#he’s been a constant source of love and light in my life and he will continue be 😖

[hyunpic]

[asoiaf-bambii]

𝔖outhern 𝔚ife

summary: to Cregan Stark, winter was comforting; to his southern-born wife, it was cruel. but with their child on the way, he’d shield them both from the north’s relentless cold — no matter the cost.

paring: cregan stark x southern!reader (house not specified)

The North had always been an unforgiving place. To those who called it home, it was a land of harsh beauty, where the cold was a constant companion, and survival was more than a mere skill—it was a way of life. But to outsiders, the North felt more like an eternal challenge, an unrelenting test of endurance.

For Cregan Stark, the endless white blanket of snow and the biting chill in the air had always been sources of comfort. The North was his sanctuary, a place where he felt both bound and unshakably rooted. In the winter, when the skies turned grey and the world seemed to hold its breath beneath a blanket of snow, he found a quiet peace. There was something almost sacred in the solitude of those cold days, something that echoed within the depths of his own heart.

But when he looked at you, he saw an entirely different story.

You stood near the grand hearth of Winterfell’s main hall, wrapped in furs far heavier than anything you’d ever needed in the warm, golden South. The flames cast a soft glow across your face, warming your cheeks, and for a moment, Cregan let his gaze linger, watching the subtle, delicate way your brow furrowed as you stared into the fire, seeking warmth. The South had been your world—a land of balmy breezes, of flowering gardens and warm sunshine. Winterfell, with its ancient stone walls and freezing nights, must have felt like a fortress built of ice and shadows.

His gaze softened, though his features remained as stern as ever. In you, he saw a softness, a gentleness that the North rarely harboured. It was as if the warmth of your homeland clung to you still, like a tender light that persisted against the cold. But he could see it too—the subtle, weary lines in your expression, the faint tremble in your hands when the chill crept too close.

And it was more than just you now. The child within you, the life you both awaited with an unspoken hope and an unyielding fear, made the stakes even higher. The North would be his child’s home, just as it was his. But as much as he loved his land, he knew it would be no kinder to his child than it had been to him.

As he approached, his footsteps slow and deliberate, you looked up, and a gentle smile lifted your lips. He could see the love and trust in your eyes, the quiet faith you held in him to keep you safe, even here in this unfamiliar land. He moved closer, his large frame casting a shadow over you, his rugged face softened just a touch by the flickering firelight.

“I know this place feels foreign,” he murmured, his deep voice as steady as the mountains, “but I swear to you, it will be a home for you… for both of you.” His gaze lowered to your abdomen, where his child grew beneath your heart. A sacred duty—that was how he saw it. This fragile life, a blend of him and you, a delicate piece of both your worlds brought together—it was his to protect.

You reached out, placing a hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath layers of wool and leather. “I trust you, Cregan,” you whispered. “I know the North is in your blood. And I know… our child will come to love it, too. But sometimes… sometimes, it feels like the cold is too much, like it seeps into my bones.”

Cregan felt a pang of something he rarely allowed himself to feel: helplessness. He could swing a sword against any enemy and defend his land and his people against any threat. But this? The cold was an enemy he could not strike down, a force he could not control. All he could do was keep the fires burning, wrap you in furs, pull you close to his chest, and let his warmth shield you, even if it never quite chased away the cold completely.

“Then I’ll stay close,” he replied, his voice a low rumble as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. His hands, large and rough from years of sword-wielding, settled gently on your back, holding you as if you were as precious and fragile as the finest glass. “And when the cold feels too strong, I’ll be here to keep it at bay. My warmth, my strength—it’s yours. Every bit of it.”

You leaned into him, letting the heat of his body seep into you. The broadness of his shoulders, the unyielding strength that he carried so effortlessly, was a balm against the chill that seemed to haunt Winterfell’s halls. As you pressed your cheek to his chest, you felt his fingers gently brush your hair, an act that was tender in a way only he could make it—subtle, almost hidden beneath his roughness.

The silence stretched between you, a silence that spoke of shared worries, unspoken hopes, and a deep, quiet love that neither of you had yet fully put into words. For a man like Cregan, love wasn’t something expressed in declarations or grand gestures. It was in the steadfastness of his gaze, the unwavering loyalty he showed, the way his arms tightened around you as if vowing never to let go.

His grey eyes, as sharp and fierce as the winter storms, softened as he looked down at you, his fingers tracing a gentle path along your back. “The North is harsh,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It can be cruel. But it can also be… protective. Strong. Like the walls of Winterfell. I know it seems bleak, but it’s a kind of strength. The kind that will protect you, that will protect… our child.”

You lifted your gaze, meeting his eyes, and saw something in his expression that stole your breath—a fierce, unbreakable promise. In that moment, you understood the North a little better. It wasn’t a place that gave its love freely; it was a land that guarded, that endured. And in Cregan’s embrace, you could feel that same strength, that same loyalty, radiating from him.

“Then I’ll learn to love it,” you replied softly, your voice steady with a resolve that matched his own. “If the North is your heart, then it is mine too. And our child will have the strength of both worlds.”

Cregan’s gaze held yours for a long, silent moment, as though committing every word, every promise, to memory. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the scratch of his beard warm against your skin. It was a kiss that felt like a vow, a promise that no matter how cold or dark the North became, he would be there to shield you from its worst.

As the night deepened, he held you close by the fire, his presence a solid wall against the chill that surrounded you both. And for the first time, you felt a little less of the foreign cold, a little more of the warmth and strength that Cregan carried within him.

In his arms, you realised, Winterfell did not feel quite so strange or unwelcoming. It was slowly becoming a home, built not just of stone and ice, but of shared warmth, unspoken promises, and the fierce loyalty of a man whose heart beat steady and unyielding as the North itself.

[lizzyiii]

hey, so ur works are literally heaven in itself (im in love with u)

you guys reading my works are what validate me in life (i'm so in love with you too, babe)

Scales and Arpeggios

pairing | aemond x wife!reader word count | 4.3k words summary | aemond and his wife share tender moments with their children, engaging in music lessons that bring warmth and joy to their family amidst the shadows of the dance of dragons.

note | slight angst, hotd au (greens win), KING AEMOND, toothrotting fluffff, children, no description of reader, fluffy Aemond, soft aemond, pregnant!reader a/n | aristocats inspired (duchess and her kittens), I thought of this this morning. I really needed this fluff after all my negative thoughts and feelings. also don't worry, I have all my requests in the making, and in my draft's - prepare for the angst and feels.

likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Aemond was tired.

Day upon day, his life was mired in endless council meetings, audiences with quarrelsome lords, and grievances of the peasantry, all in the name of healing a realm ravaged by war.

It had been two years since the Dance of the Dragons had torn through the land, yet the scars remained, as fresh as the charred ruins left in the dragons’ wake.

And here he was, King of the Seven Kingdoms—but at what bitter cost. He had bested Daemon in the fierce clash over the God’s Eye, and his half-sister, the self-styled Queen, had been devoured by her own madness.

She met her end as Sunfyre tore her asunder upon Aegon’s command. Not long after, Aegon himself succumbed to his wounds, leaving the crown a hollow prize.

Aemond had defeated the Blacks. The traitors were vanquished, their cause snuffed out. But his family had been taken in the fires of war. Jaehaerys murdered; young Maelor torn apart; Daeron slain.

Helaena, dear Helaena, had taken her own life. And Aegon—Aegon had burned away with his dragon, his defiance crumbling under the agony of his wounds.

All that remained of his bloodline were fleeting shadows of memory and ashes of kin. Only his wife, the woman bound to him since he was but fourteen, remained steadfast.

Through the dark days of the war, you had been his only constant, his sole source of solace. In the end, that was all he had left: his bride, his son Aeron, his niece Jaehaera, and his mother, Queen Alicent, who clung to life with a frail resilience.

It was his wife, too, who had stayed his hand when he considered the fates of Daemon’s daughters. You had urged him to spare the lives of Baela and Rhaena, allowing them sanctuary with their sole surviving brother, Aegon the Younger, now far away in Driftmark.

And yet, his mother had been torn asunder by grief, the madness that followed the loss of three of her children consuming her like a wildfire. Just months ago, Alicent had succumbed to the cruel grip of Winter Fever, and with her passing, the warmth of their family had dimmed further.

He blamed himself, for in his fervor to protect his own—the children he adored and his beloved wife—he had allowed himself to be blind to his mother’s decline. Each day, he devoted himself to the care and nurturing of Aeron and Daenys, ensuring Jaehaera felt the presence of family, while the ever-looming responsibilities of the crown overshadowed his duties as a son.

Now, he barely caught glimpses of the life that remained. He would rise in the early hours, the dawn light casting a soft glow upon his wife’s sleeping form, a fleeting moment of peace before he was swept away by the relentless tide of royal obligations.

In the fleeting minutes before he departed for court, he could only admire the serene lines of your face, knowing that the day would steal him from your side again.

The children were no better; brief encounters in the corridors felt like whispers of a past he could hardly grasp. Aeron would be playing with his toys, and Daenys might be crawling after the palace cats, laughter echoing softly in the halls, but those joyful sounds seemed distant, muffled by the duties that consumed him.

But on this day, a flicker of fortune shone upon him; he had managed to complete his duties earlier than usual. Typically, he toiled long into the night, only to return to the warmth of their chambers when all were asleep. Though it was after supper, a glimmer of hope sparked within him that perhaps he could still find them, to grasp those precious moments he had so dearly missed.

Through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, the young Prince Aeron and Princess Jaehaera raced, their laughter echoing against the cold stone walls as they hurried toward the music lesson that awaited them. The air was filled with the thrill of their spirited competition, each eager to claim the title of first to arrive.

As they rounded a corner, Jaehaera noticed Aeron pulling ahead, determination etched across his small face. In a quick, daring move, she reached out and tugged at his tunic, managing to pull him back just enough to dart ahead. “Me first!” she shouted, her voice ringing with triumph.

Not to be outdone, Aeron swiftly grabbed hold of her arm, attempting to halt her advance. “And why should you be first?” he challenged.

Jaehaera strained against his grip, lifting her chin defiantly as she met his gaze. “Because I am the future queen, that’s why!” she declared, her voice bold and unwavering.

With that, she broke free, dashing down the corridor, but Aeron was quick on her heels, bumping her to the side in a playful shove that almost sent her sprawling against the wall. “You’re not a queen! You’re nothing but my cousin!” he yelled.

Jaehaera shot him a fierce glare, her brows knitting together. “I’ll show you if I’m a queen or not,” she murmured under her breath, determination simmering in her tone as they neared the door to the music room.

In a last-ditch effort to claim victory, Jaehaera pushed Aeron aside just as they reached the threshold. He stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, throwing a frown her way. “Fight fair, Jae!”

Without missing a beat, she rolled her eyes and slipped into the room, only to be met with an unexpected shove from Aeron as he followed closely behind. He hadn’t meant to, but the force sent Jaehaera tumbling to the ground with a hard thud that echoed in the hall.

She shot him a fierce glare, her lips forming a pout as she rubbed her side. “Now that hurt!” she exclaimed, the hint of a whine creeping into her voice.

“Aunty! Aunty!” she called out, her tone shifting to one of urgency.

Moments later, you entered the room, carrying Daenys on your hip. A mixture of sternness and affection danced on your face as you regarded the two children. “Jaehaera, my darling, Jaehaera,” you said, your voice firm but softening with a smile. “You must stop that; it is really not ladylike.”

Your gaze shifted to Aeron, your tone turning slightly admonishing. “And you, Aeron, such behavior is most unbecoming of a lovely gentleman.”

Aeron’s cheeks flushed, and he scowled at Jaehaera, ready to defend himself. “Well, she started it,” he retorted, crossing his arms defiantly.

Jaehaera, unfazed, lifted her chin in a gesture of regal disdain, pointedly turning her gaze away from him. “Queens do not start fights,” she declared, her voice dripping with authority. Then, with a scrunch of her nose, she added, “But they can finish them.”

Aeron rolled his eyes dramatically at Jaehaera, sticking out his tongue in mockery, but the jest was short-lived as he heard his mother’s voice call out from across the room. “Now, Aeron, don’t be rude,” you scolded, your tone firm but laced with affection.

He turned to you, flashing an innocent smile, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. “We were just practicing fighting and pushing,” he replied, his words punctuated by an exaggerated shrug that only added to the mischief of the moment.

You felt a jolt of discomfort at his words, a wave of haunting memories crashing over you. The echoes of past conflicts flickered in your mind—battles fought and lives lost, the heavy price of such lessons. “Targaryens do not practice fighting and pushing and things like that,” you replied, your voice low, the irony of your own words hanging heavily in the air. “It is just horrible.”

With a determined effort, you sought to redirect the conversation and lighten the mood. “Now,” you began, your expression softening as you turned your gaze to Daenys, nestled in your arms, her tiny form clearly on the brink of sleep.

You smiled adoringly at her, a sense of calm washing over you as you looked back at Jaehaera and Aeron. “Why don’t you two head over to the piano, and let’s begin our lesson?”

“Yes, Aunty!” Jaehaera chirped, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she practically danced toward the instrument, subtly shouldering Aeron aside.

Aeron glared at Jaehaera, his indignation flaring up momentarily, but he quickly turned to you with a soft nod. “Yes, Mama,” he replied.

“It’s time to practice your scales and your arpeggios,” you encouraged, as you moved toward the piano. You settled onto the chaise beside it, Daenys resting her head comfortably against your shoulder, her eyes half-closed as she watched her brother and cousin with a sleepy fascination.

Jaehaera stood poised beside the grand piano, her back straight and shoulders squared, a picture of determination. She cleared her throat, the sound echoing softly in the air, and waited expectantly for Aeron to begin.

However, she cast him a pointed glare as he took his sweet time, leisurely warming up his hands as if the lesson were no pressing matter.

Finally, after an impatient moment, Jaehaera announced, “I’m ready, Maestro,” her voice ringing with a blend of authority and hautiness.

Aeron shot her a sideways glance, his mischievous grin returning as he subtly shifted his foot and stomped down hard onto Jaehaera’s, eliciting a sharp squeak from her.

“Aunty, he did it again!” she exclaimed, turning her wide eyes toward you, indignation clear in her voice.

Aeron, unfazed, looked away, propping his chin on his hand with an exaggerated air of nonchalance. “Tattletale,” he whispered in response.

You carefully rubbed Daenys' back, the gentle motion soothing your daughter. Your patience was unwavering, as you said, “Now, Aeron, please, darling, settle down and play me your pretty little song.” Your voice was calm, and your tone both firm and nurturing.

With a resigned sigh, Aeron nodded, his playful demeanor shifting as he positioned himself at the piano. “Yes, Mama,” he murmured, fingers poised above the keys. As he began to play, the room filled with the soft, melodic strains of his music.

Aemond was at a loss, frustration tightening his chest as he searched the sprawling halls of the Red Keep for you. He had scoured your shared chambers, his personal solar, and the children’s bedrooms, but you were nowhere to be found.

The sinking feeling in his gut only grew as he realized he needed assistance, and at last, he sought out one of the guards stationed nearby.

The guard cleared his throat and straightened slightly, sensing the prince’s impatience. “At Her Grace's music lessons, sire,” he replied, his tone respectful.

“Music lessons?” Aemond murmured to himself, brow furrowing in confusion. He had not realized such an event was taking place, nor had he been informed of it.

Without another moment's hesitation, he rushed in the direction indicated, making his way down a seldom-used wing of the castle, its walls lined with faded tapestries and the whispers of history.

As he drew closer, he heard the unmistakable sound of a piano, its notes cascading through the air like a gentle stream, drawing him forward.

Coming closer to the door, he opened it quietly before he peeked his head inside, his heart melting at the sight as he heard Jaehaera's voice.

"Do mi sol do do sol mi do," the girl of six summers sang, her voice young and somewhat pitchy as she sang confidently, "Every truly cultured music student knows. You must learn your scales and your arpeggios Finger music ringing from your chest And not your nose. While you sing your scales and your arpeggios"

Aemond stood just beyond the doorway, a swell of pride filling his chest as he watched his five-year-old son, Aeron, seated at the piano. The boy’s fingers danced across the keys with a mixture of enthusiasm and concentration, his small face lit with determination.

To Aemond’s surprise, Aeron broke into song as well, his voice sweet yet tinged with the tremor of youth. “If you’re faithful to your daily practicing, you will find your progress is encouraging,” he sang, each note imbued with his budding confidence.

Beside him, Jaehaera stood, arms crossed and a hint of exasperation in her eyes as she rolled them subtly at Aeron’s exuberance. Aeron continued, his voice growing bolder yet still wavering, “Do mi sol me do, mi sol me fa la sol, it goes. When you do your scales and your arpeggios.”

Jaehaera lifted her voice to sing her part again, “Do mi so do,” but she was abruptly cut off by Aeron, who had become overly enthusiastic at the piano, his fingers now racing across the keys with fervor.

“Do mi sol do, do sol mi do,” you chimed in, your voice ethereal and melodic, casting a gentle spell over the room. Aemond found his gaze drawn to you, the light catching your features as you sang alongside the children.

Jaehaera quickly fell in with you, her voice harmonizing beautifully, “Do mi sol do, do sol mi do. Though at first it seems as though it doesn’t show, like a tree, ability will bloom and grow.”

In your arms, Daenys, who had previously been drifting off to sleep, now sat wide awake, her bright eyes filled with wonder as she attempted to mimic the words you and Jaehaera sang. Her babbling intermingled with the melody.

The three of you continued in unison, your voices intertwining, “If you’re smart, you’ll learn by heart what every artist knows. You must sing your scales.....and your arpeggios.”

Aemond leaned against the doorframe, a small smile gracing his lips as he took in the delightful scene unfolding before him. The flickering light of the candles cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating the joy radiating from his children.

Aeron beamed at you, his face aglow with pride as the final notes of the song faded into the air. “How was that, Mama?” he asked, his bright eyes shining with eager anticipation.

You turned to him, your heart swelling with affection. “Absolutely wonderful, my love,” you replied, your voice laced with warmth and encouragement. Just as you opened your mouth to add more praise, a small, excited voice broke through the moment.

“Kēpa! Kēpa!” Daenys cried out, her tiny hands clapping together in delight, her wide lilac eyes fixed on the door where Aemond stood.

All three of you turned your attention toward the threshold, and Aemond couldn’t help but feel a slight flush of warmth at the sight of his little girl’s enthusiasm. He stood there, somewhat awkwardly.

“Do you wish to join us, my king?” you teased gently, a playful amusement dancing in your tone as you gestured for him to enter.

Aemond gave you a small smile before striding into the room, the familiar weight of his crown momentarily forgotten in the presence of his family.

Daenys, her cherubic face lighting up with excitement, eagerly raised her arms toward him, and he scooped her up effortlessly from your embrace, her giggles filling the air. “I was not aware there were music lessons in the first place,” he remarked, an amused glimmer in his eye.

“Merely for the children’s entertainment, I assure you,” you replied softly, your heart warmed by the sight of your husband.

Aemond shot you a skeptical glance, an eyebrow arching slightly as he nodded. “Oh, I am sure,” he replied, a hint of teasing lacing his tone.

“Father, did you see how I played?” Aeron asked eagerly, his small hands still resting on the piano keys, a bright grin spreading across his face.

“Yes, I did,” Aemond said, his expression softening as he smiled down at his son. “Much better than any bard I’ve heard.” The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and Aeron beamed at the praise.

“And did you see how I sang, uncle?” Jaehaera chimed in, her voice a melodic chime that danced through the air like the notes of the piano.

“Yes, of course,” Aemond replied, nodding with genuine admiration. “One day, you might even come to rival the Queen’s voice.” The compliment brought a bright flush to Jaehaera's cheeks, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“She’ll be even better than me,” you murmured, a soft smile gracing your lips as you watched the exchange unfold.

As the children chattered excitedly, desperate for their King's attention, your gaze drifted to the doorway, where you spotted your maid, Emery, standing patiently, signaling that it was time for bed.

You cleared your throat gently, drawing the children's attention back to you. “Children, it’s time to go to bed,” you announced softly, your voice laced with warmth yet firm.

Aeron turned to you, his wide eyes shimmering with innocence as he clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Do we have to, Mama? Father just got here,” he implored, his lower lip jutting out in a way that made your heart ache.

You sighed, feeling your resolve weaken under the weight of his pleas. However, Aemond came to your rescue, his hand affectionately ruffling Aeron’s fluffy silver hair. “And I’ll come say goodnight once you are in bed, little king,” he promised, his voice soothing and reassuring.

You tilted your head toward the door, giving a gentle nudge. “Emery is waiting for you,” you murmured, the soft authority in your tone guiding them toward the inevitable.

Disappointment flickered in both Jaehaera’s and Aeron’s eyes, yet they nodded reluctantly. Jaehaera approached your side and planted a tender kiss on your cheek, her small frame radiating warmth as she bid you goodnight.

Following her lead, Aeron hurried to do the same, his kiss lingering a moment longer before he bent down to press his lips against your swelling stomach, his sweet gesture eliciting a smile from you.

Aemond, observing the tender moment, passed baby Daenys into your arms. She giggled excitedly, her laughter a delightful sound as you smothered her with kisses, before you handed Daenys to Emery, who was prepared to lead the children out.

As the soft patter of little feet faded down the corridor, the lively laughter and chatter of the children ebbed away, leaving you and Aemond cocooned in the warm embrace of the cozy chamber.

A serene silence enveloped the two of you, a precious moment amidst the storm of duties and the remnants of grief that lingered in the air.

“Hello, husband,” you greeted softly, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to shatter the comfortable stillness that settled between you.

“Hello, wife,” Aemond murmured in return, his tone low and warm as he lowered himself onto the piano bench beside you.

With a gentle grace, he let his hand drift over the piano keys, pausing just short of touching them. It was a silent acknowledgment of his lack of skill, yet he seemed fascinated by the instrument nonetheless.

You watched him, the lines of his face illuminated by the soft glow of the chamber, and felt a pang of affection.

“I apologize for not informing you about the lessons,” you said, your voice steady yet filled with sincerity.

“Tis alright,” he replied, though his gaze remained fixed away from you, a flicker of concern shadowing his features. “When did it begin?”

“The day of your mother’s funeral,” you replied gently, choosing your words with care. “Your duties had taken you away, and Aeron and Jaehaera were feeling very down. I thought music might lift their spirits, and it has. Jaehaera even asked me to teach her to sing and play.”

