#i am more afraid than i ever was as a woman
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SUNOO - God of Love
A deity meant to influence the hearts of others but ultimately succumbing to his own feelings and desires.
Pairing: Sunoo, a deity X FemReader
Genre: Obscenity
Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, loss of virginity, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises, handcuffs, chains, sadomasochism , masochism, brands
Note: I'm recently starting to write, and English is not my native language. I apologize for any mistakes and hope to improve my writing. Feedback is always welcome!
In the ethereal realm where gods danced among the stars, the God of Love, Sunoo, stood as the guardian of passionate hearts. His gentle touch could unite souls, but in a moment of vulnerability, he found himself drawn to a mortal—an artist who captured the beauty of the world on her canvas. What should have remained a forbidden love spiraled into an all-consuming desire.
Sunoo: “You don’t understand—you shouldn’t be here. I am the God of Love, and you… you’re just a woman.”
Y/N: “Just a woman? Sunoo, you see me, you desire me. You feel what I feel. This isn’t just a whim—it’s real.”
Sunoo: “But what does this mean for us? I can’t… I shouldn’t give in to this desire.”
Y/N: “And if love is the only truth that matters? Let me show you what it means to be loved like a god.”
Sunoo: “And what if I lose myself in you? What if the love I give to others fades, leaving only pain?”
Y/N: “Then let’s lose ourselves together. Let the world witness the God of Love surrendering to his own heart and lust.”
Sunoo: “Then so be it. Let this forbidden desire consume us.”
---------- Time Skip ----------
A cozy mountain cabin. A fire crackles softly, casting dancing shadows across the wooden walls. A snowstorm whispers outside, but inside, the atmosphere is warm and intimate. In the center of the room, the God of Love and the mortal sit on the floor atop a plush rug, surrounded by pillows. His golden wings glimmer in the firelight, and his eyes shine with a mix of shyness and longing.
Sunoo: “You’re more beautiful than any soul I’ve ever seen… and believe me, I’ve seen many.”
Y/N: “You say that because it’s in your nature to make people fall in love. Am I just another mission to you?”
Sunoo: “My arrows have never struck me before. But with you… it feels like fate itself is playing tricks on me.”
Y/N: “And what if this is wrong? If you belong to a world I can never touch?”
Sunoo: “Perhaps my place is no longer among the cupids. Perhaps it’s here, with you.”
Y/N: “Would you risk everything for me?”
Sunoo: “For this heart? For this soul? I would risk it all.”
They linger in the moment, a silence heavy with emotion. Then, slowly, she leans in and kisses him. His wings fold around her like a protective cocoon as the firelight casts a gentle glow over them, creating an atmosphere of passion and surrender.
He smiles shyly, brushing his fingers against her face. Their kiss deepens, filled with both passion and tenderness. His hands explore her body carefully, as though she were something precious.
Sunoo’s touch is gentle yet possessive, a perfect balance of warmth and softness. As their bodies press closer, Y/N feels the heat radiating from him, a reminder of the magic coursing through his veins.
In one swift yet delicate motion, Y/N straddles Sunoo. He watches her, his eyes alight with desire. Every movement of hers drives him wild. Sunoo has never wanted anything as much as he wants to be inside her, to become one with her, but his inexperience leaves him hesitant. Sensing his insecurity, Y/N feels the need to reassure him.
Y/N: “Don’t be afraid, my cupid. I’ll guide us. All you need to do is trust me and allow yourself to feel these new sensations.”
Sunoo: “I trust you. Please… make me yours. Take my innocence. Use me.”
This was the moment Y/N had been waiting for—his confirmation, the carnal desire reflected in Sunoo’s eyes. With that, she began placing slow, lingering kisses along his jaw, trailing down to his neck, where she lingered, reveling in the effect it had on him. His whimpering moans only fueled her, and she left gentle bites along his skin.
While she lavished his neck with attention, she unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it off slowly. Sunoo was a masterpiece that no mortal could ever describe—a vision of purity overcome by waves of pleasure. His closed eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips made him appear even more divine.
Y/N: “You’re heavenly. I’m certain that after this, I’ll never be allowed into heaven. What I’m about to do will send me straight to hell, but I’ll go willingly.”
Sunoo couldn’t form a response, lost in the storm of sensations coursing through him. Y/N shifted slightly, repositioning herself. Her hands on his bare chest moved slowly at first, then began to squeeze, her nails raking over his sensitive skin, leaving red marks in their wake. Sunoo seemed to enjoy the stinging sensation; his hard cock strained against his black slacks, desperate for release.
Sunoo: “My lady… I can’t take it anymore. I need you to… to touch me.”
Y/N: “Are my touches not enough? Are you a desperate little slut?”
The filthy insinuation in her tone, paired with her teasing gaze, nearly made Sunoo come undone in his pants.
Y/N: “If you want it so badly, show me where you want me to touch you. Be good for me and beg.”
Setting his shame aside and completely overtaken by desire, Sunoo grabbed Y/N’s hand and placed it over his clothed cock.
Sunoo: “Please, my lady, I need you to touch me here. I can’t endure it anymore.”
Wasting no time, Y/N unzipped his pants, pulling them down in one swift motion along with his underwear. Sunoo’s cock sprang free, accompanied by a moan of relief. Y/N licked her lips, admiring its form—it was as perfect as she’d imagined. Of course, it was; he was Sunoo, the great God of Love, who could easily be the God of Perfection.
She took him fully into her mouth, her lips sliding up and down his hard length as obscene sounds filled the room. Looking up, Y/N caught the perfect image of Sunoo—his eyes closed, mouth slightly open, saliva dripping at the corners as he lost himself in ecstasy.
Within moments, Sunoo came in her mouth, and Y/N swallowed eagerly. Without hesitation, she repositioned herself, aligning Sunoo’s cock with her dripping entrance, ready to finally feel him inside her.
Y/N: “I’ll squeeze you dry and milk every drop from you, and you’ll be an endlessly grateful little slut for me.”
Without warning, Y/N lowered herself, her sticky walls enveloping and crushing Sunoo’s aching cock. Both let out loud moans, creating a melody of their own as their bodies moved in perfect harmony. There was a balance between passion and lust, a connection that transcended the physical.
Y/N grabbed Sunoo’s hair forcefully, pulling him to maintain eye contact as she rode his cock with unrelenting vigor, moving at an almost unreal rhythm. Shivers ran through Sunoo’s entire body, causing his wings to quiver down to the last feather.
Sunoo: “Please, wait… don’t move—I want to last longer, but it’s too much. I can’t take it.”
Y/N: “Don’t worry. Come whenever you’re ready. Fill me up, mark me as yours, and don’t hold back.”
With that, after a few more thrusts, Sunoo came hard, gripping Y/N’s waist tightly with both hands. But Y/N showed no mercy, continuing to ride him with relentless energy. Tears formed in Sunoo’s eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.
Y/N: “I cried, I begged, and now I’ll use you until I’m satisfied. There’s no escape anymore.”
Despite being completely spent, Sunoo nodded, straightening his posture as he watched Y/N rise and fall on his cock. The wet sounds, the way Y/N bit her lips, lost in ecstasy, consumed him. It was painful, but it was the most fulfilling and magnificent pain he had ever imagined.
Some time later, Y/N reached her climax—the most incredible orgasm she had ever experienced. Still in the same position, she rested her forehead against Sunoo’s, their sweat mixing as they tried to steady their erratic breathing. Everything felt perfect—both heavenly and sinful in equal measure.
As Sunoo and Y/N rested, a shadow crept into the cabin. It was Shadow, the God of Forgetfulness, his dark smile piercing through the moment.
Shadow: “Sunoo, by loving as a mortal, you have broken the divine laws. Now, you will pay the price.”
Sunoo wrapped his wings protectively around Y/N.
Sunoo: “Take me, but spare her!”
Shadow: “You are bound together. One’s fate belongs to the other.”
With a wave of his hand, Shadow engulfed them in darkness. The cabin collapsed, and Sunoo felt his divine power slipping away. He was no longer a God.
This story is part of the universe of ' Divine Sins: Immortal Fantasies with ENHYPEN ' created by me.Description:Seven sensual and mysterious tales that delve into the desires between mortals and immortals. Inspired by the members of ENHYPEN, these stories reimagine the group as powerful gods and a fallen angel, all wickedly alluring and irresistibly seductive. Each narrative immerses readers in a world of fantasy, unveiling forbidden passions, divine secrets, and the overwhelming intensity that sparks between celestial beings and an ordinary human. A universe brimming with lust, mystery, and the captivating allure of the forbidden, where every story is an invitation to desire. Contains mature content.
✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿
#kim sunoo smut#enha sunoo#enha smau#enha smut#sunoo smut#sunoo smau#enhypen smut#enhypen smau#sunoo imagines#sunoo scenarios#sunoo x reader#sunoo x you#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines#smut audio#enha imagines#enha scenarios#enhypen x reader#enhypen sunoo#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#sub!enhypen#sub!sunoo#sunoo enhypen smut#sub!idol
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"You're not an object! You're a person!"
"A person...?"
She lingered on the word, it was as foreign to her as the stranger who stood on her balcony.
A person was someone with rights, someone with belongings, someone with a name.
She had none of those things.
"I was...fairly traded," she said slowly, a breeze rustling the feathers in her wings, "a gift from the king, lucky to be of use to him. I am a...monster made woman. I am not...not a person."
It was something she'd heard countless times, something she had been made to repeat, but she had never said it with so much...hesitation.
The stranger's desperate expression softened, and her smile was torn. Oh no, should she have just agreed? Should she apologise? Or just brace herself for whatever punishment was coming?
"Well, I see two arms," the stranger said, " two legs, and a head. I see tired eyes, I hear a sad voice. That's about as much as a person is, I'd wager."
The stranger shrugged and her tassel earring brushed against her shoulder, "give or take a few parts."
"Is that...so..." she said, "is that really the sum of a person?
"Well, I'm no philosopher," the stranger groaned, scratching the back of her head, "but even if you are what you say you are, nothing, not even a 'monster made woman', deserves to be treated like this..."
The stranger flinched as a whistle - that sounded like a bird call - caught her attention; she glanced over the balcony and whistled back.
"Will you leave now?"
The question burst from her before she could even think to stop it, a plea, something more desperate than she could describe.
"Come with me," the stranger said, reaching a hand out to her, "if you want it, I can take you far away from here, so far you'll never even think of it again. You can go where you want, do what you want, and I - "
The stranger hesitated, and a flush painted her cheeks; "I could protect you. And make sure no one ever touches you again. If you...if you want it."
Protection?
She wondered what something like that would look like. She wondered...what it would feel like.
She had long since stopped hoping, stopped dreaming of feeling safe. She had been alone so long, in the same room, tormented and touched for what felt like lifetimes.
"I...I am afraid," she admitted, "I do not even have a name..."
"Athena."
She caught her breath.
Whatever clouds had been in front of the morning sun must have parted, because for just a moment, the stranger was lit from behind with a warm, blinding glow.
"Athena..." she repeated.
"Sorry! That was - it's - uh - the name of a goddess. From - from an old myth. You just sort of remind me of - if - if you don't like it, you can -"
Athena threw herself into the arms of the stranger, the blanket wrapped around her body like a robe. Her wings caught the air, and for just a moment, for the first time in her life - she felt as though she were flying.
The stranger caught her. strong and sturdy. This was someone that could protect her. That could save her.
"I am Athena," she said, tears falling unbidden from her eyes, "who are you?"
"Oh, yeah, sorry I'm uh - I'm Locke."
"Locke, please take me far away from here," she was smiling, despite the sobs, "so far that I'll never think of it again!"
"I thought you'd never ask."
Locke held her tightly, and carried her down the side of the tower.
She never said it out loud, but when her bare feet touched the grass, when an insect fluttered by her cheek, when a group of gentle friends dropped a cloak around her and introduced themselves warmly...
That was when Athena thought she had finally become a person.
#whump#whumpblr#whump writing#whump art#whump community#lady whump#wlw#tw implied (previous) noncon#tw implied (previous) abuse#tw bruises#winged whumpee#welcome to comfort week with me the suffering lizard#these are my lesbians
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Keeping it quiet 'til I hit back — California
The Woman Who Left Too Soon; Lara Raj, the lead singer and coveted music producer for Katseye, has never felt the need for useless romance. Don't get her wrong— she loves a good chummy romance, but it was never really for her. That could partly be blamed on her past lover, who abruptly left her just to become some indie artist, but then again, the tides change, and so do the people. And what the— she's famous now, she's unstoppable, she can pull anyone, so why the hell is the woman who left her in the dust, pretending to be all buddy-buddy with her.
PROFILES∿ nightmare blunt rotation > KATSEYE
#masterlist, #payroll advocates
LARA RAJ ❀ lararajj & larahatesbabies
“Said I had the prettiest eyes, you’ve ever seen.” Lara has always known who she was since birth, a beautiful singer, and an even more beautiful person, despite her intimidating exterior, she’s such a kind soul. She’s the sweetest person to everyone, although has trouble being in relationships due to her previous rocky one with another musician. Y/n L/n left her high and dry without a word, though, she avoids talking about it completely and tries her best not to contact her due to her issues. Although one thing can be noted, she has never told anyone the name or who her evil ex actually was, just the terrible stories that came with it.
