, you heard Maelor’s terrified sobs, his voice panicked, calling out for you. “Mother!” he cried, his voice breaking.

You forced yourself to stand, despite the dizziness, despite the overwhelming fear that threatened to consume you. But just as you reached out, you heard the sickening sound of a blade slicing through flesh, followed by a gasp from Jaehaerys.

“NO!” you screamed, your voice ragged and desperate. “Stop! Please, don’t hurt him! Don’t hurt my children!”

The world spun even faster, the tears blurring your vision. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. The agony of knowing that they were killing your son, that they were tearing your family apart, left you feeling as though you were dying inside.

The sounds of your children’s cries echoed louder in your ears, their voices filled with pain and fear. You reached for them, your arms weak, but your heart cried out for them to be safe. You couldn’t save them. You couldn’t protect them.

“Please, stop! Please!” You begged again, your voice trembling with despair, but all that came in return were the chilling sounds of your children’s pain and the cold laughter of the men who had done this to your family.

Your world was collapsing.

The room seemed to fade away as the cold reality of what had just happened settled in. Jaehaerys’ lifeless head, now sealed away in their bag, was a horrifying reminder of the cruelty they had inflicted upon your family. You were paralyzed by grief and disbelief, unable to process the enormity of what had just transpired. The air around you felt heavy, suffocating, as if the very walls were closing in on you.

Jaehaera and Maelor’s desperate voices pulled you from the abyss of shock. They shook you, their hands gripping your arms as they pleaded for you to hold on. Their voices were fractured, trembling with fear and uncertainty, but their determination was clear. They needed you. They couldn’t bear this alone.

“Please, Mother… stay with us,” Maelor cried, his voice cracking. “We need you.”

Through the haze of your tears, you could hear their panicked cries calling out for help, for anyone who could save them from the nightmare they were trapped in. Their tiny hands clung to you, their innocent faces twisted with confusion and terror. They had witnessed something no child should ever have to see. And yet, they still needed you—still wanted you to fight for them, to protect them.

The sound of their voices, so fragile and filled with pain, cut through the numbness you were enveloped in. You could barely breathe, but somehow you forced yourself to focus on them. You were their mother. You had to be strong for them, even if your heart was shattered, even if your very soul was torn in two.

You mustered every ounce of strength you had left, pushing through the suffocating darkness in your mind, and called out in a trembling voice. “Help! Somebody, please!” But the room remained silent, and the weight of helplessness pressed down on you even harder. You could only hope, pray that someone would hear your desperate cries.

But in this moment of anguish, one thing remained clear—you couldn’t give up. Not now. Not after everything. Your children needed you. And you would find a way to make sure they were safe, no matter the cost.

Your heart felt like it was being ripped from your chest as you lay on the cold floor, the pain in your head now a distant echo compared to the agony consuming you. Jaehaerys’ life had been taken so violently, and the memory of it haunted you, sending waves of grief and guilt crashing over you. How could something so terrible happen to your family? How could you protect them when everything felt like it was falling apart?

Then, through the haze of your despair, you heard them.

Aegon stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide in disbelief as he took in the horrifying scene before him. His gaze flickered between your broken form on the floor, the lifeless body of Jaehaerys, and the missing head, all the while his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His heart stopped as the magnitude of the tragedy hit him.

“Love…” His voice cracked, barely a whisper as he took a step forward, his eyes never leaving the devastation that surrounded him. “What happened…? What did they do…?”

Tears began to well up in his eyes, his knees threatening to give way beneath him. He wanted to run to you, to hold you, to comfort you, but the horror of the scene kept him rooted to the spot. Jaehaera and Maelor were kneeling by your side, their faces pale, their small hands shaking as they tried to help you, but they were just as lost and broken as he was.

The room seemed to spin around him, every second feeling like an eternity as he struggled to comprehend what had happened. His son, his precious Jaehaerys, was gone. Brutally taken from him. And you, his wife, his love, were injured—physically and emotionally, your body laying broken and helpless on the cold stone floor.

Aegon’s heart shattered in that moment, as his legs finally gave out beneath him, and he collapsed by your side. His hands trembled as he reached for you, pulling you into his arms, cradling your head in his lap with desperate tenderness. His tears fell freely now, his voice ragged as he whispered your name over and over.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry, Love…” he sobbed, his fingers brushing over your bruised and bleeding temple. “I should have been here. I should have protected you, protected him.”

Jaehaera and Maelor clung to him, their tiny bodies shaking with grief. Jaehaera’s voice, choked with tears, was barely audible as she whispered, “Mother… why? Why did they take him?”

Aegon couldn’t answer. The words were stuck in his throat, the sorrow and rage too great to form anything coherent. He could only hold onto you, his family, as the weight of this tragedy settled deep into his bones. The blood on the floor, the silence of the room, the absence of his son—it was all too much. And yet, somehow, he knew one thing.

He would make sure that Jaehaerys’s death was not in vain. Whoever was responsible for this—he would make them pay.

The sound of Alicent's horrified scream echoed through the chamber as her gaze fell upon the lifeless body of Jaehaerys, blood pooling beneath him. She staggered forward, her hand clutching her chest, her face pale with shock. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she knelt beside Aegon, her voice trembling.

"What... what happened? Aegon, who did this?!" Alicent's voice cracked as she turned to her son, desperate for answers, her eyes darting between you and the lifeless form of her grandson.

