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k-hotchoisan · 7 months ago

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active recovery

sore thighs suck after leg day. thank god Yunho is there to offer his help to ease the soreness 🤍

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, contributing to the big cock!yunho agenda, leg day aftermath (soreness), it starts from an attempted massage and… yeah, size kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, mating press position, breeding, fingering

a/n: haven’t written Yunho in a hot minute + my attempt of distracting myself from my leg soreness from leg day 😒

wc: 1.8K / apply for taglist here 🤍

You wake up and you feel like lightning struck your legs, especially your inner thighs. You groan, feeling the soreness shoot up your muscles every time you move.

And to think you didn’t do enough squats the previous day. Your legs tremble slightly too even though you try to minimise any movement to the best of your ability.

Your hand combs through your messy bed in search of your phone. You find it and immediately scroll to your chats, tapping on the first one with Yunho’s name on it.

[you]: I’m tapping out on gym today. My legs are fuckin toast.

[yuyu🐶]: sounds like a skill issue.

[yuyu🐶]: I’m joking please don’t block me.

[yuyu🐶]: I’m coming over with food and some help ok?

You manage to muster the strength to leave your bed to wash up at least, forcing yourself to get used to the electricity running through your legs.

The doorbell rings shortly and despite the jerks your legs were giving you on the way there, you manage to reach to the door to invite Yunho in, who has his hands busy with food like he promised.

He sets up the table and he ensures you’ve eaten well before the both of you go to your bedroom to hear what he’s suggesting.

“Which part of your leg is sore?” He asks, kneeling before you, giving your legs soft squeezes. You flinch and squeal when his fingers press against your thighs. Guess he’s got his answer.

“Lie down for me. I’ll stretch you out”, Yunho instructs, and you do.

Yunho starts with a slow massage, kneading against your sore muscles, ignoring your soft whimpers when his fingers press against a sore spot. It’s kind of working, but you still feel the sensitivity bursting through your nerves, and it makes you involuntarily twitch against Yunho’s touches.

You groan when Yunho applies pressure on your thighs. He pushes your legs towards you, and he leans in. You try to ignore the suggestive position of Yunho’s crotch just pressing against yours while he’s stretching out your thigh, focusing on hoping to relieve any ounce of soreness at least.

Unfortunately, your soft groans aren’t helping with the situation. Try as Yunho might, ignoring you only seems to have your moans go straight to his dick.

“Y/n, as much as I adore your voice, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum. It’s distracting.”

“I can’t help it if I’m this sensitive”, you pout, not realising you ticked something in him. “And also your reactions are cute with your ears all red like that.”

Yunho narrows his eyes, ignoring your words , and instead focusing on trying to finish your massage. When he’s done with one side, he switches to the other, doing the same action of folding your legs against your chest, his thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy once more. Your thoughts are starting to float to a less pure space.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You and Yunho are just simply gym buddies—well, gym buddies who have some sort of funny tension going on recently. And now that he’s just this physically close to you—touching, pressing, stretching you, you can’t seem to get your mind out of the gutter.

It wasn’t until Yunho’s palm spread over your thighs once more, massaging against your thick flesh that you let out another sudden moan at the pressure, that Yunho seems to hit his limit. It��s enough that he’s holding back considering that his hands are getting dangerously close up further your thighs, the way he had himself pressed against you at a rather interesting position, but you, moaning at every touch he’s applying onto you? He can only hold back so much.

“Sorry Yun. It’s just… it feels so good when you do it like that.”

Then, Yunho has you under him, he towers over you on your bed.

“They say active recovery is good for soreness. Lucky for you, I know a pretty good form of active recovery. Your thighs are gonna be doing a lot more stretching though.”

You swallow hard, wondering if you should take on what he’s trying to allude. Seems like you pressed a little too much of his buttons. Oops. Not that you wanted to complain though.

In the most twisted ways, you always wondered how Yunho would compare—his build wasn’t large, but he’s still big. His hands are big—and he makes carrying dumbbells look like toys. You always wondered where else would be big.

And now, you’re about to find out.

“Now, keep your legs open like this for me”, he instructs. Your bottoms are peeled off you in seconds, and you have your legs spread open. Yunho’s fingers pry your lips open to get his pretty fingers wet enough, then he trails down your wet cunt, circling your clit slowly.

“You gotta relax for me, baby”, he coaxes you in a tone that’s sending you butterflies in your stomach. “If you can’t take my fingers, my cock is gonna snap in you, y’know?”

That’s all the warning he gives before his slender fingers plunge into your wet heat, and your brain completely melts at the feeling.

“Good girl”, he comforts. His other hand is gently rubbing and massaging against your thigh once more, ramping up the sensitivity before he trails down to accompany his other hand, fully rubbing circles on your clit.

Your back is arched from how much Yunho is pressing against your g-spot on top of stimulating your clit. It’s making your toes curl and your mind go blank.