MERET MANON ❀ meretmanon & bluntmanz
“She’s a catch, but so am I.” The only girl who doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut, constantly getting in trouble for slipping updates and upcoming projects the girls are doing. Manon is very genuine though, she hates liars, absolutely adores her members, and will always defend them. Despite that she doesnt know about Y/n, and only knows of an evil girl Lara used to date. She thinks y/n would be perfect for a blunt rotation though. She met Lara during Dream Academy and connected through the fact that both girls had been chosen and hadn’t auditioned like the rest. The both of them are so close, in fact, they even go to family parties together with Megan and Lara’s sister.
SOPHIA LAFORTEZA ❀ sophialaforteza & sophiathefirst
“Guess sometimes you learn to forget.” The mother of the group. As someone who Lara confides with the most for relationship advice, Sophia knows all about you, in a strange way, always finding another reason to dislike you every day. Despite that, she remains civil and enjoys your music (mainly because she doesn’t know it’s you). Her heart is in the right place, Sophia and Lara had a shared love for musical arts, and often went to musicals and plays together, even having their little group filled with other theater geeks.
DANIELA AVANZINI ❀ danielaavanzini & opiummdani
“You had to make it obvious.” Lara’s biggest opp I’m afraid, it’s all in lighthearted fun, but y/n was unironically one of her celebrity crushes so she’d sometimes go on and on, not knowing the true extent of her behavior. She means nothing bad by it, but on multiple occasions, Lara has blocked her, even during events the redhead is side-eyeing Daniela whenever she brings you up. Even then, Daniela and Lara had an inseparable bond, through their love for dance and Playboi Carti, the both of them make a lethal duo. Daniela would often barge into Lara’s room begging to go to Erewhon together or to do another dance trend for the Eyekons.
MEGAN MEIYOK SKIENDIEL ❀ meganskiendel & mamanmegan
“I wanted to see the world in color, through your eyes.” Lara’s roommate and number one victim of her constant yapping and ranting knows Lara like an open book and is undoubtedly the closest one to her. This leads her to being the only person, other than Lara’s sister, who knows who you truly are. Despite the fact, that she adores Y/n more as a musician than a person, teasing Lara at the fact Megan owns Y/n’s poster and hangs it on the walls of their shared bedroom. She is quite literally Lara’s little sister she never had, she invites Lara to family events and vice versa. She never goes anywhere without Lara, often begging her to come with her to do minuscule tasks, like getting a lighter for the deli a jogging away, she has to bring Lara with her.
YOONCHAE JEUNG ❀ y0pn_cha3 & yooninurwalls
“And the walls painted white, they tell me all their secrets.” Even though everyone knows about her sassy attitude, Yoonchae is regarded to be one of the innocent members. Although no one knows she’s friends with Y/n and her little crew, since she’s often kept to herself, and no one asks about it. Despite being in both groups, she has no clue that you and Lara where ever in a situation together, and completely blocks out all her member’s love lives. She is Lara’s baby, her child, her toddler, even when Yoonchae’s tired and sleepy, Lara would always lend her a shoulder to sleep on. And when Lara’s tired, she still tries her best to entertain Yoonchae despite how exhausted she is.
#ruru yaps#idol x female reader#idol x reader#female reader#gxg#girl group imagines#katseye#katseye fic#lara raj x katseye#lara raj katseye#katseye lara raj#katseye x female reader#katsye fic#katseye smau#smau#katseye x reader#Lara Raj#lara raj x female reader#lara raj x reader#lara katseye
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i love being alive and living in the world as a trans masculine person it’s so fun and everyone including the trans community definitely doesn’t either want me dead or think i’m simultaneously receiving male privilege and am basically a girl :)
#/sarcasm#god i hate being alive#cis people hate me for sacrificing my body or something#trans people hate me for wanting to be a disgusting man and poisoning myself with testosterone#i’m not allowed to enjoy masculine things about myself unless they’re feminine masculine things#i’m afraid to go on t because i’ve been trained by everyone in my life including trans people that masculinity is inherently disgusting#i’m so scared to pass because i get a pass not because i am a twink teenager but how will i be treated as an adult man#i even still have to same perspective#i see a trans man on t and i am jealous and scared and so many things#it feels like my brain has been poisoned by fucking tiktok and twitter and everyone who tells trans men that their existence as men is vile#i constantly see trans women celebrating milestones in their transition and embracing their femininity#but i never see trans man celebrating their masculinity that isn’t acceptable masculinity#we aren’t allowed to be proud of muscles or facial hair or deep voices or bottom growth without someone reminding us#that we aren’t really queer#and we don’t really experience oppression#and while it’s great we’re happy with our transition#everyone else thinks it’s disgusting and threatening and sad that we’re giving up the wonders of womanhood just cause we want to#just because we want to say “i’m a man! out loud and receive our certificate of certified male privilege#i am more afraid than i ever was as a woman#he speaks
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like why did they change where Vegeta was when Cell announced the cell games in the anime
why did they make this vegeta starting shit with yamcha instead of chillin in the lab with his family? why did they take Bulma out of the lab? Why'd they say she was Out while Dr Brief was repairing 16? Why did they change Bulma working on advanced robotics to running in late with her baby?
it's the same scene except: - Bulma's actively at work being a scientist - Vegeta's not being rude to her (or anyone else!) - Vegeta waits for Trunks instead of leaving the room - Cell interrupted the airwaves, which means Trunks and Vegeta were just hanging out with Bulma and Dr B while they were working
Those are all Great Character Details!! That the anime rails against!!
#these cowards afraid of showing Vegeta actively choosing to be around his wife and child even when he's Bad#Because Goku who is Good never ever even once makes that choice onscreen outside of filler#and then they justify that choice by making Chi-Chi seem horrid and unreasonable for (checks notes) Not Wanting Her Child to Die#anyway I am once again being bitter about anime vs manga klasjdklasd#I can't believe I let the anime convince me I hated Goku man Goku's SUCH a good and ridiculous character in the manga#the anime just SUCKS at letting him be who he's always been#and has to reframe and recontextualize and reword everything he does so that it seems like he's Actually Quite Mature and Thoughtful nO#THAT's VEGETA YOU COWARDS#also the fact that bulma said she wouldn't live with him at the beginning of this arc to him casually hanging out with her and trunks#after cell beat his ass and humbled him is REALLY GOOD SUBTEXT for their shared relationship having improved without showing it#it's great subtext for all three of them and toei just went 'nah' and decided to make it a whole group shot so ...? Master Roshi could sit#and explain how ??? Tournaments Work??? Just so Cell could log on and also explain how tournaments work?? God it's been so long#since I've watched the anime and now when I do it just makes me mad aklsdjskja the manga is SOOOOO much better#there are some spots where the pacing is more ideal in the anime like goku turning ssj for the first time but like man. everything else is.#like why are you making Goku snarky with Vegeta dude his clapbacks are SO much funnier when they're just Tactless Honesty#like Vegeta's not insulted by Snark bitch he grew up in the Freeza force that man was raised by THE bitchiest drag queens#Vegeta's insulted by someone saying something deeply and insultingly True to his face as if it's the fucking weather#Goku in the anime is like 'a battle of wits hoho' but Goku's purity is part of the joke he's not snippy he's just got no social etiquette#He's just honest! He's not trying to be insulting. That's what MAKES it insulting! That's the WHOLE GAG of why Vegeta can't stand him#Goku is always just telling the truth and it's always the rudest shit Vegeta's ever heard in his life#'it's a sunny day! i'm way stronger than you! see you out there bud!' 10000% Genuinely Friendly. Golden Retriever-Ass Pure.#Infuriating. Hilarious.#anyway I looked at anime clips to make sure I remembered things right and that was a mistake#as someone who has a soft spot for it and grew up on it -- compared to the manga it's bad and it's always been bad#and toriyama was right to be disinterested in watching it jesus christ they BUTCHERED his work#anyway this has been another shot of haterade with sketches thank you for scrolling my rambletags askljdask#dbtag#i just truly can't get over how they make Vegeta call her 'woman' in the anime and he literally only ever calls her Bulma in the manga#except for on namek when he refers to her as 'the/that woman' because she is a complete stranger#why is he calling her woman like he's a 1940s american husband and not an extraterrestrial from a deeply advanced society toei
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thinking about how my mom spent like 2 years getting downright vicious about the houseless folks who were camping in the woods past her house (to the point of getting a BB rifle that looked like a real fucking gun to threaten them with when they crossed in front of her house??) and justifying it with White Lady Fear a la "what if one of them does something to me! I am but a helpless white woman living all alone!!" and like...
y'all, she terrorized those people. every single time she saw someone outside, she was riling her dog up to bark, waving a gun in their faces (that for all intents & purposes they certainly thought was real), yelling at them, calling the cops (thank god the 2 rural-ass cops didn't actually give a shit), etc.
and she justified it with fears of womanly fragility & inability to defend herself, and I believe how afraid she was! she talked about fearing they would break into her house at night and sexually assault her, and I believe she was legitimately afraid of that. she's been victimized in many of the ways she was afraid of being victimized by them.
the thing is that it doesn't matter how real the fear is.
nothing ever happened, nobody ever tried to threaten her, nobody tried to break in, nobody even approached her. she initiated every single interaction. when she told them not to go through her yard, they did the best they could to respect that without giving up their camping spot; which was on someone else's property, who didn't mind them being there (not to mention one of them is actually indigenous to this specific land!)
she was a thousand times more threatening to those people than they ever were to her, but her fear of them was still real. and that's exactly what made her so dangerous.
I need cis women to internalize this ASAP. your fear is real, and it can and will hurt others. your fear is real, and it is harmful. your fear is real, and your hurt is not deserved, and you still need to grow & heal & prevent it from causing harm.
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Before starting T, when I socially transitionned, I was surrounded by radical feminists who saw masculinity as gross and inherently evil, something to avoid, something to make fun of, something to destroy. The other transmascs in my friend group, sometimes, told me that they didn’t knew if they really were non-binary or if they just were scared shitless of saying “I am a man”. Because they saw this as a betrayal to their younger self who had been SAd and abused.
I saw many of my masc friends and trans men around me hate themselves, not outing themselves as men because it would imply so so much, it was like opening the Pandora Box. Even when we were just together, talking about our masculinity was always coated with bits like “I know we’re the privileged ones but…”, “I don’t want to sound like I have it bad but…”, “Women obviously have it worse, but last time…” and we were talking about terrible traumas we experienced while taking all the precautions in the world in the case the walls were a crowd of people in disguise waiting to get us if we didn’t downplay the violence we faced, or like crying and being upset and being traumatized and afraid and scared and to say it out loud would make us throw up the needles we were forced to swallow every second of every day living in our skin.
Most of us weren’t on T yet, some of us were catcalled every day and harassed in the streets or in abusive relationships nobody seemed to care to help them get out of because they were “strong enough” to do it by themselves.
I was using the gender swap face app and cried for ours when I saw my father looking back at me through the screen. The idea of transforming, of shedding into a body that would deprive me of love, tenderness, and safety, was absolutely terrifying. I knew I couldn’t stay in this body any longer because it wasn’t mine, but I also knew that if I was going to look like my dad, my brother, my abusers, it would be so much worse.
5 years later and I’m almost 2 years on T, and almost 2 months post top surgery.
I ditched my previous group of friends. I was bullied out of my local trans community. But let me tell you how free I am.
I was scared that T would break my singing voice: it made it sound more alive than ever.
I was scared that T would make me less attractive: it made me find myself hot for the first time in my life.
I was scared that T would make me gain weight: it did. But the weight I put on is not the weight I used to put on by binging and eating my body until I forgot that it even existed. It’s the weight of my body belonging to me, little by little. The wolf hunger for life.
I won’t tell you the same story I see everywhere, the one that goes “I started going to the gym 8 times a week, I put on some muscles, I started a diet and now I look like an action film actor”, in fact if you took pictures of me from 5 years ago vs now I’d just have more acne, I’d have longer hair and still look like I don’t know what to do with myself when I take selfies.
But the sparkle in my eyes, my smile, tell the whole story way better than this long ass stream of words could ever.
I want to say some things that I wish someone told me before starting medically transitionning.
It’s okay to take your time. It’s your body, it’s your journey, if you don’t feel comfortable taking full doses and want to go slow, the only voice you need to listen to is your own. Do what feels right.
If you feel overwhelmed, it’s okay to take a break, it’s okay to ask for support.
Trans people are holy. Everyone is. You didn’t lose your angel wings when you came out because you want to be masculine. You are not excluded from the joy of existence, from being proud of yourself, from being sad, from being scared, from being angry. The emotions and feelings you allowed yourself to feel while processing what you experienced when you grew up as a girl and was seen as a woman are still as valid as before. Nobody can take that from you. If someone tries to, don’t let them.
It’s perfectly normal to grieve some things you were and had before you started to transition, like your high soprano voice or even your chest. Hatching is painful. You can find comfort in things that don’t feel right, so making the decision to change can be incredibly scary and weird and you deserve to be heard and supported through this. Wanting top surgery doesn’t make the surgery less intense, less terrifying, less painful to recover from. When it becomes too much you have the right to take a break and take some deep breaths before going on.
You don’t have to have a radical, 180° change for your transition to be acceptable or valid or worthy of praise. Look at how far you’ve come already. It doesn’t have to show, you’re not made to be a spectacle, you’re human and it is your journey.
Oh, and last thing, you know when some people say “Oh this trans person has to grow out of the cringy phase where you think that you can write essays about being trans or transitionning or just their experience because it’s weird” ? If you ever hear this or see this online, remember all the people whose writing you read and, even if they were not professional writers, helped you more than any theorists did ? If you want to write, do it. It won’t be a waste. It can help people. Or it won’t, and even then, if it helped you, that’s enough.