Aegon's jaw tightened as he held you closer, shielding you from the sight of the carnage.

His face was etched with grief and fury, his tears streaking his pale cheeks. "They came for her... for my wife... and they took him." His voice was raw, filled with agony and seething rage.

Alicent let out another broken sob, her trembling hands reaching to touch Jaehaerys's small, lifeless hand. "No, no, no... my grandson... my sweet boy..." she whispered, her voice hollow as she rocked back and forth in anguish.

Ser Criston stepped forward, his expression grim as he surveyed the horrific scene. His hand rested on the pommel of his sword, and he bowed his head briefly in sorrow before speaking. "Your Grace, this was no mere attack. This was a message-a calculated act of terror."

Aegon's eyes burned with fury as he raised his head, glaring at Criston and the guards. "And where were you?! Where were the guards?!" he shouted, his voice thunderous. "This happened in our home, under our watch! My son is dead, and my wife could have been killed!"

Criston looked stricken but held his ground. "I failed you, Your Grace," he said solemnly, his head bowed. "But I will find who did this. I swear it on my life."

Alicent turned back to you, her hands hovering over you as if unsure where to touch, afraid of causing you more pain. "My sweet girl, are you hurt? What did they do to you?"

Your voice was weak, trembling with grief and exhaustion as you spoke, your hand resting protectively over your growing belly. "They came for Jaehaerys... they wanted... one of my sons..." A sob broke free, and you clung to Aegon, tears streaming down your face. "They said it was to pay a debt... I begged them to take me instead, but they wouldn't..."

Alicent gasped, her face crumpling with grief as she brought her hands to her mouth.

"Monsters... vile monsters..." she whispered.

Aegon's arms tightened around you, his voice trembling with raw emotion as he declared, "I'll kill them all. Whoever sent them, whoever dared touch my family-they will pay for this."

His words carried a promise of vengeance, one that echoed through the grief-stricken room, even as Alicent reached out to pull Jaehaera and Maelor into her arms, trying to shield them from the horror that surrounded them. The Red Keep had been stained with blood, and its halls would not rest until justice was served.

Aegon’s steps faltered when Alicent’s trembling voice called out, “Aegon! Wait—there’s blood…”

He froze in place, his breath hitching as he looked down and saw the faint trail of crimson staining the floor beneath you. Panic surged through him, his grip on you tightening as if holding you closer might somehow protect you.

“No… no, no, no,” Aegon muttered, his voice breaking. His eyes darted to Alicent, desperation etched across his face. “Mother, do something! She can’t… the baby…!”

Alicent’s composure, though shaken, returned as she gestured sharply to Ser Criston. “Fetch the maesters! Now!”

Criston nodded and hurried from the room while Alicent stepped closer, her voice firm despite her trembling hands. “Aegon, you need to lay her down. We mustn’t move her further.”

Aegon hesitated, his emotions a storm of fear and anguish, but he finally nodded, carrying you into the nearest room and gently laying you down on the bed. Your face was pale, your breathing shallow, and you clung weakly to his hand, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes.

“Aegon,” you whispered, your voice fragile, “the baby…”

“Shh, don’t talk,” he pleaded, brushing damp strands of hair from your face. “You’re going to be fine. The baby’s going to be fine. Just hold on for me, alright?” His voice cracked as he fought to keep his composure, his free hand gripping yours tightly.

Alicent knelt beside you, her own fear clear in her eyes, but she forced herself to be calm. “My sweet girl, listen to me. The maesters will be here soon. Just breathe, my dear. We’re going to take care of you.”

Moments later, the door burst open as the maesters arrived, their expressions grim but focused. They moved quickly, assessing your condition as Aegon reluctantly stepped back, though he refused to let go of your hand.

One of the maesters turned to Alicent and spoke in a low tone, though Aegon could still hear. “Her Grace is in distress, and there’s a risk of premature labor. We must act swiftly to stabilize her and the child.”

Aegon’s heart plummeted at the words, his knees nearly buckling as he gripped the bedpost for support. “No… you have to save them both. Do you hear me? You will save them both!” His voice was a desperate command, laced with fear and fury.

The maesters nodded, working diligently as Alicent placed a reassuring hand on her son’s shoulder. “Aegon,” she said softly, her own tears threatening to spill, “she’s strong. Your child is strong. Have faith in them.”

Aegon nodded shakily, his gaze fixed on you, willing you to hold on. “I can’t lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Not you, not our baby. Please…”

The room was heavy with tension, the air thick with unspoken prayers, as the maesters worked tirelessly to protect both you and the life growing within you.

You opened your eyes slowly, the soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains. The familiar surroundings of your chamber brought little comfort. The walls, once a sanctuary, now felt cold and oppressive.

Your body felt weak, as if the weight of the previous night still pressed upon you. Then the memories struck, sharp and unforgiving—Jaeharys, your eldest son, his life taken in a moment of unimaginable brutality. You could still hear his cries, the muffled sobs of Maelor and Jaehaera, and the laughter of the men who had stolen him from you.

Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, where your unborn child still rested. A maester’s words from the night before echoed in your mind: “The babe is safe, for now.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you curled into yourself, grief and guilt battling within. You had nearly lost another child. The thought alone tore at you, guilt whispering that you hadn’t done enough, even though you knew there was nothing more you could have done.

