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sixosix · 1 year ago

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can you do an aether x reader lil one shot please!!! my baby gets no love ;( I'm fine with any story or plot but maybe one where they've been travel buddies for a while and his feelings have just been bottled up over time and he just explodes in to a confession and then some cute fluff from there!!!!!!

a/n wc 1.6k there are tears in my eyes as i write this i love aether sonmuch. also sorry if this is all over the place i was trying so hard not to turn it into another 10k word fic…. ft. lyney

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment his feelings blossomed. there was no pinpointed moment, only all of it growing restless inside him.

he likes to keep his team to four people maximum, oftentimes none at all—just him and paimon to worry about as they move from region to region, friends made yet no proper strings attached. it’s for everyone’s sake, as aether doesn’t plan on staying too long in one place. that’s how it should’ve been.

you appeared one day, demanding to take you in his team. just for liyue and then you can separate ways, you said.

“i’m visiting my awfully quiet lover to break his silence. i need to figure out why i’ve stopped receiving letters,” you explained, blinding him with your bigger-than-life personality.

and because aether is a weak, weak man to people who don’t know how to back down, he agreed, albeit hesitantly. “alright,” he said in defeat. “just liyue?”

“just liyue,” you affirmed, beaming as he’s accepted you probably easier than you expected.

just liyue is a lie, and he should’ve known it the moment he had to confirm it. he didn’t bother with formal introductions and keeping conversations, knowing he wouldn’t see you again anyway. it didn’t help that paimon adores you, expressing her loud disappointment when you have to part ways with them.

paimon floated lower than usual. aether sighed. “should’ve known you’d grow to love someone who spoils you with sweet madame more than me.”

“hmph! y/n’s nicer to paimon than you!”

but he does see you again some time later, facing a large tree, kicking it out of frustration. it’s pouring heavily; your clothes are soaked.

“am i scary?” you asked when aether and paimon approached you, staring ahead, fists trembling.

“what’s wrong?! did something bad happen?” paimon fluttered around you nervously, unsure if she could touch you.

“he’s not dead, at least,” you said bitterly. “just too cowardly to tell me that he doesn’t love me anymore. i suppose it was better breaking up face-to-face than through letters.” you sighed bitterly, shoulders hiked up to your ears as a fresh wave of quiet tears washed over you, muted by the rain. “this is embarrassing, getting dumped because i was too much.”

“it’s not. you came all the way from mondstadt just to see him. didn’t he at least care about that?” aether asked, which might’ve just been his longest sentence yet. why were you out here soaking? if it were him, he wouldn’t have been so rude to leave you astray during a thunderstorm.

“i can’t force him, if he doesn’t want to see me. i’ll be alright, i promise.” you rest your forehead against the bark of the tree, water sliding off your cheeks—aether isn’t sure if it’s the rain or your tears.

he understands, possibly more than anyone.

and aether—still a weak, weak man when it came to people breaking down in front of him, knowing what it’s like to lose someone so dear to you—gently says, “xiangling told us there’s an event holding place here later. you’re coming with us.”

just liyue was already a warning in itself that it would never be just as that.

you weave yourself in his life as if you were always there, fitting in like you haven’t met him and paimon just a few days ago. he tries to convince himself that he’s doing this to cheer you up, but you’ve been making him smile more than they do to you.

he would turn to his side and see you feeding him a chicken-mushroom skewer after a short battle, insisting even when aether says he’s not as injured as you may think. he would turn to his side and see you and paimon laughing over something he missed and find himself grinning as well.

he would turn to his side when you tug on his sleeve, shyly asking if he’s willing to take you to inazuma as well because you didn’t want to stay in liyue if they weren’t here anymore.

“sure,” aether would say. he’s a weak man, and you were holding on to his cape, looking so adorable that aether wanted to melt on the spot. but that’s a normal reaction to cute things, probably.

taking you to inazuma turns into bringing you along to sumeru, then eventually fontaine, until everyone is convinced you’re a staple in aether’s adventures: aether, paimon, and y/n.

this is what it’s like to have a good team, aether persuades himself. a good team, a useful asset, aether reminds himself sternly as you slice a ruin cruiser off of existence with fierce anger in your eyes and a stick of tricolor dango in your mouth. you wave at him after, beaming, and his heart does something weird.

and now, when some of his friends suggest that he lays you off even just for a day so he can have three other people who work together seamlessly with him, he dismisses it quickly—without thinking. he already works best with you by his side. if they want to come along with him, they have to accept they’re coming along with you just as well.

“thanks for letting me join you,” you whisper one night, lying on the grass and watching the stars with him. you turn your head and meet his eyes, smiling softly.

“of course,” aether says. of course, because now he can’t imagine what it’s like to not have you with him. “i’m the only one who can handle how scary you are.”

you scoff, gently punching his arm as he laughs. “shut up, idiot. you know what i mean.”

i know, aether wants to say. but would that be too much? aether doesn’t want you to think he’s trying to replace someone important in your life this quickly.

you are scary. you’re terrifying him with all these unwanted feelings he doesn’t know what to do with. but aether wasn’t lying, either—he can handle fear just as well.

and now, as aether watches lyney grin and kiss the back of your palm, aether’s chest burns with something unpleasant, sitting in his stomach and urging him to take action. a rock under his shoe. he does not like it, not one bit.

“uhh,” paimon shifts nervously mid-air. “paimon thinks you should stop glaring daggers into lyney before he notices.”

“glaring daggers? i’m not glaring daggers,” aether hisses. his fingers are starting to ache with how painfully he’s clutching his sword. “no daggers here…” he curses as he watches you grow increasingly flustered.

the sight startles him. not your expression, not lyney’s clear provocation, but aether’s stance towards it.

“i thought we’re friends with lyney again?” paimon asks, terribly confused.

“the best of friends,” aether says, marching over to the scene. paimon makes a disbelieving noise.

lyney smirks knowingly as aether gently tugs on your arm. “oh,” lyney says, all sly, more of a fox than a cat, “i didn’t know you were already spoken for. i do apologize for the misunderstanding.”

you glance between an amused lyney and an irked aether, dazed. “i’m not…?”

“your jealous boyfriend says otherwise,” lyney snorts as aether bristles.

aether glares heatedly at lyney, even as the latter backs away with a smug grin. “y/n, let’s go. there’s nothing else to do here.” he’s being rude. he doesn’t care. his mind is blank—or maybe it’s running miles per minute, and he struggles to keep up.

and because you always listen to aether, you let him drag you off, nearly failing to wave goodbye to a chuckling lyney. lyney calls for paimon, distracting her as aether continues walking away from the scene.

you turn to aether, barely able to keep up with his hurried steps. “whoa, whoa, hey, aether—aether, are you okay? your face is so red.” you touch his cheek, and he crumbles. “aether.”

he halts, frowning at the ground. frustrated.

“aether, is there something wrong?”

that’s the thing. aether doesn’t know what’s wrong. he was content with watching you from afar—content with your stars slowly aligning with his as he stands back and watches it happen. he was content with not doing anything about it. but not doing anything about it would mean everyone else thinks you haven’t got aether wrapped around your finger.

“sorry,” aether says. to the painful beating of his heart, restless with unexplained fury. “i didn’t—”

“…idiot.” you always tell him that. you’re the only one who calls him that, but he knows that were they to try, he wouldn’t let it slide so easily. “it’s okay to admit you’re jealous. it’s cute.”

it is not lyney’s flirtations that tip aether over; it’s the sweet smile you give him, the gentleness of your gaze, and your face so close to aether’s that you and him share the same breath. what tips him over is all of it crashing down on him, as daunting as a fight, as abrupt as the beat of his heart:

oh. oh. is that it?

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment you wormed your way in. maybe it was the moment you jumped down from a tree branch and scared the wits out of paimon, only to demand nervously he take you. maybe it was the moment he softens when your shoulders shake and rain pours relentlessly overhead. maybe it was the stab of jealousy seeing someone else try to steal you away from him when you so obviously belong to him as he belongs to you.

it doesn’t matter.

“i want you,” aether says, then blinks when you do a startled take. “no—no. i mean. i… like you. and i want you to stay. here. not with them. not anyone else.”

“stay right in front of you?”

“in front, beside—doesn’t matter.” aether grows weak, limp as he presses his forehead against yours. “i just want you.”

“okay,” you smile, tipping your chin to kiss his cheek. his heart soars. “that’s all i needed to hear.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #aether x reader #aether x you #aether x y/n

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flowershines · 10 months ago

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Closer Road Trip

Series summary: Being the 8th member of Enhypen means that you get to spend time with people that actually make you feel special but little does everyone know that during most of those times your on your knees in front of them as you pleasuring them everyday.

Warnings: Smut, cumming in pants, public, handjob, wet dreams, dirty talk (lmk if i missed any)

Niki is not included in this series

“How much longer till we get there, I can feel my knees locking in place.”

You whined as you tried to extend your body, leaning your head onto Jay’s chest and pushing your feet up against Jake’s, not to mention being squished in between two men who are much bigger than you isn’t as easy as it sounds. “Soon.” Heeseung said looking at the map in front of him, every time you asked how much longer it was always him saying ‘soon’ or ‘we’re almost there’ you were so sick of it. Picking up your phone you tried turning it on only to be met with a screen showing the battery percentage being at zero, huffing out you slammed your phone on your leg and rested your head onto Jay’s shoulder as you looked at his phone with him. His head turned to look at you and cocked an eyebrow “My phone died.” was all you said while not taking your eyes off of his phone, he was watching your most recent concert to look for any of his mistakes that happened on stage.

Looking back at his phone he just brushed it off like nothing was happening, the man on the other side of you passed out, his head rested on the seatbelt as his body was turned towards the window. It already felt like hours passed by even though it has only been two hours, you had to travel states away and looking out the window from the middle seat can only get you so far till you are filled with boredom. Heesung and Sunghoon were talking about a thing that they saw on the map, you didn't really care to listen because they were talking in smart terms. Jungwon was the only member in the middle row that was awake as the other members leaded their heads on him for support, he looked even more squished then you were his phone was on his lap as he was watching a video not even being able to put up his hands to hold his phone without waking them up.

Jay sat up and grabbed his bag that was in the corner between the seats. He brought the bag up onto his lap as he paused the video, you lifted up your head from his shoulder and gave him space so that way he could find what he needed. He took something out of the bag and placed the thing from the bag next to him as he zipped up his bag once again and placed it back in its previous spot, as you went to put your head back onto his shoulder he handed you a rubik’s cube “Solve it.” he said as he pressed play on the video he was watching. Fiddling with the toy your mind was pulled away from it as a noise was heard to the man to your right who was sleeping, you picked your head up turning your head to the boy as his face was filled with multiple expressions turning your attention to the other man his face showed how he was just as confused as you were.

The noises from the boy eventually started going quiet once more while your eyes went back to looking at the cube, your fingers ran across the edges as you spun it around looking at every side to get a good look at what colors were left unsolved. “Pick a color.” Asking the man as you looked at him and held up the cube so that way he would understand that you were referring to a color on the rubik's cube, “Yellow” he responded then looked back at his phone you listened to him as looked for a side that had the most squares of yellow on the side before trying to solve it. After about a couple of minutes you had gotten all the yellow squares onto one side of the cube, another noise was heard from the boy once more but this time it was much louder and had gotten more muffled form his hands this time everyone in the car that was awake heard the noise and turned their head back to look at who made the noise. “Who was that?” Heeseung asks quietly, not wanting to wake the others while he turns around from his seat.

You pointed to Jake not wanting to make any noise, he had a weird look displayed on his face with one of his eyebrows raised while the boy next to you continued to make the muffled noises. One of the boys that sat next to Jungwon woke up from everyone talking “What's going on?” Sunoo asks, looking around being clueless to what was happening around him, “Jake is making some weird-” Sunghoon was cut off by the boy making the same noises once again. “Wait Y/n wake him up.” Jay whispers in your ear you gave him a questionable look “Why?” he pointed towards Jake’s pants “The sooner you wake him up the better.” Your eyes trailed from the boy’s face down his body and to his pants to where Jay had been pointing earlier, now you understood why he was making those noises he was having a wet dream.

