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flowerandblood · 22 hours ago

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The Song of Promises [1/3]

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: loss of virginity (both characters), sex content, unprotected sex, oral sex, targcest stuff, smut, angst, abduction, description of eye loss, mourning, child abuse, Aemond being a self-absorbed, vain guy ]

[ description: Aemond's childhood is filled with loneliness and regret until Daemon arrives in the Red Keep with his first-born child, daughter of Rhea Royce. The fact that neither of them has a dragon of their own binds them together with a thread of understanding, and their slowly developing relationship gives birth in the young prince's mind to a plan of which she is a part. Slow burn, childhood companions to lovers, first intimacy, rude, insolent, arrogant Aemond with big ego. ]

This is story that describes the events of what would have happened if Aemond had met Daemon's daughter earlier (i.e. as a child). The characters are exactly the same as in the original The Price of Pride, but still, this is a standalone story that can be read separately: you don't need to know that story to read this one.

I have tried to show how the need for closeness matures in adolescents as they get older until they fully understand what they want and how to achieve it. Decide for yourself what happened between them when and at what age so that you feel comfortable with it (let's agree that the ages from the books and the series do not apply here, because at the end of the chapter we are still before Helaena and Aegon's wedding: everyone is simply older than in the source material, decide for yourself by how many years).

A big inspiration for me to wrtie this story was my relationship with my husband (everything was going very slowly for us and each new base was an achievement and a great event). That said, this story you will read alternately from two perspectives (not the same events tho).

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond

That night he slept exceptionally badly: he wriggled in his bed for a long time, struggling to hold back tears of anger, thinking of what Aegon and his nephews had done to him. His older brother was spiteful by nature, but until now he had believed that they would support each another in the presence of the Strongs.

He was mistaken.

The pig with wings he had been given by them – according to Aegon's assurances, as a consolation prize – was eye-watering proof of the humiliation he had suffered at his hands for years. The way they all laughed out loud while he stood completely petrified with shame and the fact that they considered it amusing made his whole body begin to shake.

He wished the sun would never rise again.

When he woke up the next day, his meal was served as usual: to his delight, his mother, although she did not usually allow it, ordered his favourite sweet cinnamon rolls to be brought to him. While he still felt miserable, eating them made his spirits lighter, as the pleasant thought went through his head that his mother loved him.

During the sparring, Aegon acted as if he had forgotten what he had done to him the day before: he said something to him and laughed, as if he expected him to feel like replying to him after the humiliation he had suffered at his hands.

His silence, unfortunately, was not met with understanding from his brother either.

“Must you always be such a twat?” Aegon asked.

Again he did not answer, pressing his lips into a thin line with rage, and hit one of the targets with all his strength with a wooden sword.

He did not utter words that Aegon or his nephews could use against him.

He thought he would never give them a reason to mock him again.

Silence was safe.

However, he was snapped out of his reverie by the voice of Jace, who had been speaking to Luke during one of their short breaks.

“Mother said they would be arriving today. Daemon and his firstborn daughter. He killed her mother.” His nephew spoke in a whisper, clearly excited, but he stood close enough to understand what he said.

Daemon's firstborn daughter.

It was true that he had heard of her and knew that she existed, however, her person did not particularly concern him: she had no dragon and she was a girl, so she did not threaten him in any way, yet she also had nothing that would make him find the subject of her arrival interesting.

Or at least that's what he tried to tell himself, as he involuntarily strained his hearing, standing with his back to them, pretending to stretch before his next routine, paying no attention to the fact that Criston Cole was shouting something to him and Aegon.

“He killed her mother?” Squealed Luke, and Jace shushed him and tapped him on the head, clearly wanting his little brother to be quiet.

“It's gossip. Mother says we have to be kind to her. She won't have here anyone but us.” Jace explained to him.

Although he kept telling himself that he didn't care about some pathetic little girl without a dragon, the next morning he sat with his face pressed against the window, waiting for them to arrive.

He didn't know what he was actually waiting for: Daemon had always seemed intriguing to him. His uncle was confident and ironic, on top of which there was no one, except perhaps Ser Criston, who could match him in wielding a sword.

Deep down he admired him and the possibility of seeing him again thrilled him.

He twisted in his seat, rising higher on his arms as the gates to the courtyard opened and indeed, he saw his uncle on a white horse and a little girl with long, dark hair sitting before him in the saddle.

He snorted at the thought that, like his nephews, the gods had not bestowed upon her the Targaryen colour that he wore proudly on his head.

However, she was a legitimate child and had certainly inherited the colour of her hair from her mother, so he felt that this was not reason to mock her.

After all, his mother also had dark hair, and he held her in high regard and respect.

Daemon jumped off his mount lightly, then grabbed his daughter under the arms and helped her down, without waiting for the servant to run up to them.

He saw that she had started to look around – he thought that she was certainly enthralled and overwhelmed by the beauty and grandeur of the Red Keep, but when she turned her face towards him he recognised that her facial expression was more one of uncertainty and fear.

She will have no one here but us.

He killed her mother.

For some reason, for a moment, but only a moment, he felt pity for her.

Although she was not a princess or anyone special, news of her arrival and the reason for it had spread through the fortress very quickly; he usually preferred to stay in his chamber or in the library, but on this day he had left his safe places to stroll the corridors and the castle, hoping to see her.

He wanted to judge her carefully in his mind: he had formed an opinion about everyone, and she could not remain an exception.

A sting of disappointment spread across his chest when, to his displeasure, he did not see her until the next day during sparring, in the company of Jace and Luke. They spoke to her, gesturing vividly, apparently showing her everything they could, she, however, simply looked at them with big eyes, terrified, and said nothing, looking where they told her to.

“My Princes. Come over here. Let's begin.” Criston Cole called out towards them, clearly impatient.

He grinned under his breath with satisfaction, feeling a pleasant pride at the thought that Ser Criston preferred them to the Strongs and was clearly showing it.

Jace and Luke stepped closer, and Daemon's daughter approached with them, her eyes wide, her small hands clenched into fists from anxiety.

Looking at her closely, he decided she was not ugly: her face seemed pleasant to him, her eyelashes and eyebrows long and dark, accentuating her skin tone in some interesing way. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, as were her lips: she was a little shorter than Jace, but like them, she was dressed in a training garment.

“Our cousin used to practise archery in Runestone. We thought she could do it here too.” Luke said.

Cole straightened up and sighed, clearly frustrated.

“Consent would have to be given by Prince Daemon himself. I cannot make that decision alone.” He replied matter-of-factly, causing the girl to lower her head, disappointed.

Jace, however, was not giving up.

“Then we'll ask him.” He said with vigour, glancing at his cousin, who shook her head.

“I don't know where he is. I can't find him anywhere.” She muttered.

“Prince Daemon, from the information I have, set off to Essos before dawn. Without his permission, I cannot take responsibility for your safety, my Lady.” Ser Criston explained, already a little softer.

An uncomfortable silence fell around them, one he'd experienced for the first time in his life: it wasn't filled with irritation or rage, but with the fact that it seemed to him that neither of them knew how to act in such a situation.

Usually when Jace or Luke didn't know or couldn't do something, it was a source of pride and mockery for him and Aegon: their nephews reacted similarly to failures on their side.

However, he didn't know what he should feel or think upon hearing that a little girl didn't know that her father was now with his second family.

He looked at her to witness her reaction and felt a strange squeeze in his throat seeing that she obviously did not know about it – her lips were slightly parted in disbelief, her gaze wandering from one person to the next, as if she felt humiliated and abandoned, left alone in a place foreign and frightening to her.

“With your permission, I will return to my chamber.” She mumbled and bowed, only to turn and move towards the cloisters, disappearing into one of the corridors.

“Did you see that? She is crying like a little baby. Would you like to join her, brother? You two fit together.” Said Aegon and patted him on the shoulder, making his cheeks flush scarlet with shame.

“That's enough.” Cole said. “Get back to practising.”

Although he occupied his head with various activities for the rest of the day – mostly reading books on Westeros history – his thoughts kept returning to her face then, when she found out her father was gone.

She wasn't as annoying and provocative as Jace and Luke, of that he was sure – nor had she inherited Daemon's aggressive manner, at least not in the way he'd expected. As much as he wanted to assign her to the Black party, as Daemon had always supported Rhaenyra, he wasn't sure she was even aware of the division between them and that she had to choose.

She was thrown between strange walls and strange people, left alone.

Even for him, it was quite cruel.

But it was not his concern, he consoled himself in spirit, trying to start a chapter concerning Winterfell.

For the first time in a long time, he looked forward to the supper with excitement: he knew that his father-king would surely invite his niece to it and say a few warm words to make her feel at home.

He hoped she would be seated close to them and not next to the Strongs.

She shouldn't spend time with the bastards, but he didn't blame her for doing so – he guessed that she simply didn't know who they really were.

Perhaps I should tell her about it, he told himself in spirit sitting down at the table in his seat, recognising that, in fact, he would be doing her a favour by doing so.

Indeed, there was one more chair placed at the table than usual. His cousin walked into the chamber, accompanied by his mother and sister. Helaena was saying something to her, and Daemon's daughter was smiling, looking down at her feet, apparently trying not to fall over in her long, brown gown.

Once again he felt a sense of pride, for it was his sister and not his nephews who had made their guest feel better.

To his satisfaction, which, however, he did not give expression to, trying to keep a stony face, his cousin took a seat next to his sister, that is, opposite him and Aegon. When she looked in his direction he did not leave her gaze for a moment – however, when she smiled, he turned his face away, feeling embarrassed.

He felt a sense of distinction because she had paid attention to him.

No one ever did that, because he was a second son without a dragon.

But she didn't have a dragon either, he consoled himself in his mind, and for some reason he felt relieved.

They were alike.

As he expected, his father greeted her in the presence of everyone, apparently wanting to give her courage.

“As I'm certain you all know by now, we have a guest. It is my brother's daughter, whom I welcome with great joy and love. From now on, the Red Keep will be her home and I ask you to treat her with kindness and understanding. A strange place, even more so for a little girl, can seem frightening. I trust each of you to care for her as best you can.” He said, then nodded and allowed everyone to begin their meal.

One more interaction occurred between them that evening: when he tried to reach for a pate that was too far away from him, she helped him by handing him a platter. She smiled at him again then, and he reciprocated the gesture awkwardly, feeling that for some reason his palms had started to sweat.

His king had said they should be kind to her, so he simply followed his order as any good son would do, he assured himself in his head.

Then Jace suddenly spoke up.

“My King. Our cousin is an excellent archer and we think she should be able to practice with us in the Red Keep as well. Ser Criston said that without her father's permission this is not possible. Wouldn't the King's order be more significant?” He asked, and all eyes fled towards his father.

“Little girls shouldn't be involved in such things.” Said Queen Alicent, taking a sip of wine, for some reason casting a long look at Rheanyra, sitting across the table.

“Why?” His half-sister asked. “Are all women in this world the same?”

His father decided to put an end to this brief argument by giving his own opinion on the matter.

Viserys decided that she could practise archery during their sparring, if it didn't interfere with their training.

She usually stood on the side and shot her bow at targets standing in a completely different part of the courtyard, so everyone quickly forgot about the dispute and stopped paying attention to her.

Or at least that's what he tried to convince himself.

He often looked at her, because when their gazes met, she usually smiled.

It was a warm smile, devoid of prejudice or malice: he did not usually reciprocate the gesture, fearing that Aegon would see it and find another reason to mock him.

She spoke to Jace and Luke, also occasionally smiling in their presence, but when she did so while looking at him, she looked different.

Perhaps it was just his childhood desire to be special to someone, to be noticed, that made him live in the belief that his cousin wanted to know him better.

He craved it too: confirmation of his suspicions, of the fact that, indeed, he had caught her attention. The reason, after all, could have been any feature of his personality that no one had noticed before: his intelligence, his knowledge, his rhetoric, his calmness and composure, how different he was from his brother and nephews.

His pride, however, prevented him from taking the first step: he knew that if anyone found out he was seeking her company, his brother would again call him a twat and say that he liked to play with girls because he was one himself.

That left him internally torn.

The opportunity fell upon him like a thunderbolt from a clear sky when one afternoon, as always eager to search the library for more reading for the dull, monotonous evenings, he saw Daemon and his daughter sitting at the table, bent over a thick, old volume that he knew intimately.

High Valyrian.

His cousin lifted her head upon hearing someone enter the room and bestowed upon him a broad, soft smile – Daemon's expression was not as friendly and expressed boredom.

To his relief, she spoke up first.

“My father is teaching me the language of our ancestors. Would you like to join us?” She asked, surprising both him and her father.

Daemon sighed, but did not protest, spreading out comfortably in his chair, giving him a look as if challenging him.

On the one hand, he was terrified and just wanted to run away, but on the other, this was his chance to get closer to both of them.

He nodded, embarrassed, feeling his hands involuntarily clench into fists.

The fear of humiliation was greater than the excitement.

“Sit down.” Daemon commanded.

No one had ever spoken to him this way, not even his own father; for some reason, however, it did not frustrate him, but made him feel even more respect for his uncle.

I want to be like you, he thought in the back of his mind.

Confident and fearless.

So he sat down on the other side, in the empty chair next to Daemon, and moved closer to the table – he was ashamed that his legs still didn't reach the ground, but he hoped it wasn't apparent yet.

Just a few more years and he would become a man.

He felt much more confident when he saw that they had just reworked a chapter he had already read before.

“Perzys zaldrīzī ossēnagon daor.” Said Daemon, glancing at his daughter expectantly, apparently wanting her to translate the sentence.

“Fire cannot…” She started, but fell silent, clearly not knowing what one of the words meant.

“Fire cannot kill a dragon.” He spoke up, proud to show his uncle how broad his knowledge was.

“Good.” Daemon said.

He swallowed quietly, glancing at his cousin: her downward gaze and her hunched figure told him that she was sad that he hadn't even given her time to think.

He decided that perhaps he shouldn't come out in front all the time, lest he come across as vain.

“Zaldrīzo ānogar.” Said her father – he stirred in his chair, excited, knowing exactly what it means and that it is a fairly simple, even obvious phrase.

Daemon did it so she could respond too.

“The dragon…” She muttered, incorrectly constructing the sentence syntax.

When she looked at him, his lips uttered quickly the soundless ‘blood of the dragon’. She drew in a loud breath, an expression of relief flashed across her face.

“N-no. Blood. Blood of the dragon.” She quickly changed the order of the words, and Daemon nodded, moving on.

He didn't know why he had helped her then, but he liked the way she looked at him from then on.

With curiosity and gratitude.

In secret from his mother, grandfather and brother, he would sneak off to the library to learn with his uncle and his daughter about what he had been studying with the Maester earlier. He didn't admit that he had a kind of advantage over her, but he would sometimes pretend that he didn't know something in order to give her the opportunity to prove herself to her father.

Daemon seemed to him the embodiment of everything he himself wanted to be. Unlike his father, who did not find the strength or time to teach him about the history of their lineage, his uncle shared it extensively with him and his daughter, seeming indifferent and matter-of-fact at the same time.

Daemon was a demanding teacher, but this made him turn on his natural desire to compete: his cousin, however, did not have as much knowledge as he did because she could not have it, so he did not treat her in the same way as Jace and Luke.

They did not speak with each other outside the library; sometimes she smiled at him, but he only reciprocated this expression when the others could not see it – the corner of his mouth then lifted slightly upwards in an attempt to present some pathetic caricature of cordiality.

He wanted to be liked and admired, but didn't know how to achieve it.

One day, to his surprise, his cousin visited him in his chamber when the sun had long since set – he was already lying in his bed while reading a book.

He didn't like anyone invading his private space, but he couldn't say that the sight of her made him uncomfortable either.

He remained silent, deciding to listen to what she had come to him with.

“Tomorrow I am leaving to Essos. My father wants me to meet my sisters and stepmother.” She muttered, lowering her gaze as she spoke the last sentence.

She didn't want to see her replacement.

He grunted quietly, fiddling with the page of the book he held in his hands, feeling some kind of regret and disappointment.

“I see.” He replied, not knowing what more he could add.

She, however, was still standing in the same place, as if expecting to hear something more from him.

“I want to thank you for... for helping me then. Before lessons with my father, I repeat everything he taught me, but when I sit next to him, I suddenly forget the words. My head is empty.” She choked out finally, making him involuntarily look at her, surprised.

He felt a pleasant wave of pride and self-satisfaction ripple deep into his chest.

He lifted his chin higher, wanting to look more mature and dignified.

“You're welcome.” He hummed, hoping to hear even more praise from her lips.

“Sleep well, cousin.” She said and turned away, leaving him once again with a cold feeling of disappointment.

He realised that he hadn't asked her when they were coming back.

As she and his uncle disappeared, he felt with redoubled intensity how invisible he was to the inhabitants of the Red Keep: or at least that was how he perceived it. Even if he had wanted to, he no longer had anyone to show his intellect and knowledge to, no smile waiting for him when he sat down to supper in the company of his loud nephews and his half-sister, whom he deeply despised.

He was the embodiment of all his father's dreams, he was the reason he opened the womb of his first wife while she was still alive: he was the son he was always waiting for.

But his father could hardly eat on his own, let alone pay attention to him or the other children Queen Alicent had given him.

“Pass me the porridge platter, sweet Aemma.” He said to her once, pointing his blue finger at the dish he was thinking of, causing everyone around him to freeze.

He felt some kind of constriction in his throat when he saw his mother swallow this humiliation with difficulty, reaching for the platter and handing it to her lord-husband without a word.

He lowered his gaze to his plate, trying not to think about it, realising that he would like to see her comforting smile again.

He was beginning to grow impatient.

It had, after all, been several weeks.

As always when something was bothering him, he went to the only person he truly trusted.

“When will uncle Daemon return?” He asked, feigning indifference, fiddling with one of the flacons of expensive oils that had belonged to his mother.

Alicent looked at him, sighing quietly, clearly tired and embittered, probably by what his father had done.

He didn't know how he was supposed to help her, so he remained silent.

“The longer he's gone, the better.” She replied, surprising him.

“Why?” He asked, and she sighed again.

“He's a dangerous, unpredictable man. I pity his daughter. He drags her around all the continents like an object.” She said with a kind of impatience that made him unsure if she really meant what she said.

Adult people often spoke in riddles, which frustrated him constantly.

He preferred it when someone was direct.

The conversation with his mother brought him neither answers nor relief; the only person who showed interest in him was far away, and he was once again learning High Valyrian alone.

That night he prayed to the gods to help him tame a dragon and for his cousin to return quickly to King's Landing, so that she would continue to be kind to him.

The gods listened to his requests, or at least some part of them.

After a few days, Daemon, his daughter from his first marriage, Baela, Rhaena and his wife, lady Laena, reached the Red Keep.

He came to see them because he hoped to see her.

Indeed, when he stepped into the chamber, where his mother, Rhaenyra and Helaena were also present, he spotted her at once, standing behind her father's back. She was looking at Daemon, as if hoping that he would turn his attention to her, but he did not – his uncle was looking at his brother, who was holding Baela hand in his.

His only child who had a dragon.

Although no word was spoken, he understood what had happened.

She had only regained her father for a moment and lost him again.

A pleasant shiver ran through him as she looked around the room, but her gaze stopped on him when she noticed him: he offered her a sad smile of comfort, and she reciprocated the gesture.

Although everyone at supper that evening was loud and chatty, she sat quietly, staring at her plate, immersed in her thoughts. He could see that she had not eaten much; her lips were tightly clenched, her gaze fled again and again to the silhouette of her father, who was talking aloud about the magnificent mansion they lived in Essos and their desire to stay there.

He felt an unpleasant twinge in his stomach at the thought.

“Do you like insects?” He suddenly heard his sister's voice leaning over their cousin.

Her question seemed absurd and out of any context, but Daemon's daughter was clearly trying to focus and answer the question.

“I like butterflies. And bumblebees.” She said after some thought.

Helaena twisted in her seat, delighted, and invited her to come to her chamber later that evening so that she could see through her large collection of dried moths.

He sighed, trying to hide the unpleasant sting of jealousy that an object that raised his self-esteem had just been stolen from him.

He wanted her back for himself, so that she would say nice things to him.

He wanted her to admire him.

He wanted her to love him and cry for him with longing when they were separated.

He would never reciprocate this, of course, because these were tender, feminine concerns, but it would certainly satisfy his vanity.

He noticed, watching them from the sidelines, that a strong, cordial bond developed between her and his sister after that day: otherwise it would surely have caused his irritation, but at some point he began to see it as an opportunity.