“Gonna cum Yun,” you mutter through heavy breaths. Yunho is kissing up your neck to your jaw before his lips are on yours, the movements of his fingers encouraging you to release all over them.

“Cum for me, baby. It’ll feel so good, I promise”, Yunho whispers into your ear, snapping the knot in your stomach.

He eats up your moans with his kisses, taking advantage of your mouth when your orgasm rakes through your whole body leaves your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open.

Yunho’s cock is soaked and hard underneath his shorts—it’s throbbing and pushing against the fabric of his apparel. So when you’re getting off your high, he has his pants off quickly too. His cock is thick and heavy, covered in precum, looking like the perfect thing to fill you up with.

His wet cock rests on your equally wet cunt, and Yunho strokes himself against your drenched folds, making sure his tip brushes against your clit every time.

“Yunho, please”, you mutter, your pussy fluttering against nothing, aching for Yunho to just fuck you.

“Not too sore to take my dick right?” Yunho teases, his gaze darting between your desperate eyes and the way cream from your pussy is decorating his big cock.

“I’m gonna be stretching you in more ways than one, babe. Be a good girl and take it for me, yeah?”, he smiles.

For some strange reason, you don’t feel the soreness in your inner thighs, or maybe you’re just so horny that it’s not the soreness that’s your main concern now.

You bite your lip, then your mind completely coming undone when you feel Yunho push his cockhead into your pussy, stretching your hole open as he accommodates his thick cock in you.

“Fuck. Look at your tight pussy trying to fit all of me in. I should fill you in for size training after our next sessions. Extra stretching sessions shouldn’t be much of a problem, right baby?”

Maybe you should take up on that offer.

The thought of Yunho fitting his fat cock to stretch you open just so your tight pussy can mold to his cock size after your gym sessions sounded way too fucking tempting, especially in your current predicament. You’re imagining the way he would coax your pussy to take more inches of him, and the thought of doing it right after your training sessions—being pumped full of endorphins and just Yunho’s fat cock—your pussy is just dripping and taking more of his cock by the second. Way too fucking enticing.

“Mm. That’s it, baby. Fit me in like this, yeah?” Yunho sighs when his cock finally bottoms out in you, your walls hugging him like a glove.

You gasp at the fullness. His cockhead is pressing against your g-spot but you feel it in your fucking throat, and any small twitches his cock is making in you is a contender to make you cum any second.

Your fingers grab onto his tensed biceps to give yourself some leverage, and Yunho is kind enough to wait for you to adjust, or maybe because he feels like he’s about to cum any second from the way your pussy is just squeezing him.

“Jeong Yunho”, you pant, trying to catch your breath. “You’re so fucking big. Fuck. Oh my fucking god, I feel so full.”

He chuckles, rubbing slow circles from your inner thighs and clit. “All the more we should train for that.”

Yunho and his fat cock are gonna be the death of you. You didn’t even need leg day to do it for you.

“God, Yunho, just fuck me already.”

“Gladly.”

Your head is thrown back the moment his cock pulls out of you and thrusts back into you. You’re not gonna survive this, you swear.

The moans slipping out of you grow louder and more lewd, and Yunho is gradually losing the ability to hold back when he hears his name in your high-pitched symphony paired with the way your pussy is just creaming all over him. He watches the way his cock pushes a bulge whenever he slides into you and it’s taking him everything to not to just rearrange your guts.

The pressure soon wears off, only pleasure flooding through your veins when Yunho fucks the daylights out of you. And now you’re growing greedy.

So is Yunho.

“You’re driving me crazy, baby”, Yunho is growing breathless whenever he feels your cunt sucking him in. “Keep doing that and I’ll guarantee you’re not walking straight tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan, Yuyu. Then you can come over to take responsibility, right?”

Yunho groans. God he fucking loves it when you’re like this for him.

So he responds by grabbing you by your thighs and lifting your hips slightly to make sure his cock fills you up all the way. His eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure, mouth slightly open as he listens to your voice climbing up in pitch at every thrust he gives you.

“So good. Ah fuck. You’re so fucking thick”, you cry through your fucked out delirium.

Yunho bites his lip, his thrusts growing more desperate and erratic with his cock just twitching for his release.

He settles your legs down, only to fold them so that your knees are almost pressing against your chest, making sure you fucking see stars while his cock fills you up over and over in that position, hitting your g-spot so fucking easily. You’re choking on your moans at this point, your orgasm just being dangled over your head.

“Fuck, right there! Gonna cum, Yunho. Oh god, that’s it”, you sob, your orgasm hitting you through shots of dopamine filling up your brain and flooding all over your cunt, pulsing against Yunho’s dick.

Yunho has his eyes rolled back when you’re squeezing uncontrollably against him, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm, listening to your cries like it’s his favourite sound for the rest of the day.

“Shit, I don’t think I could ever get enough of this pussy”, he mutters through pants. “So fucking perfect to cum in.”