At the mention of that day, Aemond’s expression shifted. Guilt washed over him, and memories flooded back—his mother’s service at the Sept, the heavy atmosphere of sorrow, and how he had been swept away in the currents of his responsibilities, never given a moment to truly mourn.

He nodded thoughtfully, his voice barely above a whisper. “Aeron seems particularly skilled.”

“He is a very intelligent little boy,” you agreed, your eyes not leaving his as he continued to stare at the piano, lost in thought. “He has an eagerness to learn that reminds me of you.”

Aemond chuckled softly, the sound breaking through the solemnity that hung in the air. “I fear he has far more talent than I ever did,” he said, a hint of pride seeping into his words. “But I’m glad to see them find joy in something so beautiful.”

“Music has a way of healing,” you remarked, a wistful smile playing on your lips. “Especially in times like these.”

He turned to face you fully, his piercing violet eye searching yours. “And what of you? How do you fare amidst the shadows of loss?”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his concern. “I carry the grief, as we all do. But I find solace in our children. Their laughter reminds me of the light we can still find in our lives.”

Aemond’s gaze softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers brushing over yours with an intimacy that sent warmth coursing through you. “You are stronger than I,” he said earnestly. “I often wonder how you manage to bear the burdens we both carry.”

With a gentle squeeze of his hand, you replied, “We bear them together, my king. That is what family is for.”

Aemond's brow furrowed slightly, and he murmured, “Aeron... he shall be a better king than I.” His voice held a weight of expectation and uncertainty, a reflection of his own doubts.

You turned your gaze toward him, a hint of sadness flickering in your eyes as you stood and swiftly settled beside him on the bench.

Reaching out, you cupped his face in your hands, grounding him with your touch. “Only because he shall learn from your mistakes. Every king should be better than the former.”

Aemond stared into your eyes, his heart swelling with gratitude. In truth, he had often wondered what he had done to deserve your steadfast presence. Memories washed over him—of the day he first met you when he was merely fourteen, a boy angry and hateful at the world.

He leaned his forehead against yours, finding solace in your warmth. “You are very wise, my queen. You never lead me astray.”

“Destiny has its designs,” you replied softly, a small smile gracing your lips. “And I am merely fulfilling mine. To guide you, to stand by your side.”

He chuckled lightly, the sound a blend of affection and admiration. “Even when I do not deserve it?”

“Especially then,” you countered, your tone playful yet sincere. “Every king needs a queen to keep him grounded, to remind him of what truly matters.”

Aemond took a deep breath, the weight of the realm and his responsibilities momentarily lifted. “And what is that, my love?”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It is love, loyalty, and the hope for a better tomorrow. The kind of future we want for our children.”

Aemond leaned back, a rare lightness settling in his chest for the first time in what felt like an age. He placed his hand over your round belly, feeling the warmth radiate from within. You tilted your head, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as you caught his gaze.

“Aeron has taken to kissing my stomach,” you said, your tone playful. “He believes that if he shows enough affection, it might persuade my body to grant him a brother. He claims it would make his chances of having a fair fight against the girls much better.”

Aemond chuckled, shaking his head in bemusement. Then, nodding toward the piano, he added, “Teach me. I may never reach the heights of Aeron’s talent, but perhaps I could aspire to match little Daenys’ skill.”

Your laughter chimed like music in the air, a sound that warmed his spirit. Aemond grinned at the absurdity of comparing his potential to that of his infant daughter. “Very well,” you said, your eyes sparkling with delight. “First, let us see what you can do.”

You guided him closer to the piano, instructing him to place his large, slender hands over yours on the keys. “Feel the movement,” you encouraged, your voice soft and patient. “It’s not merely about the notes; it’s about the rhythm and the heart behind them.”

Unbeknownst to you and Aemond, enveloped in your own intimate world, three pairs of curious eyes peered in from the slightly ajar door of the chamber. Jaehaera, Aeron, and little Daenys had quietly slipped away from their caretakers.

Jaehaera, though only six years of age, sighed wistfully as she watched her uncle and aunt. “How romantic,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a sense of longing.

She cradled baby Daenys in her arms, the infant unusually calm, her wide eyes reflecting the gentle glow of the room as she took in the scene of her mother and father together.

Aeron, standing beside Jaehaera, observed his parents intently, a thoughtful frown furrowing his brow. “Do you think our marriage will be like that?” he asked, glancing over at Jaehaera to gauge her reaction.

Jaehaera turned to him, her gaze sharp and serious, her little brows furrowing in determination. “It has to, Aeron. It has to.”

“Do you think we’ll be that happy?” he pressed, his youthful innocence shining through, even as the shadows of doubt crept into his mind.

She nodded vigorously, her long silver hair bouncing with the motion. “Of course! The king and queen love each other. If we love each other like they do, it will be just as wonderful.”

Aeron pondered her words, his gaze drifting back to the sight of you and Aemond, lost in your shared moment. “And what if…” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “What if things become difficult, like they do in the stories?”

Jaehaera frowned slightly, her youthful optimism momentarily faltering. “Then we fight for each other, just like they do,” she declared with conviction.

Aeron nodded, a small smile creeping onto his face. “I like that idea,” he said softly, his gaze drifting back to the happy scene of his mother and his father.

“We’ll make it the best story ever.”

[Jaehaera, Aeron, Daenys]

headcannonsss:

— aemond and reader end up having six children in total: aeron (18), daenys (15), mikael (13), jaemes (10), elaena (7) and aelora (4) + jaehaera (19)

— aeron and jaehaera marry

— daenys falls in love with aegon (rhaenyra's son)

— mikael comes out as gay

— jaemes and elaena marry

— aelora refuses to marry and part with her mother (sophie/donna relationship)

HOPE YOU ENJOYED!

[novaursa]

What about a Jace x sister

Where he fell in love with her and in the same time he is not ok with it. He might be the only Targaryen related who thinks that’s not okay to loved their related. But no matter how he can stopped loving her, she might have a look more “Targaryen” with white hair with some black in it (narcissia Malfoy style?)

He always do some weird shit to be closed to her without drow to much attention, And when they finally get really closed their mother call all the bastard to become dragon rider. And Ulf find them in the Pit and try to get something from them in exchange of his silence.

Jace wake up and choose violence 🫣 and just say no and fuxk her in front of him and say that if he say anything he make sure his dragon will eat him

Sins of the Blood

- Summary: Jacaerys always loved his sister, more than he should. It was wrong, he knew it, but the dragon in him claimed you as his long ago.

- Paring: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've bonded the reader with Grey Ghost for the plot.

The sea breeze dances through the open halls of Dragonstone, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant roar of the waves. You stand with Baela and Rhaena on the sun-warmed terrace overlooking the cliffs, the three of you bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Your laughter rings out, clear and melodic, mingling with the cries of the gulls that circle above.

Jacaerys Velaryon watches from a distance, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He knows he should not be here, should not be watching you so closely, but he cannot help himself. You, his sister, the only daughter of Rhaenyra, have been a constant presence in his life, a source of both comfort and confusion. His eyes trace the silver streaks in your hair, a reminder of your Targaryen blood, mingling with the deep brown inherited from your true father, though only you, he, and his mother know the truth.

He remembers when you were children, how you would chase each other through the halls of the Red Keep, your laughter infectious, your bond inseparable. He had always been protective of you, even when you didn’t need it. You were fierce, a dragon through and through, and yet, as you stand now with Baela and Rhaena, there is a softness to you, a grace that makes his breath catch in his throat.

"Do you remember the first time we flew together?" Baela’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. She grins at you, her violet eyes bright with the memory.

"Of course," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. "I thought Jace would never let me ride my own dragon, he was so worried."

Jace feels a pang at your words, both pride and regret mingling in his chest. He had always been overly cautious with you, more so than with Luke or Joffrey. Perhaps he had always known, even then, that his feelings for you were not entirely brotherly.

Rhaena giggles, leaning in closer to you. "He’s always been that way, hasn’t he? Always the protector, always looking after you."

You shrug, though the warmth in your eyes betrays your affection. "He cares. That’s just how he is."

Jace clenches his fists at his sides, torn between the pride that swells in him at your words and the guilt that gnaws at him for the thoughts he cannot seem to banish. He knows it is wrong—this desire that burns in him like dragonfire—but it is also undeniably a part of him, a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

Take what is yours. The words echo in his mind, a voice that is both his own and something darker, something ancient. The blood of the dragon runs hot in his veins, urging him to act, to claim what he believes is his by right. You are his sister, yes, but you are also so much more. You are the embodiment of everything he has ever wanted, ever desired.

You turn then, as if sensing his gaze, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the world seems to stop. The laughter of Baela and Rhaena fades into the background, the sound of the waves dulls, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

"Jace," you call out, your voice breaking the spell. "Come join us!"

There is no hesitation in your invitation, no hint that you are aware of the storm raging inside him. You are just his sister, inviting him to share in the simple joy of the evening, oblivious to the battle he fights within.

He forces a smile, masking the turmoil beneath, and steps forward. "I was just enjoying the view," he says, his voice betraying nothing.

Rhaena giggles again, nudging Baela. "See, I told you he’s always watching over her."

Baela laughs, a sound like the tinkling of bells. "It’s because he’s a good brother."

The words cut deeper than they should, a cruel reminder of the line he cannot cross. He wants to be a good brother, he truly does. But the blood of the dragon does not care for such boundaries. The blood of the dragon demands more.

As he approaches, you smile up at him, that same smile that has always had the power to calm him, to soothe the fire within. But today, it only stokes the flames higher.

"Are you alright?" you ask softly, your eyes searching his face for something he cannot give.

He nods, the lie slipping easily from his lips. "Of course. Just… thinking."

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing look passing over your face. "You think too much, Jace. You always have."

He laughs, though it is a strained sound. "Someone has to, with you lot always running headlong into trouble."

Baela snorts. "As if you don’t love it."

He shrugs, unable to deny it. "Perhaps."

You laugh then, a sound so pure and unburdened that it twists something deep in his chest. How can you be so carefree, so unaware of the darkness that haunts him?

The conversation drifts to other things—plans for the next dragonride, the latest antics of your younger brothers—but Jace finds it hard to focus. His eyes keep returning to you, to the way the setting sun catches in your hair, to the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. Every moment is a battle, every word a reminder of what he can never have.

Take what is yours. The voice whispers again, insistent, relentless.

He pushes it down, burying it beneath layers of duty, of honor, of love for his family. But it is there, always there, a part of him that he can never truly silence.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in shades of orange and gold, you turn to him once more, your expression soft, almost tender.

"Thank you, Jace," you say quietly.

He frowns, unsure of what you mean. "For what?"

You smile, and it is a smile that breaks him, because it is so full of warmth, of trust, of love. "For always being there. For always watching over me."

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Always," he promises, and it is both a vow and a curse.

You reach out, your hand brushing against his arm, and the simple touch sends a shock through him, setting his nerves alight. For a moment, he forgets himself, forgets everything but you.

But then Baela speaks up, her voice pulling him back to reality. "We should head inside. It’s getting late."

You nod, but your eyes linger on his for a moment longer, as if searching for something, something you cannot name.

Jace watches as you turn away, following Baela and Rhaena back into the castle, your laughter fading into the evening air. He stays behind, his heart a tumult of emotion, his mind a battlefield.

He knows what he feels is wrong. He knows that he should push these thoughts away, should bury them deep where they can never see the light of day. But he also knows that the blood of the dragon is not so easily denied.

As the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, Jace makes a silent vow to himself. He will protect you, he will care for you, as a brother should. But he will also fight this desire, this hunger that threatens to consume him. He will not let it destroy him, or you.

But deep down, he knows that it will be difficult.

And as he watches the last light of day fade into night, he wonders if it ever truly will be.

Months have passed since that evening on the terrace, and yet the fire within Jacaerys Velaryon has not dimmed. If anything, it has only grown stronger, a persistent heat that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to consume him at every turn. He has thrown himself into his duties, into training and studies, hoping that the rigor will burn away these unwanted desires. But nothing works. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the pull you have on him.

Today, he finds himself wandering through the halls of Dragonstone, his mind restless, his heart unsettled. The castle is quiet, the stillness only amplifying his thoughts. His feet carry him to the library, a place he knows you often retreat to when you seek solace or simply a moment of peace. He tells himself it is a coincidence, that he has come here to study, to distract himself with books and knowledge. But deep down, he knows the truth.

As he enters the library, the scent of aged parchment and ink greets him, a familiar comfort. He pauses in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they find you, seated near the window, the light of the midday sun casting a soft glow around you. You are engrossed in a book, your silver-streaked hair falling over your face, your expression serene. The sight of you, so peaceful and unguarded, sends a wave of warmth through him, and before he can stop himself, he is walking towards you.

You look up as he approaches, a smile tugging at your lips. "Jace," you greet him, your voice soft and welcoming. "What brings you here?"

He hesitates, his mind racing for an excuse. "I thought I might find you here," he admits, the words tumbling out before he can catch them. "I wanted to see if you needed any help with your studies."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Since when do you offer to help with my studies?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I just thought... we haven't spent much time together lately. I miss it."

Your expression softens at his words, and you close the book in your hands, setting it aside. "I’ve missed it too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He can feel the tension between you, a charged energy that crackles in the air. The pull is stronger now, a magnetic force that draws him closer, and before he knows it, he is sitting beside you, his body instinctively leaning towards yours.

"What are you reading?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glance at the book, then back at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "A history of Old Valyria. I’ve always been fascinated by our ancestors, by the dragons and the blood magic they wielded."

"Of course," he murmurs, though he hardly registers the words. He is too focused on the way your hand rests so close to his, the way your eyes seem to shimmer in the light. "Our blood is strong, isn’t it? The blood of the dragon."

You nod, your gaze holding his. "It is. It’s what makes us who we are."

The words resonate deep within him, a reminder of the truth he has tried so hard to ignore. The blood of the dragon is what binds you together, but it is also what drives him to the brink of madness. The fire that burns in his veins is not just a curse, but a part of him, a part of you. And he is no longer sure if he can continue to fight it.

"I wanted to ask you something," you say suddenly, breaking the silence that has settled between you.

He blinks, trying to focus. "What is it?"

You hesitate for a moment, as if gathering your thoughts. "I was wondering if you could help me with my dragon training. Grey Ghost is so much more... spirited than he used to be, and I thought maybe you could help me understand him better."

Jace swallows hard, the thought of spending more time with you, alone and away from prying eyes, sending a thrill through him. But it is also dangerous, more dangerous than anything he has faced before. Still, he finds himself nodding. "Of course. I’d be glad to help."

You smile, a smile that warms him from the inside out, and he knows he is lost. He cannot deny you, cannot deny himself any longer. The pull is too strong, the fire too fierce. And as you rise to your feet, gesturing for him to follow, he feels that pull tighten, like a chain around his heart, binding him to you.

The two of you walk side by side through the corridors of Dragonstone, the silence between you comfortable, yet charged with an unspoken tension. Your presence is a balm to him, calming and yet igniting something deep within, something he can no longer ignore. Every brush of your arm against his, every glance in his direction, fans the flames higher, until he feels as though he might burst from the sheer force of it.

When you reach the courtyard where the dragons are kept, you turn to him, your eyes bright with excitement. "Let’s start with the basics," you say, your voice full of eagerness. "You’ve always been better at this than I am."

Jace shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "It’s not about being better," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It’s about understanding them, forming a bond with them."

You nod, your attention fully on him now, and he feels a surge of pride at the trust you place in him. "I know," you say softly. "And I trust you to help me."

The words strike him like a blow, the weight of your trust almost too much to bear. He wants to be worthy of it, to be the brother you believe him to be. But he also wants more, so much more, and it terrifies him.

As you step closer to him, your arm brushing against his, he feels that pull again, stronger than ever. He knows he should move away, put some distance between you, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Instead, he finds himself leaning in, his body drawn to yours like a moth to flame.

"You know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I’ve always felt safest when I’m with you."

The confession catches him off guard, and he looks down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. "Why?"

You smile up at him, a gentle, almost shy smile. "Because you’ve always been there for me, Jace. No matter what."

His breath catches in his throat, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. The pull between you is undeniable now, a force of nature that neither of you can resist. And as you stand there, so close that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, he knows that he is about to cross a line that he can never return from.

But before he can act, before he can make the decision that will change everything, you reach out and take his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through him, and he is lost, completely and utterly lost.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken.

He looks down at you, his heart in his throat, and he knows that this is it. This is the moment he has been dreading, the moment he has been craving. The pull between you is too strong, the fire too fierce, and he knows that there is no going back.

But then, as if sensing the turmoil within him, you give his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Thank you," you say, your voice soft and sincere. "For always being there."

And just like that, the moment passes. The tension between you eases, and you step back, releasing his hand. The pull is still there, still strong, but it is no longer overwhelming. For now, it is enough to simply be with you, to feel your presence beside him, to know that you trust him.

As you turn your attention back to the dragons, Jace takes a deep breath, steadying himself. The battle within him is far from over, but for now, he has won a small victory. He has resisted the pull, resisted the fire. But he knows it is only a matter of time before the dragon within him demands more.

And when that time comes, he is not sure if he will be able to resist.

The winds howl around the jagged peaks of Dragonmont, the volcanic heart of Dragonstone. The sky above is dark, thick clouds swirling in ominous patterns, but here, beneath the shelter of the mountain, you and Jacaerys find solace in the company of your dragons. Vermax and Grey Ghost, their massive forms partially obscured by the mist that clings to the rocky terrain, rest quietly nearby, their watchful eyes ever alert.

The air between you and Jace is charged, as it has been for days now. Since the arrival of the Dragonseeds and the beginning of the Red Sowing, there has been an unspoken tension, a shared anxiety that neither of you has fully voiced. Today, it seems, that silence is about to be broken.

Jace paces before you, his brow furrowed, his steps uneven. "I can’t help but worry," he finally says, his voice low, almost a growl. "Mother’s decision to let these Dragonseeds try to claim the dragons… it could destroy everything. The only thing that sets us apart, that makes us legitimate in the eyes of the realm, is our bond with the dragons. What happens if anyone can do it? What happens if they succeed?"

You watch him, feeling the weight of his concern settle over you like a heavy cloak. You understand his fear; it echoes within you as well. "They are Targaryen bastards, Jace," you say softly, trying to find the right words. "The blood of the dragon runs in their veins, even if the world doesn’t see them as we are seen. But you are right to be cautious. We cannot control what might happen if they succeed. But we can control how we respond."

He stops pacing, turning to face you fully. His dark eyes are intense, filled with worry and something deeper, something you’ve seen growing there in recent days. "What if it shatters everything? What if the realm no longer sees us as the rightful heirs? If they can claim dragons, what does that mean for us?"

You rise from your seat on a smooth outcropping of rock, moving closer to him, your steps slow and deliberate. You can feel the warmth of the dragons nearby, the heat from the mountain beneath your feet, but most of all, you feel the heat radiating from Jace, a fire that matches your own.

"We are more than our dragons," you say, your voice steady. "We are the blood of the dragon, yes, but we are also our mother’s children, the heirs of House Targaryen. That will not change, no matter what happens with the Dragonseeds."

Jace’s gaze softens as he looks at you, the storm in his eyes momentarily easing. "You always know what to say," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I’m still afraid. Afraid of what this means for us, for our family."

You reach out, your hand finding his, and the contact sends a spark through you both. "Then we face it together," you say firmly, your fingers tightening around his. "Whatever comes, we face it together, as we always have."

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the kind of silence that speaks louder than words. The dragons are quiet too, their presence a comforting weight in the background. Jace’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

Without thinking, you step closer, and suddenly the space between you is gone. You can feel his breath on your skin, warm and unsteady, and the intensity in his eyes is almost too much to bear. The pull between you is stronger than ever, an undeniable force that you can no longer resist.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken, something that has been building for so long.

He doesn’t reply, at least not with words. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both hesitant and eager, as if he is afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you kiss him back, your hands moving to cup his face, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks, months, perhaps even years, pouring out in that single moment. It is as if the fire that has always burned between you has finally found release, and there is no stopping it now.Jace’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the desperation in his touch, the need that mirrors your own. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"So have I," you admit, the words coming out in a breathless rush. "Jace, I—"

He silences you with another kiss, more urgent this time, and you can feel his hands moving to the fastenings of your attire. There is a moment of hesitation, a final chance to turn back, but neither of you takes it. Instead, you help him, your fingers trembling as they work to undo his clothing as well.

The air is cool against your skin as your garments fall away, but you hardly notice. All you can focus on is Jace, on the way his hands move over your body, on the way he looks at you as if you are the only thing that matters in the world. And perhaps, in this moment, you are.

He guides you down onto the warm rock, his movements careful, almost reverent. The heat from the mountain seeps into your skin, mixing with the heat of his touch, and you feel yourself trembling, not from fear, but from anticipation.When he finally joins with you, the pain is brief, a sharp sting that quickly fades, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly connected to him. Jace pauses, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for your permission to continue.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat, but the look in your eyes says everything. "Please," you whisper, and that is all it takes.

He begins to move, slow at first, almost tentative, but as the moments pass, the hesitation fades, replaced by a growing urgency, a passion that neither of you can control. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him on, meeting his every movement with your own.

The world around you fades, the sounds of the dragons, the wind, the distant roar of the sea, all becoming nothing more than a distant echo. There is only Jace, only the fire that burns between you, the flames that consume you both, driving you higher and higher until you feel as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it.

Just as you reach the peak of your union, lost in the sensation of him, you hear a sound, the soft crunch of footsteps on the volcanic rock. Your eyes snap open, and you see him—Ulf the White, one of the Dragonseeds, standing a short distance away, his expression one of surprise and amusement.

Jace’s movements slow as he becomes aware of the intruder, but he doesn’t stop, his body still pressed intimately against yours. His eyes narrow, and you can feel the tension in him, the protective instinct that flares up at the sight of another man watching you in such a vulnerable moment.

Ulf’s smirk widens as he recognizes both of you, his voice carrying an easy confidence as he speaks. "Well, well, what do we have here? Prince Jacaerys and his fair sister, indulging in some… private time, I see."

Jace doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on Ulf, his body shielding yours from view. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. "You will leave now, Ulf. And you will speak of this to no one."

Ulf’s amusement doesn’t fade. "And if I don’t? I imagine this little secret could be worth quite a bit."

Jace’s expression hardens, the dragon within him rising to the surface. "I have another proposition for you. Leave now and never speak of this, or tell someone… and Vermax will feast on your bones."