The more she became attached to them and to the Red Keep, the more she would desire to stay with them.

To his surprise, Helaena too had begun to care that her new companion remained in King's Landing; she shrewdly tried to address the issue as they set off together to the Great Sept with their mother.

“I have no trusted lady of the court, Mother. I don't like the fact that they put things in different places than I want. They disturb my order and speak too loudly. She is kind. She always asks my opinion first before she touches me or my things. We embroider together and watch insects. I would like her to stay with me.”

Though his mother easily denied him and Aegon, to her only daughter she could not.

To his satisfaction, she turned to her lord-husband, and he convinced his younger brother that his daughter needed stability and a girl her own age as a companion.

Though reluctantly, Daemon agreed.

He couldn't say that everything had gone according to his plan: now his cousin was his sister's lady-in-waiting, spending a lot of time with her. This meant that she couldn't give him as much attention as he would have liked.

However, one day everything changed.

“Helaena said the Maester is teaching you High Valyrian. I was wondering if you could teach me too, as my father is not here anymore.” She mumbled, clearly fearing that her offer would not be attractive for him.

He sighed, pretending that her words made no impression on him.

“What can you give me in return?” He asked defiantly, though he knew he would have agreed even if she had not been able to give him anything.

“...and what would you like?” She answered question for question, staring up at him with her big eyes, playing with her fingers in a nervous reflex.

“You will obey all my orders without complaining.” He replied at last, feeling that satisfaction, not blood, was now flowing through his veins.

His cousin furrowed her brow at his words, clearly worried and concerned.

“What if you make me do something bad? Or something that will bring me disgrace?” She mumbled.

“I won't make you do such a thing. I am a man of honour.” He said proudly.

He blinked, shocked to see that she nodded at his words.

That's it?

“When can we begin?” She asked, and he pressed his lips together, struggling not to smile.

“Come to my chamber tonight. I'll draw you a map so you can get to it through a side entrance. And don't you dare tell anyone about this, or I will kill you with my own hands.”

She was clearly unaffected by his threat, because she smiled broadly, her face beaming with joy.

Indeed, his quarters could be accessed not only through a door, but also from the side of his bed: there was a small tower with stairs leading up to one of the rarely used corridors of the Red Keep.

He was worried, waiting for her, sitting over a mountain of books, whether the journey through the dark alleys of the fortress would prove too difficult for her: for some reason he was relieved when he heard quiet footsteps in the distance, and then saw her in the passage, looking up at him with big eyes.

She smiled broadly at the sight of him, apparently happy that she had managed to find the right way and not get lost; he grunted as she sat down beside him, pulling off the thin grey cloak thrown over her shoulders.

“Where did you and your father finish?” He asked, forcing himself to be indifferent – he swallowed hard, noticing with horror as he reached for one of the volumes that his hand was trembling with excitement.

He had never yet invited anyone to his chamber, much less without the knowledge of his mother and father.

It was their secret.

“On chapter twelve.” She said lightly, moving her chair closer to him so she could better see what they were about to discuss.

He felt relieved at the thought that he and Maester were already on chapter forty.

“Very well.” He hummed, pleased that he would be able to show off his knowledge and proficiency in this area.

His cousin, when her father wasn't around, proved to be a focused and curious student. She would ask him lots of questions and go back to things he had mentioned earlier, giving him proof that she was really listening to him.

He liked the role of teacher very much: he felt that it added to his esteem, while reassuring him that his time spent over the old tomes, contrary to what Aegon had said, was not time wasted.

He didn't know who he was really doing it for: whether for himself or for her. Certainly, in his own mind, he was convincing himself that the fact that he had agreed to teach her in Daemon's absence was an act of his favour, something for which she should be eternally grateful.

In fact, she was grateful to him.

He found it harder and harder to pretend he didn't see her during sparring or supper; some part of him, to his dismay, had come to the conclusion that he was enjoying her presence.

She cared for his older sister and was her faithful companion, but she also found time for him and his perpetually praise-hungry ego.

He was embarrassed by the way she smiled at him when their glances met in the courtyard or at the table: he had the impression that her eyes shone with joy for some reason, the expression on her face gentle and warm.

Kind.

He chastised himself for these thoughts and the strange yet pleasant feeling that filled his chest every time he lowered his head, stopping the corners of his mouth from rising with difficulty.

Then it was revealed that lady Laena was expecting another child, and something in her suddenly faded.

She felt less and less visible in the eyes of her father, who was far away, on another continent, while she was here, all by herself.

Looking at her and his own mother, Queen Alicent, sitting near her, he compared the shades of their hair, their eyes, the shape of their noses, hands and faces.

After thinking about it for a while, he decided that differences between them were not that great, and that if he had forgotten that she was the daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce, his cousin could be the daughter of King Viserys Targaryen and Queen Alicent Hightower.

His sister.

In truth, he was only a month older than her, but that did not change the fact that this would make him her older brother: this, in turn, would mean that since it was Helaena's destiny to marry Aegon, it would be his younger sister's destiny to marry him.

He lowered his gaze at this thought, feeling a burning red blush of embarrassment spread across his pale cheeks at the thought.

His heart thumped harder in his chest when he realised that nothing in that thought had rejected him.

But what if she didn't want it?

If she felt disgusted at the very thought of marrying him?

Rejection was something he couldn't afford.

It was safer to remain silent.

He felt his own blood under his tongue when his teeth involuntarily bit his lower lip at the word that her father wanted to take her to Essos.

“You have been away from home for too long. You should spend more time with your sisters.” He heard Daemon's voice outside her chamber door a few hours after her father had arrived in King's Landing.

Eavesdropping was not in good taste, but for some reason he couldn't help himself.

“What should I say to Helaena? I don't want to leave her.” Mumbled his daughter, clearly trying to come up with something quickly that would allow her to stay in the Red Keep.

“That you will now spend time with your true family.”

Your true family.

He didn't know why, but his jaw clenched in rage when he heard those words, a sharp pain piercing his heart, which beat harder in his chest.

And then Daemon took her away.

The first months without her presence had been the hardest for him, as he'd forgotten she was gone: he'd flipped through the books, wanting to prepare for their lessons, reminding himself angrily after a while that they weren't going to happen after all. Her chair had disappeared from the supper table, and her silhouette was not standing in the courtyard, aiming at a target with a bow.

It was as if she had never been there.

And then word reached King's Landing that lady Laena had died in childbirth.

It was a time of sadness in the Red Keep: previously Rhaenyra had mourned the death of her lover and father of her bastards, Harwin Strong; now, however, someone who was related to them all by blood, a close part of their family, had died.

He was ashamed that during the journey they had taken the whole family on to attend lady Laena's funeral, he had struggled to hold back a smile, feeling excited at the thought that the largest dragon in the world had just been left without a rider.

Although he tried to fool himself, he was enjoying not only the opportunity to claim a dragon, but also to see someone else.

The sea journey he had been forced to make, unlike his siblings, had dragged on mercilessly. When they finally reached the shore, he vomited: however, he quickly pulled himself together, recognising that neither she nor his nephews could see him in such a state.

His family were welcomed into the fortress with honours; he felt his heart pounding hard as he looked around the courtyard, hoping to see her. As he raised his head, he drew in a deep breath, catching sight of her silhouette in one of the open windows.

When their gazes met, she smiled.

Despite the fact that he should be concentrating on grieving, all he did during the funeral was listen for any sounds of the dragon that might be coming from afar and glanced at her, shocked that she seemed slightly taller to him – he also had the impression that her figure had become more girlish, whatever that meant.

When she caught him staring at her, he lifted his head up, embarrassed, pretending to look at the sky.

During the feast, which took place in one of the courtyards situated high above the sea, all he could think about was how to get her to speak to him. He did not want to be the one vying for her attention, running after a woman: this was foolish and, most importantly, unworthy of a man.

A man was supposed to be strong and proud, cold if necessary, but never weak.

Nevertheless, he longed to spend time with her, though she did not know it: she watched from the sidelines her half-sisters, embraced tightly by their grandparents, drenched in tears. Daemon and Rheanyra had disappeared somewhere, and she was left alone, not knowing what to do with herself.

After a while, their gazes met again – this time, though with difficulty, he did not look away. They continued like this for a while, until she made a slight movement with her head, as if pointing to the stone steps that led behind the wall, and then walked down them.

She wanted him to follow her.

He swallowed hard and glanced at his bored brother, who held a refilled wine cup in his hand.

“I'm going to take a walk. I have no desire to stay with these people.” He said to him dispassionately.

Aegon shrugged his shoulders.

“Do what you want.” His brother replied, looking intensely at one of the servants in the distance.

He sighed silently and moved ahead, feeling his heart in his throat.

What if someone sees them?

Was this a good idea?

Maybe he should turn back?

Hundreds of thoughts beat against each other in his head, but his legs led him to the stone stairs anyway, and then down to where no one could see them.

His cousin stood by the wall, looking beyond it to the sea; her long hair was partly tied back with a blue ribbon, the rest of it was blown by the wind. When she heard his footsteps, she looked up at him and smiled in a way he knew very well.

She was glad to see him.

“I'm glad to see you, cousin.” She said softly when he stopped in front of her, as if she was reading his mind.

He nodded, embarrassed, feeling for some reason that despite the cool sea breeze around them, he was hot.

“My condolences.” He muttered, reminding himself that his mother had ordered him to say it to everyone he met.

His cousin lowered her gaze and nodded, accepting his words.

“Thank you.”

They both fell silent, looking out at the sea, simply standing side by side. He was afraid that he should say something and was thinking hard about what neutral topic he could raise, when he suddenly heard her voice beside him.

“She was a good woman. She never tried to replace my mother, but she did everything she could to make me feel that she cared about me. I regret that I never thanked her for it.” She muttered, her voice breaking more and more with each sentence.

He looked at her uncertainly out of the corner of his eye, fearing that she would cry.

He wasn't good at consoling, so he remained silent.

“But I couldn't love her. Nor my sisters. I couldn't form a bond with them. My stepmother died, and I don't feel anything.” She said in a breaking voice, tear after tear ran down her cheeks red from the cold.

“If you don't feel anything, why are you crying?” He asked, looking ahead, straight at the setting sun hiding behind the horizon of the sea.

“Because I'm ashamed.” She confessed, making him feel a squeeze in his chest for some reason.

“You don't have to. She was not your mother, and they are not your sisters. You don't owe them anything.” He replied matter-of-factly, feeling that this was exactly what he believed.

Contrary to what Daemon had told her, they were not her true family.

They only pretended to be one.

“Who then is my family, if not my own father, his wife and daughters?” She mumbled with difficulty, as if his words frightened her even more.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, wondering if he should say it.

“Unlike my nephews, you are a true blood of the dragon. You can decide for yourself who you will love and who you will despise.” He replied with emphasis on the last words, involuntarily glancing in her direction.

She looked at him in disbelief, her dark eyes larger than ever, as if what he was saying shocked her.

“We don't control who we love.” She said, looking him straight in the face.

“We don't control. We choose.” He finally stated and drew in the air loudly, folding his hands behind his back. “You also have to choose. If you wish, I will take you with me back to where you belong. To King's Landing.”

Her lower lip twiched at his words, as if he had stabbed a dagger straight into her heart.

“I don't believe you.”

He wanted to answer her, but he flinched when he realised that he had heard the screech of a dragon in the distance – he raised his head and followed with his eyes the small, dark silhouette flying between the clouds.

Then he made his decision.

“I will take you to the Red Keep on the back of my dragon.”

She did not understand what he meant, however, he preferred not to initiate her into his plan: she had promised to obey him, so when he commanded her to go to sleep and worry about nothing, she did so reluctantly.

He, on the other hand, set out under cover of darkness to meet his destiny.

The trip through hills full of sand and stones was difficult and exhausting, but what he saw was sufficient compensation for his efforts. Vhagar was frighteningly beautiful: she was big, magnificent, and she evidently saw in him what none but his mother and cousin could, for although she opened her maw to burn him, when he spoke to her in High Valyrian, she hesitated.

Climbing onto her back, his palms were sweaty from nerves and terror, his body trembling as he tried with great effort to reach her saddle. When he finally succeeded and lifted into the skies with her, he realised that the gods had given him a sign, revealing to him his fate.

He had made Vhagar his dragon, and in the future he would make his cousin his wife.

In that moment, as he screamed with happiness, flying between the clouds, it made perfect sense to him. He didn't see this idea as something to do with physicality, but rather the conviction that since they both held affection and respect for each other, someday they would surely be able to beget offspring together, to create a lineage they would both be proud of.

In that one moment, he felt like he was holding his destiny in his hands, only for the gods to flip a coin again.

As soon as he landed back on the ground his nephews were already waiting for him and gave him another gift, this time one he was never to forget.

If he had to explain to someone what the pain of his eye being pulled out of his eye socket was, he wouldn't be able to describe it: it seemed to him that not only he was screaming, but his whole body as well, that his fingernails would pierce the frame of the bed he was lying on, that he was about to die and would never wake up.

He feared death.

“Mother, don't let me die.” He mumbled out, choking on his tears, his hands clenched into fists on the sheets.

His mother squeezed his arm harder, giving him courage.

“You will not die, my brave son. One day we will have our vengeance.”

Though Luke had taken his honour and his face, he had gained something more: a dragon.

A dragon that no one could challenge.

He knew that what happened after he returned from Vhagar's liege had nothing to do with Daemon's daughter: he had ordered her to stay in her chamber until he came for her, and so she did.

When he walked into her quarters, she rose from her seat, her face flooded with tears.

Daemon had already told her what had happened.

“I –” She began, but he would not let her finish.

“Fly with me or stay. I won't give you a second chance to choose.” He said coldly.

He was a man of honour and he kept his word.

He was sure she would refuse.

He was sure she was a coward.

But she nodded her head.

Neither of them knew how furious Daemon had been when he and his daughter had taken to the skies without his knowledge: when, in his eyes, he had abducted her as it was in the tradition of Old Valyria for centuries, to one day make her his wife.

Lady Royce

Her father punished her escape with his silence: the very thing he knew would hurt her most. He didn't answer her letters or explanations, and for months, then years, he didn't visit the Red Keep even at the invitation of his brother-king.

She knew that he considered what she had done a betrayal, and she suffered greatly because of it.

Nevertheless, she could not lie to herself and pretend that returning to King's Landing did not bring her relief. Between her half-sisters, she felt invisible, her father's person crushed her, and now she was free again.

At least in theory.

Queen Alicent was enraged when she saw her in the company of her son as soon as they returned to the Red Keep: she considered it their act of disobedience and a reason for Daemon to take revenge on her and her children. Her husband, however, was not so harsh about their misdeeds.

“They are just children, my love. My niece can stay here as long as she wishes. My brother and his daughters are in mourning. Let her not surround herself with sorrow and death.”

Although, in fact, King Viserys was partly right, her father was not really focused on mourning, but on marrying another woman as soon as possible.

Rhaenyra.

Only then did she feel as if someone had drawn a clear red line between one part of her family and another: the one that supported Queen Alicent and the one that supported Princess Rheanyra.

She herself wasn't sure she supported anyone: all she cared about was keeping Helaena safe. She was unable to bond with Baela and Rhaena, but she treated the king's daughter like her true sister.

She was calm, quiet and kind, full of warmth that gave her a sense of safety.

“I'm worried about Aemond.” She said one day, bent over her beautiful embroidery depicting a spider. “I feel that he is retreating more and more into the darkness of his mind.”

She lowered her gaze at her words, understanding perfectly what she meant: she answered nothing, however, as her cousin forbade her to speak of anything they discussed or did behind the closed door of his chamber.

He had kissed her for the first time when they were thirteen; he was respectful and gentle when his hands cupped her soft, pink cheeks during one of their lessons in his quarters, his caress slow and warm.

He was clearly nervous and excited, his breath heavy as their skin pressed together in a wet, sticky act she had only heard about from girls older than her.

She was convinced that this gesture was not a proof of his affection for her, but jealousy that Aegon had more experience with women than he did.

Nevertheless, since then, there had been a change in him that she had not expected: he had apparently regarded that incident as a turning point of some sort.

He began to speak not of his lineage but of their lineage, not of his heritage but of their heritage.

“From now on, I will be to you like an older brother,” he communicated to her proudly, looking down at her, having long been much taller than her, “I will protect you and surround you with the care a man should bestow on a woman.”

She accepted his words with joyful disbelief, feeling her heart flutter like a bird in her chest.

On more than one occasion, she had witnessed Aegon encouraging him to join him in a brothel – according to his older brother, only intercourse with the body of a mature, experienced woman could make him a real man.

It seemed to her that her cousin was inwardly torn listening to these words – some part of him clearly wanted to prove to Aegon that he could be as good a lover as he was, but on the other hand he dismissed him, saying that he was interested in the arts of war and sword, not old courtesans.

Occasionally he would glance at her out of the corner of his eye, as if the fact that she was listening to this exchange of words made him uncomfortable; then, for a moment, the thought would cross her mind that perhaps she was the reason he was refusing him.

She realised then that there was some kind of plan in his head, a vision of which she was also a part.

She craved it and was terrified of it at the same time.

She was not a mature woman, let alone an experienced one.

When she looked at herself in the mirror, she saw with sadness that, compared to the other ladies of the court, she still looked like a child; the delicate outline of her breasts under her gown could not compare with the full, plump shapes of the other women's chests, as much as with their wide hips and coquettish smiles.

She didn't know what to do to make the change inside her happen faster, until one day she found out that transforming into a woman wasn't as pleasant and beautiful as it might seem.

“You are bleeding, my love,” Queen Alicent told her, trying to reassure her after she woke up, all sticky from the blood leaking from between her thighs, “your flower has blossomed. It means you are fertile and can become a mother. It's natural, although unpleasant.”

“When will it end?” She muttered, twisting in her seat, already dressed in clean smallclothes, filled inside with materials that were apparently meant to stop the bleeding.

“In a few days. But it will happen again in a month. It will continue to happen for years, as long as you and your future husband do not conceive a child.” The queen explained to her.

“For years?” She squirmed, feeling that something in that thought had broken her.

She did not know why she had cried that day, lying in her bed. She resented her father that neither he nor his second wife had warned her what the woman's fate was.

She did not know that she would feel painful spasms in her lower abdomen, she did not know that the warm, disgusting liquid would flow out of her again and again, making her uncomfortable.

She felt that there was no glory in it, no reason to be proud – on the contrary, for some reason she felt an overwhelming, deep shame.

She shuddered and covered herself more tightly with a fur when she heard the door to her chamber open – her cousin stepped inside without a word, striding towards her with his hands folded behind his back.

It was the first time he had come to her, rather than she to him.

“My congratulations.” He said, stopping beside her bed, looking at her with some kind of curiosity and satisfaction.

“I don't follow.” She mumbled, surprised by his choice of words.

“Fertility is a reason for every woman to be proud.” He stated, cocking his head to the side.

She lowered her gaze, realising that he knew what was happening to her.

“I didn't know it would be so painful.” She finally confessed, wondering if he would scold her for self-pity.

He, however, was silent for a long moment before speaking again.

“That's because you're not carrying a child inside you. When you become my wife, I will see to it that you no longer suffer.” He replied at last, struggling to remain calm – she had known him long enough, however, to know that he feared her reaction.

She looked at him with big eyes, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

What?

“What do you mean?” She muttered without thinking, even though she understood perfectly well what he was implying.

She just couldn't believe he'd said it out loud.

She saw that he swallowed hard, struggling to keep a stony face.

“Do you wish to marry someone else?” He asked, a hint of frustration in his voice that sent a cold shiver down her spine.

She shook her head quickly, horrified at his suggestion and the direction their conversation was going.

“N-no.” She mumbled.

“Good.” He said and turned away without another word, leaving her alone with his suggestion of what he truly desired.

Despite his words, he didn't try to kiss her for a second time; apparently his pride wouldn't allow him to ask again for something that, in his mind, was no more than a naïve female fantasy.

That he was incapable of expressing and showing his feelings openly, she had known for a long time; anything that might make him be seen as weak or naive was an unnecessary risk for him.

His older brother watched him closely, mocking and commenting aloud on any behaviour he found amusing and worthy of his attention.

To her cousin, the thought that he was constantly being watched, and thus could not afford to make a mistake, was completely petrifying.

This was the reason he avoided using words; it frightened him how many undertones and misunderstandings they involved, how easily he could destroy his reputation in the eyes of others with one ill-considered sentence.

She was then left with no choice but to use her intuition, carefully observing his subtlest gestures and glances to understand what he was trying to convey to her wordlessly. It was a difficult process, because he too often did not know what his needs really were and what they stemmed from.