Yunho squeezes your legs as he stills in you, making sure every drop of his thick cum is filling your pussy to the brim.

He jerks slightly before pulling out, still holding your legs open for him to watch his cum seep out of your pussy and onto the towel below. You squeal when you feel his long fingers push his cum back into your pussy. Yunho is never telling you, but it’s his silent way of putting his mark on you.

He soothes your thighs a little more even though he’s still finger fucking his cum back into you while kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs. ignoring your cries of overstimulation, before he closes your legs to lie them down.

“See, this is a form of active recovery too”, Yunho says matter-of-factly, looking up at you with a pretty deceptive smile with his head on your lap. You narrow your eyes, grabbing him by his scalp.

“I’m gonna blow your phone up tomorrow if I can’t feel my legs, Jeong Yunho.”

Yunho continues to smile, his fingers easily removing yours from his head.

“I guess that’s a yes to the extra training sessions then?”

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wordsarelife · 11 months ago

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—karma

pairing: theo nott x fem!hufflepuff reader (a weasley sibling)

summary: karma is the way you wear his jersey, making sure his team will lose the game

warnings: sexual references, reader is implied to be shorter than theo

notes: i imagined the jersey a bit more like a basketball one or a lacrosse trikot

“here” theo was holding a folded shirt in your direction. you had been sitting on his bed for the past hour, leaning against the bed frame while you were reading your book.

he had spent the time laying with his head in your lap, enjoying your fingers combing through his curls, until he had stood up a few minutes ago.

“what?” you asked looking up from your book. it took you a few seconds to register that the piece of fabric in his hand was his quidditch jersey.

“here” he repeated, throwing it down on the bed.

“yeah, i heard that” you smiled, unfolding the shirt to inspect it further “is something wrong with it? does it have a hole you want me to fix or something?”

theo laughed unamused at your bad joke. “i think i have enough magical knowledge to fix it myself if it had a hole” he shook his head “i want you to wear it tonight”

“tonight?” you asked and he nodded. he was dead serious and you began to laugh. “no” you shook your head “absolutely not”

“come on, baby” he pleaded, sitting down in front of you, pushing the fabric in your direction.

“it wouldn’t be as much of a problem if you guys were playing against ravenclaw or even hufflepuff, i could care less then. but you’re playing against gryffindor, you’re playing against my brothers”

“so what about it?” theo was trying to let his eyes appear bigger than they were, knowing that it would actually help his case.

“what about it?” you repeated laughing, not falling for his tactic of manipulation “everything is wrong with that. even my house will probably be offended when they see me wearing a slytherin jersey. i mean no one really cheers for slytherin, apart from, yeah you guessed it, slytherin”

it was no secret that every house had a bit of a distaste for slytherin. even your house, hufflepuff, which was normally filled with generous and nice people, was cheering for gryffindor. and of course your brothers and your sister were in gryffindor, so it only added to the appeal of cheering for them.

“they would not” theo shook his head “and that’s offensive! a lot of people want us to win, people that aren’t in slytherin”

“name three people” you said, crossing your arms and wearing a winning smile. he was searching for words but eventually just gave up.

“baby” he muttered with that sweet voice he only used when you guys were.. let’s just say in private. you hated to admit it, but it made you weak in the knees.

“theo” you whined, noticing his hand finding a place on your thigh and his thumb rubbing over the exposed skin beneath your skirt “it’s probably way too big, it’ll look weird”

“you could never look weird” theo muttered.

you rolled your eyes, knowing that he had already tricked you into agreeing, the soft kisses he was pestering all over your face also did not help you to stay strong. “okay” you sighed, feeling satisfaction at the big smile that broke out on your boyfriends face.

you pushed the shirt into your bag next to the bed, going back to your book, theo happily cuddling back into your lap.

well, you thought, if you had to wear his shirt, their might also be a way to have fun with it and secure gryffindor’s win in doing so.

even if that way meant to possibly embarrass you in front of the whole school, including your siblings.

but what had do be done.. had to be done, or atleast you figured as much. and in the end, most of them would probably thank you for doing what was needed to make sure gryffindor won. because even though no one wanted to see slytherin win, everyone had to admit that they were strong opponents.

it was just a few hours later, that you parted ways with theo, going back to your dorm to get ready for the match.