Love every of my trans siblings, take care of yourselves. You deserve the world.
#ftm#ftx#genderqueer#transgender#lgbtqiaplus#lgbtqia#queer#trans#trans man#transmasc#trans masculinity#transmasculine#queer masculinty#trans men#trans writing#trans writers#trans pride#transblr#queer writers#queer artist#queer community#queer pride#lgbtq#non binary#genderfluid#lgbtq community#enby#enby pride#trans nonbinary#gor3sigil.txt
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Controversial opinion among Dune book fans maybe, but I loved the changes they made to Chani's character. Making her a fedaykin who is already an experienced fighter before Paul arrives was a brilliant choice. Dune Part Two is a war movie, and this puts her at the center of the action, side by side with Paul, and gives her a much more active role than she has in the book.
We got a hint of where things were going in the beginning of Dune Part One. The first thing we ever know about movie Chani is that she's a fighter. She serves as a voice for the Fremen, telling us the story of their struggle from her point of view. I wrote here about the difference this change makes compared to other adaptations of Dune, what a perspective shift it is to have the world of Arrakis introduced not by an outsider, describing it as a dangerous but valuable colonial prize, but by one of its native inhabitants, who tells us before all else that it's beautiful, her home that she's fighting to liberate. I am so, so glad that the second movie followed up on this characterization.
I never found Chani and Paul's love story in the book particularly convincing, because why would this woman, who already has a prominent and respected place in Fremen society, even give the time of day to her deposed would-be colonizer, let alone fall in love and have children with him? Without a compelling reason for Chani to love Paul, she ends up feeling like a prize to be won, and "indigenous culture personified as a woman to be wooed (or conquered) by the colonizing man" is a trope we've seen and don't need to repeat.
But as soon as you tell me it's a barricade romance I get it. Cool cool cool, I know exactly what this relationship is now and it makes sense. Movie Chani doesn't respect or even particularly like Paul when she first meets him, and she doesn't think he's the fulfillment of any prophecy. She comes to respect him, and eventually love him, through his actions. He's brave--sometimes recklessly so. He fights well. He's willing to stick his neck out on the front lines with the other Fremen fighters. He can (after a little help) hack surviving in the harsh desert environment. He's not too proud to learn from others. He seems to genuinely want to be her equal in a common political struggle. All these qualities make sense as things she values.
Fighting side by side as equals is just about the only way I can see movie Chani falling for Paul. And it fits perfectly with the film's pattern of reversals that Paul's capacity for violence would initially be one of the things Chani likes about him, only for her to be repelled later when she sees what he becomes.
And as for Paul, well, he's had people deferring to him his entire life. Someone who doesn't take any shit from him is probably refreshing. He seems to like people (Duncan, Gurney) who challenge him and engage in a little friendly teasing--and aren't afraid to go a few rounds in the sparring ring.
It's easy to speedrun a romance when you're spending all your time together in mortal danger fighting for a shared political cause. Especially if you then start winning in a war your people have been fighting for decades. Are you kidding me? That is the perfect environment for intense battle camaraderie to turn into romantic love, and lust.
It makes sense that this version of Chani never believes Paul is any kind of messiah. Of course a character like movie Chani wouldn't believe in or trust some outside savior to liberate them. She's been working to liberate her own people for years. The more Paul invokes the messianic myth, the more he starts sounding once again like someone who plans to rule over them, and the more uncomfortable Chani becomes. In this way she becomes a foil to Jessica, the two of them representing the choices Paul is pulled between. It's a great way of externalizing the political and philosophical debates that often happen within characters' heads in the book.
And of course this version of Chani would leave Paul at the end of the film. It's not just the personal, emotional betrayal--although that stings. What common cause does she have with someone who just declared himself emperor and is sending her own people off in a war of conquest against others? Given the important role she plays in Dune Messiah, I am super curious to see how they get her back into the story, but girl was so valid for being willing to just gtfo. Given that she has the last shot of the whole movie, I'm sure she'll be back somehow, and I can't wait to see what they do with her character in any future installments.
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some of my favorite things about Anora in no particular order (SPOILERS BELOW):
the goons, wow what all timer movie goons. concussed guy for goon of the year
when anora beats the shit out of those goons for a fifteen minute stretch and they get increasingly more afraid of her. comedy gold, just pitch perfect comedy treading the line between should-i-be-worried-for-her and the disarming buffoonery of the goons
ivan's mom stomping on the last step of the private jet stairs. her incredible houndstooth suit. every second of her on screen.
all of them throwing the pens at the annulment woman
ivan's dad dying laughing during the annulment as anora throws all of the moms shit on the ground
every parking in new york joke from the ticket in front of the courthouse to getting towed down on brighton beach
how the entire time, nobody pulls out a weapon, not once. and yet, the threat of violence and danger still lingers in the periphery because of the deftly constructed tension of the roving camera and contextually what we don't know about this family and the broader scope of ivan's world and the looming threat of the parents. how far can she push the goons until they get violent, and yet they never really do, but baker never lets you exhale that breath.
when they walked into tatianas..... like sean does his RESEARCH
also the t.A.T.u needle drop like i screamed
also the fight over driving or walking for five minutes in the cold. the new york specificity in this movie is pinpoint accurate, down to the mundane
the ending, her having a breakdown release of everything that had happened to her and how humiliated she was, but also how she thought she had gotten out and made a fairytale of her life. how using her body was the only power she has ever had, and how that was what she defaulted to with Igor in that last scene, but it was when he wanted to kiss her that the facade of power broke down and so did she. how she had to face her own humanity, and in that moment ask herself if she wanted to kiss him, because he was giving her perhaps her first real choice in a long time, and that opened a pathway to maybe questioning whether she truly wanted any of what had happened to her. maybe in that moment she realized that her body is not as powerful as she perhaps convinced herself it was. she was far more powerless than all her bravado and will probably always be powerless in the socioeconomic systems of the world that are built up around her. how disposable she was made to feel maybe for the first time, and how she thought she had built up that bravado and detached arrogance around herself so that she would never feel that way, but the feeling still seeped through nonetheless. all of that delivered wordlessly, in silence, buried under the falling white snow that will throw a white, pristine blanket over everything as if nothing significant had happened at all.
but also like igor, i too would fall in love with her almost instantly and tbh i did. rip to Ivan, anora i am hopelessly in love with you, and i would die for you.
#anora#anora 2024#anora movie#anora spoilers#its rare a movie makes me come on here and write shit like this. last time i did this was nope i think#sean baker never lets me down man#once again we WILL get you that oscar
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Fatherhood. P2
Single dad!Cregan Stark x reader
Summary: The reader follows through with her marriage proposal. (I literally cannot say more without spoiling stuff)
Part 1
Masterlist
...........................................................
"Father?" Her voice carried through the hall.
Bolton turned to give his daughter his entire attention.
"The carriage outside. Have we a visitor?" She asked meekly.
He sighed. "Afraid not."
Her head tilted. "An empty carriage? Who would ever send such-" She found herself stopping at the realization. "It's for me, isn't it?"
Bolton's lip tightened. "It is."
"Ah," she noted wearily. "I'll… I'll collect my things, I suppose."
He nodded, though his heart ached somewhere deep inside to see her go. "Best that you do. Can't have ya forgetting yer lavender, eh?"
She managed a smile. "No. I couldn't bare it."
"Go on, then."
She gave one last look before retreating up to her room.
…
She thanked the driver earnestly as she stepped in, watching the door shut behind her.
This was nicer than she anticipated it being.
She leaned back when the carriage began to move and started to close her eyes before pausing at the sight of a small sealed letter.
She picked it up.
The Stark sigil.
Her fingers shook as she opened it.
My dear lady, I do hope you'll excuse the manner in which you've received this letter. Your father seems to be a man of pageantry and show, keeping you in the dark. I implore you to stop the carriage for a surprise of sorts. - An eager father
She reread the letter a few times before daring to do as it said.
Tap.Tap.Tap. against the ceiling of the carriage.
It came to an abrupt halt.
She paused with her hand still raised at the ceiling. Her ears listened intently for any noise at all.
The door soon opened and light poured further into the carriage. A hand shot out and she took it, stepping out.
When she stepped out and her eyes adjusted, the sight of her hand in Lord Stark's threw her off. "Lord Stark…?"
Cregan's bright smile filled her sight. "Hello, sweet girl."
She looked around, noticing that Cregan's horse stood behind the carriage. "What is this? A-Are you trying to save me?" She asked with a confused brow.
"Am I- what?" His grip on her hand tightened. "No. No. Of course not."
She frowned. "Excuse my bluntness, my lord. Why are you here then?"
He took a step back to collect himself, and a bright smile came over his face. "Y/n." He took her other hand as well. "Who do you imagine wished for your hand so ardently?"
It clicked then and her eyes widened. "You-"
"-Indeed," he beamed.
Her mouth laid agape. "W-Why did you not tell me?"
He rubbed his thumbs across her knuckles. "I had thought your father would, but alas."
"I fear I've embarrassed myself then-"
"-anything but." He persisted, "You've proven to me just how loyal you are. That's a trait that is not easily learned."
"You truly wish for my hand?" She asked.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Of course. Now come, Rickon awaits us in Winterfell."
Her eyes lit up. "Then we must go." She moved to the carriage, then paused when she noticed Cregan's lack of movement. "You are not traveling with me?"
He frowned. "A northman does not fair well in carts and carriages. We're made for horses."
She hummed. "Very well." She turned on her heel and began to walk to the horse.
He shifted his weight to his other foot. "What're you doing?"
She looked over her shoulder. "What? Think I can't manage one horse ride?"
An amused smile came over his face and he shook his head in acceptance as he strode over to her.
Did he have to lift her onto the horse? Yes. Did he have the reigns the entire time? Yes. Did she know a single thing about horses? No.
Did he point it out or complain once? Never.
…
The young woman had spent more time with Rickon than it seemed with Cregan for the time being.
Sure, their wedding was still a few weeks out, but it was a strange thing to see a woman so infatuated with a son that was not of her blood.
"A horse? Yes," she grinned as she tapped the wooden horse on the ground as if it was galloping. "It's a mighty horse, isn't it? Very strong. Much like your papa's."
Rickon moved to his small chest of toys and pulled out another wooden thing, quickly moving to sit by her and do the same thing with his toy as hers.
"A direwolf? Horses gallop. See?" She replicated her motion. "But direwolves run. Here." She held her hand over his and lightly moved it to tap at a smoother and lighter rhythm. "Horses move with their mind. Wolves move with their hearts. That's what makes them predators."
Rickon tries to replicate the motion she made. It was sloppy, but it was clear that he got the idea.
"That's wonderful. You're a clever boy," she preened at him.
"Clever as his father?" Cregan grinned from the doorway.
She gasped and turned, not expecting to see him while she was seated on the cold stone floor. "Cregan-"
He walked further in and knelt on the other side of them. "What have we here? A hungry wolf? Or is he friendly?"
She laughed. "All of our animals are friendly. Aren't they, Rickon?" When he nodded, she continued. "Wolves aren't hungry within these walls, Cregan."
His eyes were glued to hers, an obvious heat moving through his body. "Perhaps there is one."
Her head shot up and met his gaze, a pink hue coming to her cheeks. "I-"
Rickon's eyes had watered, and the boy let out a sniffle.
The tension was quickly broken, for both now focused on the boy.
"My boy," Cregan hummed. "No need for tears. I didn't mean that. There's no wolf besides Dark Watch. And she's no evil thing, is she?"
The boy finally let out a real cry, clearly terrified at the thought of a hungry wolf in Winterfell.
Cregan held his arms out, ready to receive the boy's wet cheek upon his chest. But it never came.
He heard her soft gasp as Rickon launched himself against her chest in desperation. She slowly wrapped her arms around him and began to rock him. "Your father didn't mean it, my little Rickon. It was only a jest."
Cregan wanted to be mad. He felt that maybe he should be. But there was no angry bone in his body.
His son had found a comfort besides him.
He believed he found himself falling further for her, if that was even possible.
…
"CREGAN!"
His head shot up from the letters sprawled across the council table. "Excuse me."
He didn't wait for permission from the council members before he ran out of the room and a fast pace.
The man pushed himself to run down the stairs, through the corridors that felt like forever, until he came upon his son's room.
"Cre-Oh. Oh, you missed the most wonderful thing," his betrothed beamed.
Relief filled him. "I thought you dead from the sounds."
"My heart is very much alive," she claimed. She held Rickon on her hip and Cregan couldn't help but imagine her doing so with his seed growing inside her.
He had to physically shake the thought away.
"W-What is it?"
She pulled Rickon closer to focus and her voice lowered. "Pa-pa," she enunciated. "P-ah p-uh."
She looked expectantly at the boy who only stared back.
"Oh, Cregan. I promise he said it. I truly do!"
He shook his head with a sigh. "I believe you. I do. But I've not heard him speak. If it wasn't for his cries, I'd fear he had no voice at all."
"Be easy on him. He's learning."
"He should have already," Cregan sighed. "I fear it's my fault."
Her head tilted and she shifted the boy. "I don't see how it could be."
Cregan fully sat at that point, crossing his legs lazily. "His mother died on the birthing bed, you know."
She nodded. "I remember."
"I was in shambles after that. Couldn't dare to look at him." He ran a hand through his hair as if brushing the memory away. "Took some time to get over it. And by then, well, the damage was done."
Her heart ached at his honesty. "There were wet nurses and servants to help though, surely?"