The door creaked open, and Aegon stepped inside, his face pale and worn from sleeplessness. His eyes softened when they met yours, but the pain and anger behind them were unmistakable. He hurried to your side, kneeling beside the bed and taking your hand gently in his.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He pressed a trembling kiss to your knuckles. “I thought—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “I thought I might lose you too.”

Your lips trembled as tears began to fall. “Jaeharys…”

Aegon’s face crumpled at the mention of your son’s name. He pulled you into his arms carefully, mindful of your weakened state. “I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I know, my love. I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there. I should’ve protected him.”

You shook your head against his chest. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but theirs.”

“But it’s my duty,” he said fiercely, his grip tightening. “And I failed. I swear to you, I will find the men who did this. They will pay for what they’ve done to our family.”

You looked up at him, his words carrying the weight of a king and a father. But as much as you wanted justice, you also feared what this vow of vengeance would mean for the family you still had.

“Aegon,” you said softly, your hand resting on his cheek. “Please… don’t let anger consume you. I can’t lose you too.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “You won’t,” he promised. “I’ll make sure you and the children are safe. No matter the cost.”

The silence that followed was heavy with grief and determination, the two of you clinging to each other as you tried to find solace in the aftermath of your shared loss.

Aegon held your trembling hand tightly, his face a mixture of sorrow and rage as he guided you toward the room where your children had been sleeping. The faint metallic smell of blood still lingered in the air, and the sight before you made your heart clench painfully.

The servants moved swiftly, carrying out the blood-soaked mattress that had once cradled your eldest son. You stopped in the doorway, unable to take another step. Tears streamed down your face as your knees threatened to give way beneath you.

“No…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This was his room. His bed.”

Aegon’s grip on your hand tightened, anchoring you as much as himself. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes blazed with fury, but when he looked at you, his expression softened, replaced by heartbreak.

“I should’ve protected him,” you choked out between sobs. “I should’ve protected him, Aegon. I—”

“You did everything you could,” Aegon interrupted, his voice hoarse yet firm. “This isn’t your fault.”

But your grief was insurmountable. Watching the servants remove the last traces of Jaeharys felt like losing him all over again. You turned into Aegon’s chest, clutching his tunic tightly as your sobs grew louder.

“I can’t bear this,” you cried. “I can’t—he was just a boy. Our boy.”

Aegon held you close, his arms strong yet gentle as he whispered words of comfort. His tears mingled with yours as he kissed the top of your head, his own pain mirroring yours.

“We will honor him,” he said softly. “We will make sure no one forgets who he was. And those who did this… they will pay.”

Though his words were meant to comfort, they only made your heart ache more. You thought of Jaehaera and Maelor, the terror they must have felt, and the lingering scars this night would leave on them.

You pulled away slightly, wiping your tears with a shaking hand. “We have to protect them, Aegon. Maelor, Jaehaera, the babe… We can’t let this happen again.”

Aegon nodded, his expression hardening as he placed a hand over your own, resting protectively over your growing belly. “I swear to you, they will be safe. No one will hurt our family again.”

But as you stood in the doorway, staring at the empty room that once held so much life, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. Would your family ever truly be safe?

As one of the servants passed by carrying the embroidered blanket you had painstakingly crafted for Jaehaerys, you froze. The sight of it, a tangible piece of your love and care for your son, brought a fresh wave of pain crashing down on you.

“Wait,” you said, your voice hoarse yet firm.

The servant stopped immediately, looking at you with a mixture of pity and unease. You stepped forward, your trembling hands reaching out.

“Give it to me,” you said softly, almost pleading.

The servant hesitated for a moment before handing you the blanket. The moment it was in your hands, you clutched it tightly to your chest, pressing your face into the soft fabric. It still smelled faintly of him, a mixture of childhood innocence and comfort.

Your knees threatened to buckle as you stood there, hugging the blanket as though it could bring him back. The tears came again, silently streaming down your face as you whispered his name.

Aegon stood by your side, watching you with an expression of utter devastation. He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and steady.

“You made that for him,” he said, his voice heavy with sorrow.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “I poured my heart into it… Every stitch was for him. He loved it.”

Aegon’s fingers gently traced your arm as he tried to comfort you, though his own grief was evident in the glassiness of his eyes. “He would want you to hold onto it. To remember him.”

You sank into Aegon’s embrace, still clutching the blanket tightly. “I feel like if I let go of this, I’ll lose him forever.”

“You’ll never lose him,” Aegon murmured, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “He’ll always be in your heart, in every memory. No one can take that away from you.”

Despite his words, the ache in your chest remained unbearable. You stood there, holding onto the blanket and the remnants of your son, as the world around you seemed to crumble into sorrow.

Aegon placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his voice tender but firm. “You need to rest. Please, for the baby’s sake.”

You hesitated, your eyes lingering on the room where so much of Jaehaerys still lingered—his favorite toys, the bed he once slept in, now a haunting reminder of his absence. But the weight of exhaustion, both physical and emotional, pressed down on you.

“Alright,” you whispered, your voice trembling. You clutched Jaehaerys’ blanket tightly against your chest, as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality.

Aegon guided you carefully back to your chambers, his arm steadying you as you walked. The journey felt endless, your legs heavy with grief. Once inside, he helped you to the bed, adjusting the pillows behind your back as you sat down.