The threat hangs in the air, thick with the promise of violence. Ulf’s smile falters, the realization of Jace’s seriousness sinking in. He glances at the dragons, both Vermax and Grey Ghost now fully alert, their eyes locked on him, and he takes an involuntary step back.

"Fine," Ulf mutters, the bravado gone from his voice. "Your secret’s safe with me, Prince Jacaerys. I was never here." With that, he turns and hurries away, casting one last nervous glance at the dragons before disappearing into the mist.

Jace watches him go, his body still tense, but as the danger passes, his attention shifts back to you, his focus returning to the moment you had both been lost in. The fire that had momentarily cooled begins to burn again, his hands finding yours, his gaze intense.

"I will marry you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "In the traditions of our ancestors, in the ways of Old Valyria. You are mine, and I am yours, for now and forever."

The words send a shiver through you, the weight of them, the promise in them, filling you with a sense of certainty, of belonging. You nod, your voice trembling as you respond. "Yes, Jace. Yes."

And as he moves within you once more, the world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by the fire of your blood.

[kitten4sannie]

blood pact

pairing: vampire! wooyoung x human! reader (fem)

genre: vampire society au, a lil bit of angst, smut

summary: living in a city overrun by bloodsuckers is already hard enough on its own, but you’re really put to the test when one of them ends up being your only hope in the face of danger.

w.c: 4.3k

warnings: blood/injury, depictions of violence, death(s)? of a few vampires, hard-ish dom (slight tamer)! wooyoung, subby (tiny bit bratty)! reader, these mfs are nasty alr, some light brat taming, one or two little slaps, praise/degradation, pet names/name calling, blood kink obv <3 (includes blood drinking/sharing), kissing, oral (giving), throat fucking, brief breath play, pain kink, mutual masturbation, lotus position but it’s rough !!, creampie

a/n: oh mannn i’m a bit late again 😣 but im excited to share this one with you all !! i wanted to thank my dear lily for beta reading this one for me and giving me lovely feedback that helps me grow as a writer, it truly means the world to me my dear 🩷 once again i do apologize if this fic seems disjointed in any way ,, things have been a bit weird but i won’t let life stop me from sharing nasty smut >:((( lol i hope you enjoy and please lemme know what you thought <33

song rec: dirt - depeche mode (we’re taking it wayyy back with this one <3)

fictober 2024

You were never able to pinpoint exactly when humanity went to shit, as it had always been in a state of constant conflict and disarray, but somewhere along the way, it turned into a raging dumpster fire — one that was close to impossible to put out once it was lit. Unbeknownst to humans, there was a society of vampires that lived in the shadows for centuries, waiting patiently until it was the perfect time to make their existence known and feared. What better time to take over the world than when the humans were too busy being at each other’s throats to even realize they had a common enemy, one that would drain them of their life source within a blink of an eye? 

Anyone with a pulse had no choice but to fall in line and succumb to their undead overlords, having to make up their mind about whether they would like to join forces with the enemy by desecrating their DNA and joining those that single-handedly brought upon humanity’s destruction, or grovel at their feet and become a slave, a house pet of sorts whose soul purpose was to feed and entertain their blood-sucking masters.

It was not an easy choice for most, and especially for you, so you simply found another solution — blend in. If you embodied everything a vampire was, even down to their immeasurable sense of pride and entitlement, how could they tell you apart from the others? And when they saw through your ruse, you would drive a stake through their still heart. You would never join their empire, let alone be one of their toys, especially not for some pompous undead prick that would treat you like a glorified juice box. 

Yet, here you were, drunk off your ass at a gothic nightclub that welcomed vampiric guests and shunned anyone with a beating heart, unless they were owned and branded. 

“Gimme another whiskey, neat,” you slurred, holding your empty shot glass to the poor excuse of a human bartender standing on the other side of the bar. You scoffed at the jeweled collar he wore around his neck, knowing he was owned by whatever undead asshole that ran the nightclub. You had your own collar, of course, but you had taken it from someone that was…no longer in need of it. You did what you had to, to make it through another night in the corrupted world you regretfully called your home. 

“I should cut you off, y’know, especially after being such a dick to me all night,” the man mumbled, despite reaching underneath the bar to grab an almost empty bottle of whiskey and filling your glass back up, not wanting to risk angering his superiors. 

“But, you won’t. Your vampiric asshole of a boss wouldn’t like that you’re denying a paying customer.” You stuck your tongue out at the man, much to his dismay. You sipped on the whiskey, liking the way it burned as it went down your throat, grateful that you could still feel something, even if it was a drunkenness that would most likely do irreversible damage to your liver. It’s not like your life really mattered, not in this timeline, at least. 

You lazily held your glass up in his direction, blowing a few strands of loose hair out of your eyes. The man simply held up the empty bottle and gave you a tight smile. “All out. Now, would you pay your tab?” 

“Fineeee, oh my god,” you groaned dramatically, standing up from the barstool and wobbling a bit, fishing for your wallet somewhere inside your worn trench coat. When you opened it up, you came upon the discovery that it was completely empty, looking up to find fear inside the bartender’s eyes. “L-listen, I can replace that bottle, okay? I-I’ll…just need to stop by the local temp agency first.” 

“I think you should leave, before they catch wind of this…” the bartender warned you under his breath, unconsciously tugging at his collar. 

Swallowing harshly, you glanced around the crowded, dingy club past the collar of your coat, before stumbling your way past many vampire patrons that were drunk off the blood of their human pets who stayed close to them, wishing your blurry surroundings weren’t moving in slow motion. Paranoid that somebody was following you, you looked past your shoulder, only seeing the same crowd of drunken patrons. Temporarily relieved, you swiftly faced forward again, only to accidentally bump into someone face-first, your teeth clinking into the metal of their lip ring, your hands almost getting caught in the many necklaces they were wearing. “I’m so sorry, oh my god, please don’t kill me,” you automatically apologized, already knowing they weren’t human based on the lack of a collar and color in their cheeks. 

“If I wanted to, I would,” Wooyoung teased in his own special way, quite aware of the way your heart rate spiked as soon as his light, airy words reached your ears. He enjoyed playing around with his food as much as the next vampire, but lately, it’s grown quite dull, like everything else in his never-ending life.

“O-oh!” you squeaked, letting out a nervous laugh, sticking one hand into your coat pocket to wrap your fingers around the sharp stake you carried with you everywhere. 

He brought one manicured finger up to tap against the jewel sitting snugly against your collared neck, leaning in to press his lips against the slope of your ear. “I’d take you right here in front of everyone, drink you dry. Let them all enjoy the pretty sounds you’d make. Does that sound fun?” 

“Oh, you can try it, if you want,” you goaded him, looking up at him with your big doe eyes once he pulled back, wondering if he knew just how unhinged you were, just how on the edge you really were. “But, what happens if I’m poisonous? I might not be worth the stomachache.” 

Wooyoung chuckled to himself, not used to any human acting so boldly towards him. “Fair point, human.” 

“Y/N,” you corrected him, letting go of you weapon in favor of wrapping your finger around one of his silver necklaces, teasing him back in your own way. “You should at least know my name if you’re going to drink from me.” 

Wooyoung mused at your actions, studying you with his sly fox eyes, licking at the mole on his lip. He would’ve pursed you if you hadn’t suddenly gotten spooked by something, turning his head to watch you continue making your way out of the club, noticing that the owner quickly followed after you. Things were certainly getting interesting. 

By the time you inhaled the cold night air into your lungs, you had already broke out into a sweat. You let your heavy coat hang off past your shoulders and leaned back against a nearby wall, regretting all the alcohol you had subjected your poor body into taking. “Fuck me…” you groaned, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back into the cool concrete behind you, hoping that would make the world stop spinning. 

“Is that an invitation…?” asked the very vampire you had been talking shit about to the bartender just a few minutes earlier. “It’s the least you could offer me in exchange for all the whiskey you drank in my club, filthy human.” 

Your blood ran cold. “D-don’t you even think about touching me…You aren’t my owner.” 

“Oh, because of this little collar you have on? You really don’t have a clue about our kind, do you? There’s no pheromones on you, just your own filthy human scent,” the vampire chided, running his finger along the worn band of your lace collar. It made your skin crawl. You struggled to keep down all the alcohol you had drowned yourself in. Just then, he ripped it from your neck and replaced it with his slender fingers, squeezing around it until your vision grew just that more blurry. “But, don’t worry, I’ll make up for all the lost time that you haven’t been used like a proper toy.” 

Blinding rage joined the revulsion you felt for the individual that continued to toy with you as though you were a defenseless child, the culmination of it churning around inside your body like molten hot lava ready to pour out of you. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” you barked, shoving your hands into his shoulders as hard as you could, your feverish anger growing that much more when he hardly moved. 

In response, the vampire tugged your coat down and ripped open your top, causing the buttons to fly off. His abhorrent words became nothing more than radio static inside your ringing ears, once you saw red, clutching the wooden stake inside your pocket so tightly that it pierced your fragile skin. You reeled your arm back and drove it straight into the owner’s side, so violently that the wood split into shards, not letting go of it until you knew that it was lodged deeply inside him, wishing, hoping he felt even a fragment of the pain his kind had caused you. “Die,” you muttered, searching his eyes for some sign of shock, regret, grief, anything. 

Confusion overtook your flushed features when the man simply laughed directly in your face, as though he were savoring a joke that you weren’t in on, suddenly feeling a white hot burning pain inside your abdomen. Something was wrong, deeply wrong. You tried to speak, but you couldn’t, not while you were gurgling on your own blood. You looked down to see the hilt of a dagger sticking out of your stomach, reality hitting you like a ton of bricks, rendering it impossible to draw in air. 

“It never ceases to amuse me when a blood bag thinks they can stop someone like me with something as silly as a wooden stake,” he began, letting out a small hum, as he drove his ritual dagger in as far as it could go. He leaned in close to you, twisting the knife around inside you just to hear the delightful sounds of agony that escaped your red tinted lips. “I’ve been alive longer than your entire bloodline, pathetic human, and I’ll be outliving you tonight.” And with that, the club owner ripped the dagger back out and strolled back into the building, licking the crimson that still ran down the sides of his blade. 

You should’ve known this would happen eventually in a world like this. You had no power from the very start. Why had you been blind to the truth until this very moment, when all you could see was your precious blood leaving your body? Regardless, it was far too late to ruminate over trivial things. Death’s gentle whispers were lulling you to sleep, its sweet promises of rest numbing out most of the visceral emotions that coursed through your veins. Slumping against the wall, you held your middle with trembling hands, gazing up at the full moon that loomed over you, wanting to enjoy her beauty one last time — at least, until someone blocked your view. 

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you see I’m dying here? Let me look at the moon in peace…” you murmured, weakly glaring up at the stranger you had met inside that godforsaken club only a couple minutes ago.

“You still got some fire in you, doncha, sweetheart?” Wooyoung mused, crouching down so you were at eye level, reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. “But, you’ll die of blood loss soon…pity.”

“You’re very observant,” you replied snarkily, leaning your head back into the wall, your vision growing darker by the second. You let out a long, defeated sigh, choking a bit on the blood left inside your raw throat. “Are you just here to watch me die? If that’s the case, can you do me a favor and make it quick?” 

“You didn’t seem like the type to give up so easily.” He leaned in close to you, his crimson eyes shining that much brighter when he asked, “Don’t you want revenge?” 

His question echoed inside your mind, once as a whisper, and eventually as a desperate plea. “And what if I do…? It’s not like I can do much now…”

“Let me turn you.” He bared his fangs. “You’ll live, and you’ll be so much stronger than ever before.” He watched as your eyes widened, then returned to normal, figuring you were weighing your options, though they were vastly limited. “You’ll be free to take his life away, do with it as you please, just like he was going to do to you. Doesn’t that sound delicious?” 

A few drops of blood dribbled down the side of your mouth. The sand in your hourglass was about to run out. “What do you get in return?” 

Wooyoung’s lips curled up into a sadistic smile, his eyes resembling glowing crescent moons. “I’ll be your Master, of course. It’s only fair, being your savior, and all.” 

Though that was the very last thing you wanted, you were far too stubborn to die out in such a pathetic fashion. Not only that, but you were being offered the deal of a lifetime, at the end of your lifetime, to be exact, and in exchange for your mortal soul, you could enact sweet, sweet revenge and have a new tale to tell, one that no man or monster could ever take from you. 

“Speak now, or forever hold your peace,” Wooyoung joked slyly, tapping the invisible watch on his wrist. 

“Alright, deal, but make it quick–” you were barely able to enunciate, before Wooyoung was all over you, one hand holding the side of your head, while the other felt where your artery was, immediately sinking his fangs deep into your neck to start the transformation process. 

When you came to, you looked up at your savior, your eyes as red as the blood he had sucked out of you, all of the immense pain that plagued your body gone as quickly as it came, instead replaced by an indescribable thirst. 

“How do you feel, pet?” Wooyoung asked, licking remnants of your life source from his manicured fingers. 

You bared your new, needle sharp fangs to your Master. “Hungry.” 

He smiled at you like a proud father would. “I think I know how we can fix that.” 

-

The last thing the vampiric club owner expected to see when he was sitting inside the comfort of his secluded office was the human woman he had just murdered out of cold blood stomping up to his desk and tossing it out of the way like it wasn’t made of marble. 

“H-hey, we can talk about this, right?” he asked nervously, holding his hands up, along with the stacks of cash that were in between his grubby fingers. “You want money? You can have it!” 

You grabbed him by the collar, yanking him towards you so violently, he just about broke his neck. “I don’t want money. I want your life.” 

When Wooyoung casually strolled into the cush office and pressed his back against the opaque door, the other vampire pleaded at him with his wide eyes. “Wooyoung, baby, this is your favorite club, isn’t it? Haven’t I treated you good here?” 

“Y/N will treat you good too, don’t worry,” he reassures sweetly, dragging his tongue across his pointed teeth. He brought his finger up to his chin like he just remembered something, nodding to himself. “Ahh, she does bite, though.” 

Just as Wooyoung’s cackles rang out inside the vast room, the club owner shifted his frightened gaze to you just in time to see your jaw open wide, gulping at the sheer size of your fangs. And just like that, you bit down onto the vampire’s neck, getting a good grip on his skin, before swiftly turning your head and causing a fountain of blood to rain over you. 

Once you were done feeding, there was hardly anything left of the club owner. Most of him was inside you, and the rest was left splattered across the pedestrian paintings he had up on the walls. Still sitting on the floor near scattered, bloodied hundred dollar bills, you licked up the rest of him from your fingers, your entire body vibrating with pleasure now that your killer was no longer with you, and for other reasons you couldn’t quite explain. Perhaps it had something to do with your new body and your newfound love for excess.

Wooyoung clapped his hands together with giddy delight, giving the top of your head a few pats as a reward. “What a good girl. Do you feel full?” 

Shaking your head, you reached up to Wooyoung’s waistband, undoing the belt buckle and easing his pants down, licking at your red stained lips all the while. The burning, mind-melting desire to consume didn’t leave you, it only multiplied. It clouded your mind, made you feel like you might lose your mind if you didn’t make it stop. “Not enough…my throat…need it filled…” 

“Ahh, I see,” Wooyoung sighed knowingly. This always happened with the humans he turned; they turned into insatiable monsters, always driven by their need for more. He could never get tired of it. Leaning his back against the dripping wall, he reached down to slide his fingers into your soft hair, angling your head upwards, cooing softly at you as he pushed his way into your mouth. “Be careful with your fangs, sweetheart.” 

Relaxing your throat upon the sudden intrusion, you opened your mouth wider, as to not pierce Wooyoung’s cock with your new fangs, feeling content once the entirety of his twitching length fit snugly inside. It was when the vampire thrusted further into your throat that you made a wet gagging sound, tears forming inside your crimson eyes, closing them. 

“Ah, ah,” Wooyoung tutted, giving your cheek a light smack, smiling sweetly down at you when your eyes opened back up. “That’s right, you better look at me with those pretty eyes of yours if you’re going to take me down your throat like this. That’s what a good pet does.” 

Once Wooyoung started to fuck your throat, eager to fill it with his cum, his pale fingers pulling tightly at your hair, you did your best not to choke around him, welcoming him in again, over and over, until saliva and pre-cum dripped down your chin and along your bare chest.

“Mmnh….nnnhmm…” you moaned in approval, reaching up to hold onto his bucking hips, digging your nails into his protruding hip bones. You blinked more tears away, wanting to see Wooyoung’s sadistic face without the constant blurriness that plagued your vision. Whether you had a penchant for punishment or you were simply bloodthirsty, it caused you to prod at the vampire’s cock with your fangs, the tangy flavor of iron joining the abundance of precum that lubed up your throat. 

“Fuck, you’re a naughty girl, biting me like that,” Wooyoung hissed in between violent thrusts, suddenly holding your head still when the entirety of his cock was inside your throat, your nose brushing against his pubic bone, satisfied with the filthy gurgling noises you couldn’t help but make for him, feeling more of your spit drip down his heavy balls. He smacked his hand against your cheek again, watching it grow rosy, before pinching your nose tightly. “But, you can’t help it, huh? You just want to be put in your place. I can’t blame you for that.”

The sensation was suffocating, the feeling of being used added onto the constant buzz of pleasure that was running through your veins; it was nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. It almost made you wish that you had let yourself be turned a long time ago. No one could stop you now, not even him. Maybe your humanity was slipping away from you, much like your sanity with each passing moment. 

It wasn’t until you could breathe again and something warm, heavy, was pressing down on the tip of your tongue that you faded back into reality, just in time for Wooyoung to shoot a seemingly never-ending cumshot down the back of your aching throat.

“You’ll swallow, won’t you?” he asked sweetly, giving the bottom of your chin a light tickle with his clawed fingers. 

When you stuck out your tongue to show him that nothing was left, Wooyoung grabbed you by the chin and yanked you towards him, biting the tip of your tongue to draw blood. You watched him suck it off with half-lidded eyes, having to close your thighs together to keep a fresh wave of slick from dripping out of you. 

Before you knew it, he was on the floor with you, not even needing to pull you into his lap, groaning into your mouth as you climbed into it yourself, the heated kiss you shared consisting mostly of tongue, pointed teeth, and blood. You swapped red-tinted saliva back and forth, your hands working in tandem to tear off each other’s clothes and grope one another wherever you could, trying to create as much friction between your lower halves as you could, Wooyoung’s stiff cock rubbing deliciously into your clothed cunt. 

You broke the kiss when your thirst once again grew too strong to ignore, reaching up to run your index finger over the mole on Wooyoung’s glistening bottom lip, hissing softly when he pierced it with one of his fangs. You both watched the blood slowly trickle down along your skin, sharing a similar look with one another, before you leaned in to lap it up, your tongues meeting in the middle. 

As though telepathically connected, you reached to slip your panties off from underneath your skirt the same time Wooyoung undid the buttons of his pants, immediately rubbing at yourselves in order to get off as quickly as possible. 

“Look at me when you cum,” Wooyoung demanded between huffs of air, staring you down past his wispy lashes, the speed at which he was stroking his cock producing lewd squelching sounds, his slender fingers slicked up with his abundant pre-cum. 

Trembling, you opened up your teary eyes to look at Wooyoung, the indescribable pleasure etched into his face causing you to throb nonstop, curling your fingers up in just the right way to launch you into a world of ecstasy. “C-cumming…” 

Wooyoung groaned at the sight and feeling of your release spilling into his lap, squeezing his hand tightly around the base of his cock, hot spurts of cum landing on your abdomen and dripping down your bare cunt, not even caring that you both dirted his designer jeans with your shared arousal. “I’m gonna make you do that again, on my cock this time, you hear me?” he growled at you, lifting you up like you weighed nothing and dropping you down onto his growing erection. 

“Fuck,” you gasped sharply, holding onto his shoulders to keep your composure, your thighs still shaking from your residual pleasure, a low, burning pain present within your core  as your hole stretched to accommodate the vampire’s size. “T-too much…” 

Wooyoung’s ego just about doubled in that moment, his ringed fingers closing in on your soft waist, suddenly bucking his hips up into you like it was his sole mission to do so in the afterlife. Smiling smugly at the small, broken noises he was punching out of you with his vicious thrusts, he couldn’t help but let out a few crazed giggles. “Can’t take it now that I’m rearranging these pretty guts of yours, huh?” He mirrored your pout, his lower lip jutting out. “But, I thought you were my cum slut, my good little blood whore.” 

“I am…! I–fuck, I am, Master…!” you found yourself crying out, tears inside your hazy eyes, tasting dried blood when you wet your dry lips, knowing you wouldn’t even recognize your reflection if you saw it now. You were a new model, remolded, changed for the better. 

His hypnotic eyes began to glow. “Be a good sleeve and take it for your Master, yeah?”

You did as he said, taking everything he gave you like a pliant doll, letting him lick, bite, drink from you, and fuck you dumb for as long as his still heart desired, wondering if he was even aware of how much your blood boiled inside you. 

Wooyoung was just like the others. They were all the same, treating you like a helpless toy, using you for their enjoyment and tossing you aside when they were bored, viewing your humanity as your downfall, and perhaps they were right. Like two magnets, you couldn’t live without the other, and now, you were a monster like him, one in the same. 

Just as you both reached your climax together, holding desperately onto one another, Wooyoung’s bewitching gaze no longer holding captive, you felt a supreme power rise within yourself. You didn’t need him, not when you were now your own Master. The only thing you served now was your endless hunger. 

Wooyoung couldn’t get you off once you latched onto his neck, gasping and sputtering, his constant struggles only forcing your fangs just that much deeper into his skin and the artery you had targeted, digging his claws into your back as a last ditch effort. “But, we…we made a pact,” he coughed out, his gravelly voice reflecting the immense pain he felt. He couldn’t fight back any longer, simply slumping back against the wall to accept his fate, holding his hand up to his torn neck, despite it not doing anything to prevent the crimson from flowing through his fingers. “I don’t understand…” 

“I recall warning you that I was poisonous,” you replied softly, licking remnants of his precious life source from your stained lips. 

He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes resembling half-moons. “Fair point, human…”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[kairoot]

✶ 𝓗𝑎𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 ．．박종성

⤷ 𝑖n which you enjoy the sunrise on your small farm with your two favorite people.

𝒑𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : husband!jay x 𝑝𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗍！𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 : no 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : pet names, kisses, lmk if i missed anything !