“hey, y/n!” hannah, your roommate greeted when she saw you walk through the door.

you repeated the greeting, before you took the jersey from your bag, holding it up in front of her. “do you want to help gryffindor to win tonight?”

she smiled brightly at you, already figuring that you had something mischievous planned by how you were smiling.

it took about an hour to get you ready for the game. hannah did her best in helping you. you had put on a bit of makeup and curled your hair, but hannah had made the most important move, sticking the jersey close to your body, so that it was fitting like a tight dress, not leaving much to the imagining or much fabric to flow down your legs. you were glad that it was long enough to cover your arse, but also not long enough to keep theo’s eyes off of you.

he always got weak when he could see your legs and he had told you before that it was hard to keep his eyes away when you were wearing something tight, making him remember that there was only a thin fabric keeping your body clothed.

tonight you would use that to your advantage.

you were lucky that it was still summer, making it possible after all to wear something so revealing.

you and hannah walked into the direction of the stadium, before she hugged you goodbye quickly, walking off into the hufflepuff stand, while you walked towards where your brother and sister and your friends were sitting in the gryffindor stand. if that alone didn’t make you enemy of the night you weren’t sure what did. it was really a bit daring, sitting in the middle of the gryffindors, while wearing a slytherin jersey, but you knew that you would stick out to theo even more that way.

you slid in the seat in between ron and ginny, greeting them.

“woah” ron raised his hand, looking you up and down “what are you wearing?” his eyes had grown bigger once they had reached the end of your made up dress, probably expecting it to be a tad bit longer.

“what?” ginny asked “i think she looks terrific!”

“she does” hermione smiled next to ron.

ron could not believe what he was hearing. “are you hearing yourselves? she’s literally wearing a slytherin jers— whatever that even is”

“he boyfriend plays for slytherin” hermione shrugged, matter of factly.

ron was busy ignoring hermione and shrugging off his thin jacket. he put it around you shoulders quickly. “you’re basically naked” he argued “please cover yourself at least a bit”

“that’s slut-shaming” ginny crossed her arms and ron looked horrified at that. you almost had to laugh at your brothers expression.

“i-i didn’t mean” ron stuttered, trying to justify what he had said “i wasn’t calling you a slut, i swear”

“i know” you interrupted his rambling “it’s alright ron, i’ll wear the jacket if it makes you happy, it’ll work even better then”

“what will work?” hermione was now bending over ron, ever so interested in what you had planned.

“well, gryffindor will win tonight, let’s just say that”

“i like the sound of that” ginny rubbed her hands together.

“cheating isn’t fair, y/n” hermione furrowed her eyebrows “nor is it allowed”

“i know, hermione” you laughed “and we won’t cheat, i promise. it just happens to be amazing for me and very bad for him that my boyfriend is incredibly attracted to me”

“you’re gonna distract him with seduction?” ginny asked and she was even more excited than you. you nodded and she grinned.

“ew” ron grimaced “can’t you please keep that kind of stuff behind closed doors? i don’t want to see your boyfriend get a hard-on in the middle of the quidditch field”

you furrowed your eyebrows at your brother. “do you want to win or not?”

he seemed unsure, but then eventually nodded.

“that’s what i thought” you smiled, patting his head “it will be over faster than you will even notice it happening, i promise”

“sure” ron muttered, hiding his face in his hands.

there wasn’t time to argue about anything else, because the game began.

the minute the teams flew onto the field you were looking for theo, trying to spot him in the haze of green uniforms. your eyes landed on him eventually and you smiled.

as if he could feel your eyes on him, he turned his head at you. you took that as the perfect opportunity to get rid of ron’s jacket, pulling down the jersey a bit so your cleavage was showing. you could practically watch him slowly lose his mind.

“it’s working” ginny muttered next to you

“i know” you smirked, noticing that theo was still standing perfectly still, watching you across the field.

mattheo, who had noticed his friend had frozen in the middle of the field, took it upon himself to shake theo from his trance.

“what’s wrong with you?” he asked, pinching the boys elbow.

theo did not answer mattheos question so the latter tried to simply follow the eyes of his friend.

“shit” mattheo muttered when he noticed you sitting in the front row of the gryffindor stands, basically wearing nothing. “fuck” he added “this is even too much for me”

that seemed to have been enough to free theo from his trance “what the fuck, riddle?”

“i’m just a man” mattheo shrugged. he then just narrowly escaped theo’s hand, that had been coming close to hit him.

“get it together, man” theo rolled his eyes, concentrating back on the game, but still having you in the back of his mind.

for the first half of the game, slytherin and gryffindor were close to each other considering points, when one of them had one more, the other quickly scored the next, always keeping them even.

“i don’t think it’s working” ron said after some time of eyes jumping between either side of the field.

“it will” you assured.

and you would be right. during the second half of the game, the sides were switched and theo was now much closer to you, making it even harder for him to not look at you.

you turned your head to the slytherin side, smiling at theo and also involuntarily mattheo, who was flying next to your boyfriend.

theo was caught up in the moment once again, watching the way you flipped your hair over your shoulder or the way your lips moved as you threw a kiss in his direction.

a movement next to him made him perk up. it was mattheo once again.

“did you just catch my girlfriends kiss?” theo asked offended and a bit surprised at the same time.

“..no?” mattheo lied.

“stop lying i saw you do it” theo muttered “stop looking at her”

“how do you know the kiss wasn’t supposed for me?” mattheo asked and theo was surprised that he seemed to actually be serious.