"Yes, but none are the same as a father's touch."
Her body grew warm, and not just from the child in her arms. "Indeed."
Cregan leaned forward and brushed his hand over the back of the boy's head. "He's a good child. I'm glad he has you."
She looked up at the man and admired the genuine smile that was over his face.
…
The weeks following were easy. Breaking fast with Cregan, followed by a walk through the halls to help her grow confidence in her home. Then hours in the library where she read or stitched. A servant brought small foods to tide her over to supper. Then supper with both Cregan and Rickon. The poor boy had to sit on his knees to even see over the table.
"No, no," Cregan laughed heartily. "You were terrified, my love!"
"I was n-" She couldn't help but brake into a smile. "Well, you're an intimidating man at first sight!"
"Am I still?" He asked as a tease, but it was mixed with something else. "Do I frighten you?"
Her breath escaped in a short pant, overcome with the thought of what being his wife would truly entail.
He was frightening to everyone. Firm and strong, not easily swayed. Cold and forbidding.
"No."
"No?"
"Not at all."
He gained a smirk. "How so?"
Her eyes shifted between him and his son. "You're softer than you wish to seem."
A fire was lit behind his eyes, and she knew that if Rickon wasn't there, they may have been doing something entirely different.
"Smart girl."
She preened at his praise.
…
"What about-"
"-I have it handled."
Her head tilted. "Fine. And th-"
"-It's been done. You worry too much."
"One last thing. T-"
"You intelligently foolish woman," he sighed as he took her shoulders in his large hands. "I have done it all. You need only do your part."
She forced herself to take a deep breath. "You wonderful man."
"And you, Lady Bolton? Are you not a wonder as well?" He grinned.
"Lady Stark," she corrected him.
…
She fit into the role of lady with grace and ease.
As if there was never such a prefect fit.
"Come," she beckoned Rickon along. "Your father is expecting us, and we shan't keep him waiting."
Upon seeing them enter the council room, Cregan's gloomy demeanor was instantly lightened. He stood up. "You're late."
She hums. "Do excuse us. Lord Rickon was practicing his jumping and who am I to stop him?" She teased
"Ah," he acknowledged when they got close enough. He bent down and picked up the boy. Once Rickon was held firmly against him, Cregan tilted his head down and kissed his wife deeply.
She pulled away with a fond giggle and red cheeks.
Cregan was an unashamed man, kissing his wife in such a manner in front of his councilmen. "Sit," he gestured to her chair. "Let us begin."
…
"I'll never know how to thank you," Cregan remarked quietly one day.
The three had managed to get away from Winterfell for an afternoon. Seated on the dead grass, she watched Rickon spend his time chasing a bird that was so far in the air, he'd never have a chance, even if he could fly behind it.
"Thank me? For what?"
"For this. For being able to live in such ease," he said as he gestured out to the field.
"I should be thanking you," she hummed as she reached out to their basket and ripped of a small piece of bread, eating it.
He leaned to her and placed a sweet kiss to her cheek. "Never."
She giggled and ripped another, now turning to him. "Fatherhood suits you, my love." Her hand came up to his lips.
He opened his mouth, smirking as his wife's hand pushed the bread between his lips. Her fingers rest there as a look comes into her eyes.
Cregan chewed the bread then kissed at her fingers. "And you, you wonderful mother."
"PAPA!"
Their heads shot up at the sound.
"Rickon?" Cregan's eyes widened. "RICKON?" He stood in a hurry and his eyes scanned the field.
He ran out when he saw where his son sat in the dirt. "Son, what are you doing? Gods, are you well?"
Rickon looked over his shoulder. In his hand was a flower. He held it up.
"Oh." Cregan bent down. "You scared me, boy. Yes, yes, that's a lovely flower."
Rickon stood up on his still pudgy legs and moved passed his father.
Y/n had been watching and had slowly starting walking to them. When Rickon neared, she bent down. "Did you speak?" She asked softly.
Rickon held the flower out to her.
"For me? Oh, you sweet, sweet boy!" She picked him up and spun him around. "I've never been more proud."
Cregan had joined them at that point. He pulled his wife into his hold. He kissed the crown of her head and whispered in her hair, "Thank you for this. Thank you, my girl."
The family stood there in the field, enjoying every bit of their lives together.
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#fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfiction#cregan stark x reader#game of thrones imagine#cregan stark x y/n#game of thrones fanfiction#game of thrones x y/n#cregan stark x you#cregan stark imagine#game of thrones x reader#cregan x reader#cregan stark#hotd cregan#cregan fanfiction#cregan x you#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon
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Four Is Plenty (Aemond X Pregnant! Reader)
Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff, mentions of poop and genitals.
When Aemond married you, he had many things envisioned. But this was not one of them. Watching you waddle around, grumbling and mumbling as you dropped your book. He smiled, trying to not look too amused. It hadn’t taken you long to get pregnant at all, for two weeks after your wedding night, blood did not fill the chamberpot. It became clear very quickly that you were pregnant, and now, at nine months, you were just moments away from bursting.
He had never seen a woman look so humongous, but of course he would not tell you that. “Allow me to help, my love,” He spoke, picking up her book and pressing kisses to her fingertips. He and the lords had an ongoing bet going, since they were all certain that you had more than one baby trapped up inside you. His bet was three, and Ser Criston was sure it would only be one humongous baby.
“I hate this.” You mumbled, and he sighed softly in response as his hands moved to cup your stomach. He had read all the books he could find on pregnancy and child care, his palms on the bottom of your belly, lifting gently to help relieve you of your pain.
“Do not fret. It will be any day now, and you will feel better than ever before,” He spoke, rubbing over the stretchmarks that formed all over your belly like tiger stripes. “
I am simply excited to be able to sleep on my belly again,” You grumbled, whining as he slowly let go of your belly, leaving you to deal with all the weight again. “I hope the birth is not too great of a pain, and I hope the midwives do not scream in my face,” You spoke, and he smiled as he kissed both of your cheeks. They had gotten nice and round with your weight gain, and he absolutely loved the way you looked.
“I promise they will not. I will be there the whole time,” He spoke, stroking your hair.
“Hm…” You mumbled, moving to go take your afternoon nap, a pillow at her lower back to relieve the ache. He laid in bed next to you, tracing his fingers over your nose and hairline, your collarbone and your belly. He was addicted to touching you, watching your cheeks get pink, feeling your breath along his wrist. As he traced small swirls onto your swelling belly, he felt a wetness forming under him. His brows scrunched, and he quickly sat up, the breath leaving his lungs when he saw your lounge gown covered in fluid.
Your water had broke. He cleared his throat, trying his best not to panic as he quickly got to his feet and rang the bell he had installed just for this occasion. Slowly, your eyes began to open up. You were so sleepy that you felt as though your eyes wer glued shut, eyes getting wide as you felt the soggy blankets under you. It felt so gross and sticky that you could cry, and you did, as the room began to flood with people. It was so stressful, and you could hardly think as they propped you up and started wiping your head and face with a cold cloth.
“It is okay, my lady. It is okay, simply spread your legs and let us look,” One of them said lightly. She was young and calm, and her attitude was slowly melting into you. It made you feel much better that they were not freaking out, that they seemed confident that you would be just fine. And maybe you would be. From a young age, it was one of your greatest fears to die in childbirth- and hesitantly, your thighs parted, and you let one of the midwives take a peek.
“Okay, we are at one inch,” She said quietly. You weren’t sure how much it was supposed to be, but the smile on her face made you smile too, nodding slowly. Aemond was over educated on the ways of birth, and you had chosen to remind blissfully ignorant. That way, you would be less afraid when the time came. And less afraid you were, eyes wandering across the ceiling. You had spent your days painting it, and from down here, the small patches that you were able to paint looked so insignificant.
“When this baby is out, I will make a portrait of us.. Right there,” You spoke, pointing up at the ceiling, right at the center.
“I’m sure it will be beautiful,” He said gently, kissing your palm.
“Do you have any ideas for names, My Lady?” one of the midwives asked, and your mind wandered. You were not a big fan of most Targaryen names, as they sounded rather silly. But there were one or two that you would not mind.
“I like Aenys, for a boy,” You said, noticing how Aemond sighed quietly against your hand.
“I would prefer Maegor,” He said gently, and you smiled in return.
“That is nice, dear. But as I said, I like the name Aenys. And for a girl….” You trailed off, trying to think. Too many Valyrian girl names sounded the same. There was already a Rhaenys, a Rhaenyra, and a Rhaena. Family dinners were getting far too complicated.
“What about Alysanne?” Your husband asked softly, brows scrunched as he looked down between your legs. He would be lying if he said that it was a pleasant sight, and he swallowed his discomfort as his eye wandered back to your face, watching a pleasant expression grow on your features.
“Alysanne. That is sweet. I like that,” You nodded, not knowing what was to come. As the hours grew later, you grew rather bored. Your stomach grumbled, but you could not eat, the nurses insisting that you would throw any food right up.
“This child sure is taking its time,” You commented as you made an attempt to sit up, the midwives gently nudging your shoulders. “Relax,” You told them quietly, eyes narrowing a little. “I can move,” You spoke, reaching toward the bedside table for your latest read.
“Shall we get the maesters to quicken the process?” One offered, and you pondered the thought before gently shaking your head. “I would prefer not to be surrounded by men,” You said, licking your finger tip as you pulled on the brittle page of your book, your eyes wandering over the words. “The child will come when it is ready,” You mumbled. The night was tense, and with every breath, the midwives jumped. It would not be for a few hours that you let out a loud grunt, gripping your belly. “Gods above!” You shouted, and Aemond jumped to your side. You hadn’t realized just how sharp the pains would be, your toes curling up.
“Its okay, its okay,” He mumbled, trying to soothe you. You let out a loud groan, holding air in your lungs as your midwife let you know that you were at two inches or so.
“Is that good?” You choked out, and Aemond smiled at you, all of his teeth showing. It was a rare sight, as he usually kept his expressions to the absolute minimum.
“Very good, my love. Within the hour, we will have a babe in our arms,” He murmured, and you had never seen him look so proud. And like magic, when half an hour passed, you grunted loudly, clawing into his leather jacket, leaving crescent moons of your nails in the fabric.
“Shh, shhhh….” He murmured, and you almost shouted at him. It took a second to realize he wasn’t trying to hush you, but rather trying to comfort you, and slowly, you let him.
“It is crowning, my lady!” A midwife whispered, her eyes full of awe. It was an odd feeling, being a spectacle. Everyone just staring at your vagina.
“Thats… nice,” You mumbled, your face scrunching up as they rubbed our face with a cold cloth.
“You’re doing incredible, my lady. Perhaps the best i’ve ever seen.” A voice said gently, helping to hold your legs apart. Your cheeks got pink, and you curled up a little. You grunted loudly, your face bright red as you felt all your muscles tense and relax, your eyes snapping open. This was the grossest thing ever, and a maid simply pulled the bedpan out from beneath you, going to a small bin to simply throw out your mess as crying filled the room. Your hands reached for your face, and to your great surprise, the cries were not your own, and when you finally looked down, you could see the midwives gently touching the shoulders of an infant, helping to pull out the child.
“Be careful!” You shouted loudly.
“I am, my lady. The most careful I can be,” You had to praise the midwives, you could never have the patience. You felt a bit bad for yelling, but the pain overrid any guilt you could feel.
“That is one…” Aemond whispered softly, tracing over your arm.
“Do you wish to cut the cord?” He was offered. You mumbled softly, looking away as they gave him scissors. It made you anxious. You just had to hope he wouldn’t mess things up, sighing in relief as they finally put the infant on your chest. It was slightly slimy and still red in the face, wailing quietly. But gods, was it the best thing you’d ever seen in your life.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” You whispered softly, looking up to be met with Aemond’s glowing face.
“A boy,” He whispered softly, and you felt your eyes getting wet as the baby suckled on your chest, getting nice and quiet.
“Aenys.” You mumbled quietly, and for a few minutes, everything was calm, until you felt a rumble in your tummy.
“Is it the after birth?” One of the midwives asked, coming to your help, eyes going wide as she stared at you.
“What?” You asked softly, looking over at Aemond as he leaned over, too.
“Its another!” He exclaims, his voice joyous and loud.
“Shhhh…” You mumbled, eyes shut. You were so focused on the baby on your breast, and it didn’t even hurt anymore. Everything was a daze as they whispered and squealed, and before you knew it, another baby was crying, and your brows were furrowed.
“Twins..” You mumbled, smiling a little as they put the baby on your other breast. “Boy or girl?” You murmured softly, too exhausted to look.
“A girl,” Aemond told you gently, rubbing your shoulders, squeezing the tension out with his thumbs.
“A girl..” You repeated, smiling lazily. “Hmmm…” You grumbled, ignoring the rest of the sounds around her. You didn’t even know what was happening anymore, but no one seemed afraid, so slowly, you drifted to sleep. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you woke, but you could hear about a dozen voices, and feel cloth over your body. Your eyes cracked open slowly, the afternoon light assaulting your irises, making you hiss softly in distaste.
“The curtains,” You heard a voice say, and lovely shade covered you, following the sound of the curtain rings dragging across the rods.
“I have never seen so many newborns at once,” As the sleepiness began to fade away, you could focus on the voices more, and slowly, you began to sit up. In your unconscious state, they had put you in a nice, powder blue nightgown, and your hair was pulled away from your face, fresh sheets on the bed. You must have been as still as stone.