( 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒏’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ) : inspired by @allurecile bc i loved their jake fic so much and this thought has been in my head for forever.. jay pls become a farmer. & pls leave reblogs and feedback, they are much appreciated !! ♡︎

birds chirped and the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, casting a gentle golden glow across the fields. dew-kissed blades of grass shimmered in the early morning light, while the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze added to the tranquil symphony.

the farm slowly awakened, with the silhouette of a barn emerging from the shadows and the distant silhouette of livestock beginning to stir, signaling the start of a new day.

you step out into the wide yard, yawning and stretching your arms out. you closed your eyes as the soft morning breeze swiped your cheek.

looking out over the large acres of your home, you spotted your husband crouched down near your crops. he wore his favorite flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up as he cared for the growing vegetables in your garden. you smiled softly, admiring how hard he worked.

he looked up from what he was doing, spotting you on your home’s porch. his face broke into a wide smile, eyes lighting up warmth and affection. he set down his tools and took off his gloves as he stood up to walk over to you.

“good morning,” jay said, his voice gentle and filled with love.

“good morning,” you replied, feeling a surge of happiness at the sight of him.

he reached out and places a hand on your belly, where your baby is growing steadily each day. you were about seven months pregnant, and both you and the baby were the healthiest you had been, thanks to jay.

the gesture is tender, filled with a quiet joy that you both share. you cover his hand with yours, feeling the connection between the three of you.

"good," you assure him. "just a little sleepy."

he chuckles softly. "i was trying not to wake you."

"you didn't," you say, shaking your head. "i just wanted to come out and join you."

jay smiled once more, placing a kiss on your forehead and then your lips. he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

together, you walk through the garden, taking in the beauty of the morning. the sun is rising higher now, casting long shadows and illuminating the dewdrops on the leaves and grass. the air is filled with the earthy scent of soil and the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers.

as you stroll through the rows of vegetables and herbs, you talk about your plans for the day, the excitement of preparing for the baby's arrival, and the simple joys of life on the farm. jay listens intently, his hand never leaving yours, his presence a constant source of comfort and strength.

“she’s gonna love the flowers,” you smiled, squeezing his hand.

“and the animals,” he added, looking over at the barn. “they’ll love her.”

“daisy already does,” you giggled, remembering how one of your mares wouldn’t stop rubbing her nose against your belly when it started to grow.

jay nodded in agreement, smiling at the memory.

“yeah, but i’m not so sure about cocoa.” he said, reminding you of the younger horse who hadn’t been to fond of you ever since you became pregnant.

you sighed, “i don’t know why he’s been acting that way..”

jay rubbed your back comfortingly, “you know how much he loves you. he doesn’t want the attention on anyone else but him when it comes to you.”

you nodded, continuing your stroll with him.

“can we go see them?”

jay nodded, a thoughtful smile on his face. “of course, honey.”

you followed him toward the barn, the path lined with blooming wildflowers and the morning sun casting a warm glow over everything. as you approached the barn, the familiar sounds of the horses’ gentle nickers and the clatter of hooves greeted you.

jay opened the barn door, and you stepped inside, where the scent of hay and horses was comforting. daisy was the first to notice you, and she trotted over with a friendly whinny, her ears pricked up in greeting. you reached out to pet her, feeling her soft nose against your hand.

cocoa, on the other hand, was in the far corner, watching you with curious but cautious eyes. jay noticed this and gave you a reassuring glance before carefully approaching the younger horse.

“hey, cocoa,” jay said softly, extending a hand. “it’s okay. we’re just here to visit.”

you watched as jay gently bridled cocoa, his calm and steady presence seeming to ease the horse’s nerves. soon, cocoa’s stance relaxed, and he allowed you to give him a gentle pat.

as you were enjoying the interaction, you felt a familiar fluttering sensation in your belly—your baby was moving. you chuckled softly and placed a hand on your belly. jay looked over and smiled, sensing the moment of connection between you and the baby.

just then, daisy, who had been happily munching on some hay, suddenly jumped like she’d been zapped by a static shock. she let out a comical squeal and took a few surprised hops backward, her mane flying wildly.

“whoa!” you exclaimed, trying to stifle a laugh. “i think the baby gave her a good kick!”

jay looked over, trying to hold back his laughter as daisy continued to prance around with exaggerated steps, clearly puzzled by the sudden sensation. “looks like she’s not used to the baby’s morning gymnastics..”

you gently approached daisy, who was now eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and wariness. “hey, easy,” you cooed, patting her gently. “it’s just the baby saying hello.”

jay knelt beside daisy, trying to calm her with soothing words while trying to suppress his chuckles. “there’s no need to dance, daisy. it’s just our little one showing off.”

the mare seemed to slowly realize that there was no real threat and cautiously approached you again, her ears still flicking back and forth.

“i guess the baby’s kicks are a little more dramatic than we thought,” you said with a grin, reaching out to give daisy another reassuring pat.

“definitely,” jay agreed, still laughing softly. “she’ll get used to the routines soon enough.”

with daisy settling down and the morning sun climbing higher, you and jay spent a few more moments enjoying the peaceful barn. the day ahead seemed even brighter, filled with the promise of more light-hearted moments and shared laughter as you prepared for the new adventures with your growing family.

✿

TAGLIST: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @flwrstqr @elysianiki — send an ask to join.

[kaleldobrev]

I Want Them To Hear

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben wants to make sure Hughie knows what it actually sounds like when the two of you have sex. In other words, Ben makes damn sure Hughie gets yet another night of no sleep because of the two of you.

Original Prompt: Requested by @k-slla | I loved your last post (poor, poor Hughie 😂). I would love to read a sequel, where SB& reader DO keep everyone up, for other reasons 😏 (if you're up to it 😊) x Kerly

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Cursing (23x), Smut (Oral - M&F receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex - P in V), Implied p*rn watching, Hughie getting scarred for life (again), Semi-Public sex (living room)

Authors Note: Before you read this make sure you read A Simple Misunderstanding first | I think 23 curse words is a new record for curse words for me (21 out of them are the same too) | I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you all enjoy it! | 18+ only please | MDNI | If you want to request something, just send me a message! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You looked over at the clock that was above the fireplace in the living room, and it was almost midnight, and you weren’t the least bit surprised that you weren’t even tired. Although you didn’t have a good sleep schedule before you joined the Boys (as you were a full-time college student when you joined the group), your sleep schedule somehow became even more jacked when you joined; something you didn’t think was even remotely possible. You had found yourself going to sleep at three, four, sometimes five in the morning, or not even going to sleep at all – a constant flow of energy drinks and coffee to keep you going.

The last couple of days though were unusually uneventful, verging on normal, like there wasn’t some kind of revenge war going on. The closest thing that had been kind of eventful was Hughie’s outburst this morning over breakfast, accusing you and Ben of having sex which kept him up – something that actually didn’t happen between you and Ben even though it was something that you did want to happen last night. Due to his little outburst though, the rest of the day was filled with a consistent flow of jokes (mainly at your best friend’s expense) that seemed to put everyone in a great mood (except Hughie of course). In a way, you did feel bad for him, but at the same time, his outburst this morning was unnecessary.

Your legs were currently in Ben’s lap, one of his arms draped over them as his other hand was lying on the arm of the couch with a remote in hand; the only source of light in the room coming from the television. As Ben flipped through channel after channel, you couldn’t help but stare at him as the shadows on his face changed with every single flip trying to find something to watch. “How is there so many channels and nothing to watch?” He asked, not even looking at you.

You shrugged your shoulders and he turned to face you. “I found plenty of things I’d watch. It’s not my fault you’re picky.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not picky. TV just sucks now.” He began, and you already knew where this conversation was going. It was about to turn into a ‘back in my day’ rant that you had heard practically every single day since you had met him. “Back in my day, TV was actually good.” Before you could interject he continued. “We didn’t have stupid reality shows about people who are famous for nothing.” You couldn’t help but agree with him on that one. “There’s 400 channels and only two of them are watchable.”

“And which channels does the almighty Soldier Boy deem watchable?” You asked, emphasizing the nickname.

“ESPN and TCM.” He answered without hesitation. You simply just rolled your eyes.

“Of course those would be the only two channels.” You mumbled, even though you knew he could hear you; there was no use in mumbling around him. “I love ESPN and TCM too, but there are other channels that are watchable Ben. How about FoodNetwork and HGTV?”

Ben scoffed. “Sometimes they’re watchable.”

“Okay. How about…” You thought for a moment, trying to think of a channel that Ben would possibly enjoy; then it hit you, causing a smirk to form on your face. “How about Skinamax?”

He looked at you with a confused expression. “What the fuck is Skinamax?” You let out a slight laugh, causing him to raise a brow. “What?”

“You don’t know what Skinamax is?” You asked. “Honestly, I’m slightly surprised.” You held out your hand. “Hand me the remote and I’ll show you.”

“Why can’t you just fucking tell me?” He asked, his facial expression annoyed.

“Because Ben, it’d be more fun to show you.” Your lips turned into a smirk. “Don’t you trust me?”

Again, your response earned yet another eyeroll from him. Of course I fucking trust you, he thought. What kind of stupid question is that? “Fine.” He said, handing you the remote.

“Okay, and why couldn’t you of just told me it was just fucking porn?” He asked, his tone sounding a little annoyed with you.

“Because, I thought it would be much more fun to show you.” You turned away from the television and looked at him. “You’ve watched porn before though right? Like, I’m assuming you have cause well…you’re…well you.”

He looked at you briefly before looking back at the screen again. “Have you watched porn before?” He mumbled, mocking your tone. “Of course I fucking have.” He said, a tad louder and a bit more annoyed sounding. He turned back to face you. “Who hasn’t watched porn before?”

You shrugged. “Fair point.” You said. “You know…” you began, as you started inching your way closer to him. “As much as I’d love to continue watching this…interesting movie. There is something I’d much rather be doing.”

He smirked, his full attention on you now. “And what’s that Sweetheart?”

“Well, you did make me a promise this morning.” Your voice was low, your hand inching closer to the hem of his pants.

“I made you a lot of promises this morning.” His voice was low, but not nearly as low as yours.

“But there was one in particular.” Your fingers started slipping into the waistband of his pants as you maintained complete eye contact with him.

“You going to tell me or is it more fun to show me?” He asked, your hand made contact with his cock and you gently wrapped your hand around him. Ben slightly groaned at the contact.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “I think you know the answer.” You whispered.

Without a second to waste, he pulled his sweats down giving you slightly better access as you started moving your hand up and down. You went slow, knowing that it was killing him inside with the pace that you were going at. As he was about to open up his mouth to protest the slow pace, your head went down and you started sucking him off; a slight taste of pre-cum on your tongue. Your hand and mouth started going in tandem with each other; no longer focused on his face, but focusing on what you were doing. “Fuck,” he groaned, and he threw his head back into the couch, enjoying the feeling of your mouth and hands wrapped around him, a feeling that he’d wanted since the moment he laid his eyes on you – despite him knowing how much you hated him at first.

You released him with a pop for a moment; your hand still going. But the loss of your mouth on him caused him to open his eye to look at you. “Ben, you need to be quiet. I don’t want the whole house to hear.” You stated.

Your words gave Ben an idea, and a smirk grew on his face. “Princess, I want them to hear.”

“You…you want them to hear?” Your voice a whisper. “Why?”

“Cause I want your little friend to know what it actually sounds like when the two of us fuck.” His words made you audibly gulp, and you barely even knew how to respond. Weirdly, the thought turned you on.

“Okay.” Your reply hesitant. Despite the slight hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his cock again; your mouth and hand working in tandem again.

As you worked, the sounds that were coming out of Ben’s mouth weren’t remotely quiet; a mixture of groaning and moaning. His hand gripped your hair slightly, pulling at it gently, messing it up. Between him basically playing with your hair as you blew him, and the sounds that he was making; it encouraged you to pick up the pace a little, and you yourself felt yourself starting to get increasingly more wet. “God, your fucking mouth.” He groaned. He bucked up a little, and when he did that he let himself go; releasing himself into your mouth and down your throat. You usually weren’t a swallower but for him, you made the exception.

Once you helped him ride out his orgasm, you released him with a pop; the two of you making eye contact again. “Lay down Princess,” he demanded, “and spread those legs of yours,” he grinned.

“Yes Sir.” You said, probably a little bit too loud.

The nickname you gave him just made him grin even wider, slightly more evil looking. “Can’t wait to wreck this pussy of yours.” He said, completely pulling your shorts down in one swift movement. He eyed your bare pussy for a moment before smirking up at you, cocking a brow. “Went commando today uh?” You bit your bottom lip, nodding. “Sweetheart, if I would have known, I would have fucked you on the kitchen table this morning just to prove a point.”

“Be-” before you could speak, his point finger started to slowly dip inside of you. “Fuck.” You moaned, slightly whispering.

“You’re fucking soaked Princess.” He said, smugness in his voice. “All this just from blowing me uh?” He added a second finger as they both started going into you a bit deeper, a slight curve to them.

“Y-yes.” You moaned out; his two fingers starting to move slowly in and out of you, a similar pace you had done earlier on him.

“So, tell me this Sweetheart. Are you generally just a cock slut, or are you just a slut for my cock?”

The pace of his fingers started to pick up gingerly; no words were forming in your brain to even respond to his question. He was barely doing anything to you, and you were slightly embarrassed by the way your body was reacting to his touch, but at the same time, he actually knew what he was doing – hitting you in all the right spots. “Just…Fuck…Just for yours.”

“Just for mine what?” He added a third finger, curling them inside of you. All you could do was moan; verging on the sound of pornographic. “Need you to use your words Princess. I know how much you like to talk, don’t hold back on me now.”

“Fuck me…” you mumbled, feeling a heat rising in your cheeks. “I’m only a slut for your cock Ben.”

He clicked his tongue a few times, seeming unsatisfied with your answer. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t quite hear you.” The smugness in his voice returned, knowing that he could hear you. You knew what he really meant: your friends couldn’t hear you.

With a small groan, you spoke just a tad louder, hoping it would be loud enough to satisfy him. “I’m only a slut for you cock Ben.”

He grinned. “There it is.” He sounded so proud of himself.

“Ben I’m about to –” you came, not even finishing your sentence, your orgasm practically exploding out of you. Despite the amount of times you’ve had sex, this was the first time you could actually say that you had a mind-blowing orgasm. He continued to move his fingers in and out of you rapidly as you rid out your orgasm.

“Fucking beautiful,” he praised. “I’ll never get fucking tired of seeing a woman cum.”

As soon as you came down from your high, he removed his fingers from you, licking them clean; and you already hated the feeling of not having his fingers inside of you. “Fuck.” You breathed out, your chest rising up and down as you tried catching your breath.

Ben chuckled. “You good there Sweetheart?” He sounded amused.

“Yeah…So…Good…” your voice trailed off.

“Good, cause I’m not done with you just yet.” Before you had the chance to respond, he pulled you by your ankles, sliding you across the couch. Pulling you into his lap, both of your hands rested on his chest, slight heat radiating from it, which strangely felt good against your palms.

Your legs were spread open wide enough that you were able to straddle him; your knees on either side of his thighs resting on the couch. Without any kind of direction from him, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving you completely naked; you felt even more vulnerable somehow than you did before. You leaned in, your hands on either side of his face now and kissed him; his hands automatically gripping your hips. Based on the tightness of the grip you knew you’d have bruises, and honestly – you couldn’t care less, you wanted him to leave marks.

The both of you moaned into the kiss, and you started rocking your hips gently, trying to obtain some kind of friction. He smirked against your lips. “Someone’s a little needy.” He teased. “You just came Sweetheart.”

“Yeah but…” You kissed his neck, and leaned in close to his ear, “that was on your fingers, not on your cock.”

“And you say I have the dirty mouth.” He laughed a little, removing his hands from your hips. You sat back on his thighs as he took one of his hands and wrapped it around himself, pumping it in his hand a few times. “Going to fill that pussy right up.”

“Please.” Your tone slightly begging.

“So cute when you beg.” He said, his tip teasing your entrance. “You ready for me Sweetheart?” You nodded and placed your hands on his shoulders, almost as if you were bracing yourself. As he started pushing himself inside of you, you let out a long moan, shutting your eyes. “Fucking love your moans.” He complicated, as he watched your face slightly contort. “Taking me so well too.” He chuckled. “Really are a cock slut uh?”

“Only for you.” You breathed, his cock almost fully inside of you.

“Damn right only for me.” His voice sounded slightly possessive; and the tone turned you on more than you thought it would, and he felt you clench around him. “You like that uh?” You nodded in response. “Good.”

As you started moving your hips, Ben started placing kisses between your breasts, every so often taking one of your nipples into his mouth. The noises you were making were pornographic sounding again; no words really escaping your lips, just moans. Your hand gripped the back of his head, clutching at his hair. “Ben,” you moaned, shutting your eyes as you continued to rock your hips.

He attached his lips to your neck now, slightly nipping and sucking on the skin. Not only were there going to be marks on your hips, there were going to be marks on your neck now too. “Mine,” you heard him mumble; but you weren’t entirely sure if you heard him properly.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, and he removed his lips from your neck. “You heard me,” his voice possessive again. “You’re mine now.” He said. You weren’t sure if this was bedroom talk or he actually did mean that you were his, and his alone. Either way, you loved the sound of being his – despite the slight alpha/misogynistic undertone to it.

“All yours.” You agreed. He took two of his fingers and started rubbing your clit, trying to get you closer and closer to the edge. You felt the pressure start to build, and you were insanely close to coming again. “I’m so close.”

“Can’t wait to cum inside of you Princess.” His fingers started picking up the pace, and his hip movements were starting to get erratic – he was close too.

“Fuck.” You mumbled, your own movements matching his erratic ones. “I’m about to –” as you started to cum, his lips latched onto yours, and you moaned into his mouth.

“I’m right there with you.” He said, coming closely after you. The kiss deepened as the two of you rid out your orgasms; his fingers working lazily on your clit.

“Holy shit.” You said, essentially collapsing onto him. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as your chests were pressed up against each other; his arms wrapped around your lower back, his clock still buried inside of you.

“You alright there Sweetheart?” He asked, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah just…” you started breathing a little heavy again. “Don’t have your stamina.” You laughed a little. “I’ll be okay.”

“Good. Cause I can’t have you dyin’ on me.” His tone was joking, but you knew that he would be devastated if anything were to ever happen to you. Because over the course of time he had known you, he had grown to deeply care about you; and it was something that surprised the both of you – hell, it even surprised the rest of the group.

"What the fuck!" You and Ben both turned and saw Hughie standing in the doorway of the living room; his facial expression looked as though he was about to blow a gasket.

Ben rolled his eyes out of annoyance. "Do you mind?" You gently lifted yourself off of him, grabbing a nearby blanket and quickly covered yourself and Ben, although the damage was probably already done.

"Yes! Matter of fact I do mind! This is the second night in a row that I woke up because of the two of you!" He yelled; and you could of sworn you saw a vain bulging from his neck. He was pissed.

Ben laughed, amused by Hughie's reaction. "Now you know what it actually sounds like when the two of us fuck. Should of kept your mouth shut this morning kid." He grinned, and gave him a wink.

"Seriously? You guys were loud because of what I said this morning?" Hughie's voice was now annoyed. Ben simply just shrugged at his question. "You are such an asshole."

Ben shrugged again. "Worse has been said."

“Hughie I –” you began, but Ben cut you off.

"But, I can promise you this," he got up from the couch, pulling up his pants in the process as he made his way toward Hughie. He placed a hand on his shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes, grinning. "You better get used to not fucking sleeping cause your friend has one hell of a pussy and mouth on her." You didn't need to see his face to know the absolute pleasure he had saying that to your best friend.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @zombie-freak If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[demonslayerunhinged]

Unhinged theory

The Passion of Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi has no chill.

We all been knew this. His chill is one of the things that the fandom has accepted canonically doesn't exist, like Inosuke's uniform shirt or Zenitsu's dating standards, but the reason for his lack of chill and generally aggressive behavior is still a much debated topic to this day.

I have made two posts here and here breaking down his backstory, his trauma and socio-economical circumstances that made him the man he is today but, I still wasn't satisfied. Something nagged me about this character and his personality that I couldn't put my finger on. So I pondered, for days going through each episode, rereading the manga taking note of his actions and interactions with other characters.

Then, it finally hit me.

Ladies and gentlemen, I believe I've found the answer.

Sanemi, our sweet boy, is SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED.

Let me explain.

butt first...

What is sexual frustration?

According to Medical News Today,

Sexual frustration describes a state of irritation, agitation, or stress resulting from sexual inactivity or dissatisfaction. Sexual frustration is a common, natural feeling, and it can affect anyone.

Some symptoms include:

Feeling irritable, restless, and edgy (so Sanemi's entire personality?)

Engaging in unhealthy coping skills (like wanting to brawl with another man for no reason and after having a sexually-charged training session 🤨)

Performing riskier behaviors to fulfill sexual desires (like exposing your entire chest and leaving it vulnerable just so you can show off your tits like a slut 🤨🤨).

Compulsive or hypersexual behaviors (like wanting to grab another man by the hair just so he won't go away 🤨🤨🤨)

Depression or anxiety for men (see this post)

“Seeking revenge” against targets that are the believed source of the frustration (basically Sanemi vs Giyuu)

Displaced frustration on targets with no connection to the frustration (Sanemi vs Tanjiro vs Junior Slayers)

How did this cum to be?

Okay so, I have this headcanon that the Shinazugawa men have a high sex drive. I mean, there's the seven kids from Kyogo which means he had to be laying pipe...a lot(F's in the chat for Shizu 😔) and Genya's horniness when he breathes the same air as a girl, so it's safe to say that Sanemi also has a high sex drive.

After the tragedy that struck his family (Shizu killing the kids, not Kyogo's death because fuck that guy), Sanemi lost any hope or chance of a normal life. In the light novel Sign post of the Wind, Sanemi tells Masachika that life isn't for fun, and he has expressed his distaste for 'frivolous' things.

He denies himself these things because he believes he doesn't deserve them, why should he enjoy life when he killed his mom, when he couldn't protect his siblings, when his brother rightfully hates him, when demons still exist, when families are still being ripped apart, when his colleagues and juniors are being killed and when Genya is in constant danger. The only thing he allows himself is ohagi which is a reminder of happier times.

He has no time for friends, for love and definitely not for sex, which by extension includes masturbation. He won't be able to jerk off without seeing the faces of his mom and his siblings -and yes, that sentence was just as awkward for me writing it as you reading it- so he resigned himself to a life of solitude and sexual frustration, which caused him to develop his aggressive and no-chill personality but at least he was able to manage for a while, that was until he met Giyuu.