You curled up on your side, still holding the blanket close. The soft fabric against your cheek was both a comfort and a torment, reminding you of the warmth and joy that were now gone.

Aegon knelt by the bedside, his hand finding yours. “I’ll stay with you,” he said softly. “You don’t have to face this alone.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him. His face was etched with sorrow, his own grief clear despite his attempts to be strong for you.

“I don’t know how to move forward,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“We’ll figure it out together,” Aegon promised, his thumb brushing gently over your hand. “For him. For the children. And for us.”

You nodded faintly, though the weight in your chest remained unbearable. As the night deepened, you closed your eyes, hoping that sleep might bring even a momentary reprieve from the pain. Through it all, Aegon stayed by your side, his presence a fragile but steady beacon in the overwhelming darkness.

The following morning, the Red Keep felt suffocating, its halls shrouded in an almost tangible darkness. The news spread quickly—Jaehaerys’ head had been discovered by the guards, hidden in a blood-soaked sack strapped to a horse. The culprits had been captured, their guilt undeniable.

You lay in your chambers, the weight of the news crushing you further. The world seemed to spin as you struggled to breathe through the despair. Jaehaerys was gone, and now his mutilated remains were a cruel reminder of the nightmare you had lived.

Aegon had left your side as soon as the guards delivered the report. Consumed by rage and grief, he stormed down to the dungeons. Word soon reached you of his actions—how he had taken the lead in interrogating and torturing the men responsible for your son’s death. His fury was unmatched, his desire for vengeance insatiable.

But you couldn’t move. You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel relief that justice, or what little semblance of it remained, was being sought. All you could do was lie there, staring blankly at the ceiling, clutching Jaehaerys’ blanket close to your chest.

The door creaked open, and Alicent entered quietly, her face pale and drawn. She approached you cautiously, her hands folded tightly before her. “My dear,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “The men who did this… They’ve been captured. Aegon… he’s ensuring they pay for their crimes.”

Her words barely registered. You turned your head slightly to look at her, tears welling in your eyes. “It won’t bring him back” you whispered, your voice hollow.

Alicent knelt beside you, taking your hand in hers. “No, it won’t,” she admitted, tears spilling down her cheeks. “But you still have your other children. You still have Aegon. They need you. We all need you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to summon strength from her words, but the pain was too overwhelming. The only sound in the room was the soft rustling of the blanket in your trembling hands and the muffled sobs of a grieving mother.

Alicent sat quietly beside your bed, the weight of grief heavy in the air. Her hand moved gently through your hair, a comforting rhythm meant to soothe, though she knew it could never truly heal the wound carved into your heart.

You clutched Jaehaerys’ blanket tightly, your tears soaking into its fabric. Each stitch, each thread seemed to carry his presence, his memory, and you couldn’t bear to let it go. Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the ache of losing him, and Alicent’s touch was the only tether keeping you grounded in that moment.

“I know,” Alicent whispered after a long silence, her voice soft and steady. “I know what it feels like to lose a child.” Her eyes glistened as she looked down at you, her own pain resurfacing. “It’s a wound that never truly heals, but you find a way to keep going. For those who still need you.”

Her words resonated in the quiet room, and for a moment, the two of you shared a bond that only mothers who had endured such unimaginable pain could understand. Alicent’s hand paused briefly as she continued, “I wish I could take this pain from you, my dear. But I promise, I will be here. For you, for Aegon, for your children.”

You let out a shaky breath, your tears slowing but not stopping. “I don’t know how to go on without him,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “He was my firstborn. My little boy. How am I supposed to face tomorrow?”

Alicent leaned closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “One moment at a time,” she said gently. “And when it feels like too much, lean on those who love you. On Aegon, on me, and on your other children. They need their mother, and I know you’ll find the strength for them.”

Her words offered a fragile comfort, a reminder that even in the depths of sorrow, you were not alone.

Left alone in the silence of your chambers, the weight of loss pressed heavily on your chest. The blanket you held seemed to carry the warmth of Jaehaerys’ laughter, his smile, his joy—all now just distant memories etched painfully into your heart.

Your fingers traced the patterns you had embroidered on the fabric, each stitch a reflection of your love for him. Images of his first steps, his infectious laughter as he played with his siblings, and the way he would cling to you when he sought comfort flooded your mind.

The tears came slowly at first, then in waves, as the ache in your heart became unbearable. You clutched the blanket closer, burying your face into it, as if doing so could somehow bring him back to you.

“Jaehaerys,” you whispered brokenly, the name a prayer, a plea, a cry for something you could never have again. “My sweet boy… I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

The emptiness of the room amplified your grief. The sound of your own quiet sobs filled the space, a sorrow too profound for words. You rocked slightly, as if comforting yourself in the way you used to comfort your children.

The memories came unbidden: his excited voice calling you “Mother,” his small hand gripping yours so tightly, and the way he would light up the room with his presence. Each recollection was a dagger to your soul, a reminder of what you had lost.

“Why him?” you choked out to no one, your voice trembling. “Why my boy?”

The room offered no answers, only silence. You cried until your body felt drained, your tears soaking into the blanket that now held all the love you could no longer give him in life.

The creak of the door pulled you from your thoughts, and your tear-streaked face turned toward it. Aegon stood in the doorway, his figure slouched and disheveled, his expression hollow with grief. His tunic was marred with blood—evidence of the fury and anguish he had unleashed on the man who had taken your son from you.