“you mean how i know that my girlfriends kiss wasn’t for you? take a wild guess, mate”

mattheo rolled his eyes, giving theo the peace and quiet to continue looking at you.

madam hooch blew the whistle, indicating that the second half of the game had begone. while everyone started moving, mattheo and theo stayed right where they were.

their staring was eventually interrupted by one very angry malfoy. “hey idiots!” he called and theo and mattheo turned to him in surprise “how about you concentrate on the fucking game and make out with y/n later?”

“sure” mattheo and theo answered at the same time.

theo send mattheo an angry look. “you are not going to make out with my girlfriend”

“we don’t know what she’s into yet” mattheo shrugged, once again dodging a slap from his friend.

“oh we do know” theo assured, before he flew across the field, picking up his position again.

the rest of the game was going a lot less smoother than the first half. theo was missing almost every goal he was trying to throw, accidentally hitting enzo once, almost making the boy fall of the broom.

it seemed that whatever enzo did, had made him the victim of theo and mattheo slipping up. mattheo actually managed to hit enzo’s broom with a bludger, almost making him fall down onto the field. luckily blaise had been able to stabalise the broom before it could come to that.

to your surprise neither fred or george came over to ridicule you for wearing the jersey. of course you knew that they were much more laid back than ron, but more often than not they liked to play the big brothers and give theo a hard time. even if they secretly liked him.

they seemed delighted at your plan working the way it did, using theo’s distraction to their advantage, scoring multiple points in a row.

“what’s wrong with the both of you?” blaise muttered absentmindedly, when he had to, once again, call for enzo to move before mattheo’s bludger could hit him.

by the end of the game, slytherin was behind by a hundred points, enzo had a black eye from the one time theo had accidentally succeeded in hitting him instead of the goal, mattheo and theo had flown into each other multiple times and ron was wearing an impressed smile.

“well, look at that” ron said, after you had finished cheering for gryffindors win “who would’ve thought that would work?”

“eh.. me?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“me too” ginny added, hugging you from behind “our sister is a genius, ron”

“that was actually really smart” hermione complimented and you smiled at her approval.

“thanks guys” you nodded “i better go apologize to theo now though. here’s your jacket”

ron was grimacing once again “you can keep it. better put it on before you go down there”

“yeah” you nodded, before you excused yourself, rushing down the stand in the direction of the slytherin changing room.

theo was leaning against the wall, seemingly already expecting you. he was rubbing his arm and you were guessing that he probably had a few marks from crashing into mattheo that many times.

“hey, baby” you smiled.

he was not looking happy, but you knew that he wasn’t actually angry.

“you played really well” you softly held him by the neck.

“we lost” theo muttered, like you were offending him.

“i know” you lay your head to the side “but you still did your best”

“i played like a goddamn beginner” theo furrowed his eyebrow “don’t act so innocent now, i know what you had in mind”

“do you?” you smirked up at him and he was going feral by the way you quickly closed and opened your eyes, suggesting you did not know what he was talking about.

“yeah” he muttered “and it’s super unfair” his fingers down went to the zipper of ron’s jacket “and what’s even more unfair is that you’re all covered now”

“i don’t have to make sure you lose a game now” you added

“oh, totally” theo nodded “my bad”

“you know i love you baby” you whispered into his ear “so i did what you asked me to do”

theo shook his head, impressed how you could still spin this to be his own fault. “i guess you’re right” he finally gave in. “how about we go back to the castle? i still have to shower”

“i knew you wouldn’t be able to be mad at me” you smiled. “but is enzo alright?”

“he will be fine” theo said a bit too quickly. as if to prove his words to be utter bullshit, enzo walked out of the door behind the both of you, holding a cold pack to his bruising eye.

“hey y/n” he greeted once he had been able to recognize you with his other eye.

“hi enzo” you smiled sympathetically “i’m sorry about your eye and everything”

“it’s alright” enzo smiled and you were impressed that he was still this calm after literally being beat up by his best friends.

“sorry” you cringed again as you watched him walk away. he waved at you from afar. “you really did a number on him”

“totally matt’s fault” theo excused.

“totally” you nodded “so will matt be joining us for the shower?” you joked, hinting at the way the boy had been staring at you the entire time, even going as far as catching the kiss that you had clearly send in theo’s direction.

“don’t even start” theo muttered, taking your hand in his and starting to walk up back to the castle.

“maybe i should wear your jersey more often”

“we’ll burn it after this”

you giggled, before you quickened your pace to keep up with him. “maybe just in private” you assured, kissing his cheek.

theo smiled and you mirrored his expression. “i guess that would be alright”

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userparamore · 6 months ago

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"“What have you done?” the king said, when at last the princess ran out of words. “Seven save us, what have you done? Have you given one of these boys your maidenhead? Tell me true.” “True?” said Saera. It was in that moment, with that word, that the contempt came out. “No. I gave it to all three. They all think they were the first. Boys are such silly fools.” Jaehaerys was so horrified he could not speak, but the queen kept her composure."