Cum hither Giyuu

Sanemi's no-nut journey became even more unbearable when he met Giyuu. There was just something about that sappy, derpy, stupid face that stole his heart and even though Giyuu's personality should've made it easy to stay away, the power of love and horny didn't allow that to happen.

Like I mentioned before in a previous post, what followed was a series of sexually-tense situations and interactions between the two Hashiras, so every time Giyuu happened to enter Sanemi's field of vision, I guess you could say more or less he was:

Reaching out for help

In the light of their impending doom with Muzan's arrival, Sanemi has a realization; he's obviously going to die soon, that doesn't scare Sanemi, he's accepted the fact that he's going to die anyway but to die as a virgin? Now that's not good. With the failure of trying to reach out to Giyuu in the Hashira meeting and the disaster that was the attempted eye-poking incident and being shamed by a 16-year-old Sanemi decides 'fuck it' and tries to reach out to Giyuu again.

But he can't go crawling to Giyuu and be like 'please fuck me', no no no that would not do instead he has the brilliant idea to challenge Giyuu to combat under the guise of 'training' in some misguided hope that the spar would get both their temperatures up which would in turn get Giyuu horny enough to rip off his clothes and fuck him. Yay! The plan is foolproof!

I already mentioned in this post how Sanemi's suggestion for a brawl made no sense as he could have just taken the Muichiro route and suggested they use their actual katanas, but no he wanted a full body contact brawl. Like look at how excited he was at the concept of brawling with Giyuu, like no wonder Tanjiro was scared for Giyuu!

JUST LOOK AT THIS FACE!!! LOOK AT THE DESPERATION!!! OUR BOY IS SO PENT UP HE'S ON THE VERGE OF INSANITY!!!

THIS IS THE FACE OF A MAN WHO HASN'T NUTTED IN 21 YEARS! He was literally begging BEGGING Giyuu to touch him! 😭

Tanjiro(bestest boy ❤️) was rightfully afraid for his big bro, so he intercepts (read cock blocks) Sanemi! Imagine how he felt at that moment; he was THIS close to some body contact and then comes in the same child who kills his rep at every turn! Not only that, but Tanjiro clocks in Sanemi's intentions and decided to put a stop to it by hitting him where he hurts; ohagi.

Imagine your biggest social opp coming along with his innocent, stupidly sweet face when you've finally decided to open yourself up to fucking your forever crush and killing whatever and all sexual tension with his annoying innocence!

Then, as if on a mission to destroy your spirit, reveals your secret love of ohagi! A sweet typically enjoyed by children! Right in front of his future baby daddy!

Tanjiro then drives the knife even further by asking him his ohagi preferences, talking about how his grandma used to make ohagi and shit!

LIKE BOYYYYYYYY

That explains why he was so salty even hours later. If I were him, I'd be pissed too! The fuck! I love how he stopped walking on the steps just to cuss Tanjiro out, like you can tell it came from the very depths of his soul.

I mean, you can literally hear the pain and frustration in his voice. That is the cry of a man who spent three hours douching, only to have his Grindr date cancel on him.

Celebrating the big O

After the events of the final showdown we see a more relaxed, almost peaceful Sanemi which tells us one thing - our boy finally got laid!

But when? and with whom?

Well Giyuu, duh. I theorize that it happened sometime during the three months of recuperation before Tanjiro woke up, and they had their last Hashira meeting. I mean, look at how they're smiling at each other, you can't tell me these guys didn't fuck at least once.

Sanemi came(lol) out(lol again!) of the encounter a changed man. He's moisturized, demure, in his lane, thriving.

Look at him here; tits covered 'cuz Giyuu has made an honest man out of him, and that peaceful look? Damn, dick was so good blud had to look up to the heavens like

In Conclusion, Sanemi's character development is really inspirational because it's a story of one man's triumph over thirst and yea I don't know how to end this post, so I'll just leave you with some words of wisdom:

[jalalandfamily]

Help jalal and my family 🚑🚨🇵🇸

To the warm hearted people remaining in this world who reads this my letter , and after suffering to be able to place this letter in your hands...

Hello my friend,

I am Jalal Ayyad, a Palestinian from Gaza, stuck in the Arab Republic of Egypt due to the war that followed the Gaza Strip.

There is my whole family in Gaza (My warm refuge that circumstances prevented us from) ..14 members , my mother, my brothers, my 4 sisters and their children , my 2 nephews and their mother . They are at risk at any time due to heavy bombing, and they also suffer from the difficulty of providing food and drink due to the scarcity of food resources resulting from the siege.

Even if these foodstuffs are available, they cannot buy them due to the extreme rise in prices. As you know, we have children as young as 4 years old, and it is natural for the child to have better care and protection from this terror, psychological pressure, and constant anxiety.

My family, who are now sheltering in a simple tent in the refugee camps in the centre of Gaza Strip , after they were displaced from our warm home, which was bombed and its traces and memories were erased from our neighborhood, Al-Shujaiya neighborhood in northern Gaza. After that, my family’s repeated displacements continued due to the horror and horrible events, from the north to the center, then to Khan Yunis, then to Rafah and now to the centre of Gaza Strip .. The areas of bombing and danger.. The forced displacement scenario is still ongoing, so where do people go ?!!! There is no safe place here that will protect my family and children from this horror.

Tim, my 5-year-old nephew, was so excited to go to school for the first time. He was eagerly waiting for this day, dreaming of playing with his friends and learning a lot of new things. But, as he was preparing for this important day, w:a,.r came and turned his life upside down.

Suddenly, everything changed. Tim can no longer go to school due to the difficult conditions left by the war. He found himself and his family living in an unsafe and turbulent environment...from a warm and safe home in the arms of his family and loved ones to a tent in the middle of this hot summer and the sounds of war that terrify him at night..

Despite this continues terror, Tim was exposed to the disease of jaundice, yellow eyes, laziness, sleeping a lot, loss of appetite and high body temperature..Because of the w.,a.r, there is difficulty in obtaining medicine, food, and drink for this disease. Despite all this, Tim remained determined to maintain his hope and courage despite the difficult circumstances he faces.

With your kind help, I hope that we will achieve Tim’s wish, which he dreams of so much.

I have been stuck in Egypt now for 9 months since the heinous war, amidst anxiety, fear, anticipation, and intense psychological pressure that no human being can bear. I lost my degree and my university was destroyed and turned into ashes. I have nothing I can do to save my family, relieve them, and pull them out of this horror. I do not even have a residence permit here nor a source of income that I can rely on.

I cannot get any news about my family to reassure my heart about them except only once a month and for a few minutes, interspersed with poor Internet connection, in light of the events whose scales change and increase in severity every minute.

I hope that every person who reads this message can influence my family's life and save them from this tragedy.

With your kind help, I will be able to provide them with food and drink expenses and meet their needs.

I am attaching for you some proof, represented by some pictures taken with a trembling heart of our neighborhood and our destroyed homes, which were taken at the beginning of the war, before the displacement and the entry of the occupation into it.

Thank you, dear reader, for reading my story and reaching this point. I hope you can help save my family from this tragedy. May God help all those affected, and I hope that no one will go through or experience this disastrous situation. Thank you all from depths of my heart .

Save my family from war, I have no hope but your help..

‏My family needs you, don't forget them

‏Donate and spread🙏🏻💔

[sweetiecutie]

Pairing: dark! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: yandere behavior, obsession, stalking, gaslighting, drugging, kidnapping. This is only fiction! Never tolerate creepy behavior

A/n: so this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so I decided to finish it as a part of writing event. I’m so proud of this one, like omg, look at me being a writer😆

Your head hurt. That was the first thing you registered as you started to slowly regain consciousness. Your face scrunched up in a grimace of pain as you let out a soft groan, your throat sore, only increasing your discomfort.

You tried to raise your hands to rub on your eyes in attempt to soothe the stinginess - point word - tried. You very soon found that your movements had been restricted by something that felt very much like rope. And not only your hands - your legs were bound tightly together at your knees and ankles, not allowing you to move.

- You’re awake now? - soft voice droned on, making you tense up impossibly more. The most terrifying thing was that you knew exactly who this voice belonged to.

You squinted into direction from which the sound came, your vision still blurry and hazy from the drug. Thankfully, the room was dark, small lamp on the bedside table was the only source of soft yellow light. You could only perceive a bulky figure sitting on a chair not too far from you, piercing blue eyes gazed at you unblinking.

- König..? What’s going on? - you asked, your voice was hoarse and weak from long lack of usage.

Suddenly, memories flashed before your eyes; it was late evening - about 11 pm - as you were walking towards convenience store not so far from your apartment.

You had been in a state of constant desolation lately - days were bleak and boring, blurring into one with their unchanging routine, sending you in deeper state of depression.

Breakup with your boyfriend took a toll on you. You loved König, you really did. Considered spending your life with him, even. But the longer your relationship lasted, the more of real him you saw - controlling, obsessive, manipulative.

It all started out small - constant checking in, questions about your whereabouts and your company, him following accompanying you wherever possible. Surely, it restricted your freedom, but König didn’t mean anything bad! He was just worried for you, concerned about your safety! Is that so bad?

So you let it slip. You overlooked his more controlling tendencies, agreed to giving him passwords to all your social media even, so König could make sure that “no freaks were texting you”. It unnerved you, but he didn’t mean anything bad, did he? He was just being a good caring boyfriend!

And it was like an avalanche. Constant calls and messages, controlling what you were wearing, unwillingness to leave you alone even for a few minutes - that and many other things made a list of what your boyfriend did, only adding to your anxiety. But you tolerated it all, because you loved him. Once, digging through your phone you found something that looked very much like a tracking app. You were outraged. But when you asked König about it - rather aggressively - he just blinked at you with wide innocent blue eyes, saying that maybe you installed it on accident? You know all these bots nowadays, you can never be safe online now. But you know that he would never do something like that, right? How could you even think of something like that?! König was genuinely offended, and you naturally hastened to apologize for your unwise accusations, trying to make it up to him. Deleting this app seemed to be impossible, though, no matter how many times you tried.

Last drop was, however, when König nearly blew out your best friend’s front door, threatening them to keep away from you. “This bitch is putting some fucked up ideas about me into your head” - was his reasoning. And that was it - hell was set free. You had an ugly shouting marathon for hours to no end, with lots of tears and profanities, ending up with a harsh breakup and you blocking König everywhere, cutting him off completely.

And since then you haven’t spoken a word to him. Of course, he came to your apartment countless times, sent numerous gifts and bouquets of your favorite flowers, practically begging for forgiveness. But you knew better than that - it happened before, and even if you forgave him this time, in a few months time everything would be just as it was before.

At present, you were walking down a sidewalk, asphalt damp under your shoes from recent rain. You needed to get some groceries, since your fridge was just as empty as your stomach; and this late of an hour promised as little people around as possible, saving you from unfavorable company of men.

Just as you rounded a corner - a pair of huge strong arms - obviously male - seized your sensibly smaller body; a weird-smelling cloth was pressed tightly over your mouth and nose. In your panicked state you tried to fight back, not registering your own breathing, inhaling lungfuls of drug. Darkness filled your vision rapidly as dizziness overcame all your senses. You felt consciousness quickly slipping away from you, neon lights of convenience store shone brightly before your eyes still.

Panic seized your throat and it was becoming harder to breathe - you tugged and pulled on rough ropes around your limbs, trying to either snap them or slip out of tight confines, thrashing around the mattress relentlessly. König didn’t do anything, just watched you silently with his icy orbs from his spot, not exactly amused nor impressed by your behavior. Very soon fatigue took over your already exhausted body, you lay motionless once again, panting heavily as you glared at König’s dark form, vision still unfocused from the drug.

- Drop that. I made sure knots are tight, - he said coldly, continuing to observe you with a sharp stare of a hawk.

You just glared silently, trying to catch your breath. Your body felt heavy - extremely so, as if every limb was made out of lead and not flesh and bone; moving as much as one finger seemed harder than anything and you wondered how you managed to thrash around in the first place. Your head was aching irritably, not allowing you to think clearly - it had to be the side effect of whatever that was König made you inhale previously.

- König, do you realize what you did? - you managed to choke out, panic crashing over you in waves as realization of your current situation finally hit you. Hot tears streamed down your face as you tried to breathe evenly, but it did little to calm you down.

König just leaned in, cupping the side of your face with one of his huge hands, his thumb swiped under your eye, wiping salty tears away with calloused fingertip. You closed your eyes, averting your face from his touch. And oh, he didn’t like it.

König gripped bottom part of your face, force of his grip squeezed your cheeks together as he turned your head forcibly towards himself, making you squeal quietly as you faced him.

- You tried to leave me. And you are very dear to me. I can’t let this happen, - König explained, his voice calm, alarmingly calm. His scarred lips were pressed into a thin pale line, giving a little clue of his rage.

It was another side of him, completely different from what you used to see - a calm, ruthless and collected one; one that you could only imagine, based off some rumors you’ve heard about him and small cracks in his friendly mask König was too careless to hide from you during your relationship. You got glimpses of it a few times - when some drunk dude tried to hit on you when you and König were in the bar together, or when you mentioned how nice one of your male coworkers was. You always made one brutal mistake of brushing it all off, blaming it on König’s tiredness or fierce personality. And that’s where it led you.

- So what are you gonna do now? Keep me here forever? - you tried to scoff, but your trembling voice was way too weak to do so.

König cocked his eyebrow at your brave words, ghost of a smile played on his pursed lips. He shrugged lightly, grip of his fingers on your cheeks eased as he caressed them endearingly with rough fingertips, tickling you slightly.

- If that’s what it takes to keep you with me - then yes, - he shrugged slightly, propping his chin on his free hand, not a single emotion could be deciphered in his voice. These words made your blood turn cold.

He heaved a deep sigh at your frightened expression and trembling body, letting go of your face and reclining into his chair.

- Schatzi, you know I hate this just as much as you do. You think I’m enjoying this? - he asked, his tone was somehow sad and exhausted. But yes, you indeed thought, knew he enjoyed this. You kept silent, choking on your silent sobs, now being extremely aware of thick ropes digging painfully into your soft skin. Panic attack was full on taking over you, suffocating you with numerous sobs, body tensing and shaking incessantly, tears blurring your thus poor vision.

- Now, this all may end if you stop being a little bitch and start acting like an actual adult. We didn’t finish our conversation that last time, and you blocking me everywhere doesn’t make things any easier, - König said, his ice-blue eyes boring holes in your head. But you couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind his words, your brain short-circuited with fear and panic, turning you into a weeping shaking mess.

König heaved another sigh. He got up from his chair, taking a few steps towards your bed and dropping to his knees in front of it, so that his head was right against yours. His hand once again came to caress the side of your face affectionately, tangling into your messy hair and massaging your scalp, cooing soothingly at you.

- I know baby, I know. You need to rest. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe. And then, once you’re strong and rested, we’ll talk again. And we’ll sort everything out and be happy again, just like we used to be, hmm? - König murmured softly as he always did to calm you down during hard times. But it only made you weep harder.

König pressed his lips against your cold forehead, leaving a chaste kiss as he inhaled lungfuls of your scent. He then nuzzled his forehead against yours, mumbling quietly:

- You can’t imagine how much I missed you. How could you do this to me? Hurt me so much even though I only want the best for you?

He peppered your face with small kisses, whispering small nothings and caressing your shuddering back. This made you feel nauseous. Your consciousness started to slip away again, your vision darkening rapidly. And just before blacking out, you heard König’s voice, one you loved so dearly once, utter:

- You’re mine, always will be. I’ll make sure of that.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writers some love, we live off feedback<3

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Why Her and Not me?

Here part III is! I hope you all enjoy it! I also wanted to thank you all so much for the love and support on this story! I honestly wasn’t expecting this much feedback, so once again, thank you my lovelies! Enjoy~

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader x Geto Suguru (Angst)

Part I | Part II | Part IV

Several weeks had passed and things were starting to look better for you. Your heart felt lighter, your smile was more genuine, and the weight of your past relationship with Toru seemed to be gradually lifting. You found solace in the supportive presence of your friends, especially Suguru, whose unwavering support and understanding had become a source of comfort during these tumultuous times.

Word of Osaka and Toru making their relationship official spread around fast, and it didn’t take long for it to get to you. At first, hearing about Osaka and Toru's official relationship stung a little. It was a reminder of what could have been, a bittersweet realization that the person you once loved loved someone else. But with each passing day, you found yourself accepting their relationship, understanding that it was time to let go of the past and focus on your own healing journey.

And instead of dwelling on what could have been, you threw yourself into spending quality time with your friends, relishing in the laughter and camaraderie that filled the air whenever you were together. Suguru, in particular, had become a constant presence by your side, serving as a beacon of hope during moments of doubt and uncertainty.

Those weeks turned into months, and as the time flew by, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in your relationship with Suguru. What started as a platonic friendship had evolved into something deeper, a connection that resonated on a soul-deep level. His presence brought you comfort in ways you never thought possible, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't fully understand. It was in the little things—the way he would brush a stray hair from your face, the warmth of his hand on your shoulder when you needed reassurance, the genuine concern in his eyes whenever you spoke of your struggles—that made you realize there was something more between you.

You found comfort in his company, cherishing the moments you spent together, whether it was sharing quiet conversations late into the night or simply enjoying each other's presence in comfortable silence. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a sense of mutual respect and admiration that only deepened with each passing day.

But amidst the growing bond between you and Suguru, there lingered a lingering sense of uncertainty. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was something holding you back, a shadow of doubt that whispered reminders of your past heartache with Toru. Despite your growing feelings for Suguru, you couldn't help but wonder if you were ready to open your heart to love again, to risk being hurt once more.

Yet, despite your reservations, you couldn't deny the undeniable pull towards Suguru, the magnetic attraction that seemed to draw you closer with each passing moment. And as you navigated the complexities of your emotions, one thing became clear: no matter what the future held, Suguru had become an integral part of your life, a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding you towards a path of healing and self-discovery.

However, there were still moments every now and then where you caught your mind going back to Toru. It had been a good 6 months since his confession about Osaka, and you did your best to keep your distance and tread carefully around him, mindful of the emotional turbulence that lurked beneath the surface.

Occasionally, you would find yourself in Toru's company, the echoes of your shared history a reminder of both joy and pain. You always made sure, however, that whenever you were with Toru, either Shoko, Hime, or Suguru were with you. You weren’t quite ready to be alone with Toru, not yet anyways.

You figured he wouldn’t notice, and you were right…for a while. Toru seemed completely consumed by his newfound relationship with Osaka. He appeared to be thoroughly enjoying his time with her, often seen buying her gifts and showering her with hugs and subtle kisses. Their affectionate displays only served to reinforce the growing distance between you and Toru, highlighting the undeniable shift in his focus and priorities.

However, it wasn’t long before he started to notice your absence during his relationship. At first, he brushed it off, attributing it to your busy schedule or other commitments. But as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, your presence grew increasingly scarce. A sense of unease began to settle in the pit of his stomach as he found himself missing the easy banter and shared laughter that characterized your guys’ time together, the void left by your absence becoming more pronounced with each passing day. It was as if a piece of the puzzle was missing, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling of incompleteness that lingered in your absence.

Whenever Toru and Osaka ventured out together, certain places would trigger memories of him and you, especially your bakery. Passing by it every day with Osaka, Toru couldn't help but be engulfed by the tantalizing scents wafting from its doors. And despite knowing your schedule, he would linger around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Maybe even get a chance to finally speak to you. Sometimes, he would wait nearly an hour, yearning to talk to you, to see you again. But you never emerged, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest.

What’s worse is that he now finds his thoughts often drifting to you, wondering where you were and what you were doing. Were you safe? Were you with someone he knows? Were you out and about having the best time of your life without him? He himself couldn’t believe how much you were on his mind. Even when he had Osaka, the girl he had been wanting to date for a while now, he found himself yearning for your company instead. There was something about you that she couldn’t replace, and it was becoming more and more obvious each day.

Beyond the longing for your presence and the fun that came along with you, Toru found himself missing your baking. Despite Osaka's efforts to replicate your treats, they never quite measured up. Your creations were perfection, each bite a symphony of flavors that left him craving more. It was as if every pastry, every loaf of bread, was crafted just for him, tailored to satisfy his every craving.

As time passed, Toru also couldn't ignore the growing realization that he and Osaka had little in common. Their conversations felt forced, their interests diverging more with each passing day. She would suggest activities that held no appeal to him, and he struggled to find common ground with her. It was as if they were two puzzle pieces forced together, their edges rough and incompatible, unable to fit into each other's lives seamlessly.

Despite his best efforts to focus on his budding romance with Osaka, Toru couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. It was as if his heart was pulling him in a different direction, toward someone he never expected to fall for. And as he grappled with his conflicting emotions, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had been looking for love in all the wrong places.

As he reflected on the dynamics of his relationship with Osaka, Toru couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for the growing distance between you. The more he tried to immerse himself in his newfound romance, the more he found himself longing for the familiarity and comfort of your companionship. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to confront these conflicting emotions, choosing instead to bury them beneath a facade of contentment, hoping they would eventually fade away with time.

Despite his outward appearance of happiness, Toru couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that he was living a lie, pretending to be someone he wasn’t just to fit into the mold of the perfect boyfriend. Deep down, he knew that his heart belonged elsewhere, tethered to you by an invisible thread that refused to be severed. And as he grappled with the weight of his emotions, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was destined to remain caught between two worlds, torn between duty and desire, until he found the courage to follow his heart. Maybe he just needed to give everything a little more time and everything would soon fall into place…Yeah! That’s it. All he needs is time…

———

One evening, you decided to invite the group over for a movie night, including Toru and Osaka. It was true that you still had mixed feelings with them, but overall, you were still their friend. And you weren’t cruel to invite everyone else but them. Besides, it’s been a while since you all have hung out together as a group, so it would be good to have everyone back together again.

———

I heard a knock on my door, recognizing the voices of Shoko and Hime from the other side.

“Y/n! Hurry up and open the door already! It’s freezing out here! Honestly, you should just leave it unlocked at this point for the amount of times we come over,” Shoko complained from the opposite side. I chuckled as I quickly made my way to the door and swung it open, greeted by the sight of Shoko and Hime bundled up against the cold.

“Hey bestie! Look what I brought!” Shoko exclaimed, proudly displaying a couple of bottles of alcohol.

I rolled my eyes playfully at her while Hime shook her head in disapproval, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

”I tried to tell her not to get so much, but she didn’t listen,” Hime sighed.