All of the dots finally connected in your mind as you ran your hand along his arm trying to shake his arm just enough to wake him up but only to be faced by multiple moans, everyone in the car was giving him a weird look “Is he-” Sunoo asks before he could even finish his sentence Jay cut him off by saying “Yup.” his eyes never left his phone, “Ew i’m going back to bed.” he said before he rested his head back onto Jungwon’s shoulder. The funniest thing was none of the members seemed to care that much you continued to shake Jake hoping that you can wake him up before he embarrasses himself more than he already has, thankfully he turned in his sleep “Jake wake up.” You told him that his only response was a soft mumble. He started to sit up when his gaze was met with multiple members looking at him. Suddenly he was sitting straight up looking more wide awake than ever “You guys heard?” he asked, looking scared as his face started to turn red from embarrassment.

He placed his hands on his face to try and hide his embarrassment but failed, you placed your hand on his shoulder “It’s okay, honestly everyone gets dreams like that.” he mumbled into his hands “But the timing of the dream could not be any worse.” you stroked his shoulder “You can’t control that though, it's not your fault that you were thinking about that while you were sleeping.” his hands left their previous spot from his face to now resting on his lap. He started to undo his sweatshirt one arm after the other then placing it on his lap which made you obviously come to conclusions now knowing that he was using the sweatshirt to hide his hard on, “Pick a color.” you said trying to change the topic while the rest of the members turned around and continued what they had previously been doing before. “Huh?” He asked , which resulted in you lifting up the rubik’s cube in your hand. His mouth formed an ‘o’ as he realized what you meant.

Bringing his finger to the toy in your hand he pointed to the red square, you had no idea why he didn't just say it but it wasn’t that big of deal. Minute by minute passed as you were still trying to solve the cubed toy in front of you. Heeseung saw a sign and told everyone that was awake, “There is a place to use the bathroom ahead, if you gotta use the bathroom come in with us. I don’t know if you wanna wake up Niki and Sunoo to see if they have to go as well." Hearing Heeseung’s request Jungwon woke up to two guys that laid on both of his shoulders while he asked if they had to use the bathroom. They said they would go in with them. On the other hand you didn't have to go so you figured you would just stay in the car and solve the rubik’s cube, driving in the exit everyone who was leaving the car started to get ready everyone but you and Jake. Watching as the members got out of the car Jay asked “Are you sure you guys don’t need to go?” you just nodded “I’m good.” Turning to Jake he responded “Same” hearing you both respond by saying you were fine he shut the door and locked the car behind him as he and the rest of the members walked into the building.

You turned to Jake and asked “Are you okay now?” as your eyes move to look down then back at him so that way he can get what you were hinting at, “I’m still hard if that’s what you're wondering.” being shocked by his sudden cockiness you nodded as you pulled your attention away from him. “You said that everyone gets dreams like that, does that mean you do too?” your eyes stayed focused on the cube trying to solve the red side “Yeah.” you responded not taking your eyes off the toy “Of who?” your attention finally turned to him as you looked him in the eyes as you cocked an eyebrow and said “Wouldn’t you like to know.” teasingly. His hand closest to you grabbed the cube from your hand “Yes I would, about who?” you looked at your hands as they fiddled with one another, you could not look at him because how were you supposed to tell him that not only that you have those dreams about him but the rest of the members as well. (except Niki)

His fingers went up to your chin while he pulled your face closer to his, “Why all quiet now?” thinking of the words to tell him but nothing fell from your lips as your lips remained sealed. “You think about me when you have those dreams?” Your thighs rubbed against one another as you tried to look at him but soon became embarrassed from his cockiness taking over you, “You do think about me in that way, how cute.” He said as he brought his hand up to your hair and stroked it softly as you picked your head up and looked him in the eyes, finally making eye contact with one another, “Do you dream about me fingering you?” before you could even respond he asked another question.

“Or maybe you dream about sucking me off?” He wasn’t wrong but that wasnt a good thing because you knew Jake like the back of your hand, the more cocky he got means the more he gets his way no matter the situation even if he is in the wrong he would always get his way. “I bet dreaming of me gets you all wet, huh?” He said as his eyes scanned your “You play with that pretty pussy when you wake up, imagining it was me?” the grasp he had on his pants tightened while his eyes scanned your body, he grabbed the sweatshirt that he previously had on his lap and started to put it on giving you a clear view of his hidden bulge. His hand moved down till one of his hands rest over his hard on slightly rubbing himself through his sweatpants while the other hand made its way to the side of your face, “God your so beautiful, makes me wonder what you would look like as you suck my cock.” his tone started to be filled with lust as his eyes darkened with each word.

Squeezing your thighs as tight as possible you tried your best to show that he ‘wasn’t’ having an affect on you but he always knew when you were lying, he moved his hand from your face to the inside of your thigh “All wet for me and I didn’t even touch you.” his words sounded like honey as they smoothly soothed your brain with his voice. You whined but your lips did not part as they made your noises muffled by your mouth, “Speak princess, what do you need me to do to you?” you mouth felt dry from the lack of words as you became speechless while the other part of you was basically drooling at the way he was talking to you. “Please Jake.” You pleaded to him as you started to inch closer to him with every second that passed by, he could not take you being this close and not taking action. He pressed his lips onto yours kissing you deeply as he had no other intention than being passionate and pleasuring you, your hand moved from your thigh to slowly inching closer to his clothed bulge. Running your fingers along the outline he made it obvious which parts of his cock was the most sensitive, you ran your finger along his tip through the fabric while a small grunt was heard from him as bottom lip fell in between his teeth.

Your fingers moved to play with the laces for his sweatpants that held them in place, his actions started to become more sporadic by the minute as his body started to be filled with desperation. He started to pull down his pants only past his knees as he was now giving you a clear image of his boner that constantly was twitching in his boxers, where his tip fell there was a pool of pre cum that stained them giving his boxers a darker tint than before. Your hands started to stroke him over the fabric, looking up you see the man holding back his moans, his hair was dangling in his face, his bottom lip in between his teeth, his grip on the seat started to turn his knuckles white, and his eyes started to roll back into his head.

As time flew by you almost went to put your hand into his pants but only to be met by his hand grabbing your wrist keeping it in place and continuing the motions, his grunts started to fill the car as the windows started to fog up from both of your hot body temperatures radiating off of one another. His hand guided you to keep moving as his hand moved yours faster you felt like your hand was going to fall off from how hard he was gripping your wrists, looking down to his pants his hips started to thrust up into the motions becoming more and more desperate for his release. Pleasure filled his body as his climax was the only thing that was on his mind while he continued his motions the pool of pre cum that stained them soon turned into an even bigger pool of not just pre cum but cum as well, his body shook and he placed his hips back onto the seat slowing down the motions of your hand as he didn’t want to overstimulate himself.

Bringing your eyes up his body you saw his eyes already starring into yours “Thank you.” he said while he quickly started to pull up his pants, your face was filled with confusion as why he was in such a rush only to have your question answered by the car door opening and hearing “Why are the windows foggy?” Niki asked looking at Heeseung then you two. Looking at one another you just shrugged to him as they all got into the car, Jay took his seat down next to you and whispered in your ear “Have fun? I could’ve made you feel 10x better, than he ever can make you feel.”

tag list: @honestimage @heeseungshim @juliesblogs @wonpoem @weyukinluv @cha0thicpisces @jungwonloveer @jwonistic @wonniesdoll @wooziswife @deobitifull @luvyev @wonki-luv @en-gene2 @siria000023 @tooshyshaa @zouzie008

@cupidhee @namdeyuoi

if your tag is in white i couldn’t find ur blog

#smut #fluff #enha x reader #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #jake smut #jay smut #jungwon smut #sunghoon smut #sunoo smut

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sturnprime · 3 months ago

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SO WRONG IT’S RIGHT, chris sturniolo 🩵

from h ꨄ︎ ⎯ hi sooo streetboy!chris x richgirl!reader

i hope you enjoy 🩵 (join the taglist here)

chris doesn’t know how he ended up here. he doesn’t know how the two of you ended up with you situated on his lap, in your room of all places, when the two of you are utter opposites with entirely different ways of life.

he’s the type to roam the streets, indulge in late nights with his friends that keep the whole city up. you on the other hand, you’re the pristine sort; the one whose dad forbids her from being close to boys exactly like chris and has done so since you were much younger. it’s an interesting dynamic and he can’t help the thrill rushing through him as you whisper for him to be quiet. it’s adorable, the panic flooding through you even with your bedroom door locked and your window wide open to simultaneously take away the smell of his cologne and provide a getaway for him if it gets to such.

his hands are wrapped around your waist, keeping you firmly in place as his lips travel the expanse of your neck and collarbone, his way of making his mark. not that it lasts long though because you’re instantly telling him he’s not allowed to mark you, telling him the sweet bruises forming on your skin like paint strokes across a canvas are only going to get you in trouble.

chris? chris doesn’t really care and when your pleading words escape your pretty plump lips, he can only seem to laugh, sucking harder. his hands grip you further and the moment a whine falls from your mouth, the corners of his mouth tug up into a smirk— a smirk that has your skin heating up within seconds. his teeth nip the skin below your jaw with purpose, his tongue quickly moving to soothe the slight sting.

“chris—“ you begin to speak but his right hand trails up to place a finger onto your lips, effectively shutting you up.

“shh angel, thought we had to be quiet, hm?” his words are laced in a mocking tone and you want to hate them, desperately want to hate even the mere idea of being with someone like him when your entire life you’ve been taught it’s wrong but there’s just something about him that throws every last one of your principles out the window.

he tilts your chin up with his finger, his calloused hand cupping your cheek as he forces your gaze to meet his. his eyes are blue, the shade you find in calming waters, but they hold a glint of fire in them. there’s a sense of challenge that dances in the pupils, almost urging you to deny him when he knows you can’t, knows he has your polished self wrapped around his finger.

his lips meet yours in a frenzy of adrenaline, his tongue parting your lips and sliding perfectly into your mouth to intertwine with yours in an erotic tango. his lips mould with yours, the slight swelling of his own locking your mouth into place as he moves you even closer, if possible. it’s as though even a small flutter of air wouldn’t be able to pass between the colliding of your chests against one another and he loves everything about it.

when he pulls away at last, his cheeks are slightly flushed and the sight serves as a reminder of exactly what you do to him. he would never have thought a girl like you could ever fuel his desire yet here you are, innocent doe-eyes looking up at him and your lips a touch bigger than when he first laid eyes on you. he wants to corrupt you, to take away every last bit of hesitance you have and crush it between his fingers until you’re begging him to prove your dad wrong, begging him to make you forget undoubtedly why this is a bad idea.

it feels so wrong yet at the same time, nothing has ever felt more right, especially not when your bodies slot together like destined puzzle pieces. it’s an invisible bond that forms between the two of you as you hear the sound of your parents’ voices from their room, a stark reminder of why this can’t be happening. none of this can be happening when they could walk in any minute, take away the soft feeling of his hips bucking up lightly. but then… why does the way his hands roam your body cause sparks of electricity to run through the course of your veins? why does it feel so fucking good if it shouldn’t be happening?

he notices your moment of slight reluctance and he wants to pull away, tell you that this isn’t what he wants so he can save the emotional turmoil that’s going on inside your pretty head but he’d be lying. he’d be lying if he claimed wanting to be apart from you now that he knows the way you whine when you’re needy or the slight gasps he can pull from you when you want more.

in an ideal world, the two of you don’t need to worry about your societal differences or just how complicated this new development is going to be. unfortunately, that world doesn’t exist but for a few fleeting moments, when he flips you onto your back smugly and you hit your bed with a little thud, it feels like any ounce of uncertainty leaves you. your only focus is on the way his fingers tug the hem of your baby tee until it’s completely discarded elsewhere. it’s not an ideal world but it still appears nonpareil.

TAGS 𖤐 @mattslolita @eyeliketoeatpoosay @chrissturniolossidehoe @middlepartmatt @raysmayhem-72 @conspiracy-ash !

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loulovingho · 4 months ago

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Bucktommy prompt idea for you:

Tommy going to Bobby, NOT to ask for his blessing on proposing to Buck, but thinking that Bobby will talk him out of it as it's too soon (Tommy needs someone to be rational with him and he thinks Bobby is levelheaded, especially when it comes to Buck).

He's unaware that Bobby and Athena basically speedran their way down the aisle, and Bobby gives him his blessing AND practically helps him plan the proposal/wedding instead.

This was ridiculous.

They'd only been together for four months.

Sure, Tommy could easily say they had been the best four months of his life, but still... four months.

You don't buy a ring for someone after only four months.