“Ah, she is awake,” you felt a hand come to your head, frowning for a moment before your eyes focused, seeing your mother in law in front of you.
“You must be exhausted, but you have done us all so proud,” she said gently, kissing the top of your head. She was holding a baby, but it was not one that you had seen, and for a moment, you didnt’ even think it was yours, until you saw those pudgy cheeks and strong browbone. Your eyes slowly wandered. There were four cribs in the room. Your heartbeat picked up, blinking slowly. “Quadruplets. I cannot believe it,” Alicent spoke, but her voice slowly faded out. Four. You hadn’t been ready for that, you ready for two, at most.
“We set Aenys aside so we do not confuse him for the others,” Aemond said softly, coming toward you, a baby in each arm. One swaddled in violet, the other in a rosy color.
“Two boys and two girls. I have never seen anything more perfect,” He whispered softly. “Do you want to hold the girls? You haven’t named them yet. Though, i’ve been calling this one Alysanne, and she seems to like it,” he says, kissing the forehead of the one wrapped in rosy plush. She was surely the runt of the litter, her little nose twitching with his kiss. You hummed, gently taking the other, the one wrapped in violet satin. Once you could get a good look at her face, you smiled at the wisps of gold and white along her scalp, curling up into little coils. Her cheeks were rosy and fat, and her brows were practically invisible.
“...Daeryn. Rynnie for short,” You spoke, and he smiled softly.
“I hope you do not mind, wife, but I decided to name the other boy,” He said sheepishly, making your brows raise. You did not mind, of course, you just hoped that it wasn’t an ugly name. While he enjoyed the name Maegor, you found it rather boring, it tasted like sour ash on your tongue. “Do not worry, I did not name him Maegor,” He spoke, practically reading your mind, and Helaena spoke up from her seat by the window.
“I would not let him.” She says, making you smile.
“So what is this wonderful name you picked?” You asked, looking up at him as Daeryn’s little hand curled around your finger.
“Aelorn,” He spoke, his expression hopeful. It was not your favorite name, but seeing his expression, so sweet and genuine, you nodded.
“I like it.” You said softly, letting him give you the smallest of kisses on your dry lips.
“We will have to have more clothes made,” He said softly, letting out a small laugh.
“You may use the ones I have from the twins,” Helaena spoke up, setting her embroidery project down on her lap. Curious, you looked over, seeing fou little baby faces stitched into the fabric, your heart warming up at the sight.
“So, when will you start trying again?” Alicent asked, half teasing and half serious, making Aemond blink slowly.
“Trust me, Mother. Four is plenty.” He smiled, and you could not help but agree. Yesterday, you expected one child. And now you had enough to last a lifetime. And honestly? You’d never been happier.
Thank you so much to everyone who reads! I'm thinking about having the quadruplets as recurring characters and making a little mini-series of them growing up. Thoughts?
#aemond x you#aemond fanfic#aemond fic#prince aemond#aemond targaryen#aemond one eye#aemond x reader#hotd aemond#aemond x oc#aemond x y/n#helaena targaryen#alicent hightower
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Admit it. You want her outfit more than anything. Still afraid of being called a sissy? Honey, sissy is just a mindset. But deep inside, your identity is female. There is nothing sissy about wanting to wear such a tightfit bodysuit, a lovely skirt, shiny pantyhose, and some tall high heels. That is an outfit women generally wear. Women like you, whether cis or trans. Does it feel emasculating? Perhaps. But is it also affirming for your feminine side? Absolutely! I bet your nice little egg has hatched at this point. (I feel like a mistress just writing this lol
There's a voting poll underneath. If want to skip the long description, scroll below and vote. Good luck!
Now that I feel better after the shitshow last night, it's time to leave politics behind and move on to another voting topic: outfits! This is not only such an affirming outfit for the fall season, but it's also one of the most feminine and modern outfits ever. It just screams femme! I even have a near identical outfit because I love it so much!
That got me thinking: there's just so many outfits that feel "emasculating", but few that affirm the trans woman in you. You know the ones: schoolgirl uniforms, maid costumes, ballet outfits, office secretary, housewife attire, and even waitress outfits. While not all the mentioned outfits are bad (I have a guilty pleasure for Hooters outfits), I feel that some of them are too flashy and have too plain in the feminization world.
We need something more affirming, more unique, more aesthetically pleasing, more... permanent. More in line with your transfeminine identity as opposed to fulfilling a kink. IMO, I feel that this outfit is one those that accomplish that. Not too flashy, but not too plain. Balanced enough to make you feel affirmed while looking like another girl in the outside world. IMO, one can never go back to wearing boy's clothes once you try something sexy like this!
I'm dying of trying something new for this blog: For this month only, I want to make at least 4+ feminizing captions per week with women wearing this outfit. The main purpose is to convince you to go deeper into feminization by trying this outfit out. Once you try it out and love how it feels so femme instead of humiliating, you will have the rite of passage into becoming a trans woman. You can still wear the other outfits if it's your thing, but your feminine wardrobe will expand further after this moment. If the first option wins, I will fulfill that new plan of 4+ captions in addition to my regular caption posts and reblogs. If the second option wins, I will just continue making my regular posts when I have the chance or need to upload (Hint: I'm not really uploading as much).
Now, let's get to the polls, the feminization polls, that is!
#feminization captions#tgcaptions#feminization kink#trans captions#feminization makeover#trans#i want to be a girl#give up your manhood#permanent feminization#future is female
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BED CHEM
Jacaerys Velaryon x Dornish!reader
Summary: The Prince gets send to gain a powerful alliance that the house targaryen has wanted for a long period of time, and he stumbles upon you. A gorgeous dornish queen.
Includes/warnings: dornish!reader this is probably horribly written so thats a warning in itself, not proof read but i believe Y/N has been used on multiple occasions. Did not give reader a description other than female & dark black curls. There is an age gap in this (reader is 16, jacaerys is 19, but it is never actually mentioned) like i said, not proof read, if you see any spelling errors feel free to point them out!
🪐notes: idk much abt the dornish, especially not in this timeline/au so please ignore any mistakes. Jace is not engaged to baela in this. :)
from my short & sweet collection
You were standing in the hall of your castle in SunSpear. Waiting for the arrival of the prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the iron throne and prince of DragonStone. Or he would be, had King Aegon Targaryen not usurped the iron throne.
The weather in Dorne was always exceptionally hot, so you wore a sheer gown. One thing about the Dornish was that you were not ashamed of anything, especially not what the gods had given you. The dress was a dark blue, with red and gold detailing, your long black curls hanging loosely over your shoulders.
Once you saw the prince arrive, you stood up straighter, clearing your throat silently, allowing a faked smug expression to fall upon your face.
“Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, to what is the pleasure of your presence owed?”
It was all a different environment to what he was used to at DragonStone. The strong breeze of hot air, the lack of thick winter-like clothing, the more exposed body, the tanned skin... it was all such a strange sight to a prince accustomed to the cold. He bowed gently towards the young Queen of Dorne, and looked at her dress. He admired the work that her seamstresses had to do to look so good on her.
“A pleasure indeed, my lady. May we chat inside? It is quite hot here, I confess.”
you nod curtly. “Of course. i am afraid i am in a bit of a hurry though, many important matters to attend.” You point out a hand, allowing him to walk beside you as you walk up the steps into the castle.
Jacaerys follows you, watching the way you walk and the environment surrounding the palace. The hot air, the sun, the tanned skin.
He looks over at you, trying to figure out more about the queen of Dorne. “You are quite young, my lady. Not that I'm much older, but tell me what's it like being queen so young?”
“I am quite used to it. I have been Dorne’s ruler since i was 6 summers old. The Dornish are respectable people, and very direct. It hasn’t always been easy, but it felt natural.” You spoke.
Jacaerys nodded as you walked, thinking it was somewhat impressive someone that young could ever rule. He smiled slightly at your comment.
“I can see the directness in you already, if you'll forgive my boldness. You don't seem like you're the type of woman to beat around the bush, are you?”
Jacaerys was trying to figure you out, as any man with an interest in women would do. He walked beside you as you both spoke, trying to gauge his chances.
after a few seconds you speak up “No, i indeed am not. And i do not expect anyone else to either, if i step on anyone’s toes with my words, they are not company i should keep.”
That comment made Jacaerys smile, appreciating your honest nature. He couldn't deny how attractive blunt honesty was, especially in a place where everyone was so used to keeping secrets and making alliances all the time. “So you speak plainly?”
He knew women with bluntness often became some of the most interesting ones. And a queen, with an attitude like that, made a very intriguing proposition. As curious as your boldness made him, he couldn't deny his physical interests.
That dress... Gods...
You bring him out of his thoughts with your reply. “Yes i speak plainly, and so should you, Prince Jacaerys.” You spoke softly, almost gentle-like. It was very refreshing.
Jacaerys took a long look at your body, his eyes slowly glancing at the details of your dress. The way the skirt of the dress swayed with your movements and how the gown itself left little to the imagination. The way your curly locks dangled and moved. The way your skin shone with the sun's blessing...
His gaze finally returned to your face, the soft features combined with the dark eyes and long wavy hair. He couldn't deny what was crossing his mind right now. Your blunt nature, combined with the way you looked, was certainly making him wish for things.
He couldn't help himself, as he took another look at you, before finally speaking. “That must come in handy for a queen like you, my lady. You're much less... complicated than one would expect from a ruler.”
Jacaerys approached one step closer, his eyes still locked on yours.
“If I may ask, are you married or betrothed by any chance?”
Your blunt words, your direct manner, and your pretty face only encouraged his desires. And it seemed the prince was rather blunt with his intentions as well.
Your eyes locked with his, as he asked the question you were certain was coming.
Of course, he must be interested in some deal. Just like any man, the prince wouldn't be able to simply let a beautiful young queen pass by.
You took a moment to think, wondering what to share.. or perhaps hide. "No, my prince. I am unmarried."
The corner of Jacaerys' mouth curled into a small, cocky smile. "Oh, is that so?"
A hint of teasing was clear in his voice, his eyes still looking for something in yours.
"Well, I suppose that does have some upsides."
He took another step closer, until he was at an arm's distance. The young prince could smell the scent of the air in Dorne, the sun-kissed skin, and the expensive perfumes of a queen. "Tell me, how might a man catch the interest of the queen of Dorne?"
The prince's voice had the tone of teasing, making your eyebrow raise slightly. His sudden proximity also caught you slightly off guard, his physical interests becoming very clear to you.
You couldn't deny how handsome he was. And you guessed perhaps you could use a bit of fun, considering you were unmarried and in your youthful prime.
You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him, his eyes burning a hole through your face. "Hm... What are you offering? Your family is at war, are they not? your visit is political.”
The prince let out a quiet chuckle, letting his eyes wander over your body for a moment.
The dress was certainly eye-catching, the way it hugged your curves, allowing his imagination to let loose...
The words you spoke only made his eyes find their way back to your own, and the smirk he had on his face only grew.
"Is the possibility of a political alliance enough to catch your interest, my lady?"
You watched the prince's eyes as they caressed your body, the boldness in his gaze, and the clear interest that you knew was there. You knew how to take advantage of an opportunity..
"Depends on what kind of a deal you're suggesting, my prince." There was an undeniable flirtation in your voice, your own subtle way of teasing him.
The prince didn't hide the smirk that spread across his face after that statement. His hand slowly reached over to your waist, his touch feeling the silky fabric of your dress.
"Would a marriage perhaps suffice?"
Your dress, as thin as it already was, provided no barrier against his touch. You could feel each stroke of his fingers, his thumb moving in circular motions against the thin fabric.
The marriage proposal was expected, but it seemed the prince had a more hands-on approach in mind.
You kept a straight face, not to give away how your mind was beginning to wander with the possibility of a marriage. "What would I gain? And what would you expect in return?"
He didn't let your serious expression stop his hands from wandering over the silk of your gown, his hand moving across your waist and down your side. "You would gain protection, support, and a powerful alliance."
"And I would gain..." He leaned closer, his breath against your skin, "A gorgeous Dornish queen as a wife..."
Your heart began to race as his words and his hand continued it's exploration of your side, the anticipation of where those hands might end up was growing.
The prince's proximity and the way he slowly looked at you, expecting some kind of reaction. You stayed firm, holding back the subtle reaction you felt with his words.
"Hm... We might have a deal, my prince."
And with that, his lips ended on yours.
Requested by: @avatar4life
explore post. masterlist.
please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. <3
© mrscarpenter, 2024.
#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jacaerys velaryon#jacaerys targaryen#jacaerys x reader#hotd jacaerys#prince jacaerys#jacaerys x you#jacaerys fanfiction#jacaerys targaryen x reader#jacaerys velaryon x you#jace velaryon#jacaerys velaryon one shot#harry collet#hotd#house of the dragon#hotd jace#jacaerys oneshot#₊˚⊹ daydreams.