”Shoko, you do realize this isn’t going to be a frat party, right? It’s just a casual hangout,” I reminded her, making her pout.

”Yeah, but we can still have some fun! Besides, it was on sale!” Shoko defended her choice of beverages.

”Fine, fine. Just don't overdo it, alright? We don’t want a repeat of last time…” I cautioned, remembering a particularly rowdy night. Shoko had drank way too much for her own good and it resulted in us having to run after her down the street. She was buttnaked, running freely around. Eventually, we caught up to her, but not before the cops got involved. She was dressed properly and taken in.

”Oh come on, you guys are no fun! Besides, it was a great memory, don’t you guys think?” Shoko asked with a playful grin.

”Not when we had to pay a hefty fine to bail you out!” Hime chimed in, earning a sheepish grin from Shoko. She put her hands up in defeat, not wanting to get a rise out of Hime.

”Okay, okay! I won’t drink too much… probably,” Shoko relented, eliciting a groan from Hime.

Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupted our banter, causing us to turn around.

“…Osaka?” Shoko began, momentarily confused. Hime quickly nudged her, prompting a correction.

”I-I mean…O-Osaka! You’re here!” Shoko amended, rubbing her side from Hime's nudge.

”Yeah! Me and Toru brought some snacks to share. I made them myself!” Osaka announced, holding up a box of homemade treats. I smiled, pushing past Shoko and Hime to grab onto Osaka’s arm.

”They look amazing, Osaka. Please come in. You must be freezing out there,” I welcomed her, noticing the curious glances exchanged between Shoko and Hime.

”I can’t imagine they’re anything like your sweets, Y/n, but I hope they at least satisfy you. Toru is constantly talking about how great your food tastes,” Osaka said sweetly, making me, Hime, and Shoko tense up.

”H-He does?” I asked, feeling a familiar ache in my chest.

”Mhmm! I don’t think a single day passes where he doesn’t stop by your bakery. He always talks about how you make the best Kikufuku! Sometimes he stops by to say hi,” Osaka continued, unaware of the tension she had stirred.

Guilt began to build up in my stomach. I knew about him coming to my shop, and I deliberately made sure to stay in the back when he visited, avoiding him. It was just too much for me to talk to him…alone especially.

“Y-Yeah…” I responded weakly.

”Though, I can see why. Your baking is the best! Anytime I talk to my friends back in my hometown, I always tell them about your desserts and how amazing your food is! You’ve sure got a talent for that, Y/n!” Osaka praised, making me smile softly at her kindness.

Guilt nagged at me as I accepted the sweets from Osaka. I couldn't shake the feeling that her presence was a constant reminder of what I had lost.

”I’m sure these sweets taste amazing, Osaka. Now, you go sit over there… and try to ignore the alcohol that Shoko brought. I’m pretty sure it's all just for her,” I teased, hoping to lighten the mood. She nodded, sitting politely on the couch, waiting for Toru to come in.

As I turned to retrieve some movies from my room, I felt a firm grip on my arm, pulling me into the bathroom. I let out a small shriek as I found myself face to face with Shoko and Hime. Osaka looked behind her to see no one. Confused, she looked both ways to see where you went, but saw no sight of you. She shrugged, thinking you just went back to your room. Little did she know, you were being investigated as to why you brought her here in the first place.

”Why is she here?!” Shoko demanded, her frustration evident.

”What do you mean?”

“Y/n, don’t play dumb. You shouldn’t have invited her! It’s only going to make things worse,” Hime interjected, her tone serious.

I listened to their concerns, but a part of me couldn't bear to exclude Osaka and Toru, no matter how much it hurt to see them together.

"I know, but I can’t just invite everyone over and not them. Besides, it’s not their fault that they fell in love with each other. I can’t hate them forever just because Toru chose her over me,” I reasoned, my voice tinged with sadness.

”Yes you can!” Shoko argued, but I shook my head. I placed my hand on theirs, looking them deep in the eyes.

“No, girls. Just because things are complicated doesn't mean we should shut them out," I interjected, recognizing their concerns but unwilling to let bitterness dictate our actions. "We've always valued our friendships and treated each other with kindness, no matter what. Let's not forget that now."

Shoko and Hime exchanged a silent glance, their expressions softening as they considered my words. After a moment, Shoko sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement. "Fine, but I'm keeping an eye on them," she declared, her protective instincts still in full force.

Hime offered a small smile of reassurance. "We'll stick together, no matter what," she affirmed, her loyalty unwavering.

With a collective understanding, we stepped out of the bathroom, ready to face the evening with resolve and unity.

As I opened the door to rejoin the others, a tall figure stood before me, catching me off guard. Another small shriek escaped my lips as I began to fall backwards. Thankfully, the tall figures hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me close to him.

”Woah, sorry n/n. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just wondering where you were when all I saw in your living room were Osaka and Toru,” Suguru explained, his eyes warm and apologetic.

Shoko, Hime, Osaka, and Toru observed the scene unfold, each reacting differently to the unexpected encounter.

Despite the mixed emotions swirling inside me, I managed a smile as Suguru pulled me into a comforting embrace.

“I’m just glad you're here, Sugu!” I said, grateful for his presence amidst the turmoil of conflicting emotions. Toru saw the warm embrace you gave to Suguru and couldn’t help but feel…off about it. Whatever that feeling was, he didn’t like how it felt.

“Let’s get this started already! I’m starving!” Shoko declared, eager to break the tension.

Suguru's arrival seemed to lighten the mood, and soon we were all gathered in the living room, ready to enjoy our movie night together.

———

As the night unfolded, laughter and conversation filled the air, creating a sense of warmth and connection that enveloped the group. Despite the initial awkwardness between you, Toru, and Osaka, the shared moments of joy and lighthearted teasing between everyone helped to bridge the divide, easing the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface.

As the movie played, you found yourself stealing glances at Suguru, noticing the way his eyes sparkled with amusement at a particularly funny scene. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you reveled in the easy comfort of his presence, grateful for the genuine connection you shared.

Meanwhile, Toru's gaze seemed to linger on you more often than not, a subtle shift that didn't go unnoticed by Suguru or your friends. Despite his efforts to engage with Osaka, there was an unmistakable tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that lingered between you and Toru.

———

As the evening wore on, Toru found himself increasingly preoccupied with the sight of you and Suguru. Despite the movie playing in the background, his attention was drawn to the quiet whispers and shared laughter between you two on the couch. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as he observed the natural chemistry that seemed to flow effortlessly between you and Suguru.

He watched as Suguru poked your opposite shoulder to trick you into thinking Shoko tapped you. He watched as you playfully punched him, smiling at his tomfoolery. He watched you two ignore everything around you, acting as if you two were the only ones left in the world.

Each shared smile, every shared glance—it felt like a silent declaration of a bond that Toru couldn't quite comprehend. As much as he tried to focus on enjoying the movie night, his mind kept wandering back to you, to the way you leaned in closer to Suguru, your laughter ringing through the room like music to his ears.

And It wasn't just the laughter that stirred a sense of longing within Toru; it was the way you looked at Suguru with such genuine affection and admiration. It was as if you were sharing an inside joke, a secret language that excluded him from the intimacy you shared with Suguru.

Toru couldn't help but recall the times when it was him by your side, sharing those stolen moments of connection. He missed the easy bond you once shared, the way you would listen to him with unwavering attention, making him feel like the most important person in the room. He missed the way your eyes sparkled as he talked to you about the randomest things in the world, the way your giggle filled his chest with pride, the way your voice helped calm him down when he needed it most. He desperately missed you and the way you made him feel…and yet there you were, acting the same way around someone else that wasn’t him. As he watched you and Suguru, he couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider looking in.

As Osaka snuggled up to him, Toru was busy in his own mind as an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Despite her presence beside him, he found himself drifting into a reverie, reminiscing about moments shared with you.

"This movie is boring..." Osaka's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. He glanced up, noticing the familiar scenes unfolding before him. It was one of your favorite movies, a film you'd watched countless times together. The movie held little interest for him compared to the memories it evoked. The thought of you made him smile faintly, recalling how you'd eagerly convinced him to watch it, even if he had already seen it with you numerous times already.

The memory brought a sense of warmth and nostalgia, a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to permeate his current relationship. He remembered your playful insistence, your determination to lift his spirits and distract him from the burdens of his work. It was a small gesture, yet it spoke volumes about your caring nature and the depth of your bond.

As he watched the movie, snippets of moments spent with you replayed in his mind like scenes from a cherished film. He remembered the way you'd prepare his favorite snacks, your gentle touch as you comforted him through his worries, and the soothing sound of your voice as you reassured him that everything would be okay.

Despite his best efforts to focus on his current relationship, his heart couldn't help but yearn for the warmth and familiarity he found in your presence. And It was in that moment that Toru realized the depth of his feelings for you. You weren’t just a friend; You were someone he couldn't bear to lose. And yet, he couldn't deny the growing distance between them, a gap that seemed to widen with every stolen glance between you and Suguru.

As the night went on, Toru continued to find himself lost in his own thoughts, grappling with the realization that he might have let something precious slip through his fingers.

Little did he know, your feelings were also beginning to shift, your heart drawn towards Suguru in ways you never expected. And as the lines between friendship and something more blurred, the stage was set for a love triangle that would test the bonds of friendship and loyalty in ways none of you could have anticipated.

________________

Part IV coming soon? Depending on my school schedule (I hate you college!!)

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[stylesispunk]

Waiting room

Joel Miller x f! reader

summary: A few years ago, Joel saved your life and you have loved him ever since but he didn't reciprocate your feelings or that's what you thought. word count: 2,5k a/n: I didn't write a chapter for "The Not so Invisible String" series but wrote this. I would appreciate receiving reblogs and comments. Happy reading!

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

"What happened to me?" you questioned, your curiosity seeking answers.

"I found you," the stranger replied. "You had slept for two days."

In two days, you changed the rules of the game.

In two days, Joel came across with his humanity when he found you laying on the ground after being beaten up by some smugglers.

And what a plot twist you were.

You were so young and naïve when the world broke into a mess, and the reminisces of your old life before were just fogging memories threatened to be erased completely by the clouds of your head. You had forgotten your mother’s voice, the taste of the cookies she baked on Sunday’s afternoons, and the essence of her perfume enveloping you in embraces you were never going to get back.

You still craved a lingering, real sort of comfort that hadn’t come. In this world, emotions make you weak, and being weak means you die.

The closest thing to caring you received from someone was from Joel. The day he found you, he treated your wounds, he prevented you from dying by starving himself, and he fed you with his food.

“I broke my rules for you.” He peeped once you recovered, but still, he let you stay.

Through the months and years, you had become accustomed to the idea of him and Tess being the only people you could trust; they were older and wiser than you, a perk but also a source of constant disappointment over the idea of you being seen as the foolish, weak kid.

You felt a burden. You were a constant troublemaker, getting into trouble with everyone who seemed to mess with you, but under some eyes, you were still Joel’s girl, just that you really weren’t. You just idealize the idea of it.

Because every time somebody hit you, he was there, and if that wasn’t love, what the fuck was it?

You knew that there was something between them beyond a simple partner-in-crime relationship. They weren’t what you would call lovers, but there was unspoken language between them you couldn’t decipher, not because you were a fool but because you weren’t a part of them.

Because you weren’t important,

You didn’t know if Joel cared about you coming back.

You were just someone Joel found almost dying.

Whereas for you, he was the closest thing you felt to home.

"Where were you?" his voice called out in the middle of the dark room, breaking the silence of the eerie night.

“God, you scared me,” you answered. "I thought you were asleep."

"You know I don't go to sleep unless I know you're here." His voice was so sharp it could cut in half.

Liar.

“You are asleep other times,” you acknowledged, trying to remove your boots without whimpering as the pain settled in your bones. “And I'm here. You can go to sleep now," you hissed, out of frustration but also from the pain emanating from cuts.

"No."

"Well, I'll go then," you replied.

“Come here, show me,” he demanded.

“No.”

“Come here,” he repeated, frustrated this time.

“I said, “

“Now!” the raised tone sent shivers down your spine, forming a lump in your throat.

You were there, not moving, and he was closer. The dim light in the room cast eerie shadows as he examined your face, his fingertips tracing the evidence of the scars painted on your skin.

The cut on your bottom lip throbbed with each breath. A bruise, vividly purple, marred the skin around your eye, testimony to the violence that had been part of it and the cut on your nose, which seemed to be broken.

Not only do you face hurt, but all your body is carrying the consequences of a beating you didn’t think you deserved. Your bones felt crushed under the pressure of the emotional turbulence going on in your head.

And Joel’s touch, his gentle touch, so delicate yet full of fury, not towards you but at the merciless people that forced such a wound on you. You winced as his fingers grazed the tender skin; his silence was so loud.

“Who did this to you?” he muttered, frustration lacing his voice. The sharpness of his earlier tone softened under your teary stare.

“It doesn’t matter,” you replied.

“It does to me,” he retorted.

“No. Joel, let me be alone. It hurts; my body was hit, and I would be dead if it weren’t for you,“you sobbed.

“For what?”

"For you," you admitted through a shaky breath, the weight of the truth bearing down on you. The room seemed to shrink as you uttered those words, exposing a vulnerability that had remained buried beneath the facade of strength.

Joel's eyes softened, and the fury in his touch transformed into a gentleness that contrasted with the brutality of reality outside. In that fleeting moment, it was just the two of you, suspended in a fragile moment.

His voice, now a whisper, carried a mix of concern and disbelief. "For me?"

“The only reason I’m not dead is because of you. Can you believe it?” You chuckled. “One of the men there recognized me as Joel’s girl, who I am not, and then they stopped. Not even because I’m a person, but because I am associated with a man.”

Joel's expression tightened at the revelation, a flicker of anger passing through his eyes.

“Let me clean your wounds, “Joel began, his voice a gentle plea to attend to your wounds.

"No. I don't need your fucking help," you interrupted, frustration lacing your words, tired of being the dog at Joel’s door waiting for him to notice your loyalty and devotion.

"Yes, you need it because you're a fucking naive baby acting restless and so careless." Joel retorted, frustrated.

“"I have no one. My life is just a waste of air for this damn world, so why should I care about my well-being?" you shot back bitterly, the pain in your voice mirroring the bruises on your body.

"Because I care about you," Joel admitted, his words a brief glimmer of hope. However, before you could fully grasp the weight of his confession, he extinguished any expectations. "You have Tess and me; we share our roof with you."

"Exactly. Your place, not mine," you argued, a stark reminder of the boundaries that confined your sense of belonging.

"Your point?" Joel challenged.

"You found me once and brought me here, okay? Thanks for it. But that doesn't mean I have your respect," you asserted, the frustration bubbling to the surface.

"My protection is not enough." Joel questioned, his patience wearing thin.

"It's not," you replied with conviction.

"Then you can go and find your own fucking place."

"That's what I'm doing. I'm leaving the QZ. There may be a place that fits for me," you declared, the decision firm in your voice.

Joel's silence echoed through the room, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. But you offered none, maintaining a stoic resolve as you walked away from the confrontation.

"What? Where?" he finally managed to utter, a mixture of confusion and concern etched on his face.

"Goodnight," you replied tersely, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken emotions. The darkness of the hallway enveloped you as you retreated towards the bedroom. The door creaked shut behind you, leaving Joel standing in the dimly lit room, grappling with the echoes of your departure.

The room was shrouded in darkness, and you lay on the bed, the events of the night replaying in your mind like a relentless loop making fun of you for being so foolish, but despite the physical exhaustion, sleep eluded you, and your thoughts continued to wander through the tangled maze of emotions.

And Joel, of course, whom you were leaving behind tomorrow morning before he could even notice you were going to disappear.

As you lay there, the door creaked open, and Joel entered, carrying a small bottle and a cloth. The soft glow of a flashlight in his hand illuminated his face, revealing concern and remorse for his previous attitude.

"I brought something for the pain," he muttered, his gruff voice softened by a vulnerability you rarely could see. You remained silent, acknowledging his presence with a nod.

Joel approached, his movements deliberate as he poured a few pills onto his weathered palm. "Take these. They'll help with the pain and help you sleep."

You reluctantly accepted the medicine, swallowing it down with a sip of water from a nearby bottle. The bitterness lingered on your tongue.

Joel then reached for the cloth, dampening it with water. Gently, he began to clean the wounds on your face, his touch surprisingly tender. The initial sting of contact faded, replaced by a strange mix of relief and discomfort.

"Joel,” you said, but he didn’t answer and focused on tending to your injuries.

"Joel," you repeated, a little more assertive this time. His name hung in the air, yet he remained silent, his attention fixed on the task at hand. The rhythmic motions of cleaning your wounds seemed to be his sole purpose.

You took a deep breath, the weight of unspoken words settling heavily in the room. "Joel," you said once more, this time with an edge of urgency, attempting to draw him out of his concentrated silence.

He finally looked up, meeting your gaze. "What is it?"

The room felt hot with tension as you hesitated before finding the words. "I appreciate this—the medicine, cleaning my wounds. But it doesn't change my mind about leaving.”

His gaze held yours, an unspoken plea for understanding. "You're hurt; you can't go so far in your state," he replied, a touch of concern in his voice.

"So what?" you retorted, frustration bubbling to the surface. "If I have to die outside, I will. I don't care. I'm just tired of this life."

Joel's eyes narrowed, his expression shifting from anger to concern. "What would make that thought go away?" he asked, his question cutting through the defiance in your tone.

"What?" you responded, caught off guard by the unexpected question.

"What would make life worth living?" he repeated, his gaze unwavering. The weight of his inquiry settled in the room, demanding introspection.

The silence that followed was heavy, the question lingering in the air as you grappled with the complexities of your own desires and the harsh realities of the world outside that broke any chance of achieving the dreams you had when you were a child.

The silence stretched, becoming a tangible force in the room, until Joel's desperation cut through it like a blade. "I'm waiting," he said, his tone laden with urgency.

"To have someone," you confessed, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken longings.

"How?" he pressed, searching for clarity in your cryptic words.

"To have someone that cares for me," you explained, the vulnerability in your voice laying bare a deep-seated yearning, a yearning you had been carrying for years.

"You have me," Joel insisted, his desperation now tinged with frustration.

"You're not mine; you're hers," you said, invoking Tess. "Do you think I don't hear you both having sex?”

His eyes widened, realization dawning on him as the unspoken truth reverberated in the room.

"Maybe my body was hers, but inside, it's here." Joel took your hand and placed it over his chest, just above his heart. "I'm craving for you."

A tense silence enveloped the room as your words hung in the air, and Joel's eyes reflected all the sincerity of his feelings slipping from his lips. Your skepticism pierced through the charged atmosphere, casting a shadow over the vulnerability that had been exposed.

"I don't believe you," you declared, a note of disbelief in your voice.

Joel's expression tightened, a blend of irritation and determination etched on his face. "You don't?"

"You're just saying those things out of pity," you accused, the walls of defense rising once more.

He shook his head, a flicker of frustration evident in his eyes. "You are whiny, a pain in the ass, arrogant, naive..."

"Stop!" you exclaimed, the litany of criticism hitting you harder than expected.

"Yet, despite it all," Joel continued, his voice a mixture of exasperation and something deeper, "you make me go crazy, and still, I want to break every single finger that has been laid against you."

The weight of Joel's words hung in the air, a revelation that cut through the tension and laid bare the depth of his emotions. His eyes, always filled with exasperation, now held a raw vulnerability.

"You don't realize that you brought sense back to my life!" he exclaimed, the urgency in his voice echoing through the room. "If you go and you die, there's nothing left for me to fight for."

"I want to be the last one you love," he spoke, his hands cupping your face, fingers tracing delicate patterns over the scars that adorned your skin. His gaze, dark and intense, held a promise that lingered in the air. "I want to be your ending."

"And I want you to be my ending," he added, referring to the weight of the words hanging between you.

A profound silence settled, punctuated only by the erratic beats of your heart against your ribs, In that moment, you felt that the confession of love coming from Joel was the last source of breath you needed to become a person again.

And then, he kissed you. With a warning written on his dark eyes, yet you didn't see it coming. He kissed you because there wasn't anything else to do. He wanted to claim your lips as them because they were his.

Joel's lips lingered against yours, the warmth of his kiss irradiated foreign feelings for you. You had never felt so loved for someone before, and as the kiss deepened, a subtle smile played on his lips, a rare expression coming from him.

He pulled away slightly, his dark eyes searching yours for any sign of resistance. His hands, calloused and weathered, gently caressed your face, tracing the contours of the scars on your face.

"You're not leaving," he spoke against your lips, with another gentle peck on them.

A shy smile played on your lips in response. "Whatever,” you replied.

Joel's confession had acted as a healing salve, mending not just the physical scars but also the emotional ones that had marked your journey through this world.

Joel's eyes softened as he caught the playful glint in your smile, and a warmth seemed to spread through the room. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The strength in his arms felt like a shield against the harshness of the world outside.

"You can be stubborn as hell, you know that?" he teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

As he held you in his arms, the world outside faded away, and all that remained was the warmth of the embrace and the quiet assurance of shared moments.

"Get some rest," he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper. "I'll be right here."

With Joel's arms wrapped around you, the weariness of the day and the weight of the past seemed to dissolve.

In the arms of Joel, the night embraced you, and as you closed your eyes, you found life worth living because of him.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Chan x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Suicide, Death, Grief, Blood, Life after loss, Cursing, Mentions of cursing higher power out of anger, Angst.

Word Count: 5.5k

If you or someone you know is suffering from suicidal ideation or thoughts of harming themselves, please reach out for help. You never know when someone's last day will be; no one ever does. But if you can help - even just a tiny bit, sometimes a word, text, or even a call can be a catalyst for positive change.

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Part One.

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You vividly remembered the day your older brother debuted.

The memory was seared into your mind, a day full of nervous excitement and overwhelming pride. You were only 9, still young enough to idolize him in the purest way, but old enough to understand how much this moment meant to him. The two of you had grown up together, inseparable since the day your parents brought you home from the adoption agency. Hajun had always been your protector, your constant source of comfort, and now, he was going to be a star.

It was a chilly autumn afternoon, the kind where the crisp air nipped at your cheeks and the golden leaves crunched beneath your sneakers. You were clutching your brother’s hand tightly as you stood in the crowded concert hall. The anticipation in the room was palpable, a mix of excitement and nervous energy that buzzed like static electricity.

Hajun had always been the rock in your life, the one who knew how to make you laugh even on your worst days. As the lights dimmed and the opening notes of Eclips3’s debut song filled the air, you could barely contain your excitement. You had seen him practice countless times, but this was different. This was his moment. Your father had you on his shoulders so you could see up and over the barricade, yelling.