At least Tommy didn't. He wasn't that type. He was levelheaded, thought things through.

Even when he flew that helicopter straight through a hurricane, he thought that through. Knew he could do it. Knew to trust Howie and Hen and their instincts.

But this was all on him.

He was standing outside of a jewelry store, ring in one hand, receipt in the other, wondering what the hell just happened to him? Was he drugged? Possessed? What would possibly make him think this was a wise option? Why could he already envision Buck standing across from him in front of a room full of people as they spoke their vows to one another?

Tommy stuffed the ring and the receipt into his pockets. He practically marched to his car. There was only one person he could think to go to. One person who could talk some sense into him.

*****

“That's amazing, Tommy!” Bobby exclaimed, pulling Tommy in for a hug.

This was... not what he expected.

“Amazing?” he questioned once Bobby pulled back. “Bobby, it's insane.”

“What's insane about it?”

“We've only been together four months. He moved in a week ago, and we both joked about how crazy that even was.”

“And how's that week been?” Bobby asked, leading them over to the couch.

“It's... It's been great. Fantastic, really, but it's new. It'll wear off.”

“Doesn't have to.”

“Bobby, I- I thought I'd be coming here today for you to talk me out of this, not for me to talk me out of it while you talk me into it.”

Bobby smiled. “You love him?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“He loves you?”

“Yeah, he does,” Tommy replied, softer as he thought about the many times they'd said those words to each other over the last three months.

“You like spending time together?”

“We haven't spent a night apart since we started dating, work excluded.”

“You see a future with him?”

Tommy nodded. “We both want kids. He's gonna be such a great dad, too. He doubts himself sometimes, but I don't doubt him. We'd have to buy a bigger place someday, but we've got enough space for three where we are now.” Tommy's eyes were focused off in the distance, like he was imagining their whole lives together. “I haven't traveled much, outside of my time in the army, but we've made plans to do a roadtrip so he can show me all the places he's been. And he's so smart. He knows something about everything and I love that because he's always right. I don't even have to double check.” He stopped abruptly when he realized he was rambling. That's what got him into this mess in the first place. He got to thinking about Evan, and then he couldn't stop thinking about Evan, and then he was driving to a jewelry store.

Bobby shrugged. “I don't see a problem here, Tommy. Athena and I got engaged in less than a year, and I couldn't imagine it any other way.” He reached out, giving Tommy a pat on the leg. “You're a good guy, Tommy. Buck is just as much in this relationship as you are, believe me. You ask, he'll say yes.”

Somehow a wave of relief, along with a surge of anxiety, washed over Tommy at the same time. “Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

*****

Tommy stayed a bit longer, catching up with Bobby and discussing what plans he had for a proposal. When it was time to leave, Bobby walked him to the door. He reached for a handshake that turned into a hug.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Tommy said with a final pat on the back before he headed out.

“Anytime, kid. Hey, you have Buck call me after he says yes!”

Tommy smiled, giving Bobby a final wave before he got into his car.

Bobby wasn't surprised when his phone began to ring a few hours later, Buck's name lighting up the screen.

#bucktommy #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #tevan #bobby nash #this would've been longer if not for my migraine

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bunnyrafe · 3 months ago

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he’ll never forget the first time he gave it to you good and really roughed you up and you just looked up at him like you were about to say a prayer, with your swollen bottom lip between your teeth and spacey but teary eyes. you were made to be manhandled by him

the way this single sentence made me combust like i wanna know all the deets now,, what led up to that moment? what made him so angry? does he try to comfort her after (bc she just looks so sad ‘n pouty sitting there frozen with all those tears in her eyes)? this whole scenario just has me feeling so many things rn

+i feel like he probably manhandles you without even realizing too like when he’s not even angry, he just naturally does stuff like that both from like a size kink angle + a casual dominance angle ykim?

he’s just such a manhandler i need him to toss me around a little bit<333

100% just naturally a manhandler. he doesn’t have to be angry mhm-mhm but it definitely helps when he’s a bit stressed / annoyed ‘n his hands are just itching to grab you up and do unspeakably things. the idea of him genuinely using his full strength on you is so scary but hot at the same time…

full scene -> you were most likely whining about something all day, probably started cursing and saying words sweet girls like you shouldn’t say. calling him fucking terrible and controlling when you haven’t even seen the worst of it, saying that he never let you go out and have fun on your own.

he tried being the bigger person— he really did. turned to you as you stomped around in his office and said, “why would i let you do anything when you act like this?”

and well— you didn’t like that one bit.

“fuck you, rafe cameron.” you spit out through bubblegum scented and pink glossed lips, only for a harsh slap to come down on your supple cheek and ring throughout the room.

the sound meets your ears before you even feel the initial impact and the stinging that spreads over the side of your face. the force nearly knocks you to the ground to your knees, but rafe doesn’t allow that to happen as he’s already grabbing your throat to keep you upright and make sure you pay attention for once.

“don’t you ever fuckin’ say that again,” he shakes you around, leading you over to the sofa with nothing but his pure strength and his grip on you, snarling a word out with every step until he drops your body onto the cushions like it’s nothing, “unless— unless you have a fuckin’ death wish and want to find out what i’m really capable of— understand?”

your eyes well with tears as you stare up at him— your pupils are glossed over in a mixture of fear and embarrassment. the crushing reality that you’re just as sick and twisted as him at the end of the day, seemingly loving when he puts you in your place and knocks some sense into you. you hiccup out a small “i understand, daddy” the best you can, making rafe coo and run his knuckles over your heated skin. where he slapped you.

“don’t like hurting you,” that’s a lie— his hand travels down you body, tucking itself between your thighs so he can reach under your skirt and cup your cunt, “if you promise me you’ll quit your fuckin’ bitching ‘n whining, i’ll make you feel better— daddy’ll make you cum on his fingers. deal?”

you quickly seal your fate, feeling hazier ‘n hazier by the second as you breathe out— “deal.”

#✉️ love letters #hehehe #tw impact play #tw slapping #𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎’𝓈 𝓂𝓊𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝓈 ♥︎

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pinksturniolo · 7 months ago

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Biggest Hater - Part Two

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Part 2 of 2

Alternate version of my Chris fic: Biggest Fan

Requested by the baddest! @muwapsturniolo

Summary: You just don’t get the hype of the Sturniolo Triplets like almost every girl your age does. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that you went to high school with them and Matt Sturniolo particularly, got on your nerves more than anyone you thought ever could. In fact, it has everything to do with that. And when you run into him a couple years later, at the peak of their fame, your feelings haven’t changed one bit. No matter how attractive you find him.

Content warnings: smut, oral, angry sex, teasing, pettiness, manipulation, mean!matt (even tho he's an angel irl), ANGST AF, enemies to lovers trope (somewhat?), slightly toxic, use of alcohol, a lil fluff at the end to make up for all the madness lol

word count: 3,887

You never breathed a word to anyone about what happened that night. Losing your virginity to Matt in the back of his minivan on prom night while stoned out of your mind was not something you could exactly go about announcing around the hallways of school. As much as you wanted to let what happened possibly turn into something more between you two, you simply couldn't let one night of passion make you forget the years of anger Matt caused you.

And your feelings were only solidified when you returned to school the next week, and he pretended like you didn’t even exist. He avoided you even more than he would before, and to be fair, you didn’t call or text him over the whole weekend out of sheer embarrassment. But you figured he would at least acknowledge you.

You started to feel incredibly stupid for letting your desires cloud your judgment and wished you could take back everything you did with him. You two never spoke again, as if that night never happened. And it hurt you for a while, until you eventually decided he wasn’t worth the trouble.

But that was two years ago, and this was now.

Now you were taking shots of tito’s back to back like they were water. Zach, the mutual friend that you and Matt shared from school was passing the bottle around, more people coming in and out of the house as the night wore on, the party getting bigger.

You danced in the middle of the living room along with the crowd of bodies, your body moving to the music freely as you tried to let the invasion of memories from prom night out of your mind. The alcohol coursed through your blood, your shyness leaving. You were starting to have a good time and were happy that you hadn’t seen Matt around since he disappeared down the hallway.

Zach comes up to you, leaning down to talk into your ear. He asks how you’re doing and what you’ve been up to since high school. You’re not one for small talk but you don’t want to be rude and start to engage in conversation with him when you hear a voice over the music interrupt you.

“Mind if I steal her from you?”

You turn to see Matt standing there, his eyes briefly travelling up and down your body before greeting Zach.

“Matt! What’s up, where you been? You want a shot?” he says, grabbing his hand in a handshake.

Matt shakes his head and motions to the keys attached to the belt loop of his jeans. “I’m the designated driver tonight.”

You give Matt a dirty look before you allow yourself to check him out. His appearance has changed so much since the last time you saw him. He’s wearing black jeans and a plain t shirt, a backwards hat on his head. He has light stubble on his face, making him look a little bit older. He looked really good.

But you weren’t drunk enough to acknowledge him further, turning back to Zach. “I think I’m gonna go get some fresh air.” You tell him and he barely lets you finish your sentence, grabbing both you and Matt by the shoulder.

“Hey, remember when you guys used to be at each other’s throats every day? It was hilarious.” He slurred, a drunken smile on his face.

You give him a deadpan look, avoiding looking at Matt to see his reaction. You could seriously strangle Zach right now for what he was doing.

“You know what’s hilarious Zach? She was pretending the whole time. I think she was just secretly in love with me.” Matt says and your jaw almost drops to the ground from shock.

Zach laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “I knew it! Practically everyone in our senior class said the same thing.”

The audacity these men had. You’re absolutely fuming, staring daggers at Matt, a stupid fucking smirk on his face. He knows you’re pissed, and he likes it. Loves it in fact. It satisfies him to no end that he can still get a reaction out of you after all this time. Not to mention, he thought you were incredibly attractive when you were mad.

Before you can fire a good comeback at him, a genius idea pops into your head. The music currently blasting through the large house now switches to an upbeat reggaeton sound, something directly in your element.

The furrow in your brows from the sour look on your face relaxes as it’s replaced with a smile, your eyes lighting up. Matt is a little caught off guard by the way your expression switched up suddenly but tries not to let it show. His arms are crossed, and he raises an eyebrow in curiosity as you speak to him.

“I love this song. Wanna dance?”

“Wait-what? -“ He starts, utterly confused now but you walk past him before he can protest, the fabric of your skirt brushing against his body. He grits his teeth, his heart skipping a beat as he inhales the scent of your perfume. You look back at him over your shoulder, a mischievous look in your eyes.

“Later, Zach.” Matt says, immediately following behind you. Your hips sway as you walk, closer to the dark corner of the room. Your short skirt is skintight, your lace top not leaving much to the imagination. You have on a pair of strappy heels and Matt can’t help but let his eyes linger on the smoothness of your legs and the curve of your ass as he walks behind you.

But he feels as though he’s walking into a trap, your sudden change in behavior a mystery to him. He hasn’t seen you in two years and you seem more mature, more confident in yourself. And given the way you both left things, he’s not sure why you would even give him the time of day.

You reach the corner of the room where it’s a little more private, starting to move your hips in small circles, swaying to the beat of the song. There’s a sultry look in your eyes as you lock eyes with Matt who’s slowly moving towards you. He’s drawn dangerously close to you, a few inches separating you from him. He’s hesitant but watches your body move sensually, your hair falling around your face as you run your hands through it. You look him in the eyes again, grabbing his hands to put them on your waist.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. And your only intention tonight is to make sure Matt knows exactly who he’s fucked with. There was just no way he was going to show up in your life again and try to make a fool out of you for the second time. You were going to remind him that yes, there’s an unspoken connection between you two, and an electric storm that is created when your bodies mesh with another. But then, you were going to rip it from him, the way that he did to you.

The music vibrates through your body as you guide Matt’s hands across your waist and hips, his lips parted as you have him in a trance. His eyes can’t choose between focusing on your breasts spilling out of your shirt, the sliver of skin peeking out from the hem, showing the curves of your hips or your bare thighs now brushing against him as you move even closer.

Then, you turn around and wrap your arm behind you, across the back of his neck. Your other hand keeps his on the side of your waist. You grind your ass lightly over his crotch, his chest pressed into your back. His head is leaned down by the side of your neck, his warm breathing fanning across your skin.

He moves with you for a minute, immersed in the music and the way your body grinds against him. He feels like its just you and him in this party, addicted to the feeling of you on him like he was the night he had you all to himself in the backseat of his van.