“I don't want to strain you. We can discuss this chapter another time.” She said uncertainly, seeing that ever since she had crossed the threshold of his chamber his figure had tensed and his face expressed cold displeasure.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye in a way from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

“If you want to leave, then do so.” He replied, making her blink in astonishment.

“I just want you to rest properly.” She muttered, playing with her fingers in a nervous gesture.

She felt around him like she was with her father, never knowing what would satisfy him.

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked at last, forcing the words out with some strange difficulty, as if this thought had been weighing on his heart for a long time.

She swallowed hard, completely surprised by his question.

“No. I just… I just find it hard to comprehend what could possibly please you.” She choked out with difficulty, feeling ashamed at hearing how pathetic that sounded.

She thought he would laugh mockingly at her words, but his face was completely grave.

“Your kiss will please me.” He said with some kind of regret, as if he was suffering from having to ask her for it.

It hit her that he simply wanted reciprocation when, at the same time, she was afraid that if she offered it herself, he would consider it undignified behaviour on her part.

She sighed, trying to calm herself down and moved closer to him – she saw that he drew in air loudly through his nose, as if he was trying to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen.

He shuddered as she took his face in her hands, exactly as he did then – her thumbs stroked his cheeks and he closed his eyelid for a moment, as if he felt relieved. She took advantage of the fact that he wasn't looking and leaned in, letting their lips join in a moist, soft kiss – he surprised her when he parted his mouth and gently deepened the caress, making his warm breath fill her throat.

She closed her eyes, for some reason not wanting to pull away from him – she let his fingers run through her long, loose hair, let his hands roam tentatively over the back of her head and neck, while their lips brushed and teased each other with the quiet, sticky clicks of their saliva.

Eventually they ran out of breath, so they broke the kiss, however, their foreheads remained pressed together.

“Leave, if you want to.” He whispered, clearly indicating that he had no intention of taking advantage of her in any way.

“I don't want to leave,” she mumbled, embarrassed by her own words, “I want to fall asleep by your side.”

“My mother would kill me.” He mumbled out, as if he was fighting the strenuous urge to succumb to her.

“Then I will leave. I don't want to be the reason for you two to disagree.” She said, stroking his cheek with her palm, trying to comfort him.

“No,” he breathed out, his fingers digging harder into the fabric of her robe at her back, “stay.”

So she stayed.

There was something naïve about the way they lay far apart on his bed, the way his hand grasped hers and squeezed it, as if he wanted to find out if it was really happening.

“Don't tell anyone.” He asked, a sort of childish desire in his eye, from which her heart filled with warmth.

“I won't.”

That night it seemed to her that he didn't fall asleep even for a moment – she felt his hand run over her fingers, over her shoulder, and when he was sure she was immersed in a dream, he smoothed her cheek with his thumb.

What surprised her was that every time he did this a warm, pleasant shiver ran through her body – she wished he would never stop, because this was the first time in her life she had felt so comforted by someone.

This event had changed him; clearly the realisation that she reciprocated his affection had emboldened him in some way.

When they finished their lessons, they often lay on his bed facing each other and talked, touching each other's hands, faces and hair at the same time. Her heart pounded like crazy as his fingers combed through her curls, as his hand closed around the back of her neck, massaging it gently.

“I like the way you smell,” he said once out of nowhere, surprising her completely, “and the fact that your skin is so pleasantly soft.”

She realised he was trying to offer her a compliment – the thought of the two of them taking a walk through the royal gardens or showing interest in each other in public filled him with embarrassment, however, he had clearly found that in the privacy of his chamber he was willing to give her something he was not offering anyone else.

His words.

She smiled broadly at his confession, feeling a pleasant warmth in her lower abdomen spilling over her insides like a wave.

“And I like your big hands,” she replied shyly, stroking the skin of his wrist with her fingers, “and your beautiful white hair.”

She saw that he swallowed loudly, and his lips tightened in an involuntary attempt to stop himself from showing any reaction to her words; nevertheless, his eye betrayed him – it grew large and full of something she understood perfectly.

He needed to hear that something of value could be seen in him too, including physically.

That he wasn't a cripple in her eyes.

The way he slowly leaned towards her, his lips that barely brushed hers in a gesture full of invitation, their hands that clasped in their hair seemed as natural to her as breathing – the caress of their lips was hotter and more intimate than they had ever been before, deep, filled with something she was yet to discover.

Kisses were a form of reward for them, but also some kind of consolation on difficult days; in this way, although they could not speak openly to each other about this subject, they gave each other a sense of mutual care.

Over time, although it carried a high risk of being caught, they took this caress beyond the thresholds of his room; it was enough for him to catch her in one of the less frequented corridors of the Red Keep for their brief – even rough on his side – exchange of words to end with his tongue invading between her plump lips.

He liked it when their tongues met and licked, because he was obviously aroused by how perverse and passionate it was; his healthy eye was closed when his body pressed hers against one of the cold stone walls, while their hot mouths melted together again and again.

It was a warm, wet experience, filled with their loud, raspy breaths, their hands tentatively trailing the silhouettes of their bodies, giving them only the promise of what they both desired.

In that moment, in some strange, chaotic way they were devouring each other.

Her cousin evidently believed that he did not need to explain or confess anything to her; no words of affection, if he had any for her, ever left his lips. On the contrary; as he grew taller and his physique grew stronger, so did his ego, and with it the impression that he could not afford to show what he thought was a mere feminine sentiments.

Perhaps this would have been the reason for her distress, had it not been for the fact that he paid more attention to her than to anyone else anyway; above all, to the despair of the other ladies of the court, she was the only person besides Criston Cole and members of his family with whom he spoke in public of his own free will.

He usually approached her when he had something to say to her and announced it to her as simply and quickly as possible – he would then stand erect in front of her with his hands folded behind his back and look off somewhere into the distance, glancing at her only occasionally, usually driven by mere curiosity.

“A wild dragon has been seen in the Vale regions lately.” He said to her one day, as she happened to be heading to his sister's chamber to help her change before supper. “He is said to be larger than Meleys.”

She blinked, feeling her heart begin to pound like mad – she looked around quickly, wanting to make sure no one had heard what he had said.

“Help me.” She whispered. “Please.”

Her cousin cocked his head and hummed, looking at her with his mouth formed in the shape of an o, as if he wanted to whistle in satisfaction.

He liked it when she begged.

“Hm. How can I be sure you won't use this dragon against me and my family one day?” He asked offhandedly, looking down at her, a kind of challenge in his voice.

She blinked, feeling cold discomfort in her chest at his words.

“I am your family.” She mumbled.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them – she could see in his gaze that he was thinking about something, at the same time unable to deny her words.

“We leave tomorrow, at dawn.” He finally communicated to her in boredom, leaving her bewildered.

“And the Queen and your grandfather? Do they know what you intend to do?” She asked, and he rolled his eye, clearly frustrated by her remark.

“Sheep don't understand the ways of dragons. It's beyond their comprehension.” He recognised with some kind of pride, from which she pressed her lips together to keep from expressing her disbelief.

Clearly something in the expression on his face must have betrayed her, for he looked at her suddenly with a piercing, watchful gaze, his jaw twitching in a reflex she knew well.

“Come to my chamber tonight.”

Just as she had done in their childhood days, to leave her rooms now she had to wait for the watch to change; only then would she slip out and take advantage of the moment to make her way down a dark, rarely used corridor through a side entrance to the prince's quarters.

She had no idea if anyone but her knew about it; presumably if they did, the guards thought the additional door remained locked. However, her cousin had left them open for her, and it was through these that she entered, stepping into his chamber, enveloped in the warm light of the fire.

She spotted his silhouette at once – he was sitting at the top of a long table, on which lay stacks of maps and letters, a thick, old volume in his hands.

When he heard her footsteps, he lifted a glance of his healthy eye to her, and then returned to his reading again, carelessly turning the page over.

She was not bothered by this; he was often in the habit of pretending not to see her at first. From her perspective, it was his attempt to cope with the fact that, although accustomed to solitude, he was hosting someone else in his private quarters.

She untied her cloak, placed it on one of the richly decorated oak chairs and, wearing nothing but her nightgown, took a slow, quiet step towards his bed. She knew she could do it, and that she was certain to stay with him anyway, so she simply lay back on the soft sheet and closed her eyes, listening to the pleasant sound of the sizzling fire.

For a moment, all she could hear was that and the rustle of pages being turned – the smell of him and the parchments pleasantly filled her nose, calming her.

The quiet creak of wood woke her from her half-sleep and she shuddered, opening her sleepy eyes – she spotted his silhouette heading lazily towards her. His hand rose to the belt of his tunic, undoing it with the quiet click of a buckle.

“Tomorrow. You must promise to obey me. Otherwise I will not fly with you.” He said calmly, looking at her with an expression on his face that pretended to show indifference.

“I will.” She said.

“Mm.” He hummed under his breath, finally pulling the leather material off his shoulders.

She made room for him and moved sideways on the bed as he sat on the edge of it and leaned over, pulling his boots off his feet. She watched wordlessly as he did the same a moment later with his eye patch, finally throwing it carelessly onto the stone floor. He sighed and hid his face in his hand, massaging the area around his scarred eye socket in some subconscious reflex.

Stress was causing discomfort to return to the left side of his face.

“You are in pain.” She whispered softly, raising herself up on her elbow.

He didn't reply, just swallowed hard and froze in stillness.

“Let me.” She insisted, and he finally looked at her and nodded.

She raised herself up on her knees and moved towards him, sitting down so that she could see his face. He looked at her silently with some kind of melancholy as her hands gently grasped his face and her thumbs began to massage his temples.

He immediately closed his eye and flinched as her thumbs moved over his brow arches and cheekbones – he twitched when she did it the first time, but relaxed more and more with each subsequent stroke, and his face took on an expression of relief.

“I wouldn't object if you did this to me all night.” He said quietly, his eyelid still closed. She smiled involuntarily at his words, running her fingers over his forehead, nose and cheeks, going back to the beginning – to his temples and brows.

“I can.” She said warmly, but he shook his head.

“We need to rest. Come. I want to sleep.”

She nodded and held out her hand to him, shifting back towards the middle of the bed – he moved obediently to follow her and literally fell into her arms, pressing his nose against the space between her breasts.

She wasn't sure if he was able to breathe in that position, but she could see that his chest was rising and falling, so she didn't comment on it, combing her fingers through his white hair.

She knew that he was hiding from the world now: he wanted to disappear for a while and simply not be, like a small, defenceless child.

The control that he, in his mind, had over his life had a high cost that he did not speak of – it superseded any of his other needs unrelated to survival and victory, whatever that victory would mean.

While it may have seemed complicated, in fact the truth was much simpler: he was tired. It wasn't so much a physical fatigue, however, but rather a spiritual one – the self-imposed compulsion to remain silent when he was still a child was something that kept him safe, but also imprisoned him in his own head.

She mused on this as she watched him in silence, playing with strands of his long hair, feeling his body grow loose in her embrace, the tips of his fingers wandering lazily over her bare arm, his eye remaining closed.

He craved her closeness, but in more ways than one; preferably ones he could see as safe in his mind.

Lying in her embrace was such; he could just lie there and let her stroke him, listening to the slow beat of her heart. He could smell her scent and feel the warmth of her body, hear her breathing, have her to himself and know that she would fall asleep with him.

It calmed him.

In the middle of the night, she was awakened by the touch of a familiar hand – when she opened her eyes, she was in the midst of darkness. Her cousin was still snuggled up against her body, and he was obviously convinced that she was deeply asleep – it was only because of this that he allowed his fingers to travel up to her breast and squeeze it gently, as if checking to see if it was as soft as he imagined.

She couldn't stop the hot shudder that ran through her body or the pulsing she felt deep between her thighs. Other than that, she didn't move; she felt him freeze for a while, but after a moment, when he recognised that she had reacted in her sleep, he went back to stroking her plump bosom with his fingers.

A soft, shaky breath escaped her lips, her hands tightened on his back, holding him close; she felt him flinch and he froze again, taking his hand quickly off her chest.

She heard him swallow hard as she grasped his wrist and, in a gentle, slow motion, placed his hand where it had been – her fingers intertwined with his, allowing him to sink into the softness of her flesh again.

She thought it was a very intimate experience, one from which her whole body grew hot and her cheeks lit up red. She closed her eyes, hearing both of them breathe a little louder, their bodies pressed tighter together, seeking closeness.

Her wordless consent apparently made him feel bold, because he leaned forward, closing his lips around her nipple, clearly visible under the thin material of her nightgown. Something between a moan of surprise and a sigh escaped her throat when she felt him begin to suck as if he were a baby – her fingers clenched on his hair, holding him close.

“– lēkia (big brother) –” She whispered and flinched as she felt something long and hard pulsate in his breeches, pushing against her thigh.

She didn't quite understand the purpose of what he was just doing, but it was pleasant; she thought perhaps it was one of the secrets Aegon had told him about the pleasures of the female body.

She kissed the top of his head as his hand slid down her waist, slipping uncertainly under her linen shirt to finally touch her bare knee.

She felt that something throbbed hard deep inside her, that something sticky ran down her buttock to the sheet beneath their bodies.

They both began to pant as his broad hand went higher up her thigh and then to her hip, squeezing it finally between his fingers.

She shuddered as his wrist slid lower, between her legs, and his hand immediately froze – exactly like her body – when he touched her moist, pulsing womanhood.

“May I?” He asked in a whisper, still snuggled into her chest, not daring to look at her.

“What… what do you want to do?” She answered question for question, unsure of how much she herself was ready for.

She heard him swallow hard, as if he was terrified of having to answer her out loud.

“I want to give you pleasure.”

She felt her heart pounding like mad under his cheek, her fingers gently stroking his head.

She wondered if she should say it.

“I'm afraid.”

He took his hand from between het thighs at her words.

“What are you afraid of? I would never hurt you.” He assured her with a kind of surprise and regret, as if he didn't believe he had to say it.

“It's such a… private place. I…”

“I didn't mean to rush you. Forgive me. Do not be afraid.” He whispered, his voice strangely soothing, as if he understood what she meant.

“I'm sorry.” She mumbled in shame, feeling that she had ruined something that could have changed everything between them.

Her cousin raised himself on his elbow to look at her, but her big, red eyes made him freeze.

“Daor, hāedar (no, little sister). Gaomagon limagon daor (do not cry).” He said in a quiet, melodious tone, his large hand gently cupping her hot cheek.

“It was happening so fast. Your hand…”

She didn't finish as he leaned over her and placed a soft, gentle kiss on her lips. They stayed like that for a while without separating their bodies, her fingers grasping his, holding him close.

When he finally pulled away from her, his gaze was calm.

“I should have prepared you better. Explain what I want to do.” He said with a kind of weariness from which she felt a squeeze in her throat.

It was the first time he had spoken openly.

“Can you explain it to me now? So that I understand?” She asked, and he swallowed loudly, lowering his gaze for a moment.

He began to play with the material of her nightgown between his fingers, apparently struggling to find the right words to describe his desires.

“The source of a woman's pleasure, from what I understood from my brother's babble, is deep between her thighs. It is hidden there and must be found and caressed for a woman to achieve fulfilment.” He choked out finally, looking at her womb and hips, now hidden again under her shirt.

She twisted in her place, intrigued.

“The ladies of the court say that a man's tongue down there can perform wonders. But I don't know what they meant by that.” She said lightly.

She saw that he looked at her in shock, his nostrils twitched in a deep breath.

“You've heard about it too. From whom?” She asked amused.

He grunted and shrugged his shoulders, turning his head in the opposite direction.

“Aegon likes to brag about what he does to his whores and servants.” He muttered, feigning indifference, but his breathing, deep and uneven, betrayed him.

“Would you like to try it? That tongue thing.” He suggested suddenly, glancing in her direction out of the corner of his eye.

She drew in a loud breath, twisting in her place again, feeling her womanhood swell suddenly and pulsate around nothing at the very thought.

His mouth, down there.

“Doesn't it disgust you?” She mumbled in shame.

“You took a bath before you came to me, didn't you?”

“…I did.” She admitted, looking at him with wide eyes.

“So I can try. To satisfy our curiosity.” He proposed, apparently wanting to find any justification for what he wanted to do.

She nodded, feeling her heart in her throat, her stomach no longer filled with fear but with pure, hot excitement.

“If you don't like it, say so. I don't want to force you.” She said in a voice breaking with tension, watching in disbelief as he moved down, kneeling between her legs.

He threw her a meaningful look, in which she saw some kind of mockery.

“As if it's easy to force me to do anything against my will. Who do you think I am?” He asked with a wince, a slow, lazy movement of his hand lifting the material of her nightgown above her hips.

She had never been so exposed to anyone before in her life; she had to turn her gaze away to avoid looking at it and closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. Her hands tightened on the pillow on each side of her head when she felt him gently take her thighs in his rough hands and spread them slightly apart.

For a moment nothing happened; she thought he was just looking at her, or rather at what was between her legs. She sighed and flinched, surprised when his thumb ran down the length of her opening, apparently wanting to collect what had managed to leak out of her.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked uncertainly, clearly not understanding if her reaction was due to discomfort or not.

She shook her head quickly, looking up at him only to close her eyes again a moment later, overwhelmed by the helpless position she had just found herself in.

She was at his mercy.

He won't hurt me, she assured herself in spirit.

He promised me that, and he is a man of his word.

This thought calmed her.

Her heart thumped harder in her chest when she heard the bed creak loudly under the weight of his body, and then his hot breath enveloped her throbbing womanhood – a quiet moan of surprise broke from her throat when she felt his slick tongue run over her flesh, causing an aggressive shiver to pass down her spine.

She didn't have time to calm down after that first, shocking sensation, and his tongue again clung to her smooth, dripping cunt, licking it like a cat drinking milk – her hands involuntarily reached into his hair and clenched on it, her hips made a motion forward as if trying to sink into his face.

“– oh – yes –” She breathed out, but it seemed to her that this voice was not her own, its tones squeaky and girlish, full of surprise.

She thought her body was on fire, arching as it rocked to the rhythm of his caresses – she heard him sigh, obviously feeling her wetness begin to run down her buttocks. His lips closed gently around the sweet spot she felt most strongly and began to suck, making her cry out loudly, throwing her head back.

“– Aemond –” She whined out pleadingly, though she didn't know what she was really asking for – all she could hear and feel were the wet sounds of slurping and licking, lazy and unhurried, full of a thoroughness that drove her mad.

As she glanced down at him, for some reason wanting to see him now, she noticed that his eyelid was closed and he was completely absorbed in his task – his head was moving back and forth, disappearing again and again deep between her thighs.

It felt like a bolt of lightning pierced her lower abdomen when she felt his tongue burst inside her body and begin to thrust between her fleshy, hot walls.

“– g-gods – gods, oh, fuck, fuck, yes, yes, brother, here, right here, yes –” She begged, completely losing touch with reality, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure as again and again the tip of his tongue teased a spot deep inside her, from which the tension in her loins became unbearable.

She felt that some sort of peak was approaching, that if it lasted even a moment longer, her poor womanhood would simply explode.

“– ah! –” She almost screamed out in pleasure as a convulsion shook her body – she threw her head back, feeling a wonderful, overpowering, tickling wave of heat spread across her insides, flowing through her mouth, her breasts, her belly, down to her throbbing, leaking cunt.

She panted for a moment longer, wishing the feeling would never go away, until she froze powerless, breathing heavily with her eyes closed. She only looked up at him when she heard the quiet rustling of fabric, followed by quick, rhythmic, sticky splats – before she could make any sound his mouth was on hers, tasting foreign, salty and sweet at the same time.

She moaned into his throat, surprised when she felt something warm and long rub against her womanhood again and again – at first she was frightened that he craved fulfillment inside her, but contrary to her assumption, he did not try to take her. He caressed himself with his hand, squeezing his manhood at the very root, teasing its smooth tip by running it over her moist, oversensitive slit.

She murmured contentedly, sinking her hands into his long hair, letting it fall lightly against her body. Knowing that he was balancing on one hand and just giving himself pleasure with the other, she decided to help him achieve satisfaction, exactly as he had helped her.

He looked at her with his mouth wide open, breaking the kiss for a moment when he saw her slide her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing the fullness of her breasts to him. He closed his eyes and gave her a quiet little moan as she lifted his shirt up, exposing his chest, and with a gesture of her arms, encouraged him to let their bare skin touch.

“– hāedar – mmm –” He breathed out into her mouth, sliding his tongue deep into her throat, his free hand grasping her breast so that with every movement of his hips her nipple rubbed against his chest.