"Princess Saera might have been forgiven and restored to favor if she had done as she was told, if she had remained meekly in her chambers reflecting on her sins and praying for forgiveness. [...] The king was angry and unyielding, for his shame was deeply felt, and he could not forget Saera’s taunting words about his uncle’s wives. “She is no longer my daughter,” he said more than once."

"She [Saera] would never be a septa, much less a silent sister, but she required punishment, and it was thought that a few years of silent prayer, harsh discipline, and contemplation would be good for her, that it would set her on the path to redemption. [...] All this she suffered, for a year and a half...but when her chance came, in 85 AC, she seized it, fleeing from the motherhouse in the dead of night and making her way down to the docks. When word of her flight reached King’s Landing, it was assumed that Saera would be hiding somewhere in Oldtown, but Lord Hightower’s men combed the city door to door, and no trace was found of her. [...] The truth did not come out until a year later, when the former princess was seen in a Lysene pleasure garden, still clad as a novice. Queen Alysanne wept to hear it. “They have made our daughter into a whore,” she said. “She always was,” the king replied."

– FIRE & BLOOD, George R.R Martin

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thisisjustfanfic · 1 month ago

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~ Some drabbles of the LADS Men and Hair~

(Done as a writing warmup) ===LADS x Reader===

Xavier:

The least particular about his hair, he couldn't care less how it looks. The only time he even thinks about it is when its starts to get in his eyes. It only happens every few decades, as his hair grows at the same rate that he ages....which is slow.

Like most people he likes ot have his hair played with, but there's something about that just really soothes him. A few gentle pets and he's off to sleep.

Your hair might be different in this life, but he still loves it. He remembers how you used to do it back on Philos, and always gets a little flustered when you do it similarly now.

One of his favorite activities is the little beauty rituals you do, and he's always quietly eager for you to ask him to join him. Quiet evenings after a long day where you put your and his hair up and slather your faces in some new mud mask that smells like roses or lemon. The little bunny headband that shows up next to yours in the bathroom drawer is there inescplicably. And the new set of hair clips. And the under eyes masks.

During those nights, he'll comb through your hair. Taking his time to meticulously untangle each and ever knot, working so slowly you never even feel a tug. It's ritualistic. It's worship.

Zayne:

He's not too picky about his hair, but he likes to keep it groomed. A haircut every three months is mandatory, and he's been seeing the same barber since he was young. There's no fuss or frill to it, just practicality. He can't have crazyu hair products or unruly hair while in the OR.

While he's not vain, he does take some pride in his appearance, and messing up his hair can sometimes irk him a bit. Not enough to remark back, but enough to cup your fac in his hands and give your cheeks a soft pinch. A low warning about ruffling your hair too if need be. He'd never actually do it, but its fun to him to see the little pout on your face.

Your hair is a different story to him. Like other parts of you, its an integral perfect part fo you. The color of it sticking so firmling in his mind that a flash of it out the corner of his eye will have his heart skipping a beat. Constantly in search of you.

When you're together, he likes when its down. He understand that hunters need their hair up most of the time, so it's nice to see you in this way. Like a special treat, just for him.

He'll softly run his hands through it. Tender, tiny touches, never rustling more than a few strands at a time. Whether you're watching a movie, or sitting and working near each other, he'll find some way to fiddle with it. Tucking some out of your face. Adjusting an errant strand. Something.

Rafayel:

The most particular about his hair than the rest of the boys, but by no means fussy. Though compared to others he can be. His hair is used to water, and so can dry out easily. He struggled for a long time to maintain it-- inexplicable frizz and split ends arising enough to make him want to just cut it.

But if looked different...if he cut it, how would you recognize him? A bitter part of him hissed that you weren't here. That this life was one to live without you. But that hopeful part of him....that yearning ember that burned with the vow he made, held onto the hope too tightly.

So he kept his hair as close as he could to what it had been before. To the other times he'd been luck enough to meet you.

Once he's gotten a reputation as a painter and has a public persona, Thomas helps him. Sends him to a stylist who regularly douses him in deep conditioner and oil treatments.

It's a pain, but tolerable. Like most things.

When you come back to him, you take over his haircare. He insists. You set up in his oversized bathroom and help him figure out the deep conditioner. MAssaging his scalp and doting on him.

He's melting sugar in your palm, too spoiled to find anything to complain when you've got your fingers in his hair. It becomes a vice of his. A little ruffle or a pet and his breathing stutters.

He finds hair care for your hair too. A conditioner or clarifying treatment, insisting you take part in the ritual he's subjected to. Only he won't let you put it on yourself- even though you can.

He lingers. Running his fingers through your hair far longer than necessary.

After waiting for so long, any touch is too short. Every moment of contact is prolonged to its absolute length.