His violet eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of his sorrow mirrored your own, and it was clear that he had been struggling in his own way, consumed by rage and despair. Slowly, he stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

“Aegon…” you whispered, your voice raw from crying.

He didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze fell to the blanket in your arms, the one you clung to so desperately. His steps were hesitant as he approached you, finally sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“I couldn’t save him,” he said hoarsely, his voice thick with guilt and pain. “I couldn’t protect our son.”

You shook your head, tears welling up once more. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t…”

He leaned forward, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch the blanket. His fingers brushed against yours, and for a moment, he held them there, grounding himself in the only comfort left to him—your presence.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what they did to him,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “The way they took him from us… I made him suffer for it. The one who did this. He begged for mercy, but I showed him none.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew the fury that burned within Aegon, but this was different. This was the wrath of a father, a broken man seeking vengeance for a loss that could never be mended.

You reached out, cupping his bloodstained face with trembling hands. “Aegon… nothing will bring him back,” you said softly, your voice laced with sorrow.

“I know,” he whispered, his tears falling freely now. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he tried to find solace in you. “But I had to do something. I had to… for him.”

You both sat in the heavy silence, the weight of your grief wrapping around you like a shroud. Aegon shifted closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively as though shielding you from the world. For a moment, it was just the two of you, clinging to each other amidst the ruins of your shared heartbreak.

The journey to Sept was long and quiet, the weight of grief still hanging heavily in the air around you. It had been a week since your son’s brutal death, and every moment since had felt like a struggle to breathe. Your thoughts were consumed by the images of what had happened, the harsh memory of that night forever etched in your mind.

Helaena, sensing your deep sorrow, had taken your hand gently, her touch warm and reassuring. Her silence was comforting, as if she understood that sometimes, words couldn’t ease the pain. Alicent sat across from you, her eyes occasionally glancing at you with concern, but she knew better than to push you. Instead, she tried to shift the focus, talking about other matters—anything to help distract you, if only for a moment.

“Have you heard the latest from the council?” Alicent asked, her voice gentle but trying to pull you back into the present. “There’s talk of fortifying the defenses along the borders. There’s no telling what might happen next.”

You barely registered her words, your thoughts drifting again to the loss of your child. How could the world keep moving when everything inside you felt so broken?

Helaena gave your hand a soft squeeze, her eyes full of empathy. She, too, knew the pain of losing someone, though the circumstances might have been different. Her presence was a quiet comfort, as if she were offering you the only solace she could, without words.

Alicent noticed your faraway expression, and though her voice remained calm, a hint of concern showed in her eyes. “I know it’s hard, but you need to be strong now,” she said gently, though it was clear she, too, felt the crushing weight of your grief. “The gods will guide us through this. We must continue, even when it feels like everything is falling apart.”

You nodded absently, your gaze distant, the tears you had tried to hold back threatening to spill once more. It was hard to stay strong when the world around you seemed so cold, so indifferent to the pain you were living through.

But still, you kept walking, with Helaena’s hand in yours and Alicent’s voice trying to keep you grounded.

The flickering candlelight cast a soft, warm glow in the sept, creating a quiet sanctuary from the weight of the world outside. As you knelt before the altar, your hands trembling, you whispered a prayer for your son. The words felt foreign on your lips, too distant from the pain in your heart, but you said them anyway, hoping that the gods would hear your sorrow and bring some measure of peace.

The silence of the sept was overwhelming, broken only by the sound of your soft sobs. It was as if the whole world had quieted to give space for your grief. Alicent and Helaena stood beside you, both trying to offer comfort in their own ways, but neither could take away the raw pain that gripped you.

Helaena, ever gentle, placed a hand on your shoulder, her touch light, as if she feared it might cause you more hurt. Alicent stood a little further back, her expression a mixture of sorrow and concern, her own eyes betraying the shared pain of a mother who had lost a child.

They both knew that nothing could ease your heart right now. There was no word of comfort that could replace the empty space left by your son’s death. And yet, they remained there with you, silent in their own grief, offering you the space to mourn in the only way you could.

The flicker of the candles and the soft chanting of the sept echoed in the stillness, but all you could hear was the memory of your son’s laughter, his warmth, and the ache of the loss that would never truly fade.

As you slowly rose to your feet with Alicent’s support, the weight of your growing belly added to the heaviness in your heart. Each step you took felt like a struggle, both physically and emotionally. The journey from the sept to the waiting carriage felt longer than it should have, the air around you thick with sorrow.

The people who had gathered outside, offering their condolences and words of sympathy, only deepened the ache within you. Their sorrowful expressions, some of them bowing their heads as they spoke of their shared grief, felt like daggers to your already broken heart. You wanted to hide from it all, to escape the pity and the reminders of what you had lost, but instead, you forced yourself to smile faintly in return, acknowledging their kindness even as it made your heart ache further.

Alicent noticed your struggle, her hand gently resting on your arm, guiding you toward the carriage. “It’s difficult, I know,” she said softly, her voice filled with a mix of empathy and concern. “But your son would want you to carry on. He would want you to be strong—for the ones still with you.”

Her words were meant to comfort, but they couldn’t erase the grief that consumed you. Every step felt like it was taking you further from the life you once had, the one where your son still lived, still laughed, still held the light in your world. But despite the pain, you knew she was right. The world continued on, and you, despite your heartache, had to continue too—for your unborn child and the family still by your side.