Her body was all flushed from what she had experienced with him earlier, and his uncontrollable, almost animalistic movements were giving her some strange kind of pleasure. She knew he didn't want to take advantage of her – on the contrary, he no longer knew what to do with the tension he himself felt in his loins and was looking for a way to take her while not depriving her of what should not yet be his.

She didn't know what he thought of it, but she let her hands roam over his bare neck and down his back under his shirt, to his exposed buttocks from which he had slipped his breeches off. His body twitched each time her fingers explored a new region of his skin that no one but himself had ever seen or felt before – the slaps of his hand became faster and harsher, his breath heavy in her throat, the bed on which they lay began to creak loudly under their weight.

And then suddenly he made a sound of strange relief, as if he had sighed deeply and was about to cry – she squealed quietly, surprised to feel something warm and sticky spill over her abdomen and thighs, realising after a moment that it was his seed.

His body fell inertly on top of her, as if what he had done had cost him all the strength he had left, and he drew in deep breath, apparently trying to calm himself. She felt his heart pounding hard in his chest, pressed tightly against hers – his manhood, still twitching and pulsing, now lying between his body and hers, was nestled against her stomach.

She stroked his hair and his back, cuddling her cheek into his temple, trying to calm down with him and comprehend what had really happened: their bodies were hot and wet with sweat, she felt a drop of it run down her spine.

She had never been more exposed, but she had also never felt more safe.

She wasn't sure if she should say anything – she really wanted to, however, she feared that the barrage of words that would flow from her mouth would simply overwhelm him after what had happened.

She suspected that, like her, her cousin was in a state of some sort of shock.

She blinked and shuddered when she suddenly heard his voice near her ear.

“Forgive me.”

She swallowed hard, feeling discomfort at the words, for some reason filled with guilt and resignation.

“What should I forgive you for?” She asked in a whisper, looking uncertainly in his direction.

Their eyes met.

“I was supposed to protect you. I didn't keep my word.” He said finally, startling her completely.

“You can't protect me from lust. You can only make it a pleasurable experience for me, in your strong, safe arms.” She replied with a kind of conviction that evidently impressed him, for he remained silent for a long time, looking at her with wide-open eye.

“You don't resent me?” He muttered, and she shook her head, smiling for some reason.

“No. I am happy that we are discovering these fascinating mysteries together. I could not imagine a more beloved and trusted companion for this journey.” She whispered, and he snorted, but she noticed in the darkness of the chamber that the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

“Let's sleep.”

Aemond

When he woke up, the sun had not yet risen on the horizon – he always got up before dawn. The order of his day was predetermined and he didn't like anything to change his plans. First he would eat his morning meal, preferably one that would give him energy before sparring. Then he would move on to training his body, spending long hours in the courtyard with a sword in hand.

When this was behind him, he would take a nice hot bath in the privacy of his chamber, spending the rest of the day delving into old, thick tomes that smelled of dust. He was not fond of suppers with his family, for they bored him and were a time of mere, even simpering courtesy which he did not understand, he endured them, however, because he could then look at her in peace.

As in their childhood, she was sitting in exactly the same place now – opposite him, at the side of his sister Helaena, at the very end of the table.

To their right sat only Daeron.

Helaena was fond of her, because their cousin understood and respected her barriers. It was something he himself deeply valued in her – the fact that she could watch someone carefully and knew the boundaries she could not cross.

It made him, as well as his sister, enjoy being in her company – they knew they would not be surprised in an unpleasant way or put in a situation that would be uncomfortable for them.

In the case of her and Helaena, a sincere, warm friendship had grown between them over the years; he didn't mind this turn of events because he knew that his cousin didn't gossip about his sister with the other ladies of the court and that she kept her secrets, like his, deep in her heart.

He, of course, was not such a fool as to share his worries or thoughts with her, however, he would be lying if he said that he did not enjoy speaking with her, though he usually tried to give that impression.

“Will you stand to fight in a tournament in honour of our king's Name Day?” She asked him, putting her bow and arrows back in place while he sharpened his dagger, which he always carried with him.

Ever since she managed to tame Sheepstealer she has been more brazen than usual.

“Do you want to annoy me?” He answered dryly with a question to a question, not even looking at her despite his overwhelming desire to do so – her familiar scent reached his nose, making his manhood pulsate softly in his breeches.

His tongue swirling around her hard nipple, his two long fingers thrusting deep into her throbbing, hot cunt, all leaking with desire.

He felt a pleasant shiver run down his spine and he swallowed hard, trying to keep a stony face.

He heard her laugh behind him.

“No, but my wreath will have to fall to someone else. Pity. Perhaps I'll give my blessing to your uncle.” She said lightly, and he struggled to hold back the grimace of displeasure that pressed against his lips.

Gwayne was fond of her, and his affection was reciprocated – when he came to the Red Keep to visit his father and sister, he often chatted with her during supper and teased her in ways that drove him mad.

Usually, however, one sharp look from him over the table in her direction was enough for his cousin to turn to Helaena and pay no further attention to his uncle.

“Do what you want.” He burbled coldly, and she sighed heavily.

“Just don't be surprised.” She said disapprovingly, but before he had time to answer her anything she turned and disappeared into the depths of the castle, leaving him with her words and the discomfort he felt in his heart.

Did she really have to give anyone that fucking wreath?

On the other hand, what would it look like if she refused to give it to anyone?

What would his mother have said?

Whether he wanted to or not, he had to watch the next day as his uncle, proud in his armor, sat on his gray steed, holding aloft his lance, on which his cousin had placed a wreath of field flowers.

He looked ahead as she sat back between him and his sister, pretending not to feel how she pressed her arm against his. His gaze involuntarily fled to the side, to her hand, when he felt her little finger brush over his.

He swallowed hard and crossed his legs, shocked that this public expression of intimacy aroused him.

Did the people sitting behind them see it?

Rumors about the nature of their relationship had been spreading around King's Landing for years anyway.

His fingers involuntarily began to pluck the cuticles around his fingernails in some subconscious, nervous gesture full of excitement, the source of which he did not understand.

That night he took her for the first time.

At the beginning, it was simply a coupling similar to others they had experienced so far, but more fiery and loud, full of his frustrations and her assurances that she was faithful to him.

But then, instead of just rubbing his long manhood against the space between her thighs as usual, he decided to experience the warmth that was hidden deep inside her.

“– now I will receive my wreath – the only one that matters –” He exhaled into her ear, involuntarily pushing the tip of his length, swollen with pain and desire, against her moist, pulsing opening.

She let out a moan full of surprise and effort, her nails digging into the bare skin of his back.

“– Aemond – we can't – we can't –” She mewled and gasped as she felt that with a steady, slow thrusts he began to force his way into her hot, fleshy interior.

“– fuck –” He mouthed, feeling his heart pounding like mad, thinking that he shouldn't be doing this, but he had to, because he couldn't bear it any longer.

“– just let me –” He asked in a breaking voice, and she complied with his request.

She stared at him with her mouth wide open, trying to catch her breath as he began to move inside her, sinking deeper and deeper into her body with each deep push.

He pressed his forehead against hers, panting along with her, and stroked her sweaty cheek, looking at her with desperation, wordlessly asking her for forgiveness.

He expected it to be pleasurable, but didn't know it would be that much – her insides were warm and moist, enveloping his manhood on all sides, while squeezing him so tightly that he had trouble taking a deeper breath.

He had the impression that he was in some kind of trance, and the sounds that left their throats were not their own – their moans were high-pitched, similar to crying, her fingers clenched on his buttocks, her hips seeking rhythm with his thrusts, rocking back and forth.

“– I need this – do you understand? – I need you –” He mumbled in pain, imposing a faster, sharper pace on her, finally filling her completely.

His hips pounded against her buttocks with loud, wet splats, her moist, hot walls throbbing around his manhood, clenching against it in a way from which he felt like howling with pleasure.

“– here – please, here, brother –” She sobbed, arching her back so that the entirety of his manhood brushed against the upper wall inside her hot, spasming cunt.

“– here? – here it feels good? –” He panted with excitement, grabbing her hips in his hands, deliberately teasing the area she had showed him now – she threw her head back, her girlish cries of pleasure had to be enough of an answer for him.

“– yes – g-gods – ah –” She whimpered out, clearly experiencing it as extremely as he was, wriggling under him in pure ecstasy.

He just stared at her as his thumb ran over her swollen, plump lower lip, as her breasts bounced lightly with each of his deep, sharp stabs, until he finally felt what he so craved approaching.

An almost animalistic sound of relief came from his throat as he reached his peak inside her – he heard her sweet sound of pleasure and felt the shudder that shook her whole body, her leaking womanhood squeezing his cock greedily, sucking his seed deep inside her.

He collapsed on top of her and snuggled into her warm, sweaty skin, letting their arms embrace their figures tightly. They were both panting and quivering, feeling each other more than ever, wanting to stay that way.

As one.

He had promised himself, however, that he would never beget a bastard, and having his cousin drink moon tea was not an option for him.

He was not going to kill his own blood, his own heritage, his own child.

Then he decided that the time had come.

“Marry me.”

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voitier · 3 days ago

Text

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... your angel of a boyfriend always respected your wishes and boundaries. but what happens when you feel your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [smut!] teasing, making out, mentions of dry humping, fingering, reader's first time, softdom!gguk × inexperienced!reader, gentle sex, mentions of discomfort during penetration.

▸ 𝓔𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮

▸ 𝔀.𝓬: 2𝓴 +

There were certain things you absolutely loved about your boyfriend, like the way his eyes lit up in excitement when you cooked him his favourite meal, or the way his natural non-toxic masculine energy immediately put you at ease, making you slide into your soft feminine energy naturally. This was probably one of the first things you noticed even before you got together, slowly becoming aware of how well you fit into a balanced dynamic that you both felt comfortable in.

But, most of all, you loved the way he never pushed you to do things you weren't keen on doing, never made you feel like you had to something for him "because he said so", never forced anything. Always treated you so well, so gently, so lovingly. He held you at night tight enough like he was afraid you would slip from his arms, but also so delicately like he was scared he could break you if he made a tiny mistake, the same way glass shatters to the ground if you're not careful enough.

So it shouldn't have been a surprise when you told him you weren't ready to have sex just yet, tears striking down your face in fear he would leave you right then and there, and he didn't even appear to be annoyed by that. If anything, he ran you a warm bubble bath, hugging you from behind while cuddling you and whispering sweet nothings to reassure you that no, he wouldn't leave you for that and yes, he would wait as long as you needed.

"Thank you," you had whispered, sniffling softly as the sobs finally subdued. Jungkook gathered the bubbles in the palm of his hand, blowing them in your face. His expression visibly relaxed as you giggled, wiping the scented bubbles that landed on the tip of your nose.

"Princess, I don't want you to feel pressured about doing anything with me, got that? I could never leave you, I love you too much. Also, your cute little face got me wrapped around your pinky."

A few months had passed from that moment, and he had kept his promise. This doesn’t mean that you never shared moments of intimacy, but rather that you both opted for things that you liked and were comfortable in, like grinding while making out, or giving and receiving oral. And you always felt so at ease, so sure that he would never take advantage of you in any way or form.

But as time went on, you felt your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground: it all started with following him on set, watching mesmerized as he posed for the camera. He was magnificent in his expressions, in his demeanor, in the way he rocked the outfits given by the CK company. He was confident, alluring, his muscles moving in a way that made you feel tingly all over. His eyes caught yours, crouched on the chair behind the camera, trying to be invisible to the eyes of all the professionals that hurriedly walked around you. You watched as a weird glint sparkled in his eyes, his lips curling in a knowing smirk briefly before he snapped back into character, leaving you a flustered, breathless mess. You weren’t entirely sure, but after that it looked like he posed even sexier for the camera, manipulating his body so that it could allure you in the same way a siren’s song allures pirates before devouring them. and god, did it work…

You shifted around uncomfortably, fiddling with your phone, looking around at anything to tear your eyes from your boyfriend, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. and Jungkook took notice of every effort you made to hide your need, quite amused by it all. Soon after, the director called for the end of the day, screaming loud enough for everyone to hear “good job, guys, see you tomorrow!”, clapping his hands and stopping by the photographer to discuss something about the lightning of some photos.

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, stretching his body to relax his tensed limbs before making his way to you, chuckling darkly when he noticed you acting like you weren’t paying any attention to him. he leaned over you, trapping you between his arms as his lips hovered your ear. “What's wrong, princess?” he purred, nibbling softly your earlobe. Your breath struck in your throat at his sultry tone, and you prayed he couldn’t hear your heart thrumming in your chest, or your hands shaking by your side. You felt like you were floating in a bubble where nothing mattered aside from his presence, and his musky cologne that clouded your senses and made your head dizzy. You closed your eyes breathing it in, parting your lips slightly to let out a soft breath.

Jungkook hummed pleased at your responsiveness, cupping your jaw with his warm hand. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, staring at it almost as if hypnotised by his own action, pulling it down softly before murmuring “let’s go home, princess”, a tinge of urgency lacing his words.

The drive home was probably the quickest you’ve ever been in, with Jungkook’s foot slamming the pedal to the ground, one hand grabbing possessively your thigh and fingers touching where you most need him with featherlight pressure. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway Jungkook was quick to pick you up and bring you inside, pushing your back against the door as soon as it closed behind you.

His lips immediately found yours, pulling you into a desperate kiss. He gently pulled your hair at the back of your neck, angling your face better in order to deepen the kiss. You moaned, the sound swallowed by your boyfriend’s lips, hands tugging at his shirt to take it off. Jungkook pulled back slightly, groaning at the sight of your swollen red lips and hooded eyes. “Bedroom?” he asked, throwing his shirt on the ground.

“Yes, please” you whispered, following him around the house as more kissing and more stripping occurred, ending up in the bedroom already half naked and even more worked up than before. You wiggled out of the shirt that covered your chest and your panties-clad bottom, straddling your boyfriend’s lap as he sat against the headboard.

“C’mon, princess, you know what to do” he said, hands holding your thighs firmly while you rocked back and forth, whimpering as his still clothed boner provided the perfect friction against your aching clit. “Want… more,” you cried out, hips rutting desperately. Jungkook’s lips latched on your skin, sucking deep purple spots all over your neck and collarbones. “Yeah?” he asked against your flesh, “what is it that you want, princess?”

Your cheeks burned at the embarrassment, yet it didn’t stop you from whimpering “want you inside me”. You felt your boyfriend’s body tense beneath you, his kissing stopping on the spot. His hand cupped your jaw, keeping you in place as his eyes locked with yours. “What did you say, princess?”

If possible, you felt your whole body catch on fire just from his tone alone, trying to divert your gaze as you repeated shyly “want… want you inside me. Please”. You swore you felt his cock throbbing at your words, his pupils completely blown out in lust. The fingers that held your jaw twitched briefly before he asked “you’re sure, princess?”, struggling to hide the restraint in his voice. You nodded, rocking your hips tentatively to spur him on.

He bit his lip, trying to hold back the smile that threatened to break over his face. He failed at that, though, and a happy giggle escaped his lips as he switched your position, letting you fall on the soft pillows, your back landing on the mattress. He showered your face in excited kisses before he finally calmed down, a serious expression on his face. “Promise you’ll tell me if I'm hurting you or if you want to stop”. You smiled, nodding your head. “Pinky promise”. And just like that he was on you again, reaching a hand behind your back to flick your bra off your chest, sighing in pleasure once he cupped your breast in his hand, gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger.

“Always looking so pretty,” he purred, reaching a hand down to unzip his pants, trying to take some pressure off his painfully hard member. He groaned, muttering a small “fuck,” before lowering his head on your torso, kissing his way down all the way to your panties. He pressed a hand on your thigh, keeping you spread over in front of his eyes. He smirked pleased at the wet patch on the baby blue fabric of your thong, rubbing his thumb up and down your clothed slit, then pressing his finger on your clit. “Oh fuck- please, Kook,” you moaned, bucking your hips up to gain some more friction.

“Patience, princess,” he whispered, blowing softly on your clothed sex. You gasped at the feeling, trying to press your thighs back together, but you were stopped by Jungkook’s firm grasp that pinned you to the bed. “How sensitive,” he chuckled, teasingly licking a stripe up the drenched fabric. You whimpered, a string of pleas falling repeatedly from your plush lips as you grew progressively more desperate for more.

“Oh I know, I know, princess,” he cooed, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and pulling them down, throwing them somewhere on the floor. “Gonna make you feel so nice,” he continued, stopping to admire your glistening folds, all wet and leaking just for him. He ran his pointer finger between your folds, gathering your moisture before slowly slipping the finger in.

“Oh-” you gasped, closing your eyes as Jungkook’s finger stroked your walls, curling it just right. “Gonna put another one in,” he murmured, slipping another finger in. A loud moan escaped your lips, spurring your boyfriend to move in quicker and deeper movements, his fingers hitting repeatedly your g-spot almost as if in a quest to let you release as many sounds as possible. Slick sounds and ragged breaths filled the room, your mind clouding into a hazy state. The bands in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment now, your walls fluttering around Jungkook’s fingers.

Said man, of course, wanted to toy with you a little longer before giving you the relief you needed, and that’s why he immediately pulled his fingers out, chucking darkly at your disappointed whines. He slipped the same two fingers in his mouth, moaning around them as your juices dripped on his tongue. “Always taste so good,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Think you’re ready for me, princess?”

You nodded eagerly, though you couldn’t hide the nervousness pricking at the back of your neck. “Can you just… be gentle? Like, a lot? Pretty please”.

“Of course, princess, you don’t even have to ask. We’re gonna take it nice and slow, yeah?” of course there was no doubt that Jungkook already planned on taking it easy with you, nevertheless the confirmation was much needed for you, helping your nerves ease even a tiny bit.

The man sat back on his knees, taking off his pants and briefs in one go. Even though it wasn’t the first time you had seen him completely naked, you couldn’t help but stare at him mesmerised. He was just that good looking, his body built the same way the greeks carved their most beloved statues. Your mouth ran dry at the sight, and your hands itched to explore every inch of flesh.

Jungkook leaned back down, caging your head between his arms. He stroked your cheek lovingly, kissing you softly before asking “Do you want me to put a condom on?”

You shook your head, whispering “I’m still on the pill, it’s fine. Wanna feel you raw”. Your boyfriend closed his eyes at the confession, your desire of feeling him bare both arousing and touching. “Okay,” his hand reached between your bodies, holding his member in a firm grasp as he ran his almost purplish tip over your folds, gathering your wetness.

“Oh god,” you choked out, your walls clenching around nothing. Finally, Jungkook aligned his cock with your entrance, looking at your face one last time before slowly pushing it in, holding you closer to his chest as you gasped in discomfort. “Kook…ngh, wait…”

“I got you, princess,” he cooed, stopping his motion immediately. He stroked your hair, and he didn’t even wince when you bit his bicep to ignore the discomfort between your hips. “‘s alright, love. I promise it’s gonna feel nice really soon, hold tight for me”.

You nodded, taking a shaky breath in before your boyfriend pushed a couple more inches or so inside you, settling deep before he stilled his movements, waiting for you to give him permission to do anything. Despite the uncomfortable sensation, you couldn’t ignore how full you felt and how good it felt to have him nestled inside your walls completely bare, allowing you to feel even the littlest throb. Meanwhile, your angel of a boyfriend did everything in his hold to distract you, from kissing your lips to nibbling your earlobe, wanting you to feel good yet feeling guilty because he couldn’t do anything to let the pain subside faster.

“Mmh- Kook… I think you can move now,” you croaked out, catching Jungkook’s attention. The man whispered a soft “okay,” then locked your lips in a slow and passionate kiss as he began moving, pulling out almost entirely before pushing back in, over and over again. Soon, you whimpers of discomfort turned into moans of pleasure, and Jungkook followed you by example. Noises of skin slapping skin echoed in the bedroom, almost harmonising with your moans and grunts.

“Princess… can I- fuck, can I go faster?” you nodded again, throwing your head against the pillows as Jungkook’s hips picked up their pace, almost snapping against your body. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jaw hanging low while your boyfriend got drunk on the sight, hissing as he felt himself approaching his orgasm at light’s speed. His hand reached down, toying with your clit to bring you closer to your finish line. However, he almost lost it all when you let out a loud, almost pornographic, moan, your walls sucking him in greedily.

His brows furrowed in concentration, determined to make you cum before he did. “C’mon, princess, give it to me,” he grunted, applying the right pressure to your clit to make you completely unravel under him, whimpering and shaking as your walls fluttered around his dick. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, pulling out just in time to spill his warm milky white cum on your tummy, decorating your skin in ropes of white.