Sylus:

He's a man of particular tastes, but has a hard time trusting people. So he can't exactly go to a barber. Letting someone near his neck with scissors or worse a razor? No thanks.

He cuts his own hair, with the help of his evol and a few mirrors. It's taken him a while to figure it out, but it'll do.

He's the one who likes his hair being played with the lost, will go so far as to ask for it. At first its a taunt, a playful jab at you to see if you get flustered at the request.

You're surprised by how quickly he melts when you start touching him. Runing your fingers through his soft silver hair until he's practically purring.

Its a dangerous activity for him, because more often than not he ends with his head in your lap and on the brink of sleep. Unable to stop himself from sinking into the delicious feeling of your warm touch, and the reassuring hum from the linkage.

Since he's one to spoil you, anything you want for your hair is yours to have. A new haircare regimine? Ordered. New hair appliance? 1-Day Shipping. A personal stylist? Done.

#lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace #lads mc #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads x reader #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #xavier x reader #xavier x mc #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #Zayne x reader #zayne x mc

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trustmypoison · 2 months ago

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First time with Wonwoo

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘hey jj!! can i req for a drabble on wonwoo and reader’s first time in bed tgt? i feel like the way you write bed scenes is just so intimate and loving and i would love to see one for wonwoo!’

TW/CW: explicit smut with mentions of protection (stay safe). First time with each other (not virgins). MDNI.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: Thank you to the requester for the sweet compliment. I'm still trying to get comfortable writing this sort of content, so I hope you enjoy.

Wonwoo thinks your nervousness is rubbing off on him.

You two have been dating for a while - a few months to be exact. Life has gotten in the way and this is only the fifth date. But he’s talked to you every spare moment, texting you constantly even when he’s on the other side of the world. He’s very into you. He knew he would be from the moment you said hi.

But he can kind of tell where the night is going. You’re not his first girlfriend and you’re also not his first time, and the tension simmering throughout the date is crystal clear to him. But so is your nervousness. It sort of cuts through the excitement of it all, serving as a warning to tread carefully.

Admittedly, he’s a little nervous too. He can’t remember a time that he’s ever been all that anxious about this sort of thing, but this is a special moment. A tipping point that often makes or breaks a relationship and he’d really like this one with you to work out. So he resolves to just see where the night goes.

He talks to you through dinner like he normally would and guides you to the car with his hand on your back. He holds your hand in your lap on the way to your apartment as he drives. He likes the innocence of the affection you two share so far. His touch is gentle as usual, but tonight, your grip is a little tight on his hand.

He insists on parking and walking you up to the door. There’s no motivation behind it beyond making sure you get inside safe. He expects to walk you to the door that he met you at earlier tonight and maybe give you a little kiss before being on his way. But you shove the key in the lock and pause in the doorway. “Do you want to come in for a bit?”

Of course, he does, and he says so. He expects you to offer coffee or tea, maybe a snack. Maybe a kiss or two good night when it’s time for him to go. You two have done all of that before once or twice.

He doesn’t expect you to corner him in your entry way and press your lips to his as soon as the door is closed. Wonwoo sighs into the kiss, one hand finding your face to cup it, the other wrapping around your lower back to pull you close. It’s not the first time you two have kissed, but it’s certainly the most intense one you’ve shared. The others have been sweet pecks at the door or in the car.

The more you lean into him, pressing your body against his, he can’t help but gently spin you so that your back is against the wall instead. You sigh at the pressure as your hands roam - his shoulders, his chest, his waist. When they drift to his belt, he pulls away from your lips.

He loves the duality you have. You look a little sheepish staring up at him, and he could feel the nervousness radiating off you all night. Yet, you’re still bold in the face of nervousness, not shying away. He still pumps the brakes, pulling back to put a few inches between the two of you. Your hands slide to curl around his shoulders again, like it’s a safe zone.

You smile, that tinge of nervousness present again. “Sorry. Too forward?”

“No, it’s not that,” Wonwoo soothes immediately, hand combing back some hair from your face. “I just didn’t want you to be under the impression that that’s all I’m here for.” You stare up at him like you aren’t sure what to say. Wonwoo purses his lips. It occurs to him that you might feel some kind of invisible pressure to conform to a timeline, like five dates or less is the magic number for this sort of thing. “I’m not turning you down. I wouldn’t dream of it. But I have no expectations.” He punctuates this with a gentle squeeze of your waist.

“I know,” you mumble. “You’ve give no indication that you do. But I definitely wouldn’t mind it.”

“Wouldn’t mind it? Or want it?” Wonwoo clarifies because the distinction is important to him. He won’t move a muscle if it’s not a want, not even when your expression shifts a little. You swipe your tongue across your lips and Wonwoo resists the urge to suck in a breath at the sight.

“I want it. If you do, that is,” you finally say.