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Geta has a random concubine then dismisses her, she is new not his regular. Reader falls pregnant but tells no one fearing she and her child being targeted. She tries to run and somehow geta finds out. He gives chase and promises to protect her and the child.
thank you for this request love!!! i hope i give you something you can enjoy! <3 w; talks of pregnancy and death and m*rder, spoiler free zone, slight ooc geta - happy ending though (also, historically inaccurate omg yall im so sorry)!
it’s been four months and you realize something.
you’ve missed…two important dates. and there’s also something that makes you regret eating - smelling - the fruits and meats that geta so gracefully offers you everyday.
then, glancing in the small mirror of the room you stay in - you pause. the small, barely there, bump catching your eyes.
to anyone, they wouldn’t be able to see it right away. but you know your body better than anyone else.
worrying your bottom lip in between your teeth, your eyes lift from your belly and to your face - slightly more rounded cheeks.
placing a hand on your stomach, a shuddering breath leaves your lips.
you’re carrying a child.
there’s a fleeting emotion of happiness - you’ve always pictured yourself raising a child. you’ve seen others do it and the joy on their faces is one that you could never match.
then it’s sadness. anxiousness.
your hand grips at your side softly before turning away. you could not speak to anyone about this. not even geta - you couldn’t imagine what he would say.
or worse - what his brother would say.
you loved geta, deeply. more than you could ever love yourself you believe. you wouldn’t burden him.
you’d leave.
—
“what do you mean, she’s not in her room?” geta stands from his chair, face scrunched in fury as he stares at the woman who looks as if she’s about to pass out from his tone.
“i-i went inside, emperor, she’s not in her room,” she says once again, voice stumbling over her words and hands shaking. “i don’t know where—”
geta waves a hand, dismissing her, but stepping away himself and out into the stretching hallway. he’s quick on his feet when he steps outside, going to see if he could see anything, but he’s stopped when he sees you being tugged by your arm up the steps.
you look up at him regretfully, before quickly looking away.
“thank you. i’ll take her from here.”
the metal of his rings dig into your bicep when he pulls you up the reminder of the steps - your feet stumbling over themselves as tears threatened to slip down your cheeks.
his chest is heaving - from the walk or anger, you weren’t for sure. but it unsettles you.
entering his room and being dragged towards his bed, he pushes you down onto the plush covers, staring down at you.
you slowly peek up at him, shifting in your spot when you turn your head away.
“you can not leave here. you are mine to keep.” spittle had flew from his mouth, a finger pointing in your direction. the vein in his neck raises below the surface of his pale skin.
you flinch from the loudness — eyes squeezing shut as your head turns. you now feel like the child being scolded.
“i am sorry, geta, i was—”
“that’s not good enough. sorry means nothing to me,” he leans closer. you keep your eyes shut. “open them,”
your spine straightens slightly from his lowered voice. slowly opening your eyes, you look at him through your lashes.
“that is nothing but a mere word to me. apologies mean—”
“i’m with child.” your eyes widen once it spills from your mouth, your own voice unrecognizable. your hand clasps over your own mouth as tears finally spill from your eyes.
geta stares - eyes almost as wide as yours, lips parting like a gaping fish. he then closes his mouth and swallows before slowly lifting from his hunched position. “is that why you were leaving?”
your hand drops from your mouth and to your lap. “yes,” you nod. “i was afraid.”
“of what?”
“you. your brother. the people,” you stand from the bed now. “this is not something they will consider seriously. they’ll burn me,”
that was figuratively and literally speaking. they would find anyway to kill you and the baby in your womb.
“i will not have you be killed either over this. it’s not worth it.”
his face softens at those words, forehead creasing slightly with confusion. “what do you mean?”
“i mean - it’s not worth it,” you repeat with a shake of your head. “i am not worth—”
his hands grab your biceps once again, startling you and effectively cutting your rant short. “you can not tell me how i feel,” he shakes his head. “i will not allow it - especially if it is you saying you are worth nothing—”
“geta, i am nothing but a woman who is—”
“again,” he cuts your words short, brows lifting slightly. “i will not allow it. i will not stand here and let you speak lowly about someone i love.”
your eyes widen, never looking away once. “l-love?”
he waits a moment, but nods. “yes,” he answers curtly. “i do…” he clears his throat. “i have grown to love you more than what i should. more than what feels possible.”
“oh,” you breathe out. geta’s hands drop from your arms quickly, your words throwing him through a big loop. he was for sure—
“i’ve grown quite fond of you as well.” you smile softly.
his heart skips a beat, eyes dropping shut for a moment before they open once again, a smile tugging at his lips. “that’s all i needed to hear,” he cups your jaws and your hands quickly wrap around each wrist, lips pressing into the palm of his right hand.
“we will marry. and you will carry my child.”
“but, caracalla—”
“has nothing to do with this,” he interrupts again. “and will have nothing to do with this. these are my decisions - my responsibilities. not his,”
you hesitate but nod slightly. your bottom lip gets tugged between your teeth as your brows pinch together in thought, staring at where his collarbone sticks out slightly through the robe.
his thumb pressing beside the corner of your mouth slightly, dropping his chin to catch your eye. “what’s running through that mind of yours, love?”
lifting your eyes, you release the hold on your bottom lip. “do you really love me?”
geta smiles then - truly - and it’s the most breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen. “…i’ve grown quite fond of you.” he repeats your words, making your smile grow and cheeks begin to hurt.
#joseph quinn x fem!reader#joseph quinn x reader#emperor geta x fem!reader#emperor geta x you#emperor geta x reader
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i think i'm 'bout to explode, i can taste the tension like a cloud of smoke in the air
pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader
warnings: hints of fluff, smut - unprotected sex, slight spanking (hand and belt), oral (f receiving), fingering, spitting, slight choking, biting, dom!dexter, blood (i mean, obviously, he's a freak); sassy dexter
summary: requested: "...morning sex with dexter before he goes to work..."
w/c: around 5k
a/n: your wish is my command. thanks for requesting! :)
You and Dexter were perfect for each other – or close enough. You loved his bluntness, his dry sense of humor (which wasn’t always humor) and his demons, whatever they were. You had your suspicions, but you had yet to muster the nerve to ask him directly about them. It was so frustrating, because you prided yourself on opening controversial or inappropriate topics. You kept telling yourself that you were just afraid of losing the tension between the two of you once you’d call him out on his nocturnal disappearances.
Some nights, he’d come home at an ungodly hour, collapsing into the bed beside you like gravity finally caught up with him. Occasionally, you’d wake to his stubble brushing your cheek as he laid kisses along your face. More often than not, you were too tired to make something out of it, and usually, you also assumed he’d just gotten off on something else, because he would sigh and nuzzle into you like he was still riding en endorphin rush.
You rarely engaged in a sex in the middle of the night, unless he demanded it. Once, you told him he could do whatever he wanted with you. Yours and Dexter’s sex life had its own intricate taxonomy: I am objectifying you right in this moment and want your body sex or my hormones are acting up sex. The list was long, really, but at the very top was something went wrong sex. That was your favorite, but too bad for you, because it wasn’t very often that you got to experience it. Dexter is very careful and focused most of the time. He doesn’t make mistakes. The bright side of that: you’d never ever get tired of it. Those nights felt like Christmas. No. Better than Christmas.
One evening, he came home earlier than usual (you weren’t even asleep yet). He was so angry. So frustrated. And you wanted to help. You set aside the book you were reading (it was about a woman who fell in love with a sociopath. safe to say, it was an intriguing read) when he stormed into the room. You crawled to the foot of the bed, watching his sharp movements with wide eyes as he took off his army green shirt.
You’d always imagined yourself grinding on him while he wore his uniform. And that time was no different. But that night wasn’t about you. It was about him. Well, partly.
“Can I help?”
“No.” his tone was clipped as he continued to move frantically around the room.
You weren’t sure if you should push his buttons. Your heart beat out of your chest from the nerves. Part of you thought maybe you should back off; the other part – it thrived on the uncertainty, the thrill of not knowing how far you could push before he snapped.
“I could make you something to eat…”
Horse shit. You couldn’t cook to save your life, and he knew that. But he just scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching into a humorless smirk.
“How about a bath? I could light those lavender candles and throw in one of my bath bombs.”
“I said no.”
You were still kneeling on the bed, dressed in your checkered shorts and a spaghetti strap tank top. Trying to act as innocently as possible.
“Do you want–”
He finally charged toward you, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Do I need to spell it out?”
Finally. Bait taken.
You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, slowly rising to your knees. The top of your head barely reached his chin, forcing you to tilt your neck to meet his gaze.
You started placing kisses along his collarbone, trailing up over his shoulder and to his neck. Your hand rested on his chest, palm splayed over his heart.
“Any chance I can sub in for one of them tonight?” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin.
His brows furrowed and then shot up. “Them?”
You felt the sudden quickening of his pulse beneath your hand. You nibbled on your lower lip as you nodded.
“Who’s them?”
Instead of answering, you tanhled your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down into a kiss. It was a reassurance, a promise that you’d always be there. Okay, maybe you did it because you didn’t want him to leave you. You didn’t want to activate a chain reaction.
He leaned into you, his hands sliding to your waist, holding you. When your lips parted, your forehead rested against his.
“You tell me, Dexter. Or don’t. I don’t care. But I want you to be happy. Do whatever you need to me if that’s what it takes.”
Pathetic? Most definitely. But who cares? He secretly loved it when you got like this – whiny, needy, entirely his.
His hand cupped your right cheek, his thumb brushing a faint vertical line against your skin, the nail scratching just enough to leave a fleeting mark. But his gaze darkened again, pupils dilating, like he was replaying unhappy memories.
He kissed you then – hard and insistent. His hand circled your neck, his thumb pressing just underneath your ear, while the rest of his fingers gripped the other side, his pointer brushing against your earlobe. Your hand instinctively shot up, clutching his forearm as if steadying yourself for what was coming.
Long story short, he fucked you that night, like never before. And since then, you’d been relying on your own version of Thorndike’s Law of Effect: if you wanted to ignite that fire in him, to get destroyed by him, you had to be a brat. Acting like you had control was the fastest way to make him prove otherwise. Sometimes you suspected he loved control more than he loved you. You’d told him that once, and he’d said you were being dramatic. Again. Well, you could still weaponize it.
The problem was, Dexter was otherwise a calm and patient boyfriend. He tolerated your antics with an almost infuriating ease, whether it was leaving the windshield wipers on long after the rain stopped or overbuying carrots at the farmer’s market only for him to help you eat the whole bowl of carrot salad. He even helped you find reliable owners for the stray cats that always “followed” you home. He was so good to you, and that’s why you always had to wait for something to go wrong. That’s when he was at his weakest and that’s when you struck.
Today’s the day. It was Friday and you didn’t have any classes, so you hadn’t set an alarm. You usually managed to wake up before 8 am – not too early, not too late. But this time, it wasn’t the sunlight or your internal clock that stirred you awake. It was the sound of chewing. Muffled munching, punctuated by the occasional scrape of a fork against a plate.
You cracked your eyes open, squinting as the golden rays of the early Miami morning sun flooded the room. You groaned softly and turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. 7:42. Acceptable.
Blinking the sleep away, you shifted your gaze to Dexter. He sat propped against the headboard on his side of the bed, a plate balanced on his lap, spearing pieces of egg and bacon with his fork before shoving them into his mouth.
What the fuck?
He never ate in bed. One time, when you’d brought a bowl of popcorn to share during a movie night, he’d almost thrown you out.
“I’m not a clean freak. You just can’t even drink out of a bottle without spilling it all over the place,” he’d said. Well, he wasn’t wrong, but you’d managed to convince him anyway.
Now, though? Now he was the one violating the sacred no-food-in-bed rule.
“Morning,” you mumbled, your voice still groggy as you reached for him.
He paused, registering your movement, and turned to you. His fork hovered mid-air as his gaze softened, just enough for him to take your hand and press a kiss to your knuckles. It was a gentle gesture, the grease from his lips lingered on your skin.
“Hey,” he said, offering a weak smile. His voice carried a strange edge too, almost shaky.
You watched him carefully, he turned back to his food and with a quick flick of the remote, he raised the volume on the TV you hadn’t even noticed was on.
The screen showed a reporter standing in front of a crime scene, her voice urgent as she rattled off details about a recent incident. They flashed an image of a man – the criminal – and then back to the reporter.
Your eyes darted from the TV to Dexter. His brow was drawn low, his stare almost predatory as he watched the broadcast. His jaw tightened and released, the muscles flexing as he chewed. Occasionally, his teeth ground together, producing a faint, grating sound.
He was in the mood. And it hit you.
He never ate in bed. He wanted you to provoke him. A slow smirk curled your lips.
“Careful, Dex. You might intimidate the reporter through the TV.”
His grip on the fork tightened and chewing came to an abrupt halt. He exhaled sharply through his nose, not amused.
“Not today.”
“Did someone leave a typo in their lab report or what?”
He stuffed the rest of his food into his mouth without so much as glancing at you.
“Drop it.”
“Oh no, did Masuka out-gross you again?”
The plate clattered onto the bedside table with a force that made you flinch. Before you could react, he was on you. In a flash, his hand gripped your cheeks, his face hovering dangerously close to yours.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
That was easier than you thought.
“Funny? No. I think I’m just observant.”
His eyes narrowed, dark and unrelenting as he studied you. His grip on your cheeks tightened just enough to make your lips purse.
“Is that what you call running your mouth until you get yourself in trouble?”
You couldn’t help it. Even with his face inches from yours, his hand firm on your cheeks, you smirked. “Please, Dexter, you’re all bark and no bite.”
Now you were just being annoying. He was actually all bite and no bark. His jaw ticked anyway, a muscle jumping just beneath his skin. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your lips as his nose brushed against your cheek.
“You really want to test that theory?”
You tried to shrug, but his grip on you made the movement awkward.
The air between you was thick, electric. His eyes searched yours, and you finally saw that primal tweak of his.
Then, without a warning, he released your cheeks and grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of your head. His strength was effortless, his movement precise.
“If you don’t come at least four times until I have to leave for work, I’m not gonna let you come for four weeks at all.”