His lips brush lightly over the skin of your neck, and he takes a deep breath in to try and steady himself before things escalate further. “What are you doing, Y/N.” He mumbles into your ear. His fingers press into your hips, his pants tightening from the way your ass is rubbing onto him.

Fuck. It’s taking everything in him right now not to drag you to one of the empty bedrooms and bend you over the mattress so he can fuck your brains out.

You feel him grow hard in his jeans and smile to yourself, your plan going exactly how you wanted it to. You turn around suddenly and wrap your arms around his neck, your lips feathering over his. “I need you…”

It takes him all of thirty seconds to grab your hand and lead you out of the living room, and to the secluded hallway at the other side of the house. He pushes you softly against the wall, placing his arms on either side of your head. There’s a look of desperation on his face that you haven’t seen before.

“Y/N. Listen to me. I know this sounds crazy, but I think about you all the fucking time. I swear, I’ve tried so hard to get you off my mind since that night and I can’t. I- “

“Matt, please. I don’t want to talk about that right now. Just kiss me.” You interrupted and smashed your lips onto his, his shirt fisted in your hands.

What you really want to say is, you’re a liar. If you really meant that, you would’ve talked to me at school. You would’ve let me know how you felt instead of cutting me off. You would’ve acted like a grown man and reached out to me a long time ago.

But that isn’t part of your master plan to manipulate him. You needed him to think you wanted him, to make him feel the way he made you feel for months after you last saw him. You know it’s wrong and petty, but you don’t care. And you couldn’t help the fact that you also secretly enjoyed having his hands on your body again, his lips on yours like they belonged there.

Matt is completely sober but he’s getting lust drunk off the taste of your mouth, your wandering hands over his chest, his abdomen, his hair. Pushing and pulling him into you, and he can feel your pulse pounding a million miles a minute. He could breathe your air forever, could steal your kisses like it’s his favorite crime.

The desire between you two grows and grows, until Matt is convinced he could fuck you against the wall in this hallway right now and not care one bit who saw. But he knows that’s not the right way to do this. He wants you on the bed, so he can lay your body down, and devour you in the way he’s been craving all this time.

He grabs your hips, breaking the kiss and leads you to the nearest closed door, praying that it’s an empty bedroom. The chances are in his favor when he sees no one in the room, a large king-sized bed in the middle. He locks the door behind him, and you throw your arms around his neck again, entrapping his lips on yours once more. He bends down slightly and grabs your ass, lifting you up in the air. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you over to the bed.

Once he feels the mattress against his legs, he climbs on top, laying you down, his body on yours. He trails soft kisses from your cheek to your neck, his tongue on your hot skin, teeth grazing, leaving goosebumps all over you.

You sigh in pleasure, letting him take over your body like its his. Your determination has been crumbling since he pressed you against that wall, but you fight to keep your head on straight, his mouth now ghosting across your chest as his head dips lower. He tugs your shirt and bra down, revealing your tits to him, nipples hardened from the cool air. He looks up at you, blue eyes burning with fire as he circles his warm tongue around one of them, making you gasp.

He continues, taking extra time and attention to suck, kiss and lick on each of your breasts, his eyes still on yours, leaving your now soaked panties ruined. You can feel his erection pressing into you and when he starts moving his head further south, you wrap your legs around him and grab onto his shoulders so you can flip your bodies around on the bed, this time with you on top of him.

It was time for you to regain control. You pull the top of your shirt back up and he starts to sit up, but you push him down firmly by his shoulders. You grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head as he allows you to undress him. He doesn’t protest and watches as you move down the bed, to settle between his legs. Your hands unbutton his jeans and yank his pants down and off of him. Now he’s only left in his boxers, and you’re still completely dressed.

You lay down on the bed, bringing your face to his crotch and exhaling on his hardness. His abdomen flexes and he clenches his jaw as he watches you tease him, breathing your warm breath onto him and then letting your tongue run over him through the fabric of his boxers.

You press a kiss onto him, your lashes fluttering as you look up at him. “Y/N…” He groans, his hands tangling in your hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

You let a sly smile appear on your lips and rub your hands on his thighs. Your fingers curl around the band of his boxers, finally pulling them down so his cock springs out, long, hard, and begging to be taken care of.

He twitches as you press your lips to the tip, saliva leaking out of your mouth and coating him. Then you finally move your head down, taking as much of him as you can into your mouth and your soft hand curling around the base. He moans, holding your hair back as you bob your head up and down, his breathing becoming shallow.

You keep the pace, letting him brush the back of your throat and look at him, his head thrown back against the mattress in ecstasy, knowing he won’t last long at which the rate you’re going.

“Fuck…” He whimpers, letting you push him to that release, your actions feeling way too good to stop you.

You pull your mouth from him, gasping for air and letting your hand continue the motions, squeezing around him with every intention to get him to finish.

“I know baby, let go. It’s okay.” You say, urging him to cum.

But once you speak the words, Matt snaps out of his pleasure, the sentence sounding all too familiar.

“Matt…” You whine, and he presses his forehead to yours, his hands on your lower back, helping you ride him. “I know baby, let go. Its okay.” He says softly and the coil that’s been building for the past 20 minutes since he kissed you, finally releases and warmth floods your body. You moan loudly and feel yourself leaking on his thigh, your hips slowing down.

He grabs your jaw, the expression on his face now hardened. “What do you think you’re doing?” He says, finally catching onto your little plan.

Shit. You really fucked up now. You didn’t think he would recognize the same words, you thought it would be an inside joke only to yourself in your twisted mind. But Matt was smarter than you realized.

You try to play it off though, not wanting to give in. “What do you mean?” You say innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

He chuckles darkly and snaps his boxers back on, grabbing you by your arms and pulling you up, flipping around so you lay on the bed, on your back again.

Matt had a feeling something was off the moment you asked him to dance but he let his attraction take over and his desire cloud his judgement. And now that he’d figured out what you were trying to do, he was furious. He was mad that you felt the need to mock him, to get back at him. He was mad that he let his stubbornness prevent him from acting like a mature adult and block you out of his mind, of his life.

But most of all, he was mad and at the same time obsessed with the control you had over him, over his body, over his thoughts. He never let anyone dictate his emotions but somehow you had, and right now he wanted to show you who was really in control here. He wanted to show just exactly how much he had missed you.

“Who do you think you’re trying to play with, hm?” He says as he roughly tugs your skirt down your body and off your legs, leaving your heels on. He removes your shirt and bra right after, leaving you shocked in the way he’s managed to get you naked in less than a minute.

You don’t say a word as he pushes your legs open, his thumbs digging into your skin so hard, it hurts. He slots his shoulders in between as he places his wet lips on your stomach, kissing his way down, over your pelvis, and moving to your inner thighs, licking and sucking at the crevices.

It was insane the way Matt could control you with his dominance, the touch of his hands and the feeling of his tongue on your skin. You’ve basically lost your whole course of action in revenge, allowing him to have his way with you.

He’s everywhere except the spot you need him the most, leaving you whimpering and on edge, your hips uncontrollably moving. He smacks your inner thigh, making you cry out from the sting.

“Stop fucking moving. You wanted to play this game, right? Well, let Daddy show you who’s really in control here.” He practically growls and the tone of his voice has your pussy throbbing with need but your heart pounding with anger.

“Fuck you, Matt.” You respond, glaring down at him in between your legs.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise at your defiance, his eyes almost completely black from the way his pupils are blown. His fingertips dig harshly into your skin as he pulls you down even closer to his mouth, and your breath picks up as he traces his lips over your folds, not touching all the way but barely brushing.

He places a gentle kiss to the spot right above your clit, his eyes the complete opposite of soft as he looks up at you. He kisses once more and then dips down to lick one swipe through you only to move away, his tongue on your inner thigh again.

The teasing is almost too much, making you whine and squirm under him. He smirks at your reaction, satisfied with the way he’s gotten you worked up. He licks through you again, his tongue strong and warm and circles around your hole before pulling away once more, kissing the side of your lips.

“Say you want me.” He breathes against your skin, looking at you again.

You don’t answer him and he runs one finger through your folds, massaging lightly before pulling away seconds later.

“Say you want me. And I’ll give you what you need baby.” He’s looking at you with expectancy, hoping you’ll give in because as much as he’s enjoying teasing you, he wants nothing more than to please you.

You could almost cry from how mean he’s being, and grit your teeth, your eyes continuing to give him dirty looks. No fucking way you’re giving in this easily.

“I said… Fuck. You.”

There’s a brief moment of silence and heated looks exchanged before he suddenly gets up, standing at the end of the bed and then reaches up to drag you by your ankles to the edge where he is, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He would’ve had you cumming on his tongue, thighs around his face as you shook, swallowing every last drop.

“You’re gonna regret that.” He simply says and pulls his dick out only to push it into you with no warning, bottoming out as his hips connect with yours.

You cry aloud from the feeling, and you’re seeing stars as Matt drives himself into you over and over, hard. You’re moaning along with him, your head thrown back against the mattress. He watches as he slips in and out of you, the blissful look of pleasure on your face, a sight he could replay in his head for the rest of his life.

He wraps one hand around your neck, squeezing a little, making you clench around him from the feeling of arousal it gives you. The anger pours out of both of you, mixing with pleasure until it turns into something else, something you two have been holding back for a long time. This is nothing like the last time. In the van, it was sweet, innocent and new. But now it was dirty, hot and desperate.

The sounds of your bodies against each other fill the room, the wetness you make as he thrusts into you like music to his ears. He tells you how sexy you are, how good you take him, how much he loves to have you like this. Dripping down his cock, body quivering and throat raw from screaming out his name.

You both claim to hate each other but somehow ended up in this position for the second time. As you reach your release together, he lays closer over the top of you, burying his face in your neck. You hold him, nails scratching down his back as you cum around him, and you feel the throbbing of his cock as he finishes inside you. He stays there for a minute as you both calm down and he’s whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Matt drove you home that night, after taking his brothers home first of course. Everyone assumed what you two were doing when you disappeared from the party and Chris and Nick giggled in the car, making fun of you two, much to Matt’s annoyance.

He kissed you good night. He called the next day, and the next, and the next. He checked up on you, sent flowers to your house when you weren’t expecting, he even brought you lunch to your job when you were having a particularly rough day. He made up for all the lost time.

You both had many discussions about the past. You forgave him for what happened, and it made you happy to finally say you didn’t hate Matthew Sturniolo after all. You were actually deeply, head over heels, in love with him.

taglist <3: (if you want to be added/taken off, reply to this post or comment on my masterlist. and if you weren't mentioned, it wouldnt let me tag u :/)

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo @junnniiieee07 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @certifiednatelover @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @ribread03 @sturniololoco @75sturn

#Spotify #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader

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alavestineneas · 5 months ago

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Heaven

pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x fem!reader summary: Gluttony, lust, sloth, envy, greed—the sins were placed on his head instead of a crown worth his status, a crown that would've, undoubtedly, made some meaning of his life. Without it, the matted, silver hair atop his head served more as a laughing matter. Even the father, taken with the idea of a male babe, has cast him aside. The apple of the rotten tree fell far from the branches, left to rot and decay in the shadows of his own undoing. warning: canon-typical violence, blood&cheese, hurt little comfort, loss of limbs, implied/referenced cheating, drinking, court, RELIGIOUS GUILT, sex lol word count: 8.2k

author's notes: hi lovely people! today, i present you my new creation - an Aegon fic! yay! PLEASE note that: a)YN has children in this imagine and they are important to the story. If you don't feel comfortable reading all that - do not engage with this fic. b) The Blood&Cheese does happen in this univese, so be mindful!

If all is good, am I so excited to have you here - please don't shy away from sharing your opinion, either good or bad, in the comments. Love you!

He was not used to hearing no.

It is a simple truth: of all of the words in the world, one of the most common ones escaped his mind completely, going over his head and never leaving an impact strong enough to attach meaning to it. Since he was a babe in the golden cradle, lavishing in the rich purples of the crown, the Realm opened in front of him, smiling and cooing in his regal plump face. The best teachers, toys, and golden coins were thrown his way—the firstborn son, the long-awaited boy of House Targaryen. Soon, the endless teachers changed into endless rivers of the best wines, and wooden horses grew pairs of tits big enough to bury the temper he had grown to hold. Only gold in his pockets as he turned to yet another brothel door never changed its shape—money travelled from his hands into cups, dresses, and undergarments silently, the countless replicas of his father’s profile sparkling with the judgement of yet another of his poor choices.