"JuJu!" You squealed, holding up a sign with your sloppy handwriting that said: "That's My Brother".

When the spotlight hit him, you saw the confident smile that always made your heart swell with pride, although you were too young at the time to understand that feeling. Dressed in sleek black and white, he looked every bit the star you knew he was destined to be. He danced with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, his movements precise and full of passion. The crowd’s cheers grew louder with every beat, and you felt your chest tighten with a mix of joy and admiration.

During their dance break, when Hajun was at the center, it felt like the crowd was the loudest; but maybe you had imagined it because you loved him the most; maybe you didn't.

But you didn't imagine the excitement in his eyes, and the smile he couldn't even bother to contain.

You remembered how, in that moment, everything seemed perfect. Your brother was up there, living his dream, and you were there to support him. His eyes met yours briefly, and he gave you a quick wink. It was a silent reminder that no matter how far he went, he would always remember where he came from. It was a promise that you held close to your heart.

He loved you and you loved him.

As the final notes of the song faded and the crowd erupted in applause, Hajun waved, his smile never wavering. When he finally came offstage, his face was flushed with excitement and exhaustion. He scooped you up into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you as if he never wanted to let go.

“I don’t, want you to move away.” You mumbled sadly, digging your head into his shoulder, the rush of adrenaline and happiness fading instantly as you realized this hug was unlike his other ones; this was a goodbye. Although temporary for now.

“Don’t worry, Gremlin,” he whispered in your ear, his voice a mix of triumph and tenderness. “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. I may be far away, but you can always ask Mom and Dad to call, okay? And I’ll visit, and you can watch my videos and I’ll mention you in them too. I promise, I’ll always be here for you.” He stuck out his pinky, his eyes twinkling, and you gave your gap-toothed smile as you locked your pinky with his. He placed a kiss on your cheek and ruffled your hair one last time.

Little did you know, those words would become a beacon in the storm of your life. Something you would always come back to. And that promise he made would be tested.

Because all things made, are at risk to break.

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Your alarm went off and you just stared at the small black box that had one of those plastic zoo animals hot glued to it - a racoon. The noise was annoying, and sometimes you wondered why you didn't just switch to using your phone alarm, but there was just something nostalgic about using a physical alarm clock.

You hadn't realized it had been going off for almost 20 minutes until your mother walked into your room.

"Sweetie, you up?" Her voice was soft, melodic. A hint of raspiness in it, although it was more pronounced today; you figured due to the time of day and how much she had cried over the past week. She looked as if she was about to go out. She had her bag hung over her shoulder and her makeup done.

"Yeah." You mumbled. Technically you had been up.

Since you hadn't even fallen asleep.

It wasn't like you could get much sleep these days.

"They're announcing it today?" You mumbled quietly, the soft hum from your ceiling fan the only thing breaking the almost unbearable silence. You figured thats why your mom was going out, you had heard her on the phone with one of the ladies from church, and heard her telling her that your father was working overtime at the hospital and that she wanted something to do throughout the day to keep busy.

"They wanted to wait a bit longer; to give us time to grieve, but fans are starting to realize something is up."

"It's only been a month since Kae-Joon killed himself as well. Are you sure it isn't just the company trying to keep their image intact?" The venom in your voice made your mom flinch.

"I'm so sorry, baby."

"Apologizing won't bring him back, Mom." The cool air hit your legs, as you threw off your blanket, causing a slight sting so some of your open wounds. Three hours of constant scrubbing left your skin raw and sensitive, and it had yet to heal. But you didn't want any traces of his blood on you.

"Just like you, I'd rather not watch when they make that announcement." You stood up and made your way to your closet, finding some pants and a sweater to throw on. You could feel the stress your mom was carrying when she sighed.

"Did you at least open the box he left you?"

It was as if you were deaf to her words. After a few minutes of silence, she got up and left, softly shutting the door behind her. You made your way back to your bed and under the covers deciding to not even comb your hair.

What could anyone tell you to do?

It had been a week since you strained your vocal cords, screaming for help, screaming curses at God when you had found your brother bleeding out on the guest bedroom floor.

You remembered seeing Hajun act the same way, when his leader had walked the same path, not even a month ago.

But he had been happy the past few weeks, hadn't he? He had come home, and you had gotten to be with him.

He loved you. He wouldn't do this. Not to you.

You reached towards your nightstand, and your fingers wrapped around his phone.

You powered it on to see a picture of him with you on your first day of high school.

You both had wide smiles, and Hajun was squeezing your shoulders, his chin rested on top of your head as you both laughed.

Your mom and dad had always joked that Hajun loved you more than he loved them.

But the irony of it was that it wasn't a joke at all.

The minute you had come home from the adoption agency, apparently Hajun had been all over you, wanting to hold you, and have your crib put in his room.

Your mother had given birth to a baby boy, but due to complications he died just hours after his birth. Distraught your mother had been pleading that it wasn't true, and a teen mother had heard a few nurses talking about how heartbreaking it was. She was putting her baby up for adoption and having heard another mother's grief wished to ease some of that.

You wondered if it was one of those instances where another's one's trash was another's one's treasure after you had gotten into a huge argument with your mom one night.

But looking back you couldn't have been more grateful to be put into the family you were in, with your mom, dad and Hajun. Your mom had also gotten the daughter she had always wished to have. And you got a love you believed everyone deserved.

You wiped your eyes once it became too blurry to see Hajun's screen staring back at you, and scrolled through the large number of missed calls he had gotten.

Sunwoo Hyung 🤍😂- 47 missed calls

Favorite Hyung 🤠🤓- 92 missed calls

Chris🦘- 4 missed calls

Grumpy Hyung 🖤🐈‍⬛ - 38 missed calls

You could scroll through it all day. Goodbye texts, calls placed in denial.

They were all one in the same, and you subjected it to yourself for the past week, refusing to swipe the notifications away.

Your parent's had seemed to want you to forget most of it, as that was there way of copying. To forget everything; minus the fact that Hajun has left a box addressed to you in his room.

It was hard to accept his suicide when you deluded yourself into believing it was something done in the moment; you didn't know if you could even begin to cope with the pain of acknowledging that he had meticulously planned it. So, you hadn't looked at the box, let alone in it yet.

In a weird way your parents wanted to know. To find closure you figured. They hoped his suicide note would be in that box, and the battle you had gotten into with your parents when your mom had brought up the possibility did nothing to help aid in the hurt you all were facing.

Your father had been out at work every day, refusing to take bereavement leave so he could distract himself from his eldest child's death. It hadn't helped he had worked the shift Hajun was rolled into.

Your mom had been packing up the house in a move that you knew would be inevitable. None have you been anywhere in the house much rather than your bedrooms, ordering food in, using the bathrooms on the highest levels of your home, and completely side stepping any area of the house where your brother held his presence the most.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and tightened your own embrace, as you felt more tears begin to form.

"I miss you."

Your family has always been an affectionate family - Hajun the most - and since his death that all seemed to sever. Your mom had barely touched your father, let alone you. It seemed everyone's version of coping was isolation, and that just made Hajun's absence even more noticeable.

He always had to have skin ship with someone. Most of the time it was hugging or sitting close enough to someone their legs were rested by each other's, with you he would rest his head on your shoulder, or pinch your cheeks telling you how adorable you were, and 'how could you not be when you have the most handsome brother in the world'?

It had been an ongoing laugh in the industry and in his fandom that he was his own dating ban. Due to his inclination to hug everyone he met, his company had to deflect rumor after rumor, to the point where they eventually had no choice but to make an official statement. Thirteen separate articles had speculated about his love life, each one feeding into the frenzy that surrounded him. His warm nature was both his charm and his curse, a constant point of speculation in a world where even a simple smile could spark a scandal.

But now you knew better. You knew the real reason behind that warmth, the desperation behind every hug, the way he clung to people as if they were his lifeline. He had always been the light in every room, the one who could make anyone smile even when his own smile never quite reached his eyes. You used to marvel at how he could be so kind to carry so much of the world’s weight on his shoulders, his friend's, his family's, and still manage to hold his own.

You were selfish to never realize that the weight was slowly breaking him down, piece by piece.

Maybe, it's my fault... You had wondered while sitting the hospital waiting room. Maybe if I never complained, maybe if I solved my own problems instead of looking for him to solve them.

After the leader of Eclips3 had taken his life shortly after being involved in a trafficking scandal that had led to the death of four separate women, and the group went on an indefinite hiatus which sparked Hajun's homecoming, that light had dimmed even further.

"I could've saved them. If I would've known..." He repeated over and over.

You saw it every time you looked at him—the way his once vibrant energy now seemed forced, his laughter a hollow echo in the house that had once been filled with genuine joy. You tried to reach out, to be the rock for him that he had always been for you, but he would brush it off with that same reassuring smile.

He had gone through a few of these ruts prior. You once had mentioned to your mother he seemed more tired than usual, but soon enough after a break he was back to normal.

Two nights before he had ended it all you laid in his bed as he spoke to you softly.

"Sometimes...I wish I never chose this life." He had told you.

"Then quit. Come back home. Mom and Dad will take care of you."

He had pinched your nose. "How could I when I make so many people happy? I can't just throw away God's gift to me hmm?" He laughed quietly. "Besides, who would buy you all the things you want if it weren't your big brother?"

The breath you had released betrayed your true feelings about the situation.

His eyes would always betray him, and the pain in them at the moment was so deep that it made your heart ache. Yet you didn't say anything.

"Just a break, Gremlin," he whispered, ruffling your hair like he always did. "I’ll be back to annoying you in no time." His eyes would always betray him though, and the pain in them at the moment was so deep that it made your heart ache. Yet you hadn't said anything.

If I said something, would he still be here?

The break never ended. Instead, it shattered into a silence so profound that it consumed you, wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. Wrapping around you just the way Hajun's arms had so constantly wrapped around you, tight, secure, an unbreakable hold.

You were alone now, in a world that had lost all its color, where the joy that once filled the rooms was replaced by a deafening quiet that you no one could escape. Every corner of your home felt empty, even though it was still filled with the remnants of his life—his clothes still in the coat closet, his favorite mug still on the kitchen counter, his music equipment still set up as if he might return to use it any moment.

Sometimes in the quiet hours of the morning when your brain shut off momentarily, you believed he would walk through the door, the gentle hum of his voice accompanying the staccato patterns of his keyboard.

His room, once a sanctuary of music and late-night confessions, now felt like a tomb. The posters on the walls, once vibrant and full of life, now seemed to mock you, their bright colors dulled by the memories they carried.

The posters of countless amines you had forced him to watch on his tours were hung up, the corners curling inwards from the stagnant air in his bedroom. His guitar, propped up in the corner, was still out of tune, left that way after the last song he played—a song you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to again.

Everything was frozen in time, preserving the last moments of his presence, moments that were now too painful to revisit, yet too precious to let go, and too blaringly obvious to set aside in hopes of a happy future.

But you had to. You had to go through his things, even if every object you touched felt like another stab to your already shattered heart. You needed to feel close to him, even if it meant opening the wounds that hadn't begun to heal even further. You couldn’t just leave his room untouched forever, as much as it felt like disturbing it would make his absence all the more real.

So, you managed to pull yourself out of your bed and make the walk to the end of the hallway.

The black paint he had painted once on his doorway was peeking through a part of the peeling white paint that your dad has used to cover it up.

Your hand slowly grasped around the doorknob, and you stood there for a minute, an hour- or maybe it was seconds. Time was foreign in that moment.

You stood in the doorway, the air thick with the scent of his cologne, the memories clinging to every surface like ghosts. You inhaled, and it almost seemed like he was standing right next you, or behind you, hugging you and telling you how he was proud of everything you had done, or telling you how much you meant to him, or how grateful he was to have a baby sister.

Your steps were hesitant as you crossed the threshold, each footfall extra loud in the stillness; the snapshot of a life that had been cut too short. You couldn’t help but feel like an intruder, as if you were trespassing in a space that didn’t belong to you, even though it was now yours by default.

And even when your brother had been around, he had always left his door open for you; if not physically metaphorically. The bed was still unmade, the sheets tangled from the last night he had slept in them. His desk was cluttered with notebooks, sheet music, and pens as well—tools of a trade that he had dedicated his life to, tools that he would never use again; tools that you pinned some of the blame on.

It was while you were rummaging through the drawers of his nightstand that you found it—a small, weathered box tucked away with a pile of old notebooks that he had countless lyrics written in. Lyrics to songs that would never be released.

Your mom had told you that there was a box in the nightstand, but out of respect to Hajun's wishes, she didn't touch the box as it was addressed to you. Just informed you of its existence. Constantly.

Your breath caught in your throat as you pulled the box out, your fingers trembling slightly. The box was unassuming, just a plain wooden box, but it was heavy, as if it carried more than just the objects inside. You knew your brother’s handwriting well, and the simple label on the top read, "For Gremlin, when you need me the most."

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest. You sank down onto the floor, the weight of the box in your hands almost too much to bear. What could be inside? What had he left for you? Was it really a suicide note? You weren’t sure if you were ready for whatever it was, but you couldn’t not open it. Not now. Not when you decided that it was time to acknowledge whatever he had left behind. The box felt like a connection to him; a connection that you weren’t ready to sever, even though it had been only days since you last heard his voice.

But it would be even longer without hearing it now.

With trembling hands, you lifted the lid, your breath hitching as you revealed a stack of envelopes, each one labeled with a different emotion—“Read when you’re sad,” “Read when you’re scared,” “Read when you’re mad.” There were fifteen in total, each one written in his familiar handwriting, each one a piece of him that he had left behind for you.

They still smelled like him. And the ink still smelled fresh as well, as if he was in there moments ago as he was writing them.

You wondered if he had waited until the morning before to write them, or if he sat at his desk, with his desk lamp, writing them in the moments the ones he loved most slumbered.

Did he feel even more alone in that moment?

Did he feel as lonely as I feel right now?

The tears that you had been holding back for so long finally broke free, spilling down your cheeks as you ran your fingers over the envelopes. The reality of his absence hit you all over again, like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of you. He had known. Somehow, he had known that he wouldn’t be there to help you through the hardest moments; that no matter who he turned to he knew he wouldn't be able to defeat the biggest demon raging in his mind; so, he had left you these pieces of himself, a way to still be there for you, even in death.

Your vision blurred as the tears continued to fall, your breath non-existent as you tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to break free.

It was so like him—always thinking of you, always wanting to protect you, even when he couldn’t protect himself. He had been hurting so much, more than you could have ever known, and yet he had still found the strength to think of you, to leave behind something to comfort you in your darkest moments.

Why couldn't he have focused on himself? Why did he have to worry over me so much, that he couldn't reach out for help? He could've have been dialing a number, talking to a therapist- mom, dad, me - instead of writing these and admitting defeat. Why couldn't he worry about himself for one moment?

It's my fault. You told yourself over and over as you looked through the envelopes, a weird anger boiling in your stomach at how kind your brother was that it aided in his own neglect.

You were about to put the envelopes back in, when you saw something flash in the bright lighting of his room.

At the bottom, beneath the envelopes, was a photograph. A tiny polaroid that had been taken in what you had assumed was a party, or a club. It was dark, but you could tell the photographer had used flash.

You pulled it out, recognizing only one face in the picture—your brother and another young man that you had assumed was Hajun's age, both grinning widely, arms slung around each other’s shoulders.

Their smiles were both wide and white, and you instantly could tell just by the way the man smiled - his eyes nearly disappearing and his nose scrunching up slightly, that they had to have gotten along extremely well.

The young man was familiar, his face one you had seen before, but couldn't pinpoint. You were more than sure he had to be another idol, since Hajun didn't have many friends outside the industry - unless they were back home - due to the safety concerns and harsh restrictions of his company.

You flipped the photo over the photo out of habit, not expecting anything to be there, but slightly surprised when you saw a somewhat messy penmanship on the back, an unfamiliar handwriting that had engraved the words in fine tip sharpie, “Call me when you get lost.”

And beneath it your brother's familiar chicken scratch:

You'll be okay.

He knew. He planned.

And a hatred burned in your heart, but you couldn't bring yourself to accept that anger.

Why did you leave me?

Your hands shook as you held the photo, tears slipping down your cheeks as the reality of what he had done washed over you.

He had left you more than just words. He had left you a connection, a way to reach out to someone who might understand, someone who might help you find your way out of the darkness you were drowning in.

But how could you?

How could you listen to your brother's instruction when he had delivered you the worst kind of betrayal.

How could you listen to his instruction, listen to his words and believe them when you had once believed in a promise that he so easily broke.

How could you reach out to someone when you didn’t even know how to begin to heal? The thought of calling a stranger, even one your brother had trusted, felt impossible. Yet, as you sat there, surrounded by the remnants of your brother’s life, you knew you couldn’t do this alone, you didn't want to admit it, but you had to.

The photograph slipped from your fingers as you collapsed back onto the floor, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. You laid against the cool hard wood of the floor, trying to grasp anything that could keep you tethered to reality.

The pain, the grief, the overwhelming sense of loss that you had been trying so hard to keep at bay finally broke free, and you were powerless to stop it.

The sobs that tore from your throat were raw, primal, a sound of pure anguish that echoed through the room, through the house, through your entire being.

"Mom! Dad!" You cried out. "JuJu."

The house remained silent, your parents out and about. Staying away from anything that brought them back to that moment.

"JuJu." You croaked. "JuJu..."

It felt like the world was crumbling around you, like everything you had ever known was being ripped away, leaving you with nothing but emptiness. How could he be gone? How could the one person who had always been there for you, who had promised to never leave, be gone? The thought was too much to bear, too painful to comprehend, and it left you feeling hollow, like a part of you had died with him. You wanted to die.

You couldn't end up like him, you couldn't.

But you couldn't even fathom living without that support.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, curled up on the floor, your body wracked with sobs that seemed to have no end. Time had lost all meaning, and you were trapped in a cycle of grief that felt like it would never end. But eventually, the sobs began to subside, leaving you drained, exhausted, and aware of your utter loneliness.

With shaking hands, you wiped at your tears, but they kept falling, as if your body was finally letting go of the grief that had been festering inside you for so long. It brought almost a physical relief, being able to release that second half of tears that had seemed to stop when the gravity of Hajun's death had hit you.

The photograph lay beside you, the words on the back blurring through your tears, but you could still make them out.

"Call me when you get lost."

The words echoed in your mind, and for the first time since your brother’s death, you allowed yourself to hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back.

You found a tentative belief in Hajun's last promise; a belief knitted together solely by desparation.

With trembling fingers, you reached for your phone, your heart pounding in your chest as you dialed the number scrawled on the back of the photograph. The line rang once, twice, three times, and for a moment you thought it might go to voicemail. But then there was a click, and a voice on the other end—a voice you somewhat recognized in passing. But would be at a loss if needed to pinpoint who it belonged to.

"Hello?" The voice was tentative, cautious, as if the person on the other end wasn’t sure who might be calling. It was laced with an Australian accent, a deep and rich and prominent tone. You could hear the sound of music playing faintly in the background, and the voice of multiple people speaking, a reminder of the life you had once known through your brother, the life that was now so far out of reach.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, a jagged breath escaped. Your throat felt tight, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst. But then, as if sensing your hesitation, the voice on the other end softened. "It’s okay," he said, his tone gentle, reassuring. "Take your time."

And somehow, those simple words were enough to break through the wall you had built around yourself. The tears started flowing again, but this time they weren’t just tears of grief. They were tears of relief, of release, of finally letting go of the pain that had been eating away at you for so long.

"I miss him," you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. "I miss him so much, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to live without him. And- And I found this- and you said call me wh-when-" You gulped for air.

There was a pause on the other end, and for a moment you thought the call had disconnected. But then, the voice came back, stronger this time, yet still harboring an immense amount of sadness as well.

"You're Hajun's little sister, aren't you?" The voices in the background quieted, as the man on the other end moved to a quieter spot.

"You don’t have to do it alone," he said, and the sincerity in his voice made your heart ache with a strange mix of pain and comfort. "He wouldn’t want you to go through this by yourself. And neither do I. So, whenever you’re ready, I’m here. We’ll figure this out together."

And in that moment, for the first time since your brother’s death, you felt a glimmer of hope. It was small, fragile, like the first rays of sunlight breaking through the darkest of clouds. But it was there, a guiding you toward the hope of a future that, while uncertain, wouldn't be so terrifying anymore.

You had lost your brother, and nothing would ever fill the void he had left behind. But maybe, just maybe, you could learn to live with the pain, to carry it with you as you moved forward. And with the help of the person on the other end of the line, the person your brother had trusted enough to leave you in their care, you knew that someday, you would find your way out of the darkness.

Maybe not entirely, but right now you figured a life with any light- even if only seen at a distance, like the exit of a tunnel, would be better than whatever the hell you were going through at the minute.

"I-I'm Y/N." You stuttered out, your tears coming to a slight halt. There was yet another silence on the other end, and you wondered if he had hung up; but somehow you knew by just talking to him for a moment, he wasn't the type to do that.

"I'm Chris. Hajun was one of my closest friends. And I'm sorry." His voice was choked with emotion for just a slight second. "But I promise, I'll do my best to help you. It's what he would've wanted."

"I... I don't know. How can I escape this. I can't...what if I can't?"

"If you can't escape, then know that I'm here. Know that you can call me, tell me where you are - whether in a deep anger or sadness tell me -and I'll come find you."

Even in a moments time, you trusted him. You trusted those word's he said. You were lost, and he would do everything in his power to make sure you were found. Because no one did that for Hajun. No one found him until it was too late.

Maybe it's a promise he wished he could make to Hajun.

But now Chris was making you that promise. A promise that you prayed to God he would keep.

Because you didn't know if you could handle another broken promise.

⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹

If you or someone you know is suffering from suicidal ideation or thoughts of harming themselves, please reach out for help. You never know when someone's last day will be; no one ever does. But if you can help - even just a tiny bit, sometimes a word, text, or even a call can be a catalyst for positive change.