Shit. Four weeks is a long time. That’s a whole month!
“Now you’re setting ultimatums?”
“Your time is running out, you sure you want to talk back?”
And that was your cue to finally keep your mouth shut.
“Good girl.” He said, the words sending a jolt straight through you, and you became acutely aware of the wetness pooling in your sleep shorts.
“On your knees. Grab the headboard.”
You obeyed without hesitation, pressing your chest into the mattress as you shifted onto your knees, sticking your ass into the air. You felt the fabric of your shorts clinging to your slick pussy in a way that was both uncomfortable and relieving.
Dexter moved behind you, his hand brushing over your hips, the touch almost gentle before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. He tugged them down, watching the material stick to your pussy, making his cock twitch in his pants. You squirmed under his fingers as they brushed against the skin of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“Jesus, you’re sopping wet. Am I even surprised?” He said, bringing his fingers to your cunt and skimming them along the center from your hole, down to your clit. As he grazed that little spot, you bucked your hips into his hand, only for him to retreat it and bring it down in a swift move, slapping your clit and sending a tingling into your stomach. You moaned, not expecting him to get rough so soon.
Then, he kneeled next to you. You were too afraid to turn your head, but you could see with your periphery vision the tent in his pants. He brought the middle finger and the ring finger of his left hand to your mouth, and you opened without hesitation, wrapping your lips around them as he slid them all the way in. For you, it was awkward from that position, the fingers hooked in the corner of your mouth, forcing it to tilt slightly.
Once he decided that they were wet enough, he removed them and the same arm reached under you, his forearm touching your stomach as his fingers, now slick with your saliva, reached your pussy. They slid between your folds with ease, the two fingers pinching your clit between, before rubbing circles into it.
The tension in your stomach coiled tighter with each movement. You squirmed under him, needing more than he was giving you, and he knew that. But when you started moving too much, he slowed, barely grazing the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Dex,” you whined, your hips moving, trying to chase the friction he was withholding. But his only answer came in a form of a slap to your ass. Your mouth opened in a silent cry, and your hand instinctively let go of the headboard and reached for your cheek in order to sooth the pain. But before you could touch your own skin, his free hand was wrapping around your wrist, holding it high and causing your muscles to strain.
“Don’t make me tie you up. You don’t have time for that.”
You nodded in silent obedience, and you gripped the headboard again, focused on not letting go. His hand was still teasing your clit while his other hand reached from behind and played with your hole, your slickness sticking to his fingers. For a moment, he was enjoying the feeling of it, of you on his fingers. Then he spread the wetness up and over your asshole. He only teased your back entrance, returning to your pussy and plunging his fingers inside, making your grip on the headboard tighten, as well as your walls around his fingers.
Dexter’s fingers worked you expertly, curling upward to hit that spot inside you that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. The movements of both his hands were in sync, the combination driving you to the edge as he upped the pace, relentless and unforgiving his fingers thrusting deeper, while also pinching your clit harder and occasionally grazing a nail over it, sending shivers down your spine.
The room was filled with the sounds of your gasps, Dex’s occasional grunts and most importantly, the squelching sounds of your drenched cunt. You were almost embarrassed by it, and Dexter made sure you felt that shame.
“Listen to yourself. So messy.”
Your response was a broken whine, your body trembling as his fingers curled just right to hit that devastatingly perfect spot again and again and again. His other hand maintained its tormenting rhythm on your clit, switching between sharp pinches and soft, tantalizing circles as your juices dripped from your hole to your clit.
Your knuckles became white from the hold you had on the headboard, your focus on not letting go and letting go at the same time. The pressure pulled you further under, and when he felt you clench around him, he pressed harder, his fingers moving with even more intensity.
“You wanna come?”
“Yes,” you whined, your body shaking with the overwhelming sensations.
“Don’t forget your manners, sweetheart.”
The pressure was unbearable now, your release so close you could taste it.
“Please, can I come?”
“Go ahead.” He growled, his fingers resuming his relentless pace, the wave of pleasure hitting you like a tidal force, crashing through every nerve in your body. You cried out, your body convulsing with the intensity of your climax. Your thighs trembled and your grip on the headboard faltered, but you were quick to remember to hold on, otherwise he wouldn’t let you ride it out.
Dexter worked you through the aftershocks, his fingers slowing but still keeping you riding that high until you were an overstimulated mess beneath him. When he withdrew his hand, you thought he’d give you a moment to gather up, but instead, in a quick motion, he was behind you, spreading your ass and burying his face between your cheeks.
Your body twitched as you felt him press his tongue flat on your puffy clit, shaking his head from side to side before catching it between his lips and sucking on it. The stimulation too much, you even tried to pull away even though you didn't really want to. It was to no use anyway, he followed you and his hands pushed against the small of your back, limiting your movements. He kept sucking on your bundle of nerves, his nose nudging your wet opening.
The thought of him being this messy alone made you so fucking horny and needy, as if you weren’t at the maximum capacity to feel those things.
Dexter pulled another whine out of you when he tugged on your clit with his lips, pulling back until he let go with a pop.
“You get so fucking sweet when you’re on your on your knees.” He said before returning his tongue to your pussy, running it flat up and down your lips, spreading your cunt and mixing his spit with your juices before he slurped it all up.
Your hand itched to let go of the headboard and cover your pussy to give your swollen clit a rest, but you were afraid of what he might do if you disobeyed again.
Besides, eating you out was his favorite thing in the world, and bad things would happen if you deprived him of his favorite activities.
One time, he’d made you ride him for so long until it was physically impossible for you to lift your ass. He’d proceeded to call you lazy, and had you dared, you would have slapped him.
Now, too much was at stake. He flicked his tongue against your clit repeatedly before finding your entrance and plunging it inside, the wet muscle massaging your walls. He loved your taste, he loved how you squirmed, he loved how slick and sticky you were. And you loved how animalistic he was about it, and how he didn’t care that you were overstimulated.
He dragged his tongue in and out of you, and then finally, it returned to your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot. And the slightly sharp sensation was all it took to send you over the edge again. Your pelvis twitched against him, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass, dragging his nail against you aggressively and leaving red scratch marks behind.
You loved them more than bruises. You could get bruises anywhere, sometimes they appear, and you don’t even know how. That's a common knowledge. But chafed, irritated skin? You know exactly how it gets there. You remember it. It evokes memories.
He hummed against your hot, wet flesh, the vibrations only accelerating your orgasm. You mewled, almost screamed, but you didn’t want to seem overdramatic. Your cum spilled straight into his mouth and he drank it all down as if he didn’t want to waste a single drop. He caught it on his tongue, licking you through the orgasm. Your upper body felt so numb, while down there, it was like fireworks. And when you finally started coming down, he slowed down, laying kisses over your pussy lips and your butt and your thighs. You felt the wetness his mouth left behind, your slick slowly drying on your skin. It was almost comforting, feeling him be so soft. You felt like curling up to him, falling asleep in his embrace.
“Three to go. You think you can make it?” He asked, and you heard him move behind you, followed by the sound of his buckle as he removed his belt.
You looked at the clock. 8:02. You didn’t think you could, but even if you did, it was in his control. He was just manipulating you to think that it was yours. Or he was just mocking you. He knew you weren’t stupid.
“You think you can?”
The leather belt came down on your ass, to the same place he’d slapped before. You made a note about checking out that bruise later.
“You’re only giving me reasons to spank the shit out of you.” He said, dragging the belt across your ass, before touching the curved part to your pussy. Once it was gone, you waited for Dexter to hit you there too, but the blow never came.
“Let go of the headboard.”
Your brows furrowed, but your confusion quickly disappeared when he hooked the belt around your neck, yanking you upwards, your back against his chest and his clothed cock nestled between your ass cheeks.
You subtly ground against him, making him purr into your ear, which made you smirk. He gripped both ends of the belt in one hand, while his other arm snaked around your waist, his hand slipping under your tank top and squeezing your breast. The way he pinched and tugged on your nipple made you buck into him with more force, and he reciprocated, grinding against you, giving in to his own pleasure. Then his hand disappeared from your body and you heard the sound of him spitting into his palm, before he brought it to your pussy. As if you weren’t completely drenched. He knew you loved how disgusting the thought was. How lewd you felt when he did that.
For him, this was nothing compared to the things he did during his free time.
Then without a warning, he released one end of the belt, causing you to collapse face-first into the bed. He unbuttoned his khaki pants and pulled his cock out before grabbing your arm and turning you on your back.
You finally got a good look at him - strands of hair sticking to his forehead, his eyes dark framed by lashes that looked like he'd used an eyelash curler (something you envied him). You admired him. Not just for his look, though that part was obvious. He knew he had women turning their heads in his direction. But they didn’t know the brilliant mind beneath it all. He was so clever, so undeniably smart, and that was what truly excited you. That a neat man with a compartmentalized brain like his could get so messy when it came to sex. Like now, all sweaty, his cock leaking onto the sheets. Some of the precum probably landed on your cunt too. The thought alone sent another wave of pleasure building deep in your abdomen.
He leaned down, his tongue flicking into your pussy in one swift motion before crawling over you and capturing your lips in a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. His hand slid to your neck, his thumb pressing firmly against your pulse point, making you aware of how fast your heart was pounding. You moaned into his mouth as he applied a touch more pressure for a split second, giving him the chance to slide his tongue deeper into your mouth. You sucked on it, tasting the tanginess that he'd collected from your lower lips.
Without warning, with just a sublte shift of his hips, he was inside you. A low moan escaped him as he felt the tightness of your walls, and you let out a soft whimper at the stretch. He didn’t move at first. He kept kissing you and his hand slid down your body, squeezing your boob again, rolling the nipple between his fingers. Lowering his head, he wrapped his mouth around your sensitive peak, sucking gently on your tit. Your fingers tangled into his hair, your nails scratching lightly against his scalp, pulling him closer.
His teeth grazed your sensitive nub, sending a jolt through you, and in one fluid motion, his arm snaked beneath you, lifting and sitting up as he pulled you onto his lap. He started thrusting his hips into you, holding you in place, his cock gliding effortlessly along your slick walls.
Leaning forward, his lips found your other breast, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your nipple before his mouth opened wide, taking in as much of your soft flesh as he could. You arched against him, your back curving as your hads pressed his face closer, your head tipping back in ecstasy.
He kept on fucking you, hitting that sweet spot inside of you that made you dizzy. He drove his cock into you, quickening the pace, a sign that he was getting close. His arms around you tightened and then suddenly, you felt a sharp pain originating in your breast and going straight to your pussy, making you clench around. He was fucking you hard and deep, and when you looked down, you saw him still latched onto your tit, his upper lip covered in crimson.
You felt the sting from the way he was sucking on you, and when he finally removed his lips from your breast, you saw red drops dripping down your breast, the blood leaking from the bite marks where his upper teeth sank into your skin. You were mesmerized by it, and you wanted more. You pushed his face back against your sore nipple and Dexter surprisingly didn’t argue. He licked the blood off you and sucked again while ramming into you. Your body shuddered, and finally your third finish was brought on by a couple of additional thrusts of his hips. Then he laid you flat on the bed and chased his own release. You pulled him up by the chin, meeting his lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you hard and fast until he spilled inside of you.
Once you both came down, he was lying on top of you. You wrapped your arms around him, squeezing him affectionately, because you were so content that he was there with you.
But you were yanked out of your dreamland when he rose to his feet, making your brows furrow.
“That was only three,” your tone couldn't be more confused, as he headed to the bathroom.
“Yeah, but I need to shower and pick new clothes to wear. Can’t go to work with your cum all over my pants.” He came back to the bedroom with a smile on his face, as if he just hadn’t fucked the shit out of you. “Last one’s on you.”
“On me?”
“Yes. Make yourself cum before I leave. If you don’t, you know the consequences.”
He gave you a quick peck on the lips before disappearing into the bathroom.
Asshole. He knew you’d lost the ability to make yourself cum shortly after you’d started sleeping together. But luckily, you had your stash of toys that might help you with your problem.
With the roll of your eyes, you rolled over and reached into your nightstand, but in that moment, he peeked from around the corner.
“Oh, and your hands only.”
“What? That’s not fair!”
His face dropped again.
“You want to tell me what’s fair and what isn’t?”
You slammed the drawer shut and fell on your back, your body bouncing on the soft bed.
“Good girl. And no cheating. I’ll keep the door open. If I so much as hear something else that isn’t your fucking scream, I swear you’ll have to work your ass off to make me let you come ever again. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
You hadn’t done this in a long time. It almost felt unnatural. But despite that, your fingers dropped to your clit, and you began pushing yourself over another edge. Or at least you tried. But it was pointless. You tried to squeeze your wounded breast to get that rush going, but it didn’t have that effect this time. It only made you sweaty.
He managed to finish his shower before you made yourself orgasm, obviously. When he entered the bedroom with a towel around his waist, he looked at you with feigned pity.
“Aww… Don’t tell me my baby needs a manual to get herself off.”
“Dex, come on. You know I can’t make myself orgasm,” you tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t going to budge.
“I can’t do two things at once, I’m only one person,” he argued, as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “This is for your own good. I gave you an opportunity to make it to four before I have to leave. It’s not my fault you’re not capable.”
You huffed, bringing your fingers to your pussy again, stuffing them inside yourself and trying to fuck yourself, but again, to no avail.
He even laughed at you, and when you opened your eyes, you saw him already with his work bag slung over his shoulder, hands casually tucked in his pocket. You’d lost.
“Fuck, I wish you could see yourself. So desperate. It’s like your world has been destroyed.”