Sometimes Aegon wondered what would be the breaking point for his righteous Lady Mother—when would her head finally turn to look him in the eye and mutter a swift ‘’no’’ instead of lowering her gaze and pursing her lips together at his new whim? He foolishly thought it would be the wine. Nevertheless, each time Alicent found him covered in his own dinner, dragged to the castle by some unfortunate knight, she raged and cried, but never forbade him from drinking again. Yet, the more he ate, the more he wanted.

He thought his heart a hole—the darkest, most blackest place of his soul, rotten from the day his violet eyes opened and took in the world around them. Like a tooth, white as snow upon its birth, growing spoiled from the sweet nectars the Realm had to offer. The small spot, not bigger than a needle's ear, appears first, going unnoticed. Then, it fattens and spreads its disease through the mouth until there are no teeth to chew with, leaving only a gaping void where once there was a smile. Gluttony, lust, sloth, envy, greed—the sins were placed on his head instead of a crown worth his status, a crown that would've, undoubtedly, made some meaning of his life. Without it, the matted, silver hair atop his head served more as a laughing matter. Even the father, taken with the idea of a male babe, has cast him aside. The apple of the rotten tree fell far from the branches, left to rot and decay in the shadows of his own undoing.

In the name of traditions he had no reason to engage in, the only place where he had hoped to be something or become something—his chambers—were occupied by the stark reminder of his worthlessness. Heleana, his sister, his wife—the almost always silent figure, a shadow of their childhood. It pained him to watch her close her eyes every time he entered the chambers to install the needed heir into his sister's womb. Aegon remembers her as a girl, often strange but never unkind—the image he forced himself to forget every time she undressed in front of him . The violet eyes they both shared, the silver braids covering her girlish figure—everything about House Targaryen made him ache with guilt and shame. He could not stand to look at the similar braids on his own shoulders, so he cut them off in a drunken rage, burning them in the flames of the fire. Oh, how he wished he could burn himself there instead.

None of his whores had any trace of Old Valyria. None of his whores had a trace of her, either. The one his famished, bloodied heart set the pinnacle of his desire. He could have any woman in the world, from the slaves to the highborn maidens, begging for him to spare one glance, one night, one favour from the night-made king. But it was her, the secret so shameful that even his spoiled mind could not admit it. Aegon studies the patterns in the ceiling, his body almost in pain from the aching feeling in his abdomen. The water around him moves, caressing his skin like a lover's touch. It's burning, he notes, despite being nearly wintry.

''Does your brother know you are here?''

He almost does not recognise his voice as he speaks, the words barely a whisper in the echoing chamber. It's low and darkened, leaving his mouth with a tingle of bitterness. The question comes out twisted, ridicule thrown into another naked body in his bath—it earns only a low chuckle from the woman in front of him.

''Yes, my king, I believe he does.'' Lady YN looked more entertained than embarrassed; all of the pleasantries the etiquette demanded they follow were out of the question anyway. The water hid most of her body, leaving only the head and neck for display. She was bare, the ends of her hair steaming down the ends of a bath as she lounged comfortably, completely at ease. ''The twins often share a piece of soul, my king. You must have known from your own children."

Aegon hms, his eyes leaving their place and setting on the woman instead. Coloured with wetness, her hair stuck to her forehead in the heat of the bath , starting small streams of water down her face. Striking, almost glistening eyes stared back at him. Something unreadable lay there, something not meant for him to see. Her body is one of the woman, not a girl; the marks of not one but two babes nurtured by her womb and breasts are simple in their beauty; this, Aegon thinks, ought to be the image of Mother on the walls of Sept. Lady YN, a widow to some highborn Lord he wished not to know the name of, and mother to his two children. Lady YN, a twin sister to Ser Leon Estermont. Lady YN, the mistress of the king.

''Are you just going to stare?'' The woman chuckled softly, bringing Aegon out of his reverie. "Or are you going to fuck me?''

Aegon barked a short laugh, adjusting himself to hold the weight of the woman climbing on top of him, his arms catching her hips with ease. ''Holy Seven! Where have you learned such profanities, woman? Not fuck,'' he playfully scolded, trapping her lips in a teasing kiss. ''making love, that is,'' he mumbled against her jaw.

Aegon moved slower than usual, taking his time to savour each moment. Something was enchanting in the way droplets of sparkling water clung to her skin, glistening like diamonds in the sunlight—it was as if the water itself had moulded her, leaving an indelible mark on her very being. Even now, with his headlight from wine and limbs burning for a rest, the hunger pools in his stomach, demanding more of her. YN's voice is sickening; it wraps around Aegon's dried throat and lands on his chest like a weighty stone. The hushed moans, mixed with whispers, send shivers down his spine as he rocks into her body, caught in the intoxicating web she weaves with her words. It almost pained him to pull away from her, knowing that he would never be able to resist her siren call for long.

''What are you doing?'' YN asks, her voice laced with a hint of amusement, as she places her hands on his chest, the pace of her hips never faltering.

Aegon struggles to find the words to respond, lost in the dizzying whirlwind of sensations she evokes within him. He can only manage a breathless, ''There is something I want to give you,'' before succumbing once again to her spellbinding presence. It's not an inquiry; the words leave Aegon's mouth without much thought behind them . His hand blindly travels to the small table somewhere behind his back, knocking down two goblets and a burned candle in his haste. ''Here,'' he says, pushing the cascade of hair aside to place a small golden pendant on her neck. "Oh, Gods,'' he murmurs, his eyes fixed on the pendant as it rests against her skin. "Had it made for you.''

He tried to focus on the pendant, but the sight of breasts moving before him was too much to bear. The pace she set, undeniably to torment him further, was excruciating. A few more moments, and he might finish right then and there. But he couldn't bring himself to stop her or put an end to this torturous game. Aegon closed his eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming sensations that consumed him.

''Please, don't stop," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own racing heartbeat. Aegon wanted to cease existing, to turn around, and to never be seen here again. Instead, he just sat in the small bath, a little too small for two people, feeling redness creep up his neck onto his cheeks. To his surprise, the heat pooling inside of him only grew as his courage slipped away with each moment. A completely pleasurable sensation took over him, spreading heat between his legs and causing his breath to quicken. Aegon's hips instinctively arched forward, craving more of her touch. The waves around him mixed with the ones of pleasure as he came, the hands roaming his body, leaving him feeling more alive than ever before.

Numb, he watched the water swirl around the YN's breasts and knees as she reached her high a few moments later, a smile playing on her lips as she looked down at him. She rinsed her body, washing away the sweat and salt, before stepping out of the water with a satisfied sigh. Aegon followed her body with hungry eyes as she stepped out of the bath and reached out for the cloth to dry herself. First, her hair, then her neck and arms; she meticulously dried every inch of her body before slipping into a blue gown, one of her hands catching and bringing to light his gift. A sun-shaped gold pendant dangled from her fingers, glinting in the fire. She traced the intricate design with her thumb, a fond smile on her face as she remembered the moment he had given it to her.

Aegon's eyes softened as he watched her. ''I intend to have you join me for the early meal on the morrow. ''

''I would be pleased to, my king.'' She pauses, a sly smile playing on her lips. ''May the night be kind to you.''

He chuckled, his own smile mirroring hers. ''And may your dreams be filled with nothing but joy.''

With a gentle nod, she excused herself from his presence, the gold pendant still clasped in her hand. Aegon sighed, not bothering to sit straight, leaning on the bath walls instead. He prayed to Seven for even a chance to close his lids this sombre night; his usual sleep was turned into a nightmare and a fever dream at once—the one that left him covered in sweat and desperate for sweet oblivion. No matter how much he pleaded, the laughing eyes of Lady YN wouldn't leave her alone. He would lay in bed until sunrise, staring into the faintly pink sky, until dawn came and the cycle of never-ending torment began again.

There were a lot of sinners in all the corners of the world; they kept on with their small affairs, akin to flies, wasting each of their numbered days on the things that carried no meaning in the great map of history. Slaves of foreign lands, smallfolk of fields and seas, servants scurrying in the shadows of their masters or draped with precious cloth figures of noblemen—life and later death—showed no interest in their whereabouts. Their existence was fleeting; their legacy was forgotten with the passing of the seasons.

YN grew tired of never-changing identities quickly; the same faces of mediocrity surrounded her, stealing the much-needed fresh air with the talk of trivial matters. Noon and night mixed in one globe in her throat, tasting of nothing but bitterness—the same flute, feast, and court affairs sun after sun. The small girl near her screeches and laughs, her little hands occupied with the dolls, as she attempts to flee from the grasp of her older brother. They seemed to be in their own world, running down one of the stone halls of the Red Keep with a speed the best stallions of the kingdoms could only dream of.

''You are cheating! I saw it; you did!''

Peter was her firstborn, a boy who is now nearing the age of a man—two and ten summers have passed since she first heard his cry echo in the cold halls of the family castle. Slender, even sickly skinny—as her late lord husband declared upon his birth, he fell sick often—she has spent countless nights near his cradle, wishing to see the day he becomes a healthy, strong young lad. To the delight of everybody, and YN as well , her prayers did not go unanswered. Peter was now skilled with a blade, his fragile figure resulting in swifter, much softer moves that left his teacher's prowess a remarkable honour of knighthood.

''I am not! I'm just faster than you!''

A smile spreads across YN's face as she looks at the little girl in her yellow dress, who now hides behind a collum. Meg was a keen, healthy babe of four summers, with a mischievous glint in her eyes that mirrored YN's own. Other than that, she looked nothing like her—all her father, the Lord husband, lost to illness. What a blessing it was to look at her daughter's face and see him. What a curse.

''Please, be civil. Remember, no hitting, no biting, and absolutely no spitting are worthy of a knight or a lady."

No talking, either, if she could convince them to listen for longer than two minutes. Having her children play with the royal heirs was Aegon’s idea; like that, she had more time on her hands, and twins could enjoy the company of someone closer to ''normal'' folk, as he had worded it. It was not something she could refuse, although she wished nothing more than to do so. The royals were a serious matter; one wrong word and your head ornates the castle walls instead of the golden banners. She did not doubt her children; they were kind-hearted, lovely people, but the notable ‘incidents’ of house Targaryen kept her awake at night, wishing her children would be brought to her with all their eyes and limbs. Leon, her brother, assured her nothing would happen— it was he who took her children to and from the Queen's chambers. He told her of great opportunities for his niece and nephew that came with being closer to the court, but it did not ease YN’s mind fully. All of her family, in one way or another, entertained the royal and noble house of the dragons—the fate most minor houses considered a blessing. Most, but not all.

Before the death of her husband and long before either of her children came into this globe, it was just two of them in their small little world—the twins of House Estermont, the heirs to the misfortunes of the Greenstone's lush greenery and endless tides of sea. She would've stayed there, on a small island enveloped by mountains and castle walls. It was Leon who wanted to make something of himself, with dreams as high as the seagulls up in the sapphire sky above their childhood bedchambers. There was not thought more ridiculous than her dear brother in the walls of the capital , and yet he left the Estermont as soon as the banners were called for young swords in the court of then-prince Aegon. Then she married, and the rest was drowned in the endless nights of tears. Sometimes, only when no one was around, YN wondered if she could've stayed forever there, in her home, without having to see the world that was often so cruel—had her brother not left her so early; had he been the lord instead of their father when she came of age?

''Mother, are you going?''

The loud voice has startled YN out of her thoughts. She smiled at her son, adjusting the skirts of her gown before nodding. ''Yes, my sweet. Let us come in; we do not want to keep the Queen waiting, do we now?''

The Queen. YN has heard many rumours in court concerning the sanity of young Queen Helaena, her preference for silence, and modest foods, but she has never seen her closer than a few yards. Standing before the large wooden door to her chambers seemed foolish—had she been any other woman, perhaps she had nothing to fear—to present her children to the royal maids and escape to the comfort of the halls once more. But she was no ordinary woman—she was a mistress to the King the Queen called brother, the one whose bed he warmed instead of hers. YN cursed her brother in her head for having ''a business'' to attend to today, of all days; even though he assured her of Queen's kind heart, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease as she pushed the door.