988 - USA Suicide Prevention Hotline | 24 Hours 111 - Helpline UK | 24 hours 1393 - Suicide Hotline Korea | 24 hours

⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@0325tiny @resi4skz @soaplickerrr

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[hihomeghere]

Hello my new favorite creator! I just saw your response to my last request (the soft y/n dom one) and I'm deffo going to formally request you turn it into a story (if you're not doing that already) I've been reading more of your content and it's quickly becoming an addiction 😅 any way I'll be a big supporter from the shadows <333 -🧛 anon (Naming myself lol)

Routine | Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Part of the Tesoro series (Can be read as a one shot)

Word Count : 2.3k Summary : After the confession, Five and reader head back to a hotel room. Soft dom y/n. Aged up!Five Warnings/Tags : Smut, handjob, masturbation, piv, cursing, fluff at the end, this is filth enjoy <3 ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters )

If Five was anything, he was a creature of habit. His father had ingrained that in him from a young age. Chores, training, studies, hell even his meal times were scheduled. His entire life was based on routine. 

Then he was stuck in the apocalypse, and even though there were millions of things Five could be mad at his father about, he had to appreciate his sense for routine. It kept him alive, he still had a set time to eat (if he had anything to eat), but instead of training he was scavenging. Picking through a wasteland for anything edible, along with trying to find a sustainable source of clean water. While picking through for food, he would also collect anything to help conserve his energy. Things like his bike or wagon, etc. His definition of ‘resting’ was mainly anytime he could sit down. During those periods he would work on equations, trying to find a way out of there and back to his family. And although it wasn’t strictly in his routine, mental breakdowns always seemed to weasel their way into his day. 

Thankfully, both of those routines were a thing of the past. Now his routine consisted of reading up on case files before going into the field. He’d kill whoever he had to and afterwards he’d reward himself with fucking his fist until he fell asleep. Did it make him feel a bit disgusted with himself, yes, but masturbation had been the only stress relief he’d ever had. Again, just another one of his constants throughout the years. What he hadn’t accounted for was you. At first he had marked you off as a nuisance. Like the cockroaches that somehow managed to survive alongside Five, although you were much nicer to look at. 

Five knew he was in trouble when he started subconsciously adding your routines into his. You would start getting hungry around 11:30 every day, like clockwork. So he had started planning his lunches for around 11:30, not because the thought of you eating alone made his heart seize in his chest, just to make his work more efficient. It aggravated him to have to wait for you to be finished with your lunch, only for him to get hungry once you returned. So out of convenience, he started eating lunch with you. Little things like that.

He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. You were always one to throw wrenches in the works. Although he didn’t account for a deviation of this size into his plan. When he kissed you, a silent confession on his feelings, he knew there would be no going back. You were it for him. He loved you and you seemed to share those feelings. Your lips crashed against his as he fumbled with the key to the hotel room. You giggled into the kiss, something so sickly sweet. His hands were back on you as soon as the door swung open. Pulling the key out of the lock and throwing it onto a side table as he kicked the door close behind you. His hands were everywhere, touching and squeezing. Your breasts, oh god, your tits. He couldn’t get enough of them, his hand flew under your blouse, pinching your nipple through your  bra. You gasped softly, your hands threading through his hair. He stopped, admiring your flushed face as he kicked off his shoes. Your lips parted slightly, hot breath fanning across his face, a light splattering of blood across your cheek. 

You pulled away, and he almost whined at the loss of contact. What was happening to him? Did you really have such a hold on him? He was taken back to his younger years, when his father would read from Homer’s Odyssey. He had never paid much attention to the sirens, that was more of Diegos and Luthers interest. He wished he had listened to Circe’s warnings like Odysseus, now he was sure he had met a siren in person. He was bewitched by you, drawn to you like iron to a magnet. Five was sure you were more beautiful than Helen of Troy, hell even Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” You smiled, pushing him back onto the bed before kissing his cheek. Another one of your routines, always showering after a mission. You made a show of undressing yourself, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. Then shimmying out of your trousers. You hooked your fingers under your bra strap, pulling them down at an agonizing pace. You unhooked your bra, throwing it onto the chair. Five’s eyes never left your body until you were behind the bathroom door. He gulped, his cock painfully pressed against the crotch of his slacks. He hurried to pull himself free, the buckle of his belt clinking metal against metal. He started to get frantic in his movements, unzipping his pants and kicking them off along with his underwear. His cock sprung up against his stomach. He let out a sigh, spitting into his hand. He grabbed himself, lubricating his dick with his spit. At times like this he wondered if was seriously fucked in the head. But normally once he ran his thumb over the slit on his head any negative thoughts would be tucked away. He arched his neck, letting out a shaky breath as he started to stroke himself. His mind wandering to you, always you. “Fuck,” he sighed squeezing the base of his cock. Your flushed face, a blush painting your cheeks. That slutty fucking skirt you wore, tight around your hips, he didn’t know how you got that little thing over your ass. He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he picked up the pace. How your lips felt against his throat as you ordered him to cum, your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. His hips jolted up into his hand, he craved more, his other hand gently cupped his balls. He was close, his breath getting caught in his throat. “Y/n.” He whined, his eyes fluttering close.

“Starting without me?” You asked leaning on the doorway to the bathroom. Clad in only a towel, tightly wrapped around your body. He froze, caught red handed with his pants down. Fuck he was so close. He tugged on himself, chasing after his high as it slowly slipped away. You stopped him, swatting his hand away from his dick. “Excuse me?” You scoffed, your arms crossed above him. You stared down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. You grabbed his face, your fingers pressing his lips together, his skin dimpling under your grip. His breath hitched, his eyes going wide. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He said through squished lips.

“You started without me.” You repeated, a wolfish grin spreading across your face. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You turned his face so he was looking at you, his green eyes wide. He let out a surprised sound, “Now, would you like to finish?” You asked with a commanding voice. His eyes flicked all over your face. 

“Y-yes.” He stuttered, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You let go of his face, walking backwards until the back of your knees hit the plush chair. You sank down onto the chair, slowly undoing your towel, letting it pool around your body. 

He stared at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. You chuckled to yourself, his expression taking you back to the first night you spent together. So unsure of himself, his hands twitched against the sheets. His dick stood at attention, brushing against his white shirt. His angry red tip made a wet spot on his shirt. 

“Take off your shirt first,” you said, leaning back in the chair, spreading your legs. It was like he had been frozen until your command. His eager fingers moved to his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons quickly. He tore it off of him, throwing it onto the floor. He turned to you for his next instructions, a newfound glint in his eye. “You can touch yourself.” You cooed, immediately his hand wrapped around his cock. Stroking himself with fever, he wet his bottom lip, his hips jolting against his fist. Five was so pretty like this, not that he wasn’t a gorgeous man, but he was so vulnerable. Pride bloomed in your chest knowing that you were the only one allowed to see Five like this. His head fell back, giving you a gorgeous view of his neck. He let out a strangled whine, his lips parting. You sat up, unable to help yourself. You stalked towards him, your hands holding his shoulders. Your lips attacked his neck, nipping and sucking on his neck. Dark spots adorning his pale skin.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning into your touch. You reached down, pulling his hand away. He let out a frustrated whine, biting his lip as he stared into your eyes. You smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek over his two freckles, before squeezing his shaft. You began to pump him harshly, sucking a deep mark on his collarbone. His hands flew to your hips, holding them with a vice like grip. “I’m gonna cum.” He said through his gritted teeth, “please let me cum.” He squeezed your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“You can cum baby,” You chuckled, licking a stripe up his neck. He cried out his hips jolting against your hand as ropes of cum shot out onto your fist. You grinned, working him through his orgasm. A pained expression painting his features. As he came down from his high, he softly rubbed circles onto your hips. 

“That was…” He trailed off clearing his throat, his hands drifting upwards on his body. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against your body.

“Never would have guessed Mr. Five Hargreeves would be so obedient.” You laughed, kissing him. He pulled away from the kiss.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me y/n?” He said, cocking his head slightly. A smug smile spread across his face, his eyes darkened. You felt like the prey instead of the predator under his gaze.

“I would never dream of it.” You smirked, feeling him get hard against your stomach. “Already?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. 

“I can’t help that I have the most gorgeous girl in front of me, naked.” He mused, raising his eyebrows. You pushed him back, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. You crawled on top of him, setting yourself over his waist. He leaned his head forward, his lips covering your right breast. You lowered yourself onto him, moaning as he pushed through your opening. He let out a pained cry against your breast. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, stalling your movement.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes shut tight, his hands gripping your hips, stilling any movements you would make. “Just sensitive, tesoro.” He chuckled looking up at you through his heavy eyelashes. You grinned, you wanted nothing more than to have Five under you a blubbering mess. And you were gonna have it. 

You rolled your hips against him, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. He let out a choked gasp, his head falling back against the bed.

“You like that baby?” You asked, dragging your hips up and down against him. 

“Fuck yes.” He whined, arching his back off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your chest. You rocked back and forth, Five’s fingernails dragging down your back. You moaned, pushing him back against the bed. You leaned back, propping yourself up on his thighs as you jutted your hips forward again and again. That familiar coil tightening in your stomach. “F-fuck.” He cried, his hips jolting against your pelvis, his pubic hair rubbing at your clit. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he bit his lip, his hands gripping the sheets beneath you. 

“You feel so good, you make me feel so good Five.” You huffed, struggling to keep up your pace. He whimpered a tear falling down his cheek. Suddenly his body jolted, his hands gripping your waist holding you down onto his hips as he came with a cry. You grinned against him, reaching your own orgasm. You moaned, high pitched and breathy as his cock twitched inside you. His cum painting your walls as you clenched down on him

“Christ woman.” He sighed, his arm covering his eyes. You pulled away his arm, wiping away a stray tear.

“Glad to be of service.” You asked sweetly, kissing his cheek before pecking his lips. You slowly got off of his lap, his softened cock slipping out of you. You laid down beside him, lightly trailing your fingers over his chest. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. Your head laying on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear. 

“I love you.” He says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Are you thinking of someone else?” You tease, staring up at him through your lashes. 

“No.” He says, rolling his eyes feigning annoyance. He sits up, you prop yourself up on your arm. “I’m serious,” he cups your face, “I love you so goddamn much.” He says kissing you. You were sure you had died and gone to heaven. His hand against your face, with his soft slightly bruised lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss, feeling like a love sick teenager.

“I love you.” You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you, I love you.” You kissed the corner of his lips, his cheek, his forehead. He chuckled softly, as you met his eyes. “I love you Five Hargreeves.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his.

“And I you.” He smiled. Five would happily add anything pertaining to you into his routine any day. 

[satubby]

◇Yandere Concept◇

•○ 《Ryu Shi-Oh》 ○•

『This is just my own concept but not the general and true view of the character as a yandere, although canonically he may or may not present these... behaviors』

〔Warning ⚠️: This may or may not contain Spoilers for the show in question, please do not read it if you have not yet seen the mentioned K-Drama. In addition, somewhat sensitive topics such as child abuse, drugs, mentions of sex and among others will be included.〕 Postscript: There may or may not be spelling errors, misplaced character pronouns (I'm dyslexic) so I'm sorry for the inconvenience because this was written at night and I was sleepy, and I'm not a fan of English, so this might be bad.

A puppet of the Russian mafia, Ryu Shi-oh is ruthless and unscrupulous. Depending on how you have met him, he will treat you differently. He would most like a Darling who is as lively, positive and almost like the protagonist of the K-drama where he comes from.

》☆ Obsession:

Ryu Shi-oh will take quite a while to trust you, since he has the police and other enemies after his head. However, if you're the gentle type (if you go all in with this yandere, it would be best for both of you), he'll see you as his emotional refuge, the only source of light in his dark life, though that doesn't mean it won't take a little effort for him to be open to you. Despite his yandere tendencies, he feels a desperate need to protect that vulnerable part of himself by sometimes seeming distant (or perhaps he is at first).

Once he is aware of his feelings for you, then things will change (not much but at least he won't always be on guard with you). You will see him as shy, loving (in his own strange way). Of course, he will be somewhat slow in his feelings but VERY loyal once he is sure of them.

》☆ Obsessive Control:

Russian mafia upbringing has instilled in him either consciously or unconsciously, a need for absolute control and even to the point of violence. Ryu Shi-o monitors every move you make (that's only in his facet of having just met you), from his daily interactions to his friendships. Since if it's at the beginning of getting to know you, he wants to make sure there are no betrayals or double-crosses on your part.

On the other hand, if you've known each other for a while, then his vigilance will be more about getting to know you in depth since he is somewhat clumsy in interactions (other than about his work or murder). He will know everything about you, even things you may not even remember. What kind of flowers you like, X item you've been lusting after and so on.

》☆ Dark Gifts:

To express his love, Ryu Shi-oh tends to give you expensive and luxurious things (When he is getting to know you they are more like decoys) But then he gives you things that you might like, as I mentioned in the previous post, but often these carry a hint of double interactions (He stressed, Ryu Shi-oh doesn't trust people much, he has traumas.... Someone get this man some therapy for god's sake!!!).

》☆ Intense Jealousy:

The thought of losing you arouses a fierce rage in Ryu Shi-o. He can become possessive and jealous, going to extreme lengths to keep you tied to his side. His traumatic past contributes to his constant fear of being abandoned or betrayed, he horribly hates lies (This is Canon by the way, he said so himself).

Since he grew up in a precarious and horrible environment, his concepts of love are null to say the least.... he doesn't know anything about the real meaning beyond what is written in books or Google. So when his jealousy is present, he usually lashes out in anger because he doesn't understand or know how to handle his emotions well, that's why he is always stoic and avoids emotional contact with others.

He thinks at the beginning that these emotions are a weakness (because of his upbringing obviously) so you will understand his attitudes and actions at the beginning.

Back to the scenario (depending on whether you work for him or otherwise were Nam Soon's sister, so to speak). However it was, before and after he met you until he gained your trust, his jealousy is powerful and terrifying.

For example, if you deny him or are somewhat alien to his feelings (ahem! Nam soon) then Ryu Shi-oh may or may not threaten those you hold dear or end up killing the subject of his jealousy if provoked enough.

He may or may not send you videos of it, who knows, he's a fucking mafia-bred man.

》☆ Demonstrations of Power:

As CEO of Doogu, Ryu Shi-oh uses his influence and resources to protect you from his enemies, though also to investigate you, but often does so ruthlessly. He uses his position to eliminate any perceived threat (whether real or not, as in the case of being jealous), regardless of the consequences.

When it comes to, for example, demonstrating how happy you could be (excluding that he is a mobster and has a front business for the real thing, drugs) he can afford a whole restaurant for just the two of you or go on trips when he is not busy.

Also when it comes to dealing with you, depending on whether or not you agree to go out with him, he will use his resources. Either way you will end up with him (if you don't want innocent people hurt).

》☆ Hidden Insecurities:

Despite his confident facade, Ryu Shi-o harbors deep insecurities. Fearful that the reader will discover his dark side, he struggles not to show his vulnerability. This can manifest in moments of emotional self-isolation. More common when they are getting to know each other, refusing to accept their emotions more as a passing interest.

When he already falls for you, he refuses to see you leave him for someone else (Or when you don't want more than a friendship) He clings to the feeling you give him or your kindness/courtesy. He has never felt the comfort you give him, you treat him as human and not the tool the Russians used.

》☆ Future plans:

Although his methods are questionable, Ryu Shi-oh looks for love in you. He sees in that relationship an opportunity to find peace and redemption for the sins of his past, even if his actions may be morally ambiguous. He really is a yandere who would give everything for you, though of course after fulfilling his goals.

Since he has experimented on himself, his strength is inhuman and that may or may not lead to use on special occasions... special occasions. Going back to his plans with you,if you behave just by staying out of it, you will have a dream life.... On the other hand, if you are a treacherous liar like Nam Soon (Ryu's own words) Even if he loves and cherishes you, he won't go easy on you.

He will first take it out on your loved ones, then ruining your life until everyone forgets you even exist.... Only then he can stop being angry with you, he is cynical about it.

He will tell you: "But Honey! You did that to yourself... You shouldn't have betrayed me, I gave you everything, I trusted you with my secrets and you were a spoiled whore..... Accept the consequences, only then can we forgive each other."

》☆ Violence as a last resort:

Although he doesn't hesitate to resort to violence towards his subordinates (regarding the real drug business) He never uses it with you as he doesn't want you to see him as someone bad, he tries to keep it as a last resort (We already gave vast examples of which situations can lead him to that) The contradiction between his desire to protect and his ability to be brutal reflects the complexity of his character.

You will always see him as the suave and polite gentleman although distant in his interactions, but as you get to know him better he is just someone traumatized and hurt by his past (He doesn't justify his current actions but he explains why) He never touches a hair on your head if you treat him well (Ryu Shi-oh has the philosophy that his enemies he treats harshly and his allies worse or something similar, what do I know I am just a brat of 18 years old).

》☆ NSFW

》☆ This will be short, but having sex with Ryu Shi-oh is the most sensual thing you could imagine. I won't add much because I need to learn more about the character, well he likes to bite and scratch. He will be slow and very gentle with you when starting this, but when he gets excited like every man he loses his mind and you may or may not end up with whippings or broken bones given his superior strength (literally).

》☆ Ryu loves when you suck his cock or his neck, his favorite parts of your body are those where he can squeeze (female breasts or buttocks). He likes to suck your breasts and play with your neck. His cock is introduced slowly so when you are ready, he gives you everything he has.

》☆ In the end, you will end up tired but satisfied (Unless you have done wrong and Ryu is angry when making love, there it is not smooth and he could even take it out on you due to his jealousy) Afterwards, the care he gives you is soft and sensual, always apologizing for breaking some bones.

In general, having a yandere like him can be a double-edged sword. Ryu Shi-oh can be so kind or cruel depending on your reactions and treatment towards him. It's like swimming on nails, you have to watch where you're going or you'll end up getting hurt.

This is all independent of the K-drama "Nam soon Super Strong Girl" since it is merely my interpretation of this beautiful villain who, from my perspective, didn't deserve so much pain even though he brought it on himself in the end.

[For those anons who asked me for something, I promise that as soon as I get my ideas together I will start writing because I am a mess at this. I could barely do anything right with this yandere concept.]

[double--blind]

(SPOILERS) Ashley, self-esteem, and starvation

So, I adore Ashley. She's this intensely toxic, vicious, cruel, manipulative girl, and her psychology gives me hella brainworms. Andrew's not the only one whose head I wanna crack open and root around lol. She's thrown away the world just to keep her brother by her side, and she'll continue to do worse and worse for the same reason. She's pretty awful! I've been thinking about why, though. How did things get so bad? How did her soul get so dark?

We don't know everything (I'm waiting for those new eps patiently aND CLAWING AT THE WALLS AND FROTHING AT THE MOUTH but whatevs y'know whatevs I'm normal. I'm fine), yet what information we have been given is bumping around my brain like a DVD screensaver on hyperdrive

It's clear from the start that the roots of Ashley's issues lie in her horrible, neglectful upbringing, but it's hinted that even those outside of her family felt the same abt her. I'm lowkey even betting we'll learn later on that she was ostracized by her peers somehow. However, what's most disconcerting, I believe, is how little she was when the results of this alienation are first made apparent to us (bc kids aren't dumb; they notice this stuff oftentimes instinctively, impossibly young, before they even know what it means to be hated), and how devastating the consequences were.

(There's something decidedly childish abt her dream sequence in the "questionable" route—filled with crayon scribbles and rabbit plushies, the metaphors simplistic yet profound—which really hammers in how these sentiments are things that have made a home in her since childhood. Formative subconscious truths.)

Growing up unloved and noticeably unwanted by virtually everyone around her likely left her with a gaping hole in her heart that she'd spend the rest of her life trying to fill. She'd make friends, but she'd always worry that they'd leave her, that they'd betray her, nothing tangible or weighted enough in their connection to trust in its persistence. Why should she expect otherwise? Not even being bound by familial ties ensures affection if her parents are any indication.

Every lesson she'd ever learned had always taught her this: you are easy to abandon. You cannot love and be loved by virtue of your own worth.

You have to rip their affection from their clenched hands if you want it so bad.

This understanding carries with it an undercurrent of degradation, instilling within Ashley a constant, biting inferiority complex which will never fail to be a source of insecurity. She will always be put last. She was difficult to raise, so her parents gave up on raising her. She was difficult to get along with, so her friends gave up on getting along with her.

It's an odd cycle. She's difficult bc she needs to be to get attention, but bc she's difficult, she can't keep it. Not without having whatever fondness she's managed to cultivate within someone fray at the seams, volatile and prone to collapse, bleeding toxicity.

Hence, her relationship w/Andrew.

By being the only reliable constant in her life, caring for her and keeping her company, Andrew essentially became her only source of happiness, and she's since learned not to bother with anyone else. Still, it's dangerous to keep all your eggs in one basket; since he is all she has, she must protect her place in his life with even greater ferocity, which becomes a torturous ordeal when coupled with her damaged self-esteem.

It's apparent in her quarrels with Andrew that she needs constant reassurance that she is wanted in some capacity or perceived in some positive light (getting pouty when Andrew says he's "stuck with her", needing to hear that she's pretty, needing him to "choose her", wanting him to say he loves her back, etc. etc.), yet her insecurity remains, bc unlike her, he's got options. She doesn't think he needs her like she needs him. He's got a gf, their parents love him, her friends love him. Why would he settle for her? What if someone better comes along? Someone she can't scare away?

Wouldn't he just leave her like everyone else?

Even before getting locked in the coffin of their apartment, starvation's been a constant theme in Ashley's life. She's constantly aching for love, and Andrew's the only one who can feed her. When you're forced to fight for a bite to eat or suffer every moment you hunger, you become ravenous—covetous—when faced with food; you don't want the hunger to return, so you lock down the source of your sustenance, wary of its retreat. Ashley's in a permanent state of intense insecurity, always anxious that the love that gives her life will leave her.

Andrew knows Ashley better than anyone else in the world, and it's obvs to everyone and him how desperate Ashley is for him, but I don’t think Andrew has truly, consciously processed the depth of that desperation. It's there buried in his head somewhere no doubt, but rn, he doesn't operate w/the direct awareness that he is everything. He is brother, mother, friend, and soulmate. He is life and love, air and water, everything that is good in the world—everything that there is to justify existence.

It's heartbreaking, in a way, that it's so difficult for Andrew to convince her of his loyalty. This goes further than his tendency to hide his true feelings, bc when push comes to shove, he's at her beck and call. Objectively, he's hers. She doesn't see that bc all she sees is all the ways she can lose him.

So, she gets bratty. She gets pushy, possessive, territorial. Manipulative. Gets under his skin, guilts him to exhaustion, bc she can't see him staying any other way, bc he doesn't get it, bc it works. He bends to her will, for her sake. For now. It's always "for now", bc he'll start slipping away again, and then it'll get worse. She does worse.

Becomes worse.