He laid beside you with a huff, scanning your body with his eyes to check that everything was alright. He took a strand of hair falling onto your eyes and lovingly pushed it behind your ear, smiling at you softly as you opened your eyes back. “Doing alright, love?”

You hummed, feeling too weak to mutter out anything. Your body still shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you felt your sensitive sex still pulsing uncomfortably, but overall you felt great, and your mind wasn’t running miles per hour for once.

Jungkook pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight. “C’mon, I’ll run us a bath. You’ve been so good, I love you so much, princess.”

⭒ a.n: first fic on here! let me know what you guys think, I'm so excited!

#© voitier #bts jungkook #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook bts #jung kook #bts smau #bts jk #bts x reader #bts army

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mendessi · 2 days ago

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things i say when you sleep | chapter ten

multi chapter bodhi durran x fem!oc

word count: 4.5k

chapter summary: Intimacy is a fickle thing.

content warning: explicit content 18+, unprotected piv, praise kink if you squint, bodhi has a thing for biting, choking (barely), oral (f!receiving), fingering, lots of feelings

AO3 masterlist

eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve

The way his fingers dig into my thighs steals my breath.

"What did you say?" He whispers.

Bodhi is still on his knees in front of me where I stand in his room.

"Take. It. Off."

His eyes search mine for a moment, seeking validation, and the corner of my lip rises.

Still kneeling in front of me, his hand trails up my side, finding the line of buttons holding my dress together. He pops them undone one by one until the dress falls to the floor and pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. I'd feel exposed with anyone else, but this is Bodhi.

He kisses a soft trail from one hip bone to the other and then looks up at me. I tangle my fingers in his curls as his kisses grow hungrier, and his teeth nip at my skin. I tug his hair lightly, pulling his head back so that he looks at me.

"I want you, Bodhi," I say lowly, and he looks at me with half-closed eyes and parted lips. "All of you. No holding back."

"Tell me you mean it," He rasps.

"Let me show you."

Slowly lowering my shields, I slide my hands from his hair to the sides of his face.

"Close your eyes," I whisper.

The ache that I feel for him is tremendous. In all aspects: sexually, physically, mentally, hell, even spiritually. I think back to the night the light manifested into my hands and how I wanted to kiss him in the shower. This wanting, this yearning that I have felt for him is devastating. It hurts in the best and worst ways.

I crave him. All of him, the good and the bad. I want it all. It's unfair to want someone this badly.

The feelings rush through me, and I push them out one by one as soon as they hit.

His thumb brushes against my cheek, and I don't realize that a single tear has rolled down my cheek til he swipes it away.

My eyes open, and I look down at him, searching for any reaction.

His name is almost off my lips when he surges to his feet, his lips melting into mine before he's even fully standing. His hands find my face, cupping where my jaw and neck meet, thumbs brushing against my skin as he pushes me back toward the bed.

"You're going to ruin me, Ani," He says in between kissing me.

His tongue delves into my mouth, gliding against mine, and I whimper as I fall back onto the mattress. At some point from the middle of my room to here, he lost his shirt. I've seen him shirtless plenty of times, but in this light, it is an entirely new sensation. The way his muscles move under the dim light of the moon, his relic shimmering up his arm.

He crawls on top of me, pinning me in between his hands as he leans down pressing a punishing kiss to my lips. I breathe in each kiss like it's the only thing keeping me alive. Like it all could be snatched away from me at a moment's notice.

Cupping my cheek with one hand and trailing a line of kisses from my jaw to my neck. He lets his hand trail down my waist, fingers digging into my hip as he kisses down the valley of my breasts.

"So fucking perfect," He mutters against my skin before taking my nipple into his mouth. I gasp softly, my fingers retangling themselves in his hair.

"Bodhi." My eyes flutter shut as he kisses from one nipple across my chest to the other and repeats the action. He leaves kisses all over my body, wherever he moves, like he's praising me.

"What do you need? Tell me," He breathes against my skin, his fingers slowly tugging my underwear down.

Instinctively, I press my thighs together.

"You don't have to hide from me." His fingers brush against the sides of my thighs. "We can stop at any moment."

"N-no." The word comes out too quickly, and he laughs softly before kissing the inside of my knee.

"I want you ready for me." His eyes darken as he slowly parts my thighs. "I want to take care of you first. Is that okay?"

He hooks his arms under my thighs and pulls me towards him, pressing hungry kisses to the insides of my thighs. He sucks and nips at the skin and all I can do is bite into my lip to not make a sound.

"Look at me," He says gently, and I almost don't catch it, so he repeats it sternly, "Look at me."

I tear my eyes from the ceiling and force myself to look at him.

"I want to hear you," He says and I barely have time to nod before his tongue is flush against my clit and my hips involuntarily buck into his mouth. He sucks and nips and fucking eats like he's never had anything so good.

My eyes flutter shut, and he taps his fingers against my thigh, which I can tell is him telling me to look at him. His gaze holds mine when he dips two fingers into my heat, the stretch slightly stinging in the best way, his tongue moving in deliberate strokes.

"Just soaking for me, aren't you?" He pulls away from my clit with a pop and I can't even form a coherent thought as he continues to drive his fingers into me at a steady pace. His free hand reaches up, pulling one of mine from his hair and lacing our fingers together.

It's hard to believe that I had him on his knees in front of me moments ago, and now I was a withering mess under him.

He licks from my entrance back to my clit, reattaching his lips there and sucking. I let my head fall back into my pillow, tugging him by his hair further between my thighs if that were even possible. He groans in response sending vibrations through my clit, curling his fingers upward.

"Bodhi- fuck," I cry out, my hips rolling against the palm of his hand, the coil in my lower belly pulling tighter and tighter until it finally snaps.

I can feel my walls pulsing around his fingers as he continues to drive them into me, through my orgasm.

"That's it, sweet girl." He places a kiss on my inner thigh when it finally subsides and then brings his face back to mine.

I cup his jaw, pulling his lips to mine. My tongue finds his, and I whine when I taste my own arousal.

"So fucking sweet," He practically growls, bringing his fingers to his lip, licking them clean. It's obscene, but it makes me more desperate for him.

"I-" The words are on the tip of my tongue, but thoughts refuse to form.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what you need," He's fucking teasing me at this point. That's just not fair, now is it?

I want to be back in control. I liked it when he was on his knees begging for my forgiveness.

I pull him in for a kiss, tugging his bottom lip between my teeth. A sound resonates in the back of his throat that I can't decipher, but his hand is on my neck in a position that has me clenching around nothing.

"I want you inside me." I trail my hand down his bare chest, giving my fingers grace to brush over the bumps that I know are scars. I dip my hand under the waistband of his jeans, biting my lip at how hard he is for me. He breathes out, his forehead falling against mine as I tease him through his briefs. "Now."

He pulls away from me and stands up just to pull his pants and briefs off, freeing his hard length. My lips part slightly as I sit up on my elbows. Well, I had a feeling, but the confirmation is just... he's big, to say the least.

He lifts my hips, tucking one of his pillows underneath me before he crawls back between my thighs. Teasing must be his favorite thing because he drags the tip of leaking cock between my folds, nudging at my clit making my hips buck forward again.

"You're being mean," I whine.

"Have some patience, baby," He laughs, and I giggle when he leans down to press a kiss to my forehead, then my nose, then my lips.

"Look at me," I mock his words from earlier as he presses my thighs open further. The weight of him between my legs reminds me of being on the mat, but this is so much more intimate.

"Still okay?" He asks, his tone softer, and I nod.

Our gazes are fixed on one another when I guide the tip of his cock to my entrance and he slowly pushes in. Neither of us folds, staring into the other's eyes as he sinks in, inch by inch. My nails dig into his shoulder blades at the sting, and both of our lips part as we breathe out. He's the first to break when he finally moans once he's seated to the hilt.

A small sound of discomfort leaves my lips before I can stop it, and his eyebrows furrow with concern. It's a combination of the way he's splitting me open and the nerves I'm suddenly feeling with him between my legs.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly. "It's been a while since-"

"Don't be sorry." He presses his lips to mine in the most gentle kiss I've ever received. "Never be sorry."

With a few deep breaths to help adjust to the size of him, I nod my head. He drags his cock out slowly and then pushes back in, just as slow. I'm more than wet enough for him, and the way he glides in and out sends shivers down my spine.

"Fits so perfect," He groans, "Like you were made for me."

His head rests in the crook of my neck and bites gently at the skin there, eliciting a moan from me. The rhythm he sets is just what I need to adjust, and it has me whimpering underneath him in less than a minute.

My nails are not kind to his skin as he pulls out almost fully before thrusting back into me to the hilt. His lips don't leave my skin when he squeezes the pressure points at my throat making my pussy throb around him. I thrust my hips upwards, flipping us over so that I'm on top, just like I would on the mat. He pushes himself up off the mattress so that his back is against the headboard. I wrap my arms around his neck so that our chests pull flush to one another. The position is ridiculously intimate, and my chest swirls with emotions. His, mine, I don't know, but I don't care. He's here. Pressing into me at an entirely insane angle and it hurts so fucking good.

"Eyes up here." He cups my jaw in his hand, forcing me to look at him. "I want to look at you when you ride me."

I have to fight my eyes from rolling to the back of my head when I slowly start to roll my hips. It'd been years since I'd been intimate with anyone, but watching the way his head falls against the headboard, breathy moans leaving his lips tells me I'm doing something right.

My forehead is against his, his hands bruising my waist as he guides my hips up and down his cock. The angle is ruinous, his tip hitting a place within me no one else has ever touched. Our lips are parted, an inch apart, as we swallow each other's breaths and moans, the pace of my hips moving faster. He thrusts upwards, meeting me halfway, and I feel the coil tightening for the second time tonight.

"Bodhi," I whimper against his lips.

"I know, sweet girl, I can feel it." He kisses my chin. I look between us to see a dim golden light illuminating off my chest. "So fucking tight. So perfect. So beautiful. Let go."

"Feels so good," whimpers echo off the stone walls of his room, but he shushes me with another kiss. "Right there, fuck, Bodhi."

The muscles in my thighs ache as my legs start to shake. I cry out when he sinks his teeth into my shoulder hard enough that the imprint of his bite is left behind in a bruise. But the primal energy of it all is enough to push me over the edge. My hand is around his throat this time as he continues to pound into me, my walls clenching around him once more. But he doesn't stop as I come around his cock for the first time. He continues to drive into me his nails digging into my spine.

"Give me one more, baby, just one more. I know you can." He's a fucking mess underneath me. He reaches up to brush my hair off my forehead, but I can tell he just wants to see my face.

"I don't know if I can." My breath is heavy, and I'm overstimulated, but I want to give him everything he wants.

"Read me," He says. "Read me, Ani."

I search his eyes, cupping his cheeks again as he rolls us back over when he feels my pace stutter. He can tell I'm tired from riding him, and I'm grateful when he takes control again.

The yearning is more prevalent than ever, but there's nothing left to yearn for. He has all of me right here in this bed. Want?

Need.

It's not a want, it's a need.

I need her like I need the air to breathe. She is everything to me, and that terrifies me.

I need her more than she probably will ever need me, and the revelation is near earth-shattering.

"I do need you," I shake my head feverishly.

"You don't understand," He whispers, kissing me again.

So close to my second orgasm; the pressure is building in my lower belly for the third time tonight, and my legs tremble. His hand wraps under my knee, pressing it to my chest so he can drive deeper. I don't care how loud I'm moaning or if anyone can hear us. He's ensuring I become a part of his mattress, and I can't think of anything else. Tears brim the corners of my eyes at the sheer and overwhelming pleasure. A few roll down my cheeks as his name falls off my lips over and over again.

There is nothing on the Continent that could compare to what I'm feeling right now in this bed.

"I do," I reassure him. "I'm right where I need to be."

"Fuck, Ania," He moans my name, and it sounds so foreign but I need to hear it everyday for the rest of my life or I won't be content.

His hand reaches between us finding my clit and he only has to rub a few circles before I come for a third time. He has to hold me in place as I writhe under him. He gets one, two, three more thrusts in before his hips stutter and his cock twitches within me. His release is warm and fills me to the brim. He moans my name as he cups my jaw one more time so I can watch him come undone.

He stays where he is, the only sound filling the room being our heavy breathing. I clench around him with the last waves of my orgasm, and he bites back another quiet moan.

"I'm never leaving this bed," He says against my skin, swiping his tongue over the bite mark he left in my shoulder.

We both moan softly as he pulls himself from my heat, and I wince at the emptiness. That will hurt in the morning.

He stands up and crosses his room to grab a towel from the armoire. I admire the prominent muscles in his back before he turns back around. He sits on the edge of the bed, and his eyes scan me over once, pausing where I can feel the mixture of our come dripping out of me. My cheeks turn red at the way my chest and hands still lightly glow.

"I will never get enough of this," He says to me as he gently cleans between my thighs. The gesture is so intimate that I almost flinch away from him. I don't know how to handle the domesticity of it.

I can't find the words. He's everything I wanted when I was younger, and now I've just had him in the most special way. He willingly shared his emotions with me, and it might be the most intensely sexy thing that's ever happened to me during sex.

I have half the mind to wonder how this will be explained to Xaden and Garrick, and god forbid if Beckett were alive.

"Do you think I mean it now?" I ask as he lies back down next to me. He pulls me into his side, pressing a soft kiss to my head.

He laughs breathily, and I can feel him nod as I rest my head against his heart. The steady beat nearly lulls me to sleep.

"It's hard not to." His fingers draw patterns against the skin on my back. "Why were you on the field with Gleigeal? Liam mentioned you were supposed to be at the party, and then Garrick told me he saw you practically run out there."

My heart jumps, and I remember where he had found me earlier tonight.

"I was irresponsible. I approached a form of burnout, I think." I say softly. "I thought I could hold the emotions of every marked one today, but absorbing too many at once for an extended period backfired."

"And Gleigeal helped you?" he asks softly. I can sense that he's upset that I thought I could do such a thing.

"He pushed me to ground and gain control of the situation," I reply.

"I'm proud of you," He says, tilting my chin to look up at him.

"I'm proud of me too," I say, and he smiles, leaning down to kiss me gently.

The question presses at the back of my mind of what happens now. Do we move forward as friends? Are we... exclusive? What happens next?

"Where do we go from here?" I finally ask.

"I think-"

We are both startled at the sound of banging on the door. He grabs the sheet and wraps it around his waist, and I stand up, ignoring the way my legs wobble. I grab my dress and move to the corner of the room to step back into it.

He glances at me before he pulls the door open.

"They're calling a full formation." Garrick says, and my cheeks heat up. "Are you alone?"

"Uh... no?" Bodhi replies, and I cover my mouth to stifle the laugh that escapes my lips.

"Who?" Garrick asks.

"That's-"

"I'll take a guess." He's silent for a moment. "Ania, are you decent?"

My jaw unhinges slightly, and the way that my cheeks flush is embarrassing. Bodhi pulls the door open wider, and I appear behind him, fumbling with the buttons of my dress.

"Hi, Garrick," I smile awkwardly.

"Hmm," Garrick smirks, looking between me and Bodhi.

"Don't tell Xaden," Bodhi says.

"Don't tell Xaden what?" Xaden appears, and I wish nothing more than to shrink into a tiny particle and cease to exist.

He surveys the sight in front of him: Bodhi holding the sheet around his waist, my dress barely buttoned up, and both of our hair a mess. I'm sure red patches litter my neck where he nipped, and with no sleeves, the bruise in the shape of a bite is perfectly visible.

I want to die at this moment.

"Cousin," Bodhi laughs nervously.

"Formation. Now." His square jaw ticks, and I note the way his fingers flex.

"Yes, sir," Bodhi nods and turns away from the door. He looks back at me to give me a small nod, and then I slide my shoes on quickly before following Garrick and Xaden out of the room. My cheeks are still hot as I follow behind them to the courtyard.

"Here." Garrick removes his jacket and puts it around my shoulders. "It's cold."

"Thank you," I offer him a smile and tug it around my shoulders.

I fall into formation next to Rhiannon, and she turns to face me, noticing that I'm still struggling with the line of buttons. Some of them are broken, thanks to Bodhi. Other cadets are still falling into formation frantically as my heart pounds against my chest. Some people are still in their dress uniforms, and others look like they've just been woken up from a deep sleep. It has to be only hours away from sunrise.

"Do you need help?" Rhiannon asks, and I nod thankfully.

"I got it," Violet steps in, still in her dress uniform. Rhi nods, and I hide my shock as Violet starts to fix the buttons lining my side.

My body tenses against my will, and I finally speak, "Thank you."

"I've been kind of a bitch recently and I wanted to apologize," She says. She could've been done by now, but she's taking her time fixing my dress.

"Why?" I ask. "I didn't do anything to you."

She takes a deep breath and then shakes her head once. "Xaden."

"I don't understand," I look at her. She pats my side, signaling she's finished, and I lower my arm and turn to face her.

"I was the impression that we were sharing his time," She says. She embarrassed but I don't say anything.

My brows furrow as I try to process what she means, and then it clicks. "You thought me and Xaden?"

I nearly gag. The man is the closest thing alive that I have to a brother.

"It's not my proudest moment," She raises her hands in defense. "He told me tonight that you two were raised together. Why didn't you tell me?"

I shrug. "I was ashamed to have this relic when I entered the quadrant. What would people think if they knew that Fen Riorson was basically my uncle?"

"I understand," She nods, "But regardless, I am sorry, Ania. You didn't deserve how I treated you."

I sense that she's genuine, so I smile softly, "Apology accepted."

"Where the hell were you?" Ridoc asks as he falls in line, "I was banging on your door for like ten minutes."

"She had a busy night, can't you tell?" Liam teases as he buttons the top of his uniform. He had a busy night, too.

Ridoc glares at Liam as Dain approaches, finally. Hopefully, now we can have some answers for what the hell is going on.

"Riders Quadrant!" We all stand at attention as Panchek's voice booms across the courtyard. "Welcome to the last event of this year's War Games."

I release the breath I didn't know I was holding, and I have to slam my shields shut to block out the surge of anger that rushes through my veins. People are pissed.

General Aetos steps forward and explains the initiative, assigning Fourth Wing to the southeast. The exercise is supposed to be five days, and we're given a limited amount of time to pack.

Once we're dismissed, I call out to Gleigeal.

"Gleigeal."

"I'll be awaiting you in the field," He replies.

Formation breaks after Dain gives us orders, and everyone scurries back to the dorms. Sensing the excitement from everyone else in the quadrant, I make it my own. This is just War Games. We won the first battle and I'll be damned if we don't win the last too. A five-day exercise will be a great learning experience.

I step out of my room with my pack, and Liam is already waiting for me.

"Xaden is going to pull us into his headquarters squad," Liam says quietly as we walk toward the flight field.

"What? Why?" I ask.

"Because they're going to try and organize a drop while we're out. We need to see how it's done since it'll be primarily our responsibility once he and Garrick leave." He explains, and I nod. I've only heard a little bit about the so-called "drops" that they do, but I don't know what it is or what they're for. I just know that it's supposed to aid in defeating the venin that threatens the borders.

"Wingleader." Dain's anger is hard to block out when Xaden approaches. At least I'm prepared, knowing that I'm being pulled into his squad.

Liam gives me a nod just as he and Xaden get into it over Violet joining his squad. That I was not aware of. I suppose it makes sense because their dragons are mated.

"Liam, Imogen and Ania are coming too." He adds the final blow, and I swear Dain nearly pops a vein.

"You're pulling three of my best squadmates, and for what?" He bellows. If I weren't me, I would never imagine talking to Xaden Riorson that way. Dain has balls, I'll give him that.

I awkwardly back against Gleigeal's leg, trying to avoid whatever conflict is going on between my Squad Leader and Xaden and Violet.

Gleigeal is in a much better mood after a couple of hours of sleep.

"You're chipper, aren't you?" I tease.

"We're going on our first drop, you aren't chipper?" He replies with a chuff, and I laugh.

"I'm quite chipper myself." I don't think I've ever used the word "chipper" in my life. Maybe it's the post sex bliss despite everything going on, but I am indeed chipper.

"Oh, trust me, I know," He says, and I roll my eyes.

"You are ridiculous." I huff.

"Speaking of..." Gleigeal nods his head, and I look over in that direction.

"Ania," Bodhi approaches me, glancing down at Garrick's jacket.