The chambers were quiet, with only the slow crackling of wood in the chimney disturbing the peace. ''My Queen, I have brought the children as you requested,'' YN announced, her voice echoing in the vast rooms. She waited for a response, but none came—only the flickering shadows dancing on the walls.

On the small cushion before the fireplace, a figure dressed in regal robes sat with her eyes on the embroidery hoop in her hands. YN takes her time studying the woman as her own children join the pair of royal heirs on the woven carpet. She sits straight, her face somewhere else. The queen has beautiful hair, YN notes to herself ; her silver locks escaped the carefully laid braids, landing right onto her cool, fair face. The woman is younger than her, perhaps by a few summers. The maids around her worked almost in silence—only sometimes it dared to be broken with a small polite exchange concerning the seams or the ornaments on their wooden hoops. There was a distance between her and them—a distance that YN could sense even from where she stood. Despite the quiet camaraderie of the ladies, the queen remained in her own world, a world that YN couldn't quite grasp.

''Lady YN,'' the Queen finally said, never moving her eyes from the dark fabric. ''Would you like to see what I have done so far?''

Something familiar sparkled inside YN's mind like an old tune long forgotten. There was a certain childish quality to her words, reminding her of the way her daughter spoke—something about the innocence and vulnerability that still lingered beneath the regal facade. The Queen spoke to her like they had been great friends like she had seen her before—perhaps in a dream or in another lifetime.

''Of course, Your Majesty.''

She moved closer, careful not to step on the countless toys and pillows scattered around on the floor. Someone, Jaehaerys or Jaehaera, whom she could not tell, squeaked and ran past her, chased by her own daughter, almost knocking YN over in their game. The Queen smiled warmly at the chaos, her eyes sparkling with amusement at them as YN sat before her on the padded chair, intended for legs. She turned the hoop of her embroidery , her delicate fingers working quickly and skillfully.

''I did it for him. A golden dragon, you see? I do not like green; it does not suit him,'' she half-whispered, her almost translucent violet eyes studying each expression on YN's face but never lingering too long.

Him. YN nods, her heart aching with understanding. She knows. Suddenly, the world feels like it is burning—or, perhaps, it is just the growing fire—and an acquainted feeling of guilt and shame travels to her throat. She swallows hard, trying to drown the discomfort in her saliva—a whore, a liar, a thief. Here, in the presence of something so fleeting, so beautiful, and so delicate, she feels the weight of her sins pressing down on her chest, threatening to consume her whole.

The colourful eyes of the Queen seemed to understand her thoughts; she smiled. ''You have a beautiful necklace.''

YN's involuntary hand reaches for the necklace hanging around her neck, feeling the weight of it in her palm. The gold sun sits there proudly, having escaped the comfort of her dress in a moment she has missed. It feels like a cruel joke and, if she will, a reminder of the audacity she possessed to steal from a queen. She felt bare for the first time in years, like a child caught by his mother in some small affair. ''Thank you, your Grace," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the flames.

''He likes you, my brother. He has a very strange way of showing it; you are the first person he's allowed to get this close to. The first to keep for so long, too.'' Queen Helaena pauses, her eyes softening slightly as she looks at the children before her. "They love having someone to play, you know? Always waiting for a new friend to join them in their games.'' As the firelight dances across her face, Queen Helaena's smile is bittersweet. "I am afraid I do not know what to do with them. ''

YN nods in understanding, her head turning to watch the flock of laughing children too. ''I was thirteen when I had my first. From the moment he left my womb, he screamed and cried, never finding solace in my arms. I was his mother, the person who was supposed to provide comfort, yet I could just cry with him. I did not feel the mystical tenderness the ladies told me about—I felt lost. Hollow. I thought I was missing some piece of myself that would make me love him the way I was supposed to. But he grew, and I did with him—then I realised that I had a lot of people to care for me, but he only had me. There is no ''right'' love—only the love we are capable of giving , and that was enough for him.''

The woman kept quiet, her eyes moving on the stone floor. YN wondered if her silence was a hint of disapproval or if she was simply lost in her thoughts once again. After a moment, Queen Heleana finally spoke, her voice lingering through the chambers. "Would you like to join us in the garden on the morrow? It would be a great change of scenery."

YN smiled. The relief washed over her—it didn't feel real. The same eyes, hair, and face she saw hundreds of times are once again in front of her, only changing slightly to more feminine features. The Queen does look like her brother-husband, and now YN can't help but feel a sense of comfort in her appearance. ''I would be honoured to, Your Majesty."

The days changed each other quickly; her children grew, and the court lived, growing and changing before her eyes. There was something in the air; she could feel it—an alter after Prince Aemond brought news of the passing of a Valaryon bastard. YN remembers the night—the king has drunk himself half-dead, pacing and muttering about war—the weight of the crown seemed heavier on his head that night. She knows he wishes she did not hear it, laughing at all of her worried questions on the next eve. Still, the war worried her; it brought the worst upon its coming—famine, illness, and terror. She did not fear death—the Stranger was a familiar presence in her life—but the thought of her children suffering haunted her dreams.

YN looks at the girl in her wooden bed, sleeping as peacefully as a child should. Peter sits near, on the stool beside her, his eyes shining with excitement more than fear as he listens to the reading—no matter how smart her son is, he is still too young to fully grasp the doom that warfare will bring to their doorstep; for him, the tales of glorious battles are still alive and true. As YN finishes yet another story about the conquest of three dragon warriors, the comforting silence settles in their bedchamber. Soon, the sun will fully hide behind the darkened clouds of the horizon, and the night will cast its shadows over the land.

''Are you the king's mistress?'' Peter asks, his voice barely above a whisper. The words that leave his lips are not his own. YN's heart shrinks at the sound of them—the whispering faces of the court's gossip swirling in her mind.

There it was—the question she hoped would resolve itself on its own but knew would come anyhow. It's hard, YN realises, to admit such a simple truth to the pair of wide-open eyes looking up at her as she closes the book. Did she not tell it herself after each time she spent the night in the king's chambers? '' I and King Aegon are,'' she takes a breath in. What were they? Lovers? Such a foolish, shameful thought. ''dear friends. We converse and dine together, and he takes great pleasure in hearing me play.''

She does not want to lie to her sweet boy; she knows he is perceptive and will see through any falsehood. But the weight is heavy; she will not let it crush his still boyish shoulders. Deep down, YN fears the day her son will realise the truth. Will he still wish to know her name then? He looks like a small sparrow bird, YN thinks to herself, in his brown vest and ruffled collar of the shirt —so small yet so curious. He tilts his head just like the finch would as if trying to grasp her words and find something between them. ''Do you love him?''

A sigh escapes her lips before she can think of a better answer. ''Well, let's see,'' she pauses. ''I love you, and I love little Meg, and I love your uncle Leon. I also love our beautiful rooms, my dresses, and the nice pies we get to have for supper. And all of that we have because King Aegon is good and just and values our house as one of his loyal subjects. So, in a way, yes, I do love him for that.''

Lies. Disgraceful, unworthy of a lady, a mother she is. Does she truly feel nothing when his lips caress every inch of her very being, his hands touching her soul akin to a ghost? Does she not wish the warmth of his body never had to part from her heart, staying on her neck instead, trapped in the warm, gold sun on her skin? Did she not offer him what was left of her time and time again ? Did she not think of him all the time? Was she not terrified of loving him, and did she not love him?

''I do not want you to marry him.'' Peter is determined. His hands grow fists, the slight childish jealousy painting his face. He could not know, and yet he felt it; he was her son, her blood, after all.

''Then I shall not. I will be here, helping you as you grow into a strong, handsome Lord, and then I will eat only cake and wear pretty dresses for the rest of my days. You will protect me and your sister, just like your father did before he passed, and I will be your scorny lady-mother for the time being . ''

She would. YN wished he would see it, but he was still too young, too naive, to understand the sacrifices she dedicates for him and his sister only, the chains she traps in her heart every day just for them to have a happier life. The sacrifices he did not ask for, YN reminds herself . Sacrifices she chose willingly.

Peter nods, his eyes changing back into childish, sparkling innocence, leaving the stone-cold stare and anger hanging only in his mother's memory. "That sounds perfect, my lady-mother," he says with a grin. "I will protect you and my sister with all my might, just like my father did."

''Good,'' YN smiles, planting a kiss on her son's forehead. "Your father would be proud of the man you are becoming.''

He would not, but Peter does not need to know it. Maybe he will grow up to be nothing like him, and maybe the gods will be kind enough to let her see it.

The Queen's chambers are loud as the night approaches; children, royal or not, never seemed to tyre and instead wished to play all into the night. Even the tireless maid, exhausted of their incessant energy, now quietly sat in the corner, undoubtedly anxious not to be discovered for at least a handful of moments. Tragically for her, YN did not possess this kind of power; her head seemed to soon crack into a few pieces from the noise and shuffles, her limbs burning for rest and quiet. She was tired of reading; the book, long forgotten, was shyly lying at the edge of the wooden table, covered in rich gold ornaments.

''Do you feel unwell?'' The soft voice of Queen Helaena is heard nearby. The fair face turns into a concerned expression—the Targaryen queen had always been perceptive .

YN shakes her head in a weak attempt to wave any worries away. ''Just a little tired from the long day,'' she murmurs, forcing a small smile.

''Perhaps you should rest. I will send a maid to draw you a bath and prepare your chambers for the night.'' The woman's graceful hand reaches out to gently touch YN's shoulder. ''The children can stay; they will be in good hands with the nursemaid, and then they shall return to your chambers in the morning.''

YN feels something creep in her stomach but shakes it off. Perhaps she should not have eaten that pie after all. ''Thank you, your grace,'' she says, mustering a grateful smile. She stands up to leave, feeling the weight of the day's events finally catch up to her before the Queen's voice is heard again.

''The cooter, a mother to three kings,'' she mumbles, her words causing YN to pause and turn back.

''Your grace?" It was not the first time The Queen lost herself in her thoughts; sometimes, she would whisper nonsense as they conversed—it was worrying, sure, but YN had learned to ignore it. Queen Helaena was a sweet, kind woman, but her mind was often clouded by the burdens of her crown. YN wished that one day the Queen would find peace and clarity in her own thoughts; she prayed for it, too.

''The cooter,'' the Queen gazed in her direction, directing attention to the embroidery on YN's dress.

''Yes, it is a cooter; it is a sigil of my house, your Grace, house Estermont.'' YN smiled gently, hoping to distract the Queen from her confusion. The woman's eyes lit up with recognition as she nodded in understanding, and YN breathed a sigh of relief. She can now rest.

It was not long before the screams in her dreams startled her awake—the dark, obsidian night in the window chilling her feet as she quickly sat up, her heart pounding in her chest. Although the screams never seethed; they became louder, more concerned voices of people in the halls outside her room, calling out curses and cries. YN quickly climbed out of the warm bed and rushed to the door, the cobble floors cooling beneath her bare feet as she opened it to see what was happening.

People running in and out of the long halls—maids and knights, even some noblemen in their sleepwear—seemed not to notice the strange figure of a woman in her nightgown standing in the doorway. ''What has happened?'' she asked the maid nearby before recoiling - the dirty sheets in her hands were coloured crimson.

The boy is dead, a voice told her . The boy in the royal chambers.

''Let me through,'' she demanded, pushing past the maid and rushing towards the rooms of Queen Helaena. The rooms she left her children in. She did not care; if the murderer was still in those walls, she would strangle him herself; her children, young, innocent children she left in the care of their nurse, were still there. Were still alive in her head.

The walk from her chambers to the royal ones wasn't too long; she would've walked a thousand more stairs if it was needed. The door to the chambers is wide open; splashes of blood lead inside, pooling before the opening, resembling a twisted, sick lake of horror. ''Meg? Peter?'' No response came, only eerie silence. Panic began to rise in her chest as she stepped over the threshold, her heart pounding in her ears. The screaming rings in her ears suddenly; she does not recognise her own voice as it echoes off the stone walls.

Small, lifeless limbs stare at her almost in accusation, the redness of his open neck wound stark against the pale skin —the body of young Prince Jaehaerys lays in his cradle like it often would, lacking only the silver crown of his head. The room was a scene of unfathomable horror, with blood splattered across the walls and the once innocent nursery now a monstrous sight. The scent of death surrounded her like a bloodied blanket, choking the breath in her throat and sending her head spinning.

She did not feel the male hands clutching her shoulders, pulling her away. The blue and green cloth under her feet quickly moved, the voice of her brother whispering something in her deaf shocked ears.