“It kinda has.”
He came to your side of your bed where you were still lying with your hand between your legs. He leaned over you, brushing the hair that stuck to your forehead and placing a soft kiss there.
“Take that as a lesson. You shouldn’t take a bait if you can’t handle the hook.”
And with that he turned on his heel and left, leaving you wrecked and messy, the most agonizing four weeks of your life just now beginning.
a/n2: i'm thinking it's kinda more vanilla than i intended it to be, but oh well... thank you for reading!!
#dexter#dexter showtime#dexter x reader#dexter morgan x reader#dexter morgan x female!reader#dexter morgan fanfiction#dexter morgan fluff#dexter morgan smut#dexter smut#dexter morgan oneshot#dexter fanfiction#dexter: request#dexter morgan#dexter morgan x f!reader#dexter morgan x female reader#dexter morgan x ofc#michael c. hall#michael c. hall fanfiction#dexter fandom#dexter morgan x you
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— empty souls do not breathe, they wait.
pairing: kinich x gn!reader
premise: ajaw has always thought that after kinich's death, all will eventually bow to him as their new king. what he didn't expect was to grapple with his host's loneliness and find the reason why he sought your presence during nights that grow too cold.
— warnings: slight angst if you squint
— author's note: ajaw holds a very special place in my heart so deserves to be the main character of this fic. and after almost 24 hours of having no electricity, it'll finally leave the basement. this is heavily inspired by this comic on twt so please go give it a read! art credits to @.n249 on twt. | 2.5k words.
— tags: @ryescapades @moineauz @mikashisus @https-sourlimes ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms in my pinned!!
there was something wrong with kinich. mavuika’s eyes scanned over the wounds on the poor boy’s body and the blood dripping from his forehead. long gone was his usual bandana and golden rimmed eyes were now tainted with a strange red.
this man is not kinich.
“so kinich has fallen, too,” her voice sullen, eyes barely able to look at the husk of one of her heroes. though her stance is not tense, it certainly wasn’t relaxed either. “kinich” followed her movements carefully—the way her hands twitched towards her claymore, her eyes he could not read, and the unmistakable tone of her voice. the pyro archon was disappointed.
“i, too, would be disappointed if you didn’t notice, archon.” kinich dipped his head low and let out a bone chilling laugh that scratched his throat the wrong way. blood stained glove came to push his hair back as mavuika stares at the eyes that did not belong to the dendro user of the scions of canopy.
“it was a shame for that brat to die, but oh well,” a twisted grin tugged at his lips as mavuika’s face remained passive. “it is i! the almighty dragon lord, k’uhul ajaw!”
he takes a deep breath before letting his host’s arms fall to his side. “per our agreement, i will stand in and make kinich the greatest hero for all of natlan to see!”
“and would you be satisfied with that?”
ajaw’s gaze hardened as his lips tugged into a deep frown. the pyro archon’s eyes now held a fervor brighter than any hope this entity of chaos has ever seen. was she still hoping that kinich would miraculously survive?
“are you implying that not even celestia is celebrating my return? their gift is now mi–”
“the gift you claim for yourself does not respond to you,” ajaw flinches back, eyes zeroing into the vision of his person as his fists shook in rage. “dreams will die if their master has fallen. there’s more to the contract between the two of you than you think.”
ajaw sees red. teeth snarling into a disgusting scowl as he readied kinich’s weapon—ignoring the way this too did not answer his call for blood. “are you mocking me, archon?”
much to the dragon’s surprise, the woman laughs. she laughs. at him? he’ll never know because he’s already zipping away from the scene.
“this is merely a trial, a simple waiting game.”
“why the hell am i using that servant’s party tricks!” ajaw screams as he lands in the far distance. he’s been using kinich’s grapple hook to come to and fro natlan these days as his mind flies back to this boy’s archon and her infuriating claims. “bwah! forget it, i have other things to deal with like–”
“kinich?”
like you.
the person from kinich’s life that he’s persistently pined over for years on end—ajaw even thinks kinich does it unintentionally, the boy was missing a few screws in the emotional department after all.
ajaw doesn’t answer back. he just blankly stares how your face is drained of its color. the way your fist grips at your chest like you're about to rip your heart out and the shaky–afraid–smile you flash him as you come to sit beside him.
you kept your distance—normally you’d sit so close your fingers would slightly entangle with kinich’s. ajaw observes you from the corner of his eyes before looking at natlan in the distance. back in his pixelated prison form, he could barely see natlan as a whole, just bits and pieces as he focused his energy to disturb and plan kinich’s untimely death.
“what are you doing here?”
how strange, ajaw didn’t mean to voice that question out in the open. especially with the way you look at him as if your world had crumbled to dust, leaving no trace of your home to pick up. something tugs at ajaw after your blank answer. the great almighty dragon lords do not feel, they wreak havoc, instill control, so why? why was this heart beating in such a melancholic rhythm?
“let’s go,” he says as he slowly comes to a stand, trying to mimic kinich’s attitude and actions towards you to the best of his abilities. you look at him, tears threatening to spill, yet you still smile and take his outstretched arm. ajaw doesn’t voice how you immediately drop his hand when you stand—you always hold kinich like your final lifeline, so why are you letting go?
ajaw understands, he simply won’t accept this fact.
you loved kinich, not ajaw.
you wanted kinich, but you still treated ajaw with the same treatment.
you treat his wounds with care, apologizing whenever he winces and flinches, pressing soft kisses to the calluses of his hands and his forehead. you let him listen to your beating heart that drummed the same melancholic melody and wipe away at the tears he never acknowledges whenever the figure of kinich’s dismantled body haunts him at night.
you acted as if you loved him and ajaw can’t live with this anymore.
so he runs away—punishes himself into confinement until you won’t be able to follow him. and then he thinks. sitting silently on a patch of grass as the sun slowly fades into another dreadful night. now that he’s left alone to grapple with all the uncontained emotions kinich himself couldn’t answer, ajaw finds himself at a loss.
“hey kinich,” he whispers to the wind, a bare hand filled with scars and scratches—free from the gloves that didn’t fit him—tug at the fabric of his shirt, right above his heart. “have you always been this lonely?”
ajaw hugs his knees, hand grabbing at his hair harshly–this body did not belong to him, he does not deserve your kindness or love. he won’t admit it, but now under the scrutiny or judgment of no one, ajaw comes to finally admit of his stretched jealousy for you and kinich. how come this insolent servant of him had someone who deeply cared about him despite his attitude? someone who was born to accompany him through thick and thin, to infuriate and fret over but still share whatever he or you could share with one another. neither of you left each other, and ajaw wanted that.
will ajaw have to live his life like this? chasing after the shadows of your relationship with kinich until his legs finally gave out?
“ugh! i hate you kinich!” he screams into the wind as they howl back.
“don’t say that, ajaw,” his world stills and the already chilly breeze turned colder. there you were, under the light of a fading sun with a small smile on your lips. “you’ll hurt kinch’s feelings.”
he scoffs. grip tightening as he buries his head on his arms. “then he can stay dead if he can’t handle some words from me! my servant,” his voice quivers slightly. his breathing shakes and turns shallow as you step towards him. “don’t come near me!”
you take one step, then two, then you’re sprinting to ajaw before he could run away for a second time. you cradle his head to your chest as you let his iron grip bruise your arms and silent tears be soaked in your heart.
“my kinich would not be offended by me!”
“i know he won’t,” you say in a whisper, hand rubbing circles to his back and ajaw finally comes to understand why kinich always sought you out each night when his past comes to haunt him. you kept his fears at bay with your overwhelming love for him. ajaw wonders if there’s also some love from you reserved for him.
the following nights, ajaw spends his time in your arms as you tell him stories from your childhood. how kinich had saved you from a safety malfunction when you went bungee jumping, the kinds of flowers you press into your journal, and the many photos from your family in different nations.
“do you not miss them, human?” ajaw asks, another photo from your mother as she stands in front of a quaint flower shop in fontaine. you only smile and tuck away another album under your bed. the sight of ajaw curiously sifting through your photos—from family, friends, and kinich—makes something swell in your chest. it bloats and bloats until you’re sure it can hold all of natlan with ease.
“i do,” you reply, sitting by the edge of your bed and looking at the dates written behind each photo. “but at least they send me things so i know they’re doing well.”
ajaw frowns in contemplation. “will they come home?”
will kinich come home?
you don’t voice out the question that’s floating in ajaw’s mind and just smile. watching the flame from the small lamp on your bedside table flicker, your reflection staring right back at you as you meet ajaw’s gaze.
“they will, we just wait.”
ajaw frowns. “waiting means to waste your efforts to hope for a miracle.”
despite his harshness and pessimism, you chuckle. gathering all the stray photos, you put them back neatly in the album. as you make your way to the window to close the window, you turn back to ajaw. “an empty soul does not breathe, it waits. you’re waiting, too, ajaw.”
“i am not waiting for that vermin!” he protests with a huff. you laugh as he falls back on your bed, both hands behind his head as he stares at your bedroom ceilings. a contemplative expression falls on his face as the furrow of his brows from embarrassment finally eases. “is he even still alive?”
you hum as you lay beside him. your eyes gaze at the still blazing vision on his pants and close your eyes. “a person’s vision is their ambition. they die out when it's been fulfilled or when its master passes,” ajaw looks at you with storm clouds in his eyes but you shift in your position and gently close them with your hands. “so long as kinich dreams, he’ll still live. he’s not the type to leave business unfinished.”
tonight ajaw dreams—he hopes that your belief turns out to be true. in the blanket of night he’s grown to be afraid of, he sees you and kinich. but strangely enough, he sees himself in between you two—not as an obstacle, but as a part of your happiness. ajaw finds himself really liking this dream.
the night kingdom, like its name suggests, is a perpetually cold and dark landscape with only the wayob in front of him casting a faint light. small engravings of his ancient name glows in a light purple as he gazes at his hazy body. surprisingly enough, his bandana still stayed securely on his head.
“seems like i’m still under the wayob’s protection,” he says to no one in particular as echoes about a flame burning bright eases his worries. “if i’m still here then surely we must have won.”
kinich was about to turn and walk away—to where? he’s not quite sure. as he takes a step after another, the wayob—the original bearer of his ancient name—speaks to him in a voice he can only describe as all knowing; omniscient like his archon.
“you seem troubled, “malipo” kinich,” it said and this makes kinich stop in his tracks. “do you not trust your little companion to bring you victory?”
kinich doesn’t answer immediately. he takes his time to weigh out the answers he could reply with. “trust is a strong word. we’re only bound by a contract after all. i’m simply weighing the chances of my gamble.”
the wayob chuckles, deep and fatherly. kinich felt his shoulders start to relax a little more as the wayob continued to speak to him. “bearers of the “malipo” name are often accompanied by saurian companions through thick and thin. some, if not all, of them had an unbreakable bond between them.”
“so i’ve heard,” kinich says, arms crossing over his chest as he questions, “but a lot of people have questioned your judgment because of it.”
kinich hears a chuckle again as he hears something akin to glass breaking in the distance.
“i’m well aware, “malipo” kinich. which is why i’m glad,” when kinich looks up to the dark sky, hundreds of shattered fragments rain down on him but he doesn’t shield himself. he feels his heart beat a little faster when he catches sight of his body—lacking his bandana and gloves—land a few feet away from him.
“my judgment was proven right, once again.”
“wait–” but the wayob had lost its glow. kinich doesn’t get the chance to dwell on it further as his own body possessed by a small dragon is grabbing him by the shoulders and screaming at his face.
“consider yourself lucky that i see some value in you “malipo” kinich!” the dragon shouts as he raises his hand, the same hand he always uses to summon ajaw’s power before being blinded by a green glow. “consider this an investment! so you better bring in some profit or i’m taking your beloved as hostage!”
a persistent series of knocks on your front door rudely awakens you from your slumber. grumpily leaving your bed, you try to rub the sleep out of your eyes as you prepare yourself to berate whoever is at your door at this ungodly hour.
“what is it—”
“you win this time, human!” a small dragon screams at you. you blink a few times as you hold out both your hands for ajaw to land on as he huffs and obliges. “i’ve fulfilled my end of the deal, so you better keep yours!”
“please don’t tell me you actually made a deal with him…” when you look up, you feel tears threaten to spill from your eyes again. kinich stands there, a sheepish hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you in distress. you let ajaw go and let your hands drift to kinich’s face, dragging them under his eyes and tracing over his lips as a ghost of a smile starts to form.
you chuckle in disbelief. “yeah, maybe i have.”
“i hope you know the consequences of your decision,” you sneak a peek at ajaw who has his little pixel arms crossed over his chest. you turn back to kinich, a smile on your lips as you tug him inside your not so empty home. “you’ll just have to wait and see.”
ajaw quietly watches as you make kinich some food, a homely ambience blankets the house as you and kinich catch up. he’ll never openly admit it, but he’s glad you agreed to his deal. he feels kinich’s eyes follow him like a hawk as he sits himself down on your shoulder. you offer him a spoon of food but he only huffs in decline.
you’re waiting has paid off, though ajaw will never verbally admit. the other half of both your souls has come home and your statement was proven right: ajaw’s soul—as well as yours—will always wait for kinich to come home.
and kinich smiles, because like ajaw, he’ll never verbally admit how he’s been waiting for him to save him from the night kingdom all this time.
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#—stellaronhvnters.#kinich x reader#kinich x you#kinich fluff#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact fluff#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin imagines#genshin impact kinich#( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ
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