I glance over and catch Ridoc staring at us. He averts his gaze quickly, and my lips twitch downward in a frown. No way he's upset with me over this?

"I'm coming with you guys to Athebyne," I tell him.

"We'll talk more when we get there, okay?" He says.

"Do you promise?" I smile, and he holds his pinky finger up.

"Promise," I link my pink with his. I almost stand on my toes to kiss him, but I stop myself, remembering the rest of my squadmates are around. He notices my hesitation and then takes a quick glance around before leaning down to kiss me softly, our pinkies still linked.

"I'll see you there," I tell him. "Go."

He laughs as I gently shove him towards the direction he came from.

"You two are sickening." Gleigeal blows steam at my back, and I glare at him.

"Someone is jealous," I mutter out loud as I mount him. He pretends he's gonna drop his leg, and I gasp, thinking I'm about to fall. His laugh rattles my head, and I glare at him.

"Who's jealous?"

Dick.

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tag list: @itsmytimetoodream @lynnieluvsu @sherlockstrangewolf @abysshaven @wolfbc97 @paris009 @poseidont @angel-graces-world-of-chaos

#bodhi durran #bodhi fourth wing #fourth wing #iron flame #onyx storm #bodhi durran x oc #bodhi durran fic #the empyrean #fourth wing fanfic #bodhi x reader #bodhi durran smut

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loganwritesprobably · 3 days ago

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Hurt/Comfort (the comfort is sex)

Tags/Warnings: Shanks/AFAB!Reader/Mihawk, she/they reader, hurt/comfort (the comfort is sex), shy!reader, established relationship, double penetration two holes, fellatio, spanking, rough sex, cum eating, cream pie Word Count: 1293 A birthday gift written for @mermaniaa

It had been such a long day. Usually, you’d have been more resilient, but not today. Today, the world seemed to just weigh a little heavier on your shoulders and so you tucked yourself away in your room, knees pulled to your chest, face wet with tears. You’d felt ridiculous for breaking down, but sometimes you just couldn’t help it. Nothing much had even happened, everything just felt that little bit more overwhelming than usual. When Mihawk found you, he’d wrapped you up in his arms and gently brushed away the lingering tears, and suggested that he and Shanks make you feel better. You knew the two men well enough by now to know what that would involve, and you said yes, almost eagerly. You hated to seem needy, and talking about intimacy often left you speechless, struggling to convey your wants and needs, but thankfully they found your shyness endearing.

When Shanks joined you, it didn’t take long for the three of you to be disrobed, and have your hands on each other’s bodies.

Shanks sighed softly as he sunk into your heat, Mihawk humming appreciatively at the view, stroking himself slowly to maintain hardness but not truly bring himself pleasure. You looked wonderful spread so widely, with his hands holding your ankles, pulling your knees back to your shoulders so the swordsman could bask in the heavenly image the two of you made. There was always something so special about the three of you together and the love you could make, the chemistry between you lighting up and making you all insatiable, until at least four rounds later. You’d always been shy about it, their beautiful princess, struggling to share what you wanted in moments of intimacy, and before, flushing darkly in a way they both found incredibly sweet, and a turn on in Shanks’ case. Innocence had always been a thing for him. Shanks rocked his hips slightly, not fully thrusting into you, just moving enough to drive you crazy, and force whatever you were thinking about out of your head.

You couldn’t help whining, lip pulled between your teeth, needy for more but unable to ask for it.

“What is it, dearest?” Mihawk asked, a small smirk playing at his lips. He knew, of course he did, but the game was to try to get you to say it. You only whined again, attempting to grind yourself down on Shanks for more.

“Oh I don’t think so pretty girl.” Shanks said, moving one hand from around your ankle to wrap instead around your middle, including your thighs, to hold you in place. You whimpered pitifully, and you just about caught the hungry look on Mihawk’s face.

“I think they might want something, love.” He said to Shanks, who chuckled lowly against your ear, you could feel the sound just as much as you heard it.

“I think you might be right, Hawkeyes. Should we give it to her?” He asked, slowly licking up the shell of your ear.

“Perhaps we should. Or maybe she should ask for it, like a good girl.” Mihawk’s voice was honey thick, the words oozing from his lips and lighting a fire inside you, making you ever more desperate, and wetter around Shanks’ cock.

“I know they can do it, we’ve seen it before, shame they don’t want to right now. I guess they don’t want any more than this then.” And that was too far, to suggest you weren’t eager and desperate for them, whimpering and whining for them and them alone.

“Please.” You managed to breathe out, just barely, the sound only audible because Shanks had stopped moving entirely in his effort to make you speak your desires.

“What was that, darling?” Mihawk asked, shuffling closer to you to rest a hand on your thigh, making you bite your lip - even the simplest of their touches drove you wild.

“Please! Need- need you.” You managed, your face only flushing darker, and you couldn’t help squeezing your eyes shut as if to hide from your own embarrassment.

“Good girl.” Shanks whispered, voice dark and husky. For a second, the tension of the room was as thick as it could get, like an elastic pulled to full extension, and then it snapped, and then everything was happening. Shanks flipped you both over, pressing your body down into the mattress as he lifted your hips. You turned your head so you could breathe better, and found Mihawk in front of you with his dick in hand.

Slowly, with a loud, heady groan Shanks pushed back inside you, grunting as he bottomed out, barely able to wait for a moment before he began to fuck you. He struggled so much more than Mihawk to restrain himself, especially when he knew exactly what you wanted, but he couldn’t deny that you were so beautiful when you were shy and needy. Mihawk waited a moment for you to adjust, just watching the pleasure on your face, before he stepped forward, taking some of your hair in hand to get your attention. You opened your mouth before your eyes, mostly on instinct, and were greeted by his dick just centimetres from your lips.

“Well done, darling. You’ve done such a good job learning how to please us.” He looked and sounded so proud, and it was dizzying. He slowly pushed into your mouth, and then allowed you to do as you pleased. He’d never had complaints about your head before, he wasn’t going to start guiding you now.

It was easy to get distracted by Shanks pounding into you, temporarily stealing your attention as he hit your gspot over and over, but a quick swat on your ass was enough to remind you what you were meant to be doing. You sucked Mihawk eagerly, happy to do it, eager to make your lover feel good. He worked so hard, he deserved it, and you wanted to taste his cum. It usually wasn’t something that you were particularly interested in, but you loved to do it with them, your men.

Shanks was no slouch when it came to sex, but it’d been a while since the three of you had indulged together, so you weren’t surprised when his hips began to stutter, his rhythm faltering as he came closer to orgasm.

“Gonna fill you up, sweet girl. Make sure you can feel my love inside you.” Shanks grunted, kissing down your spine, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked into you. Just a few thrusts later, and he bottomed out inside you again, filling you with his seed. You never faltered your own movements, hollowing your cheeks to bring Mihawk closer to orgasm. The swordsman made hardly any sound, the only sign of his pleasure being the soft pants that escaped him whenever your tongue moved just so. Finally, in an uncharacteristic moment of impatience, Mihawk pulled out from your mouth and took himself in hand. He stroked himself quickly, head tilting back from his pleasure. You tilted your head further, so when he finally came, he coated your face and neck with his seed.

Reluctantly, Shanks pulled out of you, but then crouched down to press his tongue inside you, eating his own cum from inside you eagerly. He ate like a man starved, his tongue moving expertly to bring you more pleasure until you came like that, his face pressed to your core, Mihawk’s cum on your face. The swordsman dragged a finger across your face with a smile, bringing his cum to your lips for you to take, sucking gently on his finger to clean it.

When they were done, they took their posts either side of you, holding you close, pressing kisses to your skin.

Tags: @cainnoable @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @categoryace

If you'd like to tip me and get exclusive ficlets, Kofi

#one piece #fanfic #writing #reader insert #loganwritesfanfics #one piece x reader #dracule mihawk #shanks #red haired shanks #akagami no shanks #mishanks #shanks x reader #shanks x mihawk x reader #shanks x reader x mihawk #mihawk x reader x shanks #mihawk x reader #she/they reader #afab reader

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okaysonny · 2 days ago

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nsfw headcanons 〆 jake kim

a/n: idk how to write smut...writing about smut however... 🙂‍↕️ wanted to feed my jake fixation ❤️

afab! reader ✦ established relationship ✦ nsfw content under cut

has he ever had sex? (in canon)

it's not explicitly confirmed, but we can be 99.9% sure he's a virgin lol. for obvious reasons, he's saving his first time for someone special, someone he's built a connection with.

and right now (as of 544), jake isn't actively looking for one. if he finds someone he ends up liking, those feelings will just...come by chance.

even without his father's example, he's not the type to do casual dating or hookups at all (imo anyway). he's just a chill guy who likes friendship and fishcakes ❤️

favourite positions?

jake is a man of 🌹 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 🌹 so the classic missionary is his fav. cowgirl is nice too, but he just loves the closeness.

how 🗣️ is he?

trust that jake has the most angelic, harmonious, sheet gripping moans in lookism 😮‍💨 very comfortable expressing his pleasure!

loves moaning in your ear during missionary - he wants you to know how good you feel.

what's he actually like during the deed?

gangster son in the streets, gentle lover in the sheets 😇 if you like rough + degrading sex, you're not getting it from him lolz. unless you really wanted to, but he wouldn't enjoy it as much.

jake always prioritises your pleasure over his. #1 of big deal, but also #1 foreplay enjoyer (^_-) makes you cum multiple times on his mouth and fingers before getting to the main event.

and when it actually happens, he never finishes before you. i think jake equally enjoys the intimacy of cumming inside and also how your stomach looks with his release on it.

he likes kissing your neck + whispering his admiration as you catch your breath.

aftercare?

loves cuddling after doing it 💘 just comfortable silence as jake holds you in his arms.

and like i said, he's a gentle lover, so he won't hesitate to carry you (bridal style 🌹) to the shower if he thinks you need the pampering. jake...i've seen wot u did 4 samuel...carry me bridal style PLEASEEE

toys? does he like them?

i don't think many of the lookism men would be into toys tbh. jake isn't an exception. if you want to use them, he doesn't mind, but...they don't tickle his fancy.

does he prefer 🍑 or 🍒 ?

THIGHS! he's a thigh guy. if you wear shorts or a revealing skirt, you'll catch jake staring multiple times. he loves staying in between them too ;)

how 📏 is he?

ptj wants us to know his characters have the biggest, juiciest, thickest cocks in the world 😭😭 eg: the sauna scene with samuel + eli during suwon arc - "woah! those guys are huge!"...like we get it sir...

but i think jake is average sized tbh! not too big, not too small. just the right size :3

💭 a sexual fantasy of his?

again...he's a man of 🌹 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷 🌹, so even his fantasies are pretty sweet and romantic.

his secret wish is making love to you by the sea. (the jake + samuel angst location)

but one of big deal could easily spot you, so he stays quiet 🙂‍↕️

if you're both there really late at night and get carried away, it'll probably happen. he'd use his long black coat as a blanket.

a/n: i want to fuck him so bad it makes me look stupid

divider credits - enchanthings

#lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism comic #jake kim #jake kim lookism #lookism jake kim #jake kim x reader #kim gimyung #lookism kim gimyung #kim gimyung x reader #lookism x reader #lookism x you #lookism fanfiction #lookism fanfic #lookism imagines #lookism headcanons #lookism smut #lookism hc

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whyohwhydoris · 3 days ago

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One of the things that has always stood out to me is that a number of people assumed that Harry and Hermione were a couple. Two in particular stock in my mind.

First is Krum. The eighteen year old international star seeker seems intrigued by Hermione. And, in pursuit of that, he directly confronts Harry, asking if they are together. Now, the Goblet of Fire was enchanted to choose worthy champions. And we know a number of Durmstrangs put their names in. This implies strongly that Victor is smart, brave, capable, so forth. That he is worthy. So he's not a dim lad. But he very directly suspects Harry and Hermione might be involved. And, if he is asking Harry, it is not from nowhere. He specifically mentions that Hermione speaks of Harry frequently - enough to make him think there is something. Some may dismiss this as Krum seeing Harry's other qualities. Harry is the Boy-Who-Lived, an excellent seeker, a well regarded student, daring, and competing out of his league. Krum might *assume* this would be naturally attractive to Hermione. But the fact he mentions Hermione's constant talk of Harry suggests something more there.

But that pales in comparison to the next one: Ron.

You see, a constant thread in the books is Ron's seeming insecurity and jealousy around Harry and Hermione's friendship. Ron has a general insecurity issue, I would note. But, he seems to be particularly uncomfortable when Hermione talks to Harry about Harry.

I'll work back, but the most obvious example is in Deathly Hallows, where Ron's jealousy is made explicitly (in multiple meanings of the word) manifest. The vision the locket shows him, when he has a sword in hand and is ready to strike it down, is sexual(ly adjacent) intimacy between Harry and Hermione. This is after Ron has walked out, after he has tried to put a wedge between Harry and Hermione in their fight. We talk a lot about Harry's anger. But Ron has a temper as well - in fact many of the Weasleys do. He will try to hex people when provoked. He will get physically aggressive when Malfoy uses slurs. In the tent-fight, he is verbally aggressive, he gets to his feet aggressively, closes on Harry (Hermione separates them), hurls his words, yells and shouts, and is generally hostile - including trying to attack Harry. And now he has a sword in his hand. Part of that earlier spat saw him try to draw an "us & them" with he and Hermione on one side, and Harry on the other. And the locket seeks that. Pounces on that. Hermione *did* choose Harry. And she was right to. But it still must have lingered in Ron's heart that Hermione *chose* Harry. So the Locket believes that Ron could believe that Harry and Hermione are intimate. After 7 years, Ron can still believe that.

But in Half Blood Prince, we see a handful of similar moments. Hermione extols Harry's fanciability, and we see Ron try to bring himself into what is presented as a frank conversation. He is clearly uncomfortable about Hermione expressing implicit physical/romantic interest in Harry - even though she is delivering it in an apparently clinical manner. Even though Hermione is talking about all the other girls, about Harry's celebrity. A fact that Ron *knows* and might be bothered by, but recognizes *isn't* a part of their collective dynamic. And still, Ron feels the need to interject.

Ron also makes pointed comments about Harry standing by Hermione, and looks upon them suspiciously when they talk alone at times. And, we can perhaps align that with a fear of being left out (which itself implies a unique chemistry between Harry and Hermione) or to a sense of betrayal by Harry. But it is still Ron being uncomfortable and dissatisfied by Harry and Hermione's closeness. Ron embarks on a campaign of humiliating Hermione for his perception that she slighted him. He begrudges Harry and Hermione's membership in the slug club, and particularly that Hermione - the most gifted member of their year and perhaps one of the most gifted of their generation - distinguished herself. But he also pours that opprobrium upon Harry, who has been tepid about the affair the whole time. Ron projects his sudden interest in Hermione onto Harry, implying that he sees Hermione giving Harry the kind of attention he should like. Which implies that Hermione is uniquely close to Harry.

In Order of the Phoenix, Ron is specifically taken aback when Hermione says that Harry isn't a bad kisser. While part of his reaction is explained by the fact Hermione is so flatly declaring it as though she and Harry had before kissed, not all of it feels as though it can. He is "sharp" in his interrogation of Hermione. Not "surprised", not "shocked", not "gobsmacked" - not a word implying being caught unawares. But one implying upset. And after Hermione explains, Ron is immediately back to grinning, relieved far to quickly.

For years, Ron has suspected it, feared it, been insecure about it, and accused it eventually. He saw the potential. He saw something there. The one person who most knew Harry and Hermione - excluding Harry and Hermione theirselves, whose friendship together I would argue as closer than their friendships with Ron - thought it could be.

There are plenty of others - including literally everyone that Harry or Hermione is implied to be connected to, teachers, classmates, the global Wizarding press, and so many more. But that these two people - someone who should by all rights have no reason for insecurity and someone who knew them better than anyone else - clearly see something there seems telling to me.

#harry x hermione #harmione #hermione x harry

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taeaura · 2 days ago

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Thomas Hewitt x Plus Size Reader

this was requested, but also something I often thinking about 🫀

this took so long for me to post omfgggg

TW: Body Image Issues, Hoyt/Monty {how fun}, Implied Physical-Intimacy {though not explicitly said}, Tommy is a sweetheart <3

Tommy loves his sweetheart very very much {obviously}

_____

First of all: He's a big guy himself, so I doubt he'd mind {if not prefer} a bigger partner. The majority of the women in his life are plus/midsized {his momma, tea lady.} Essentially, the women with the most maternal influence {in his life} are plus/midsize :)

No one in the family would mind - Contrary to popular belief, I don't think Hoyt or Monty would say anything {hateful}; Considering their sister{s} have some more weight to them.

Now, that doesn't mean they won't comment other things..

One benefit{?} about your size {in the way the family views it}, they don't view you as 'frail', physically. That means more work, less physical restrictions. This also means Thomas is willing to get a bit rough with you {in many ways}.

He doesn't care how heavy you are, he's gonna carry you at least once. He'll help you up {if you need it}, carry you places, carry your things, anything that can show off his strength, really.

He doesn't want you to lose weight for image-related purposes. If you want to lose weight for health purposes, he's fully supportive of that {he wants you to bet as healthy as you can}. He finds your body to be empyrean - Something delicate that should be preserved, protected. If you did end up losing weight {or discussing it} for image purposes, he'd start becoming a bit self-conscious; What if you want him to lose weight too? Does he need to lose weight?

{He'd also affirm that you never need to alter your appearance, only your health.}

{If you're fem-presenting, or happen to wear dresses} Thomas likes seeing you in sundresses, especially ones that accentuate your figure ;) Luda Mae would love this aspect too - She'll bring out dresses from her younger days and have you try them on {she's just trying to bond with you, it reminds her of her youth}. If you like jewelry, she'll bring some of that out, too.

Being with someone of similar stature, Thomas would feel more comfortable with himself compared to being with someone skinnier. He knows that being bigger comes with ridicule and societal pressure, especially with clothing and presentation {which he too, struggles with}. This similarly almost provides a subconscious understanding between the two of you - In turn, decreasing his anxieties over his looks {around you}.

Although, he won't automatically show his face to you - Or anyone, for that matter.

He'd do this with his partner regardless, but during moments where he's {surprisingly} sappy, he likes to give you gentle, scattered kisses along your face and body - It's his way of showing that he loves you🫀

Expect plenty of nibbles and cuddling to go with it {he's gonna pass out cold on top of you...}

Thomas also likes holding you whenever you both feel comfortable. Even if it's just holding your waist from behind whilst your doing something - Or becoming your bra {he doesn't give a shit if you have breasts or not, he's doing it anyway}

He's seen plenty of bodies, but none of them captivate him quite like yours. He likes soft bodies, ones where he can trace the stretch marks with his finger - Though, he likes tracing bones on thinner bodies as well. Thomas has a loft of stretch marks, most he got during his adolescence - He doesn't mind them much, and seeing yours makes him mind them less. Even if yours aren't too visible, he likes the textural difference against his hands.

Overall, Thomas loves having a mid/plus sized S/O. I wouldn't necessarily say he prefers it, but he does like your figure {I headcanon Thomas as someone who likes harmony amongst features over individual features themselves - But he does really really like eyes}. Thomas focuses on personality most !! He likes not having to worry about you as much, but he's fully willing to worry.

To all my {fellow} plus/mid sized creatures, you're empyrean 🫀

Please give him hugs n kisses - He needs 'em

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icey--stars · 3 days ago

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Ew, Love

A very traumatized Eris, in a new relationship with Azriel, post-Beron's brutal death. 1.2k words

A/N: I had a little time to write this little Azris thing for SJM Pride Week! It isn't much, but I had fun. (why do I have SO MANY college papers and then no time for azris???)

For Day 6 of @sjmprideweek (Love Language)

TW: Self-depreciation, past domestic abuse/trauma

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Eris was stressed. That fact was pretty obvious to probably half his court at this point. He wasn’t his usual put-together self since becoming High Lord only a few weeks ago. He’d been trying to get things settled in the ways he wanted them and making dramatic changes.

But he’d also been trying to figure out his shit with Azriel. They’d gone public with the relationship since one, Eris wanted to show he wasn’t entirely a depraved freak incapable of love, but also to show his court that Beron’s bullshit would not stand any longer. It was overwhelming, though. Before publicity, Eris had simply been happy with sitting in the same room as Azriel. He wanted to do more and he knew Azriel wanted more. At the very fucking least Azriel deserved physical affection.

But here Eris was, curled up in the corner with his knees to his chest, exhausted and completely unsure of how to proceed. Azriel was due to come over anytime now. And Eris, of course, was terrified. Beron had drilled two things into him: a relationship between two males is wrong and to never show weakness which to Beron, translated to any sort of fondness. Eris had been punished plenty enough to know what not to do.