''Leon, children, my children,'' she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as tears streamed down her face. The realisation of what had happened in that room hit her right in the stomach, leaving a wretched kno of guts and despair. She tries to fight back, to shout over the chaos, or to push him away; she always does. It makes him just angrier, and harsher, and he tightens the grip, pushing her right into the open door of what appears to be his chambers.

''Everyone stays in their rooms until stated otherwise by the king's orders,'' he hisses, finally letting go of her.

The action is so sudden that she falls forward, hitting her nose as she slides down the stone wall. There's blood everywhere; it's mixed with tears, soaking into her hair and dripping down from her dress. Her brothers's plan worked; YN had no energy to shout anymore. Her anger is now swallowing down her dried throat. She opens and closes it like a fish out of the sea, trying to get air into her lungs—all that is left for her to watch as the wooden door snaps against its frame and the lock clicks, chaining her to the cold, dark room.

YN does not know how much time has passed or if it has passed at all ; the dark, obsidian night sky is now coloured in pinks, oranges, and purples, resembling her usual gowns more than the bright blue of the day. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze; she does not care for it. The only sound in her mind is a constant prayer, although, in her previous life, not many could accuse her of being devout. Now, YN finds herself clinging to any semblance of hope, no matter how faint, no matter where it comes from.

It's all her fault, she thinks. It is as clear as a day—the sins on her shoulders were so heavy that even Gods could not bear them anymore. She should've stayed there, in the northern castle of her lord husband, weeping over his grave like any proper widow would. Instead, she has indulged in a life of sin with violet eyes and silver locks, finding solace in the arms of another man. She let her body decide, choosing a life of bodily pleasure over honour and duty. The husband, no matter how hard it was for her to love him, was the only man who had a right to touch her soul. Touch her at all.

The door opened with a loud bang, revealing her lord husband in all his might. He was wearing those weird clothes again—something torn and dirty. It looked like he robbed some beggars near the castle before coming in, and he smelled the same.

''Come on!'' he exclaims, opening his arms as if for a hug. ''Don't be shy; we are married, remember?''

There is not much she can say; the easiest way out is to let him do what he wants. So, YN bites her cheek when his sloppy kisses travel down her neck and keeps her mouth shut when he takes off her nightgown. It's awful, almost humiliating, to hear his breath quicken. To feel him inside. She smiles when it's finally over, and he plants the last, tired kiss on her head before getting under the covers. She knows better than to disturb her husband's sleep; instead, she cries silently, mindful of staining his pillow with tears.

YN's knees are aching even through the fabric of her gown, but it does not matter. Through pain, she could feel her remorse. Feel like she was being punished for her own desires. Feel like she was clean again.

A soft knocking is heard, and YN has to snap out of her trance, gathering the tears building in her eyes with a cloth. It's a servant, one of the many she sees running down the halls this morning. ''You are awaited before the Council, milady.''

''Thank you,'' YN replies, her voice barely above a whisper. She will see to the punishment the gods have chosen for her, no matter how harsh it is. Her only wish is for her children, who are innocent in all of this, to be spared from any consequences of her actions. She straightens her posture and nods. ''Let us go then.''

The loud arguing in the rooms of Small Council seemed to fade as she appeared in the doorway, all eyes turning to her as she entered. The sun was already up, she noticed, as the soft streaks of warmth hit the room through the open windows, casting a golden hue over the polished table where the council members sat. She caught strange looks from a few, and frankly, she thought they were right. YN looked like a mad woman, her hair quickly plated and her dress hurriedly laced, rushing around a castle that seemed to freeze at the news of a child's passing.

''Mother,'' the loud cry of her son's voice echoed, snapping YN back to reality. He came running to her, his face streaked with tears and his eyes red from crying, his hands clutching her waist as he buried his face in her stomach. YN stood there, wrapping her arms around him tightly, feeling the empty space where his right hand should have been. ''I am so sorry; I tried to save him, but the knife, they did; they cut it off, Mother, '' he sobbed.

YN's heart shattered into a million pieces as she held her son close. Her darling, brave boy lost a part of himself, but he was alive. Better a sparrow, living or dead, than no birdsong at all. Here, in her arms. ''It is okay; all is well; you did so well. Where is your sister?''

''She is safe; I hid her in the closet. She was so scared,'' he whispered, his voice trembling.

''Your daughter is with maids now, Lady YN.'' The voice of Sir Criston Cole echoed through the room.

YN's eyes quickly found the green dress she put on her daughter herself; she sat on the hip of some scared maid, silent. She thanked the gods; she thanked anyone and everyone, in the sky or beneath the ground, who had decided to let her children live. Occupied with her thoughts, YN does not hear the questions flying at her right away; yet, the male voice of the swordsman still cuts through the cloudiness of her mind, reaching her ears.

''We would like to ask you a few questions about what happened that night. Can you tell us why you were not in the Queen's chambers with your children?''

There is something seething inside her as her son wails and clutches her waist with his now one hand and her daughter's frozen eyes as she stares through her mother. YN stood there, before the able knights of the castle, in nothing but her nightgown, covered in her son's blood and her own tears, feeling the weight of their accusatory gazes upon her. The gods forgave her and proved her innocent, but the whispers of suspicion still lingered in the air, staining her with their accusations. Anger—that was what boiled inside her—a fiery rage that threatened to consume her from within. ''What are you implying?''

''It is suspicious, don't you think, Lady YN, for you to be the only one absent when the tragedy occurred?''

YN laughed. It did not sound like a laugh of joy but rather a bitter, cynical sound that echoed through the great hall. Perhaps that was the mark of nerves she has wasted today, perhaps the showing of her despair—the maddening, heavy feeling of despair clawing at her insides. The child was dead; others were harmed—the cold, the almost translucent figure of the young prince covered in unfathomable amounts of his own blood lingered in her mind. "How dare you, the Head of the King's Guard, be the one telling me of doubts when it was my son, my blood, that protected Prince Jaehaerys? Tell me, Ser Criston, where were you when my boy lost his hand defending the royal family?''

Ser Criston's expression darkened at the accusation; his jaw clenched tightly. "I was carrying out my duty elsewhere, as I always have," he replied evenly, his gaze wavering in the face of her anger. ''And for those who question my loyalty, there is a place in the dungeons reserved for traitors and cowards. Guards, seize Lady YN and bring her to the cells for questioning immediately."

As his words echoed through the hall, the even louder cries of her son were drowned out by the commotion as the guards moved to apprehend her. Although she feels nothing now, the contrast of cold poisoning her body where the boiling anger was just a moment before terrifying and overwhelming. YN felt numb and drained of any emotion as her son hugged her closer, despite the best efforts of the man around them. There will be bruises, she thought in a haze. When did he get so strong?

''Leave her be.'' A voice boomed from the back of the room.

King Aegon sat there on the designated stool, adorned with heads of dragons. Now, he did not look regal; he seemed sick, his violet eyes bloodshot and silver locks hanging limply around his face. The sea-sick green coloured his face as he struggled to maintain his composure. Just for a second, their eyes met, a silent understanding slipping between them. There was something wrong with him. There was something wrong with him that was also wrong with her.

''Thank you, my king,'' she whispered, her voice barely audible. The man's expression softened slightly, with a flicker of recognition in his eyes, before he turned away, dismissing the guards. They were free to go; she was free to go, with her alive and well children, who still could scream and cry. He will stay; he had to stay with his now-forever boy.

The water hit the pier with gentle splashes, and the droplets of salt jumped on the stone legs of the dock before rejoining the vast sea. The warm shadows of the setting sun coloured the liquids in pricey gemstones: sapphire and rubies, quarts, and turquoise glistened before her eyes. There was something magical in the way the light danced, ethereal and airy, as it circled the pier—no one disturbed the peace of the tranquil sea; nobody knew the secrets it had stored since its birth.

The water was warm enough—just a little more, and the beach would embrace many swimmers in its warm hug. But, for now, she only watched as the waves gently lapped against her feet, the soothing rhythm of the sea reminding her she was still here, in her body. YN closes her eyes. It would be an easy fix— to just jump , to let the water envelop her completely, to become one with the sea. No one would know how she went, not until the same waves returned her body to the shore somewhere far from this castle. Or would the water leave her for itself, storing the secrets of her death deep beneath the sand as her soul left this world behind? YN had no chance of knowing, but the thought of disappearing into the ocean's embrace was strangely comforting. Just her and the place she called home.

The sound of crashing waves enveloped her head; the wind was getting stronger, ruffling the hem of her ivory gown as she sat at the edge of the cliff, the last rays of sun hitting her face like a gentle caress. The salty air inside her lungs reminded her of Estermont . The small island, isolated and insignificant on the grand map. Perhaps, if she were lucky, her remains would be buried there, under some nameless mountain range, with only a small stone marker to indicate her existence.

There are slow, almost silent steps approaching her from behind; she does not turn around. If it was death, whoever the Stranger took the form of, it was welcome here. With her children asleep in her brother's chambers, a dozen guards watching over them, she was at peace. The gush of wind through her hair felt like a final embrace, reeking of salt and blood. What an unusual scent—almost like the sea at low tide mixed with the metallic tang of iron. Almost too real to be just in her head.

''I killed him,'' the hoarse voice announced behind her, the black cloak brushing against her arm. The cloak she knew belonged elsewhere. She turned slowly, her hand plating itself on the warm deck, feeling the small stones beneath her fingers.

The light illuminated his face; the usually calm violet eyes now clouded with a darkness she had never seen before. The golden dragon head sitting at his chest glinted beneath the rays just as the waves did a moment before, the still-hot blood dripping from his hands onto the wooden planks. Strangely, the black fabric now was almost green from the crimson stains—Helaena was right. It did not suit him.

''I smashed his skull open with a single blow,'' he said, his voice chillingly calm. ''I felt nothing as he lay there, dying at my feet. I thought it would feel good to finally have revenge . It didn't.''

The sunset painted over the walls of Red Keep, the oranges and reds of dying stars reflecting in the short hair of the man in front of her. He looked like he was burning, set on fire right where the crown should have been, burning down his neck and slumping shoulders. His castle, his kingdom, was all slowly on fire, despite the cool evening breeze that swept from the sea behind her. She can't get him to leave, she realises. The flames fluttered around him, everywhere except his eyes—it was his home, and it combusted. YN still had time to jump into the safety of the water, drown her sorrows, and escape the unavoidable ruin that awaited them both. The saltiness from the waves travelled onto her cheeks, the shallow streams hitting her lips. She can't leave without him.

''Sit with me,'' she muttered, reaching out her hand towards him. It was empty of any rings or jewellery; it was bare, like a virgin sheet on a freshly made bed. She was free—free from the weight of ties and obligations that had bound her for so long. Just her, without anything that would remind her of the past.

''I will stain your hand with blood,'' Aegon mused, his eyes dark with the weight of his own burdens. I will stain you with my sins, he wanted to say, but the words caught in his throat.

''Stain them. I do not care.''

So the veined hand reached out, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine. She did not realise how cold she was until he enveloped her in his embrace, his warmth seeping into her bones. She felt clean for the first time in years, despite the stains on her dress, as the man collapsed in her embrace, his tears mixing with her own. ''Do you think we can ever truly be free from our sins?'' she whispered, feeling a sense of peace wash over her.

The man's embrace tightened, his voice steady despite the tremble in his breath as he replied. ''This love was never a sin; it could not be. Not when I love you with all that I am."

Aegon looks back at her, and it is not a tragedy.

This is the closest to heaven they will ever be.

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anticanonsposts · 1 year ago

Text

Random Fluff Headcanons-König

Completely SFW

If your bed has a bunch of pillows and blankets he falls asleep so fast and will be dead asleep until he wakes up. It gets to the point where he just needs to be in your bed smelling you to fall asleep.

Like this man will become dead weight on you if he falls asleep on top of you, to the point that you end up squeezing out from under him just to get some of his body heat off of you, and so you can breathe easier.

Speaking of sleeping on you he can fall asleep on any part of your body as long as his head is resting there. Chest, butt, thighs, shoulders, back, ANYWHERE

You’re pretty big but he has stressed so many times that that’s what he loves. And since dude is built the way he is he lifts you like you’re nothing. He consistently tells you that you are physically perfect for him and that he loves a woman with curves and rolls.