As you finally settled into the carriage, the door closing softly behind you, you closed your eyes and let the tears flow freely. You allowed yourself the moment to grieve, to feel the weight of your loss, even as you knew you had to carry on.

You walked slowly through the corridors of Red Keep, your steps heavy with exhaustion. The weight of the loss still hung over you like a dark cloud, and the thought of facing the world outside your room felt unbearable.

As you neared your chambers, you heard Aegon’s voice—his frantic, anguished shouts echoing down the hall from the council room. His tone was one of fury, yet it carried an undertone of desperation that you couldn’t ignore. But despite the urge to rush to him, you knew you needed time alone, to rest, to process.

With a deep breath, you pushed open the door to your room. The familiar surroundings—your bed, the walls, the silence—felt both comforting and suffocating. You closed the door behind you and let yourself collapse onto the edge of the bed.

Tears that had been held back for what felt like forever finally fell freely, soaking into the pillow beneath your head. You didn’t know how long you lay there, lost in the sorrow of your thoughts, but the pain didn’t seem to lessen. Aegon’s anger, his pain—it all seemed to reach you in waves, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him just yet.

You needed this moment of solitude to regain some semblance of control, even if it was only temporary. The war raging within your heart, the grief, the guilt—it was all too much, and you couldn’t carry it all at once.

You stood by the window, your gaze lost in the vast expanse of the Red Keep grounds, but your mind was far from the view. The memory of that night replayed in your thoughts, the terror, the chilling demand to choose a son. “It must be a son,” their words haunted you, echoing in the silence of your room.

Your heart ached with the cruel logic behind it. Perhaps it was retaliation for the loss of Luke, your brother. The thought of your mother being involved in such a brutal act seemed impossible. She wouldn’t do this to me, you thought. Your mother, Rhaenyra, might be stern, but she wouldn’t take the life of an innocent child to settle old grievances, especially not her own grandchildren.

Yet, the fear gnawed at you. The uncertainty of their next move was unbearable. As much as you tried to reason with yourself, there was a deeper, darker part of you that feared you might be wrong. Could your family really have fallen to this depth of cruelty? Or was it simply your own pain making everything seem darker than it was?

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breath. The weight of your unborn child in your womb, the loss of your son, the fear for the future—all of it pressing on you. You had to be strong. For them. For your children. Even when your heart screamed to fall apart, you had to find a way to keep going.

You turned your gaze toward the door, your heart heavy with uncertainty, listening for any sign that Aegon was returning from his meeting. The silence in the room only amplified the tension inside you. After a long moment of stillness, you quietly moved to the wardrobe, pulling out your cloak. The fabric felt heavy in your hands as you draped it over your shoulders, feeling the coolness of it against your skin.

The decision felt impulsive, yet necessary. You had to know the truth. The questions swirling in your mind—the guilt, the suspicion—demanded answers. Was it really her? Could your mother have orchestrated such an unimaginable act? The thought of confronting her terrified you, but you needed closure. You needed to know where your family’s loyalty truly lay, especially now, with so much at stake.

As you stepped toward the door, you paused, taking a deep breath. I must do this. You didn’t know what you’d find at Dragonstone, but you couldn’t stay in this uncertain limbo any longer. With one final glance at your room, you quietly opened the door and slipped out, hoping to make it out of the Red Keep undetected. Every step you took away from the comfort of your room felt like a step further into the unknown.

You reached the Dragonpit, the massive structure housing the dragons, and the familiar sight of your dragon stirred something deep within you. The cold stone underfoot was a stark contrast to the warmth you felt as you approached your dragon. Its fiery eyes met yours, an almost knowing gaze. Slowly, you reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you stroked its snout. The bond you shared with the creature was undeniable, a connection forged through years of trust and shared history.

“Take me to Dragonstone,” you whispered softly, your voice filled with a mix of determination and uncertainty.

Your dragon let out a low rumble, as though acknowledging your command. With practiced ease, you climbed onto its back, the leather of your boots securing your position. The wind in your hair felt cool, but your heart was anything but calm. Every part of you was pulling in different directions—fear, hope, guilt—but you had to know the truth.

“Let’s go,” you urged, and the dragon unfurled its massive wings, lifting into the air with a power that made your heart race. The Red Keep slowly disappeared beneath you as you soared high into the sky, the horizon stretching out before you, unknown and daunting.

As the cold wind whipped against your face, your thoughts were consumed by the unknown, by what you would find at Dragonstone—and whether you were ready to face the answers.

As you descended from your dragon, the weight in your chest grew heavier. The sight of Dragonstone, with its jagged cliffs and looming silhouette, mirrored the turbulence within you. The castle stood as a cold, silent witness to your turmoil. You exhaled slowly, trying to steady your nerves. Every step toward the castle felt like an irreversible move, but you knew it was necessary.

The air was damp and sharp as you made your way up the stone steps, the sound of your boots echoing in the silence. The distant crash of waves against the rocks below was the only sound that accompanied your journey, a constant reminder of the harshness of this place.

The entrance to the castle loomed ahead, its dark stone walls filled with memories of times both cherished and painful. You couldn’t help but wonder what awaited you inside. Would your mother and father be there, or had they already gone? Was it truly them who had been behind your son’s death, or was something darker at play?