Eris knew what relationships generally looked like from his observations. He knew that there was generally physical intimacy even if not sexual. Hugging. Kissing. Holding hands. All things that Eris had been punished severely for seeking— even from his own mother. He also knew that there were generally other ways to show one’s love. Gift-giving, doing errands and chores for them, even goddamn poetry. And Eris did not have a damned clue on what to do.

He was basically pulling out his hair at this point, half-tempted to literally find philosophy books on love and affection.

This was, of course, the moment that Azriel walked in with more jump in his step than usual and a soft smile on his face. Eris froze, slowly lowering his hands as he looked up at Azriel.

Azriel’s face turned from its somewhat joyful expression to one of worry within milliseconds. Eris grimaced and sighed, standing up slowly with an ashamed look on his face. “Look, I know I look pathe-”

Azriel cut him off before he could finish, “What’s wrong, Eris?”

Eris’s words died in his throat.

Azriel tilted his head, stepping an inch closer hesitantly after Eris’s beats of silence. “Eris,” he repeated softer. “You’re upset.”

“I’m fine,” Eris ground out.

“You’re not,” Azriel insisted. “Don’t try to lie when you aren’t even closing off the bond right now.”

Eris huffed in annoyance. That little string in his chest. Nothing compared to what it could be, according to Azriel and his plentitude of family members in mating bonds. But it was enough to betray him.

“It doesn’t seem like it's the Autumn Court considering you usually spend that stress at your desk. Not in the corner,” Azriel deducted. “So, what is it, Eris?”

Eris couldn’t manage a lie this time. He also didn’t know how to put it into words though. Especially not words that wouldn’t practically shame him the entire time. Or cause Azriel to give him that sickeningly pitying look.

“Just tell me,” Azriel urged gently. “I won’t interrupt if you need to explain or struggle to describe it. I just want to understand why my mate is so stressed that he’s in the corner when I’m used to him flaunting himself around proudly.”

Eris sighed, lowering his head. “You know- you know Beron. By now you know what he’s done to me and maybe some of the stigma that makes this entire mate bond incredibly hard,” he began, feeling himself struggle through the words like he was rambling. His silver tongue seemed to have abandoned him in his time of need. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I know how to flirt with the females for a good night in bed but to hell with all other experience in relationships. Even family ones, honestly. Lucien is probably the only one to have any sort of general idea of the shit,” he finished lamely.

Azriel hummed, tilting his head slightly. Eris’s anxiety spiked for some goddamn reason, watching as Azriel resituated his wings behind him slightly before replying.

“So you’re worried about…” Azriel trailed off, grimacing slightly as if he was also struggling. “‘Showing love’ is the best descriptor I’ve got,” he said, chuckling. “Which you must know, is just as hard for me to say as it is for you to think about.”

Eris sighed and nodded with his head lowered.

“Eris, I’m not worried about that,” Azriel murmured, grabbing a hold of his hands firmly to drag Eris closer and draw Eris’s gaze to his own. “I’m the famed shadowsinger of the Night Court. Practically dead inside and vicious all the time. Even that isn’t all fake. Sure, I probably have more practice than you since I’ve been living with a semi-healthy family for around 500 years, but I understand, Eris. And you should know by now that there is no pressure. Especially not while you’re getting the court together still.”

Eris grimaced. “I know,” he insisted quietly. “But I should-”

“No, you don’t have to do anything,” Azriel cut him off firmly. “If you want to have that, however, that is different.”

Eris narrowed his gaze, brows furrowing in thought. He’d never thought of it that way. “I suck at it, but I…”

“You want to have that with me?” Azriel finished for him with a grin. “What sorts of things?”

“I will burn you alive if you make me repeat any of that mushy bullshit to you,” Eris retorted without any real bite.

Azriel scoffed, chuckling softly. “I expected that from you,” he teased. “Even if you do end up being shit at it, Eris, I won’t blame you for it with Beron as your father. At least I had genuine brothers. You were fucked from the beginning.”

“Thanks for summing that up,” Eris said sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he rubbed a hand down his face in frustration.

“Do you see what I’m getting at though? I understand, Eris. I understand why you’re worried. But there is no pressure and you don’t have to say anything. Just try it,” Azriel urged. “And take a break from your paperwork before you actually go insane.”

Eris rolled his eyes, but sighed. Azriel was right. He might be shit, but he doubted the shadowsinger was that much better. Plus, the male could put him on his ass if he really didn’t like something. Or shut him up if he did something wrong.

“Trust me to show you,” Azriel murmured, daring a step closer so that those cold tendrils of shadows trailed across Eris’s pale skin. “Do you trust me, Eris?”

Eris took a deep breath and nodded. “I do,” he agreed in the quietest of whispers. He stepped closer and dared putting his arms around Azriel under his arms, careful to avoid the wings.

Azriel grinned and also wrapped his arms around Eris, putting one hand on the back of Eris’s head to pull him further into the embrace. Eris couldn’t help himself from burying his face into the junction between Azriel’s neck and shoulders and just breathing. It was stupidly calming.

“You’re doing fine, Eris,” Azriel murmured. “And it’s not just you who has to show affection or whatever ghastly word you can come up with,” he reminded his mate. “There’s two of us.”

“I’m shit at whatever this love is,” Eris muttered, slightly muffled against Azriel’s leathers. “But I do want more of it, strangely.” Azriel just squeezed him harder.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

Tagged in all ACOTAR Stories: @bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @bubybubsters, @fieldofdaisiies, @skyesayshi, @lilah-asteria,

Tagged in all Azriel Stories: @ladylokilaufeyson5, @marina468,

#acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #eris vanserra #azris #eris acotar #mywriting #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x eris

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rozzingit · 3 days ago

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The boldness of tagging this take with #basic relationship psychology with your whole chest.

People don't have an issue with the bathtime joke because it emasculates Vegeta; they have an issue with the bathtime joke because they think it emasculates Vegeta, because they have an idea of emasculation rooted in cultures of toxic masculinity. The idea is that revealing intimacy or vulnerability is inherently emasculating, and so they're mad that Vegeta -- who they view as an ideal of peak masculinity -- is being shown to be vulnerable.

Not that Bulma reveals him to have vulnerabilities. But that Vegeta himself would ever be vulnerable. That Vegeta would ever value intimacy with his wife. They are angry because it's "unmasculine" to enjoy intimacy with your partner.

Because here's the thing: the bathtime joke isn't about sex. The bathtime joke is about intimacy. The joke isn't "I'm not gonna ever sleep with you again," because that's not as good a joke. Because liking sex? Fully traditionally masculine. Comedy is born from contrasts, and there is a reason they chose bathing together as the lynchpin here. Bathing together is an act of intimacy. (Can it also be sexual? Sure! Do I think Vegeta and Bulma probably bang some of these times? Definitely! But that's not the primary point here.) The comedy here is the contrast between Vegeta putting on a constant front of toughness vs the reality of his softness.

It's funny -- and endearing -- because it's telling the audience that Vegeta's pride isn't actually the most important thing to him. That he values his intimacy and connection to his wife and family more than his pride. More than his need to win. More than his need to be right.

And that's what sexists find emasculating: a man who values intimacy with his wife above his own pride.

But that's Vegeta's entire story. His entire character arc is built around him letting go of his pride and embracing his family. This joke is literally just a continued extension of that arc.

Other than the focus on fighting, Dragon Ball as a canon does not value other forms of performative, traditional masculinity. Goku is interesting as a character because, apart from fighting, he regularly doesn't fit any sort of mold of traditional masculinity. His heart is worn entirely on his sleeve. He's absolutely, entirely open with his feelings and affections. His sense of self is never threatened by his losses; he cheerfully accepts them and tries harder.

Vegeta's issues aren't even tied to his masculinity; they're a product of his culture and upbringing. Vegeta is bad at feelings because Saiyans and Frieza were bad at feelings. He doesn't value intimacy because Saiyans and Frieza didn't value intimacy. His struggles with his pride have nothing to do with him being a man; they're centered, repeatedly and consistently, on him being a Saiyan.

Beyond all of this, the idea that this is some example of Bulma controlling Vegeta that indicates deeper issues in their relationship -- basically, claiming this is part of a pattern and not a one-off thing -- just isn't supported. Bulma is, on the whole, shockingly chill as a partner for a woman in her situation, given the man she married. She's constantly letting Vegeta run off for months at a time to do things that are important to him; the times we see her insist that he needs to do something for her are when it's really important.

They're in a life or death situation. Even if you want to say Bulma was being manipulative and toxic and unkind to her husband, there is a vast difference between a character doing this in an emergent situation because their partner refuses to back down from a situation they absolutely need to, and a character who does this as a regular tactic of controlling their partner's behavior.

tl;dr toriyama is not actually bad at relationship dynamics, it's just that the idea that intimacy and vulnerability are emasculating is sexist, thanks for coming to my ted talk

What do you all think of fans (i think the majority of those, are male fans) complaining about the Bulma and Vegeta bath time gag in Daima's latest episode? I read many comments complaining that "Vegeta would never", "they killed his character", "what about his pride", etc.

I tend to think that this is meant to tie into his character development.

● Although he remains a warrior and loves fighting, proving himself to be the best is no longer his sole objective and obsession. Post-Buu, he still wants to achieve great things and be the best, but that desire is no longer consumming him.

● That he would be willing to give up fighting for Bulma. Just like when he refused to go train/fight when Bulma was close to giving birth in Super. And it's even implied, that Vegeta is not staying behind solely because "Bulma would get mad", but because he is genuinely excited about the event and seeing their child.

(And also of course, it was a lightearted OG dragon ball type of gag which Daima, since the beginning, said they were aiming for.)

Curious to see what fans on Tumblr may think of this.

Was the scene out of character for Vegeta?

#otp: love isn't a competition but we're winning #vegeta #bulma briefs #dragon ball daima #dragon ball

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degrees-of-seracchii · 18 hours ago

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this took a millennia to make cause i kept getting distracted and gathering screenshots to back my points up was incredibly time consuming

but it has been done. anon from how many days ago i hope you are happy

A little of Pure Sydney's flaws

There will be two parts to this cause on god this is long. On this part I will be exploring flaws that tend to be a bit more visible with pure Sydney

This is in no way a complete analysis, I definitely have missed many more of Sydney's flaws, and because Tumblr is a bitch and a half, I regrettably cannot jam as many screenshots from the game/its codes as much as I would like. But I hope this post could act as a good point of reference regardless for any fans of Sydney, or people looking to explore more of their character out there!

Continuing under the cut.

So.

What’s the deal with Sydney? What’s wrong with them, what are their flaws and what make the relationship between them and the PC so toxic?

Well ain’t there just so much to unpack.

In short, Sydney at their core is a spineless, directionless, malleable individual that important influences in their life can easily shape, be it their family, the Temple, or the PC.

Sydney, as they are today, was raised with beliefs upheld by the temple. Something they are deeply religious, devoted and grateful for. However, as we all know, some of those values can be extremely morally questionable.

Speaking of deeply devoted let’s start with Pure Sydney, shall we?

Victim blaming tendencies

One of the ideals Sydney was raised with is their extremely victim-blaming mindset. Which I have shown here

2. Lust and internal conflict

Something else that fascinates me greatly is that regardless of their state, Sydney is always tempted by the PC. PC’s existence and presence alone are pushing Sydney towards the pit of sinful desires no matter if they are Pure or Corrupted.

The first thing that comes to mind is when accepting their confession results in a decrease of Sydney’s Purity stat:

The notion of accepting Sydney’s affections is seen as an encouragement for them to fall towards sin.

Being in a relationship with PC means they are constantly fighting their own urges and desires. Being taught their entire life that these feelings are wrong, Sydney suffers from tremendous guilt. Even when promised and permitted by the Temple, Sydney still finds physical intimacy with the PC sinful:

These just go to show how deeply buried Sydney is in the Temple’s teachings, unable to stray from it. Which is a perfect segue into their next flaw

3. Attachment to the Temple and blind faith.

Even from the latest confessional scene added, Sydney clearly cares about PC’s wellbeing and displays great concern for them, almost breaking out of the ideals they were raised with just to defend their beloved. But they are not quite there yet. They still seek out for the Temple when they are faced with these doubts. They think that they are doing something wrong for prioritizing the PC’s best interest over the Temple’s teachings.

Sydney is INCAPABLE of detaching themselves from the Temple. The Temple is just such a big part of Sydney’s character that no matter what, they will side with the Temple before they think about the PC when forced to make that choice.

And in a way, Sydney’s blind faith is encouraged by the Player for choosing to keep them Pure. The PC is essentially acting as another shelter, shielding, “protecting” them. The PC never expressed that they wanted a change of mindset from Sydney, so Sydney never had a change in mindset.

And if you played the new confessional event, you would know that you as the player never had the option to either. This might have been intentional. But I will expand on that later.

More showings of Sydney’s blind faith can be found in littler events while praying with Sydney in the Temple, where they would turn a blind eye to fellow followers being punished:

A bit more about their attachment to the Temple I have also mentioned here.

4. Superiority/Saviour complex

Another aspect of Sydney that people talk about, but I don’t think quite enough, is how aggressive they can get, specifically towards those they deem as sinners. This is a trait shared among both states of Sydney.

For example, the beach date:

And several more.

Though, pure Sydney might be a tad worse at this. As they seem to find themselves more righteous than sinners:

If they are the one taking confessions, pure Sydney is often more judgemental compared to the more empathetic corrupt Sydney:

When PC as a member of the Temple is caught masturbating by Sydney, they take matters into their own hands:

They also display a bit of a saviour complex from their opinions about the PC at low Purity:

5. Dumb teenager

Just a small thing, but I feel like most people just brush over the fact that pure Sydney practically proposes to PC at high enough lust.

I think I don’t need to stress just how insane it is to propose to someone you haven’t known for long. Just to what? Have sex? Loser behaviour.

I can't wait to explore their flaws when corrupted :3

When kept pure, Sydney has so many interesting flaws that make them incredibly humane and a little irritating, but that's the charm of their character! They are deeply troubled and blinded by their own devotion that they are ignorant, a bit arrogant and even self destructive. It's what makes Sydney... Sydney and I wouldn't have them any other way.

#dol #dol sydney #sydney the faithful #sera rambles #technically #sera answers #cause this was asked by an anon and i just sort of didnt answer #woops #sorry anon i saw sydney suffering and forgot everything you said prior #i hope youre seeing this #when is the sequel coming? idfk when i finish drawing the little doodle for it but no promises #degrees of lewdity #tumblr should let me post more than 10 images...#i deserve yapping rights

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staylovesmiley · 1 day ago

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Going Dumb~ Chapter 13

₊˚⊹ᰔ Pairing; Kim Seungmin x Fem!reader, Stray kids x Fem!reader

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Summary; It had been over a decade since you had last seen each other, having met in choir when Seungmin was living with his grandparents in LA and you with your Aunt. Now that you are both presented adults, how will he handle a change to the reality of you he had made in his mind in your absence over the years?

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Notes; This is an omegaverse!AU. in this world when someone reaches puberty they will present with one of three sub genders; alpha, beta, or omega. Due to Alphas and Omegas experiencing rut and heat, some jobs are restrictive as to what sub genders they will hire, specifically singling out omegas as heat suppressants are harder to obtain than rut suppressants. Scent glands are located near the pressure points on the neck and small hormonal patches called scent blockers can be placed over them to reduce or rid an individual of their scent for a period of time depending on the strength of the hormones in the patch.

₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ ₊˚⊹ᰔ Warnings; omegaverse!au, beta!kim seungmin, almost all alpha!straykids, female!reader, poly!pack dynamics, angst, mild violence, mentions of sexual harassment/assault and discrimination, smut, enemies to lovers, Kim seungmin is kind of an ass I’m so sorry dandy boy, she/her pronouns used for reader, jealous seungmin, I have only ever wrote one abo story before but it is one of my favorite genres so I hope I can do this justice~

In the months after your brief trip to the states for the Met Gala you watched as the boys prepared tirelessly for their new comeback. After making up with Chan and gaining a better understanding of where the fight with the alpha was rooted you both did your best to rely on each other more, and over time your place in the pack felt more cemented and you yourself felt more secure.

Finally, it was the day of the first performance after their new album had dropped. You were waiting just to the side of the stage about of view of any cameras while you watched your boys get into their positions after chatting with the fans in the audience. They looked incredible, the stylists really having outdone themselves once again enhancing the beauty that was your pack members. They all, for the more part, had new hair styles and carefully placed makeup that made them look so attractive you had to fight yourself not to stare for too long. Their outfits as well suited them nicely and as you watched them dancing on the stage you couldn’t help but find yourself lost in a trance like state, absolutely mesmerized by how they carried themselves during a performance.

Your eyes feel to Chan, cheeks heating up slightly as your mind kindly provided you with the memories of the night the two of you had shared together back in the hotel after filming the music video for the very song they were performing today. Of course it wasn’t unnatural for members of a pack to share intimacy of any kind, including sex, but since then nothing of the sort had happened between you and the alpha. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested, nor the other way around, you could see the way his gaze would linger on you from across the room or how his touches lasted a bit longer than necessary whenever you interacted with him. Things were just…too busy. They had so much going on in preparation for their album and the announcement of their upcoming world tour, none of you had time to even get a full nights sleep let alone find time for a quick fuck in between the rigorous schedules you all were kept to.

Then your gaze shifted onto Jisung and the reaction on your face was no better. He was the first in the pack to ever be intimate with you, and even though you had both been in a pheromone induced state of mind for most of it, seeing his lean muscles rippling under the sheer fabric of his top caused you to tug your lower lip between your teeth as memories of flushed skin pressed against your own and low moans echoing in your ear sent shivers down your spine. Unlike with Chan, there were no lingering looks or lasting touches from the younger alpha since your shared heat and rut cycle together. It wasn’t as if neither of you wanted it to happen again, or that you wanted to forget that it had, just that the bond that it had formed between the two of you was different. Han would often seek you out for forms of comfort rather than sexual gratification, snuggling in your bed or on the couch with you after a particularly stressful day when his mind was moving to fast and his thoughts began to overwhelm him. It’s not to say he was not attracted to you, nor that you weren’t attracted to him given your reaction to how he was currently devouring the stage before you like the ace you knew he was, just that the preferred form of intimacy between the two of you was softer these days.

When your eyes landed on Seungmin your heart sank to the pit of your stomach, watching as he seemed to struggle with the switch from his usual hand held mic to the one he wore hands free for this performance. You couldn’t quite tell what it was at first, until you noticed how much it shifted with every move he made and even bounced back to hit his face a few times. You could see just how frustrated he was and it made your chest feel tight as you wished you could rush out onto the stage and provide an immediate fix to the problem and alleviate his discomfort but unfortunately you were forced to sit and watch as the performance, and his struggle with the mic, continued.

The second the song ended and he was out of the camera’s view you watched as he ripped off the headset and made his way off the stage as quickly as possible. Stylists were on him in minutes, dabbing away sweat as the tech staff took the mic and his ear piece off of him carefully from where it hung loose around his neck. You slowly approach the beta as the crowd around him clears, the smell of soured laundry washing over you the closer you get and you frown as you cup his cheek with one hand and the other takes one of his to give it a gentle squeeze. “Wanna tell me what’s got you worked up, Minnie?” You speak softly, looking up into his eyes just as soft as you allow the sweet citrus of your own scent to surround the both of you like your own little bubble of security. “My stupid mic….it was shaking like crazy and I couldn’t focus-“ Seungmin huffed, clearly still agitated though he leaned into your touch instantly. “You still did so good, even better when you factor in that you were being distracted.” You hope your words are assuring to him as you allow the singer to pull you closer and nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck as his arms wrap around your waist securely. “I hope that’s how it seemed- I felt like I sounded like absolute shit. I’m never using a head mic again…” Giggling, you could feel his pout against your skin as one hand rested on his back and the other came to card your fingers through his hair gently. “I’m positive you did not sound like absolute shit.” Seungmin let out a whine as you pulled away, your hand taking hold of his once more to pull him into the green room and out of the quickly crowding hallways.