(I've seen a few relationship counselors on tik tok talk about how gym rats sometimes love bigger women, and König is so strong why wouldn't he want to do a few extra sets at home with you, using you)

This mountain of a man will kick his feet and cover his face whenever you text that you are coming over or you invite him over.

When you two travel together you usually opt to drive since its cheaper and planes are very uncomfortable for him. In the car you can stop whenever you want to get out and stretch your legs, once you taught him the term ‘passenger princess’ he is obsessed with it and puts your name on the glove box on the passenger side of his car (probably truck let's be honest). Thankfully you like to talk a lot so that keeps him occupied when his mind wanders and he gets antsy while driving

The few times that you do fly he is the brawns and you are the brains, you keep track of the boarding passes and gate changes and he is in charge of the bags, he usually needs to have something in his hand to fidget with whether it be a fidget toy or your hand, he gets more nervous on planes since once he enters a plan all eyes usually go to him. And he is cramped the entire time.

This obviously doesn’t help with his body dysmorphia issues and you usually try to distract him once you find your seats with little quips and how excited you are to reach your destination.

It does help that you two always get at least 3 seats (sometimes 4) to share between the two of you, so that you both are more comfortable and so you don't have to deal with any other people.

Concerning love languages this man is the king of parallel play, he doesn’t care what each of you are doing as long as you are in the same room together, just your presence is comforting to him.

One of your love languages is principally touch and he at first had no problem with you touching anywhere below his neck, it took awhile for him to get accustomed to someone touching his face and head so gently.

But at this point in your relationship he loves nothing more than a hand on his cheek.

Loves loves loves that you treat him like your guard dog, but especially when you go out and bring your friends with. At first you thought this might make you nervous but come one at the end of the day he is a man, and a man surrounded by (and protecting) women is gonna be happy.

If any man is dumb enough to approach or harass you....

They shit themselves once they see the man you have with you.

When you guys go to a club he often gets mistaken for a bouncer by other patrons walking up asking him questions, or other bouncers and bartenders come up to him, asking him to deal with rowdy people, at first he doesn’t understand why this keeps happening, and you just give him a sly smile and he understands.

Speaking of clubs, he loves to get drunk but it usually takes him double what it takes you to get buzzed, which can get pretty expensive so he always insists on paying when you go out

Why would you pay if I eat and drink double?

This x2 when you guys go out to eat or if he goes with you grocery shopping, (I cannot imagine the caloric intake a man that big takes in in a day)

Like many people, once you are both drunk, many of your insecurities and mental health issues diminish (obviously just for the short term) and he is no longer as conscious of his size and is able to better tune out the world and just enjoy himself without much encouragement.

Next part only pertains if you take edibles/smoke and if he does it with you..

When he’s high

The way that when girls cuddle and they want to be IN the other person’s skin, this is how he is when he’s high, his face is just glued to the nape of your neck, loving the smell of you and how close he can be to you.

When it comes to cuddling he just loves to be held by you, his favorite is when he's nestled on your chest.

LOVES having your fingers in his hair.

If you have fake nails on and he loves the way scratches with those feel on any part of his body but especially on his scalp

When spooning he can go either big or little he likes things about both, he loves feeling you wrapped in his arms just getting to gaze at your pretty face, and the likes the security of having your arms wrapped around him.

The meme about dick on the butt and hands on the titties while cuddling is in full swing when you are the big spoon, your hands just rest on his pecs as it's laced with his.

Speaking of your nails, he loves everything to do with them, loves watching you do them, try new designs, and whenever you get a fresh set he admires them and tells you what he likes about them.

As mentioned before he loves quality time even if you are doing two separate things, so when it takes hours to do your nails, he loves it.

When you are out in public, especially likes fidgeting with your nails, particularly when they have charms on them.

He also tends to fidget with your hands while you are in public and/or if he gets nervous.

He actually does let you paint his nails once he gets comfortable with you, but to your surprise he doesn't want them to be black bc he thinks its ‘too basic’ (you have no idea what content he was consuming to come to this conclusion) he ended up picking a pale iridescent almost opal color with a green tint, it's a lot more subtle which makes him more comfortable to show them off.

#cod x reader #konig cod #konig x reader #konig x reader fluff #fluff #comfort #headcanon #cute #sweet #konig my bbg

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envy-of-the-apple · 4 months ago

Note

hii!

i saw your list for things you enjoy writing for and omfgg languge barriers<33 those are absolutely top tier i love reading about those!! could i request a language barrier + monster au w beel? tysm and have a great day!!

ohhhhhhh thats so interesting????im gonna write an orc fit cuz i feel like that fits him so well-

(Dark content, kidnapping, noncon touching, shitty japanese cuz google translate, etcetc)

(Yandere! Orc! Beezebub x reader)

(translated sentences in the tags)

You saw the fires before you even heard the warning bells.

You'd heard the stories. Back when you were a child, crowded inside the elders cottage as you and the other children eagerly listened to the stories about the orcs. Only one of the adults had seen the warriors. Back when she was a child. Monstrous beasts, filled with nothing but anger and the taste of war.

"Will they ever come here?" One child had asked. A hushed murmur fell amongst the youth.

The elder smiled.

"No young one," she said, "they all reside in the north. No beast would travel so far."

She spoke lies, the proof only revealing itself years later.

You can hear the screams through your thin walls. Still, you continue to huddle in the corner of your home like a coward. It's too late to run. Far too late to call for help. All you can do is sit and pray to the Gods for mercy.

They'd come suddenly. Unlike anything you heard from the stories. There wasn't smoke in the distance warning their presence. It was just the distant clatter of hooves. And then chaos.

You'd been one of the lucky ones. Still in your home, bustling away when the screaming started. You'd locked your doors, bolted the windows. Even now, as you lay huddled in a ball, you knew it wouldn't be enough. You were just waiting for the inevitable.

Eventually, it came.

You were expecting something more violent. Windows being smashed. The wall torn apart. There was just a click and a squeak of your door. Heavy footsteps. Something was inside your home.

To your benefit, you don't whimper. Your breath hitches, but the beast's loud lumberings drown the noise. You can already tell that it's big. Each movement it makes causes your tiny home to rumble and shake.

You don't think. You just shove yourself under your tiny cot, trying to make as little noise as you can. You can hear your heartbeat thumping away in your chest, as you pray for it to slow down. You don't want to know if the thing in your home can hear it too.

It starts in your kitchen. You can hear it clamber away with pots and pans. The crushing of metal makes your head hurt as you imagine that being your skull. Then your furniture, a chair, thrown across the room, you can hear the wood shatter. That could be your limbs.

When it enters your bedroom. You stop breathing.

You can only see its boots. Big, nearly the size of your forearm, maybe even bigger. It muddles around your room, clumsily swiping away at the various knick-knacks and trinkets you have scattered across your room. The real horror begins when it starts to sniff the air, and you wonder if it can smell you.

You hear it's voice. Masculine, deep. He's saying words in a language you can't understand, it's foreign to your ears.

And then you're pulled from your sanctuary.

It doesn't matter how many times you've heard the story of the beasts ripping apart boulders with their bare hands, you kick and scream and collapse into sobs. The arms around your midriff don't budge. If anything they tighten, keeping you trapped with the thing you most feared.

You think you stay like that for hours. Or maybe time was slipping by, turning into sludge because your heart was going too fast and you surely thought that would kill you before the beast ever does. You squeeze your eyes shut, sobbing as you just wait for it to be over already.

Except, nothing happens. There's just this soft tapping against your cheek. He's speaking, again, that same deep tone that's strangely so soft.

"私を見て."

You want to keep your eyes shut, but perhaps, it's morbid curiosity that causes you to see who your murderer will be.

He's big, the largest man you've ever seen. He'd look human if it weren't for the textured skin, the fangs protruding from either side of his lips, the bright orange hair, the purple eyes that seemed to glow.

The most beautiful man you've ever seen. The most monstrous creature to ever exist.

He tilts his head. For a creature who is known to crush skulls and eat bones, he doesn't look very harmful. If anything, he's vulnerable. His chest is bare, only covered by shiny metal bracelets, while his bottom is covered by an animal pelt.

Yet, you stare back in terror. Looks don't mean anything. Not for beings like him.

Eventually, the orc nods, done examining you. Was he deciding you're a good enough kill? Before you can think anything further, he picks you up in his arms, effortlessly carrying you.

You've been crying and fighting and struggling for hours. All of it had tired you out. All what you can do is watch helplessly from his arms when he exits your home.

Your entire village is in shambles. Fire is everywhere. Blood is as common as water. It's horrifying. The scene haunts you even after the orc deposits your limp body on top of a horse.

Earlier he seemed rather unbothered with your struggles. Now, he gives an irritated sigh when you start to scream again. The orc wrestles your arms together, bundling them up with rope. Your mouth is muffled by a thick cloth. When you peer up at him helplessly, he gives you a stern look as if to say 'you brought this onto yourself'.

A sound of another horse's hooves is enough to remind you this orc didn't do this pillaging all by himself. Another orc saddles up to him. He's a bit smaller compared to the first one. Indigo hair with ivory tips. Despite their stark differences, their purple eyes look oddly similar to one another.

He gives your pathetic state a lookover, and then he scoffs.

Behind you, the orc that kidnapped you shrugs and says a few things. They go back and forth a bit and it sounded like they were arguing.

Eventually, there seems to be a clear victor. The orc rides off, as the first one gives a satisfied huff. When you fearfully look behind you, he just a condescending pat on your shoulder.

You think you pass out after that, because the next time you open your eyes, you're no longer on a horse.

The pelts under your skin are soft to the touch. You rise from the makeshift bed, looking at your surroundings. A large tent filled with soft furs and various trinkets.

You don't need to know who's it is.

He comes in hours later. Just as tall and terrifying when you first met him. He isn't adorned in weapons anymore. You cower nonetheless.

You curl inwards when he kneels in front of you. Even sitting down, he's humongous. His clawed hands unfurl, and he presents something to you.

You don't know what it is, but you know it's food.

You don't take it, suspicious. He seems to realize this as he takes a bite, before extending it back to you. Still, you refuse.

You can't figure out his endgame, yet. He hasn't kill you, does that mean he's waiting for the right moment? Is he planning on fattening you up before he eats you? You wished you could speak his language. Any answer is better than his silent torment.

After a while, he shrugs, muttering something, before gently placing it back on the plate. He still isn't done with you.

He points to himself.

"Beelzebub," he says. He repeats the motion a few more times before you understand that he's saying his name.

When he points to you, you shy away, refusing to answer. He doesn't seem angry at that, giving a thoughtful hum. You watch warily as Beelzebub pulls away, his interest falling to other things within the tent. Sharper things. He picks up a long knife, studying the blade.

You swallow, and then you decide to leave.

You'd barely begun to take a step before Beelzebub turns to look at you. He huffs, before pointing at the piles of furs. You don't need to know what he said. You stay put.

He puts the knife down, thankfully. He picks some other things, moving them around the tent mindlessly. At least he isn't looking at you. You think you'd go into hysterics if he just sat there, staring and staring and staring.

He's waiting for something. Someone.

Pretty soon, that person walks through the tent.

Not as large as Beelzebub, but big enough to terrify you. This orc had black hair. His red eyes racked over your figure, scrutinizing you with mild disgust.

Beelzebub greets him with a grunt. The newcomer sighs before going off in a foreign language. Beelzebub answers with a stagnant face. Another argument. You have a feeling both were about you.

Clearly, the orcs did not want you here. Then why did he bring you here? At that, relatively unharmed? What was the point of all of this?

Or perhaps the other orcs didn't understand their member's thought process either.

Eventually, Beelzebub shakes his head. He points at you.

"彼女は私の妻になります," he says.

The other orc frowns, but he doesn't respond. Beelzebub must have won. He just gives you another glance, before making his way back out the tent.

Beelzebub gives a satisfied grunt. You stiffen when he drops down to sit right in front of you.

He doesn't do anything. He just sits. He stares right at you. In response you press yourself against the tent walls, but there's no where to hide.

He reaches out to touch your cheek. You shudder.

"私の妻." When he smiles, his dangerous fangs poke out. "私のものだけ."

#yandere obey me #yandere #yandere obey me x reader #yandere beelzebub #yandere beelzebub x reader #yandere beelzebub obey me #non con touching #kidnapping #orc beelzebub #yandere orc beelzebub #translations in order #“look at me”#“she will be my wife”#“my wife”; “only mine”

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