With one final glance at your dragon, still perched above the cliffs, you pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the shadowed halls of Dragonstone. The cool air hit you like a wave, and the distant sound of footsteps made your heart skip. Someone was here. You weren’t alone.

Every step you took felt like a question hanging in the air.

You looked at them both, your heart pounding in your chest. The sight of your mother, Rhaenyra, and your father, Daemon, standing there, their expressions a mixture of surprise and something else—something unreadable—sent a chill down your spine. Their presence, once familiar, now felt distant, like strangers from another life. The air around you felt thick with tension.

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened slightly, and after a moment of silence, she stepped forward, her voice calm but with an edge of urgency. “Come, let’s talk privately,” she said, her hand gesturing toward a door behind her. “We need to understand each other, especially now.”

Daemon, standing just a little behind her, remained silent, his eyes dark and intense, as if waiting for your next move. The air felt heavy between the three of you, as if the world outside had ceased to exist. Only the weight of what had happened and what was yet to unfold mattered.

Without saying anything, you nodded, though your heart raced in your chest. You followed Rhaenyra through the hallways, every step echoing in the quiet space, while your mind wrestled with the flood of emotions coursing through you.

As you entered your mother’s private chambers, the door closing behind you with a quiet thud, the atmosphere grew more intimate, yet no less tense. You knew this conversation would be difficult, but you needed answers—answers you weren’t sure you were ready to hear.

You sat in front of them, your heart heavy with uncertainty, the weight of your grief pressing down on you. The question you had been holding onto, the one that had haunted your every thought since that night, finally slipped from your lips.

“Did you have anything to do with the death of my son?” you asked, your voice breaking, though you tried to keep it steady. Your eyes searched your mother’s face, hoping to find a truth that could offer you some kind of peace.

Rhaenyra’s expression faltered for a moment, her eyes welling with sadness as she met your gaze. Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke, the sincerity in her words undeniable. “I could never do that to you,” she said softly, her hands clasping in front of her. “I know the pain of losing a child—how could I bring that pain to you, my own daughter? I would never wish that kind of grief upon you.”

Daemon, standing quietly beside her, didn’t say a word, but his eyes were sharp, his brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and concern. His gaze flickered between you and Rhaenyra, as if he too was trying to understand the depth of your pain, yet unsure how to ease it.

Rhaenyra continued, her voice growing more earnest. “I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it. If I had known, if I could have prevented it…” Her voice trailed off, the sorrow in her words hanging in the air like a heavy fog. “I would have done anything to stop it, just as I would have for any of my children.”

For a moment, silence filled the room. You could feel the tension, the uncertainty swirling between you, but there was a flicker of something—a glimmer of hope in her eyes that made you question whether it was possible that your own mother had been left as helpless as you in this tragedy.

But despite the sincerity in her voice, a part of you couldn’t let go of the doubt, the lingering fear that perhaps there were still pieces missing in the puzzle, pieces you needed to uncover to fully understand the truth.

As your gaze shifted to your father, Daemon, you saw his face remain cold and unreadable, offering no comfort or answer. His silence spoke volumes, and it gnawed at your heart. You couldn’t help but feel a growing unease. You turned your question to him, asking the same thing you had asked your mother.

“Did you have anything to do with the death of my son?”

Daemon’s gaze remained fixed ahead, his expression unchanging. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. He said nothing.

The tension in the room thickened, the silence becoming suffocating. Your eyes remained on him, waiting for some sign—any sign—that he would speak, that he would offer an explanation. But all you got was the cold indifference of a man who seemed lost in his own thoughts.

It was then that your mother, Rhaenyra, seemed to realize something. Her eyes flickered between you and Daemon, her brow furrowing as if a thought had just crossed her mind. She looked at Daemon, her voice tinged with worry.

“Daemon,” she began, her tone softer now, as if trying to break through the wall he had erected around himself. “Why are you silent? If you know something… if you were involved, now is the time to speak.”

Daemon’s gaze shifted to her, and for the first time, a flicker of something—something hard to read—passed over his face. It wasn’t guilt, nor was it fear. It was something else, something colder, something you couldn’t quite place.

Rhaenyra’s voice softened, a quiet desperation in her words as she urged, “If you had any part in this… now is the time to tell her. She deserves to know the truth.”

Daemon remained still, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if contemplating whether or not to speak. His silence was more than just an absence of words—it was a statement, a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to.

The weight of the room seemed to increase with every passing second. You wanted answers, but the more you questioned, the more you felt as if the truth was slipping further away from you.

As you stood, your hands trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief, you reached forward and tugged at your father’s tunic, pulling him just enough for him to look at you. Your heart raced, and your breath caught in your throat as you stared into his eyes, willing him to speak, to say something—anything—that would disprove your suspicion.

But he didn’t. He remained silent, his eyes distant, his face void of emotion. The longer his gaze stayed fixed on you without a single word, the more the truth settled in your chest, heavy and suffocating. The silence between you was deafening, louder than any words could ever be.

With a broken sob, you stepped back, releasing the grip on his tunic. It was clear now—your father was the one behind the brutal murder of your son. You could feel your legs weakening beneath you, your body trembling, as the weight of this revelation crashed down upon you.

“How could you?” you whispered, voice barely audible, but the pain in your words was unmistakable. “How could you do this to me, to your own blood?”