Once inside you pulled the sulking beta over to the couches and took a seat, motioning for him to join you. Seungmin laid with his head in your lap, your hands instantly moving to play with his hair as his eyes closed and the sour tinge to his normally calming scent slowly faded away. “Awe puppy you were that wound up?” Changbin teased playfully as he made his way over, taking a sip from the bottle of water in his hand. “You’re hogging our bunny.” The alpha’s pout caused you to giggle but Seungmin felt otherwise as he quickly sat up and pulled you into his lap protectively with arms wrapped securely around your waist. “I knew her before any of you so I have the right to hog her all I want.” He pouted, chin resting on your shoulder. From the other side of the room Minho scoffed loudly, eyes rolling as he made his way over to where you were both sitting. “You seem to forget how you treated her like absolute shit for the first…hmm I don’t know- month she was here? Your rights were revoked then and there.” He crossed his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at the beta and you could feel the tension building rapidly. “Woah woah let’s all take a deep breath I’m a person not a toy you guys can fight over.” You huffed a bit, patting Seungmin’s hands that held you close to him before standing up and straightening your clothes that had rumpled slightly when he had pulled you into his lap. “Besides, you guys need to go work with your social media manager now so I’m gonna go head out and meet with stay. Behave.” You pointed a finger at the three men currently around you before giving a nod to Chan and a soft smile.

After your departure from the green room Seungmin pouted, curling in on himself as he sulked. “You didn’t have to bring that up again, Minho hyung…I’ve apologized and we’ve moved past it.” Minho sighed, sitting down beside the younger member and placing a hand on his leg in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “I know, pup…I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have said that.” The beta huffed a bit but moved to curl into the alpha’s side regardless, scenting Minho a bit as his own anxiety and frustration from earlier melted away.

While the members were inside filming TikTok challenges with other idols and taking behind the scenes photos for their instagrams, you made your way outside to where fans were waiting eagerly for the boys to come out so that they could maybe get a glimpse of them or a cute interaction if they were lucky. Once they spotted you, the boys trusted assistant and rumored member of their pack, chaos erupted as your name was screamed out in an attempt to get your attention.

Ever since your departure with the group to the Met Gala, dressed to match the members rather than the rest of their staff, fans had come to form somewhat of a parasocial relationship with you in extension to the members of Stray Kids. It helped that you were also not one to shy away from them, not having the same restrictions as the boys did when it came to responding to comments or doing as you were now…meeting with them face to face unplanned and taking pictures or gifts and letters to bring back to the boys. Stays generally seemed to have an appreciation for your bond with the members, and your willingness to bend the rules a bit to give them more access to them with the boys approval of course. You never shared anything that could get them in trouble, or that they didn’t want to be shared with fans, always running your responses to comments by Chan and any member it involved before posting them to protect their privacy as much as they desired and to not cause any issues like when you had lashed out at the paparazzi. Speaking of, the company had somehow swept the situation under the rug completely. You weren’t sure if they were paid off or threatened with legal action for somehow sneaking past lines to get back stage where they shouldn’t have had access, but regardless you were grateful they did so even if it was more for the image of Stray Kids rather than your own.

You took a couple selfies with stay that asked for it, still as shocked as the first time it happened that they wanted anything like that from someone who wasn’t an idol or even someone of higher importance like a producer or songwriter. The smile you held was genuine as you accepted a few gifts from stays as well, little charm bracelets or stuffed animals, sometimes letters. “I promise I’ll get this to them when we are back at the dorms.” You told them as you gave a thumbs up and carefully tucked the items into your tote bag so no managers would see and try to confiscate them before the boys got them.

Waving your goodbyes, you made your way over to where the boys and other staff were now exiting the building and loading up into the two cars that would take you all back to the dorm. “You feeling better, Minnie?” You asked softly as you took your seat beside him in the middle row of the second car. “Mhm, a lot better now.” He said simply, taking your hand into his own and giving it a little squeeze.

Back at the dorm, you immediately began passing out the gifts from stay to the respective members. When you approached Chan where he was going through his laptop bag at the kitchen table a wide smile broke out on his face. “Bunny! Got something for me there?” He nodded to the letter and small crocheted wolfchan in your hands and you nodded with a bright smile mirroring his own. “As a matter of fact I do! From stay, of course.” You held the gifts out to him but he simply took them and placed them on the table beside his bag before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. “Always taking such good care of us and stay.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You let out a giggle, eyebrow raised at him. “Thank you?” Chan hummed, sniffing lightly at your hair before placing yet another kiss there. “Did you use Ayen’s shampoo again?” This caused you to snort out a laugh, pulling back from him slightly. “Yeah, why? Do you like it?” You swore something in his eyes darkened for a moment but his face was relaxed in a lazy smile and he nodded to your question. “I do, you should use it more often. It goes with your natural scent really well.” With that his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck as he began scenting you gently at first, but soon started to place slow kisses to the column of your neck. “Chan-“ you started, but were interrupted by a low growl from behind you. “Can you two get a room or something?” The hair on the back of your neck stood on end and you felt a chill go down your spine at the tone in the alpha’s voice, Minho having walked in and caught the both of you. Chan pulled away sheepishly with the tips of his ears burning a bright red. “Just needed to scent Bun after being around everyone at the broadcast station-“ The oldest defended, collecting his things quickly before retreating to his room, but not without one last longing look thrown your way that had the second eldest scoffing.

You eyed the alpha curiously, watching as he made his way to the fridge and grabbed himself a bottled water. He had clearly just finished showering with his hair damp and face bare of the makeup he had worn earlier for the performance. “You okay Min? You look a little-“ before you could finish your sentence he snapped, not even sparing you a glance as he brushed past you and back towards his own room. “I’m fine.” You sighed, arms crossing over your chest as you began following after him. “Minho don’t be like that…you know you can tell me when something is bothering you.” He ignores you, practically slamming the door to his room in your face before you could follow and attempt to interrogate him even further. “Well okay then-“ You couldn’t help but scoff, turning to leave when suddenly a hand shot out from behind and wrapped around your wrist. “Wait-“ Minho had cracked the door open just enough to stick his arm through and stop you from leaving. You rolled your eyes before turning back to face him. “So now you wanna talk?” He frowned, eyes downcast as he gently tugged you into his room. Once the door was closed and you both were safely inside he just stood in front of you while you once again crossed your arms over your chest. “Well, I’m waiting.” You heard him let out a little whimper, like a child being scolded, before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for shutting you out…will you please stay with me and maybe watch a movie?” His request had you fighting off a smile and failing, nudging his shoulder lightly as you passed by him and threw yourself onto his bed. “Thought you’d never ask!” You called to him from where you were currently burrowing under his comforter until only your head from the eyes up was visible. Minho swallowed hard, giving you a small smirk before joining you and booting up the projector above his bed that he would use as his tv in his room.

He had picked something random, not really paying attention as his eyes kept drifting to where you sat curled up beside him. Minho licked his lower lip anxiously, a habit he had picked up from Jisung, before wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. You rested your head on his shoulder as you watched the movie, the smell of warm salted caramel swirling around your senses as you leaned into him more comfortably.

The alpha swallowed hard, your own sweet citrus washing over him mixed with the sweet florals of the shampoo you had borrowed from their youngest. Before he could take hold of his impulses he was leaning down to place soft kisses to the back of your neck. A giggle bubbled up from your chest as his hot breath fanned across your skin. His kisses didn’t stop there, having to tilt your head slightly as they trailed from behind your neck to the side where your scent glands were. “Min, you’re missing the best parts-“ You started to giggle again until suddenly you found yourself with your back pressed flat to his mattress, the alpha hovering over you as his kisses were mixed with little nipping bites to your neck as well. “M-Minho?” You stuttered a bit as one of his hands began rubbing your hip gently. It wasn’t until he left a rather harsh bite just below your scent gland that you placed the palms of your hands against his chest and pushed him back away from you. Minho went with no resistance, leaving you breathless still laying back against his bed while he sat in front of you with his eyes turned down and away from you. You could tell from the slightly burnt smell tainting his usually sweet scent that something was wrong and immediately sat up and moved to place a hand on his arm. “Min what was all that-“ He was quick to pull away from your attempted touch, curling in on himself on the farthest part of the bed without actually getting off of it.

You sat back with your legs folded underneath you, pulse still racing as you waited patiently, for what you didn’t know. You half expected Minho to bolt out of the room like a startled cat yet instead he spoke up softly. “Why not me…” Blinking a few times as confusion flooded your expression, you watched him carefully before responding. “Why not you? What do you mean?”

He took a deep shaky breath before speaking up again, this time a little more audibly. “Back at the hotel…when you came to see me- you kissed me back, didn’t you? I thought- I don’t know maybe there was something there…but then you slept with Chan hyung.” Your eyes widened and you went to deny it, though you weren’t sure why, but he stopped you. “Don’t. We all know you did…you don’t think we couldn’t smell it on you for like a week? And the way he’s been acting towards you after that-“ Minho ran a hand through his hair before looking down at his lap where his other hand worried away at the hem of his shirt. “I just- You kissed me back but didn’t want to go any further….just sleep. But with Chan it’s okay to go further? I get it- you know if you like him….if you wanna be with him- but I thought there was something between us too.”

You frowned, moving towards him slowly until you were close enough to pull his hands into your own. “Minho….look at me-“ he refused, immediately shaking his head with his gaze still stuck looking towards his lap. “Minho, please just look at me?” At your pleading he slowly raised his head and you saw the tears threatening to spill behind his eyes. “That night when you kissed me…I didn’t want intimacy- just your comfort. Chan was- that was a completely different situation than what had happened between us.” Your words didn’t seem to help as his scent soured even more. “I did kiss you back, though. Because I like you and I liked kissing you. In the right situation I would have let things go further, it just wasn’t the time…” the alpha sniffled a bit, holding your gaze as he seemed to be trying to decipher if your words were true or not before finally responding. “Then why not now? Is now not the time either? Will there ever be a time? You say you like me but it doesn’t feel like it…ever since you and Seungmin made up the connection we used to have feels like it’s more and more distant.” Your frown only deepened at that and you pulled him closer, burying your face in the crook of his neck gently despite the burnt scent he was giving off making you somewhat nauseous. “You and I will always have a connection that no one else will have. I understand you’ve been feeling neglected and maybe a bit jealous but sex isn’t the way to fix that.” You could feel his once tense body slowly relaxing against your own as you continued. “I’m not saying I don’t want you. The opposite, really…you mean too much to me to just fuck you in a whim.” That caused the alpha to snort out a laugh, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer. “Language.” He teased, placing a kiss to the top of your head before flopping back down on the bed with you still held against him causing you to let out a little yelp of surprise followed by a giggle. “Lee Minho, you mean so much to me. There is no need to be jealous of anyone else when you were the friend I needed when I first came here, supporting and taking care of me like no one else did in the beginning. Even now.” This seemed to dispel the last of the lingering bitterness he felt, but the cherry on top was when you pulled away just enough to plant a gentle kiss to his lips before cuddling back up against him comfortably. “Now can we please finish the movie? And rewind it! I was really invested before you tried to maul me.” Even though Minho was blushing furiously he acted nonchalant, scoffing and rolling his eyes as he grabbed the remote and did as you had instructed. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say cutie.” You both relaxed into a comfortable silence, the only sound in the room was the movie you were watching though now you were the one not paying attention as you let the sound of his gentle heartbeat lull you to sleep in his arms.

It was three weeks later and things seemed to mellow out slowly. Yours and Minhos bond had grown stronger after your talk, his jealousy fully dissipating replaced with playful teasing towards Chan any time he clung to your side like a love sick school boy. Speaking of the alpha leader, his not so subtle advances and affection had all but stopped as preparations for their tour ramped up and new songs and choreographies had to be created, learned, and recorded. You practically had to drag him from the studio most nights and tuck him into bed yourself to make sure he stayed there and didn’t try to go back to working. Everything seemed to be running smoothly, though there was some mild stress regarding the impending concert. You were all on your way back to the company after attending a few different schedules and once you exited the van you noticed a group of about twenty or so stays crowded outside who started calling out to you the second you were spotted. “Hey guys I think I’m gonna go say hi.” You called out to the group as everyone gathered their things and started to get out themselves. “Okay just meet us inside when you’re done?” Chan said with a smile, pressing a kiss to your temple before you headed off towards the fans calling for you.

When you reached the crowd you followed the same routine as usual- accepting gifts and letters from the stays on the members’ behalf and even taking a few selfies while chatting with them and making small talk like asking how they have been and if they are eating well. Things were going smoothly until you got to a particular girl with a tiny wolfchan plush hooked onto her bag dressed in the cutest little crocheted outfit. “Hi! I love your wolfcha-“ You didn’t get a chance to finish as she swung with her right hand, the sharp acrylic nails she wore ripping into the delicate flesh of your cheek before her left hand grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled until she was inches from your face. “You disgusting ugly bitch!” She screeched, her grip on your hair tightening causing you to let out a yelp in pain. “How dare you steal Channie oppa from me you slut!” You winced, feeling the warm trickle of blood slowly dripping down the side of your face from where you had been scratched. “What do you have to say for yourself?! You stole Channie oppa from me and you have nothing to say for yourself?!?”

Hearing the commotion from the crowd, the boys all whipped around to see what was going on only to watch as one of their supposed fans yanked you around by your hair while screaming obscenely only a few inches from your face. Seungmin was instantly bolting towards you with Chan only a foot behind and the other quickly falling into step as well until their managers and one of their bodyguards blocking their path. “What the fuck are you doing get out of our way!” Seungmin barked at them, trying to shove past but to no avail. Chan and Minho, on the other hand, had to be physically held back as they attempted to get to where you were still being attacked.

With your hair still held in her fist and the barrage of insults never ending all you could do was stand there and take it, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to withstand the sharp pain in your face and scalp. “You really have nothing to say?! Speak, bitch!” You took a deep breath, eyes opening slowly to meet her furious gaze before looking to the fans beside her watching in horror with cellphones out recording the attack. “Did you get all that on video?” You asked through gritted teeth. The poor girl you spoke to nodded, her hands shaking slightly as she didn’t know what to do and was afraid to act lest she be the next target of the crazed fangirl. You couldn’t help but smirk a bit, eyes falling back on the girl in front of you just as the bodyguard not actively holding back the members came and pried her off of you. “I’ll see you in court.” You spoke calmly, voice almost icy cold with how void of emotion it was before turning and walking towards the building as if your hair was not a tangled mess and the side of your face wasn’t still painted red.

The boys stopped their fight to get to you, watching slightly dumbfounded as you made your way past them nonchalantly and into the jyp building. They all looked to each other before quickly following after you, finding you already waiting by the elevator to head up to their practice room. Seungmin was by your side in the blink of an eye, a hand gently placed on your lower back as his other hand cupped the uninjured side of your face. “Bunny are you okay- oh my god…” The beta gasped when he saw the full extent of your injuries. “I’m fine, Minnie. Let’s just get up to the practice room, yeah?” You give him a small smile, a sharp stinging causing you to wince from contracting the muscles in your injured face. With the elevator finally opening, you make your way inside quickly and they all follow suit silently but with so many questions swarming in their minds.

By the time everyone is upstairs and in the practice room all hell seems to break loose. The members are surrounding you, checking over you frantically. Some are cursing about the girl who had hurt you and the managers for holding them back from helping you sooner, Felix in particular is so angry his face is red and there are tears of frustration spilling down his freckled cheeks. You are trying your best to reassure them everything is fine when you feel a hand wrap around your wrist and pull you away from them. You turn to find the owner of that string grip to see Chan standing there with a storm brewing behind his eyes.

His brows are furrowed tightly and his nostril flared a bit, you can’t help but freeze. “Channie I-“ you start, worried this will be a repeat of last time you had gotten into a fight until he is pulling you to his chest and holding you firmly against him. “I’m so proud of you- you are incredible, you know that? You stayed so calm- you….you did better than I would have, better than I did.” You turn to look up at him confused, desperately attempting to not stain his shirt with blood. “I wanted to rip her head off- I wanted to get to you so badly but you handled it all so well. The managers are holding everyone downstairs until the police come for questioning and then we will need to meet with them too.” At his constant praise you feel your heart swell and tears brim in your eyes. Chan leans down and leaves a gentle kiss to your forehead just before one of the staff approaches you with a first aid kit.

He reluctantly lets you go, the alpha still hovering near by but it’s Seungmin who lets out a little growl when the staff starts to inspect your wound. “Give me that.” He practically snarls, all but ripping the kit from their hands before intertwining your fingers and dragging you out of the practice room with calls of protest from the other members yet no one stops you.

Seungmin takes you down the hall to the bathroom and locks the door with the both of you inside so you are completely alone. “Come here, I gotta clean you up first.” He commands but there isn’t much force behind his words. You move towards the counter where he stood but before you can get a glimpse of yourself in the mirror he is turning you around and lifting you up to help you sit atop the counter facing him. “Seungmin I can do it-“ you attempt to get down but he steps up closer between your legs before you can. “Let me, please?” You whine a bit, not able to say no to the soft pleading look he is giving you as he takes a few paper towels and wets them in the sink until they are damp. “Okay…I trust you.” He smiles and you feel like your heart skips a beat. Suddenly you are eight years old again pining after the cute boy from choir who you consider your best and only friend, suddenly you feel like you can’t breathe properly when he gets inches from your face and begins to gently pat away the blood from your wounds. When you wince he pauses briefly, his free hand moving to rest on your upper arm and the warmth from his touch causes your breath to hitch slightly. “You could have fought back, you know…not even Chan hyung would have faulted you for that.” His face is so stoic, hyper focused on the task of cleaning and patching you up and you can’t help but take this opportunity to admire him up close. “You may not have faulted me but the fans might disagree. It was better to just….let it happen and take legal action after.” He huffs a bit, shaking his head as he finally finishes cleaning the wound. The beta tosses the bloody paper towels into the trash before pulling an antibiotic cream out of the kit to carefully apply to the cuts. “Your safety is more important to me than stays feelings.” You frown, staring into his eyes but he refuses to meet you there, trying to stay focused but you cup his face in your hands until you can bring him to meet your gaze. “Kim Seungmin don’t say stuff like that. You love stay so much, of course their feelings are important to you.” He’s quick to respond, and the look on his face gives away that it was so quick he couldn’t stop himself and think his words through fully. “Not as much as I love you.” His tone was a bit exasperated, eyes wide as if he was trying to defend you from yourself but the second you both realize what he said you both freeze.

You both stay like that for a moment, silence surrounding you like a heavy weighted blanket until you feel yourself moving forward to press your lips against his own. You feel him hesitate and it causes you to panic and begin pulling away only for him to place a hand on the nape of your neck to hold you still as he presses forward to prolong the kiss. It’s so sweet, gentle…everything you hoped it would be since you were a child. When the two of you pull away slightly breathless he rests his forehead against your own. “I’ve wanted that for over a decade, you know…” His eyes widen a bit but then he’s chuckling, shaking his head as he pulls back further so he can finish dressing your wound. “I hope it lived up to your expectations?” The beta is trying desperately to act nonchalant but the reddened tips of his ears and his slightly shaking hands give him away. “More than, I’d say- Minnie…” Seungmin shakes his head, applying the antibiotic some more before adding gauze and medical tape to your cheek. “Let me finish.” You pout a bit, but allow him to finish as he had requested. However, you thought he meant finish with the bandages when he really meant his confession. “I’m not…good with this- I don’t think I realized how much I cared about you until recently…but I fear I am stupidly and hopelessly in love with you. I’d- I wanna take you on a date, if that’s okay…?” You can’t help but blink a few times, looking up at him in a daze before nodding enthusiastically with a soft blush flooding your cheeks. “I would like that a lot, Seungmin. But first…I think you should kiss me again.” This causes the beta to falter a bit, dropping the tape in his hands haphazardly into the first aid kit before you are pulling him back to you by fist fulls of his shirt.

You both kiss lazily, sweetly, for what felt like an eternity before making your way back to the practice room. Your hands held together in a way that feels right, a comfortable silence between the two of you as Seungmin grins from ear to ear unable to relax his face for even a second. Despite it all, everything was still going smoothly….at least for now.

author’s note; aaahhhh finally!!! Sorry I have been gone for soooo long life has been kicking my ass- but it feels good to be back! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it~ pls as always your feedback and reactions mean the world to me so lmk what you think!! ᕱᕱ₊˚⊹♡

taglist; (pink users I wasn’t able to tag) @coastinglove @skzswife @maisyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy @doitforbangchan @chartrucewhore @sebastianswhore13 @finnydraws @bahablastplz @0325tiny @motheraiya55 @confusedabouteverythings @hellevator-143 @ihrtlix @h0rnyp0t @katsukis1wife @emmxxsworld @tenshimara @im-sinking-in-mud @n1nme4r @nightcat101 @chancloud8 @corgilover20 @pizzalove5000 @bookswillfindyouaway

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