Daemon finally broke his silence, but not with words. His eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as if bracing himself for something. He didn’t apologize, nor did he offer any explanation. His face remained cold, implacable—unbothered by the devastation he had caused.

Rhaenyra, who had been silently watching the exchange, now stood from her seat, her face pale as she approached you. “Please,” she said, her voice pleading, “you must understand. There is so much more at play here, so much that you don’t know.”

But it was too late. The truth had already been revealed. Your trust in them was shattered, and the pain of losing your son, compounded by the betrayal of your own flesh and blood, was too much to bear. The walls of the room seemed to close in around you, and you felt as if you were suffocating in the crushing weight of it all.

“You did this,” you said, barely able to get the words out, your voice quivering with the intensity of your grief. “You took him from me.”

Rhaenyra reached out to you, but you stepped back, holding up your hand to stop her. There was no comfort to be found here, not from them. You couldn’t bear it anymore.

With a final, bitter glance at your father, you turned and walked toward the door. The pain and betrayal coursed through your every step, but you couldn’t stay any longer. You needed space. You needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere they had created.

The truth had shattered everything you thought you knew about your family.

As you made your way back to the dragon, your heart felt like it was shattering with every step. The world around you seemed to blur, and all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears, the pounding of your heart. The weight of the betrayal was unbearable. You had trusted them, your own flesh and blood, only to find that they were the ones responsible for the greatest loss of your life.

Reaching the dragon, you stumbled, falling to your knees on the cold, unforgiving sand. The tears streamed down your face without restraint, as the grief, the anger, and the hurt poured out of you all at once. The dragon, sensing your distress, approached slowly, its great eyes watching you with an understanding that no one else could offer. You could hear its steady breath, feel the warmth of its body, but none of it brought comfort. Not now.

Your body trembled, each sob wracking your chest, as the full weight of the loss came crashing down. Your son was gone. Your family was broken. And the ones you had once turned to for support had become the very reason for your suffering.

You curled in on yourself, clutching your stomach instinctively, feeling the life growing inside you, the only remaining piece of hope. But even that seemed fragile in the face of everything that had happened.

“Why?” you whispered to the empty night, to the stars above that seemed distant and indifferent. “Why did this have to happen? Why did they have to take him from me?”

Your grief consumed you, leaving you feeling hollow and lost. The journey ahead felt uncertain, and the future seemed impossible to face. All you could do was cry, lost in the pain, surrounded by the only thing that had ever offered you some semblance of comfort—your dragon.

As you approached the gates of King’s Landing, each step felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Your heart was heavy with sorrow, your mind clouded with grief. The castle loomed ahead, its dark silhouette a stark reminder of everything that had been lost. You could feel the weight of the eyes of the city upon you as you made your way through the streets, but nothing seemed to matter anymore.

When you arrived at the gates, the guards immediately took notice of your return. One of them rushed to inform Aegon of your presence, his concern clear in his hurried steps. You could almost sense his anxiousness, knowing that he had realized you had been gone for longer than you should have been.

You stood at the entrance, your body aching, your mind numb, as you waited for him. And then, just as you were about to turn back to your chambers, Aegon appeared before you, his face pale and strained. His eyes locked onto you with a mixture of relief and worry.

“My love,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “Where have you been? We’ve all been searching for you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak at first. Your throat was tight, the words trapped behind the walls of your grief. But his presence, his familiar face, finally broke through, and the tears that had been stifled for so long began to flow once more.

Aegon held you tightly in his arms, the warmth of his embrace providing a small comfort against the turmoil in your heart. He gently stroked your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, as if trying to reassure you that he was there, that he wouldn’t let you go again.

But you knew that nothing could fully ease the pain in your soul. The truth weighed heavily on you, a burden you could no longer keep inside.

With a trembling voice, you pulled away slightly to meet his eyes, your words choked with emotion. “Aegon…” you began, the weight of the revelation heavy on your chest. “I went to Dragonstone. I had to know the truth. It was my father…Daemon. He’s the one behind Jaeherys’ death.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. You could see the shock in Aegon’s eyes, the disbelief, as if he couldn’t fully grasp what you were saying.

“I’m so sorry,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to believe it either, but… my father did this. He had him killed, and I had no idea until now.”

Tears welled up again as you gazed at him, feeling a mix of devastation and guilt. You didn’t know how to face him, how to explain what had happened. You only hoped he would understand, that somehow, through all this darkness, you could find a way forward together.

Aegon tightened his embrace, pulling you closer as he whispered soothing words into your ear, his voice low and steady. “I won’t let this go unpunished,” he murmured, his tone filled with quiet resolve. “Daemon will pay for what he’s done to our family. To you.”

His words, though comforting, only made the weight of the situation feel heavier. The pain of losing Jaeherys, the betrayal of your own blood—it was all too much to bear. But as Aegon held you, his presence was a lifeline, grounding you amidst the storm inside.

“I’m here for you,” he continued softly, his fingers brushing through your hair. “We’ll get through this together. I won’t let you carry this burden alone.”

You nodded, your heart aching but finding some solace in his words. You didn’t know what the future would bring, but with Aegon by your side, you hoped you could find a way to heal.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @callsignwidow

Thanks to @zaldritzosrose for making the beautiful diveders and let me use them 🫶🏻.

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