Certain images flash through his mind, ones that make his head spin, and he resists the urge to make any of them a reality right now. You two have never discussed what you like in bed. This conversation is the closest you’ve ever come to addressing the topic of sex. So, he takes you by the hand, pulling you into your living room. He sits down, pulling you to stand between his legs, hands on your hips. He stares up at you for a few seconds. “I want it. But what we do is up to you.”

That little slice of boldness is back, because your hands are on his shoulders again, pushing him to lean back as you crawl into his lap, straddling him. His legs spread wide as he gets comfortable, and your dress bunches up your thighs as you move with him, tempting him, but he keeps his hands pinned to your waist as you lean into his lips again. His breath catches when you boldly swipe your tongue across his lips. He lets you in, hands gripping your waist tight. But as you both find a rhythm, his hands start to drift. He keeps going because you shiver and sigh into his mouth at every sweep of his hands.

Wonwoo’s hands finally land on your thighs, just above your knees, squeezing gently. You settle even more into his lap and his hands inadvertently slide up your thigh a little more when you do. Your weight fully on him has him gripping your thighs a little tighter, thumb sweeping into your inner thigh. You let out another shiver, accompanied by a little sound at the back of your throat - not quite a moan or a whimper, but it’s encouraging. Encouraging enough that the tips of his fingers slide under the edge of your dress a bit, exploring the skin of your upper thighs.

You’re starting to grind a bit, perhaps without even realizing it, and this paired with the creeping of his hand means that eventually his thumb brushes your core. You gasp softly and he’s elated by your responsiveness, letting his thumb sweep across the lace of your panties gently again. “Okay?” He asks. You nod and he likes how your eyes drift closed as he applies a little more pressure, your clit right under his thumb with every sweep.

He peels away one side of your panties, fingers exploring. You both sigh against each other’s lips as he feels how wet you are. He circles your clit, helpless to press his lips into your neck when your head tilts back, sucking and nibbling lightly. Your fingers dig into his shoulders a little when he slides a finger into you, body jerking slightly at the sensation. He smoothes his other hand up and down your side. When you ask for a second finger, he sighs against your neck, giving it to you. The feeling of you like this has him throbbing in his pants and he begins to pump his fingers steadily.

You start to make little noises that Wonwoo needs to taste, so he pulls you down to kiss him. He knows when you’re getting close. He can feel it in the way you wrap around his fingers a little tighter, particularly when he gives you third, and how your fingers dig into his hair. You stop kissing when you’re at the edge, a little pinch between your eyebrows. He kisses your slacked jaw. “It’s okay, let go for me.”

You do, and Wonwoo continues pumping his fingers gently as you shake. He wraps an arm around you as you sag a bit when you’re done riding it out. He pulls out his dripping fingers, righting your panties. You give him a bit of a hazy smile and he presses a kiss to your lips. “Feel good?” He asks with only the tiniest bit of ego, but you still chuckle.

“You couldn’t tell?” That tinge of nervousness is back. “Sorry, it’s been a while for me.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear you say sorry for anything that just happened. “Don’t apologize, you were perfect. We don’t have to continue though, if you don’t want to.”

“Oh no! I want to,” you say confidently, before biting your lip. Your duality drives him crazy. “Only if you want to continue.”

“Can I take you to your room?” Wonwoo asks. “It would be more comfortable.”

You beam, haziness gone. “First door on the left.” Wonwoo stands up, taking you with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, a little gasp leaving your mouth close to his ear. He follows your instructions, flipping on a lamp inside your room before plopping you down on the bed, landing on top of you. Your hands wind into his hair, pulling him down to you. He’s lost in how you feel underneath him, particularly when you don’t unwind your legs from his waist right away. He’s unsure of how much time passes on top of you, kissing you with increasing fervor.

His hands roam from your hair, down to your neck and chest, down to your waist and hips, and then back up again. When his tongue dips into your mouth, your legs tighten around his waist, his hardness pressing right against your core. Your hands drift down, finding the hem of his shirt and he helps you yank it off. Your touch feels better on his bare skin. It’s soft, but your rings are cool against his skin and your nails prick a little every now and then. He wants them in his back at some point.

You reach for the zipper of your dress on your side and he helps you drag it down, sliding the material off. “So pretty,” he sighs against your heated skin, leaving little marks down your collar bone and breasts. He’s working his way down to be between your thighs when you pull him back up, hand landing on his belt. “Later. Can I have you now?”

Wonwoo catches his breath, mostly because your words do something crazy to him. “Condom?”

“Top drawer,” you say, gesturing to the bedside table. He’s quick about fishing one out, but you’re quicker about sitting up with him, hand still on his belt. “May I?” Something about the way you say it makes Wonwoo pinch his eyes shut and nod. You seem to like the impact you’re having on him, biting your lip as you undo his belt, reaching for the button and zipper of his pants. He kicks the material down, along with his boxers. He feels exposed if only for a split second before you’re taking the condom from him, rolling it on for him. He shudders at your touch, desperately needing the distraction of pushing you back onto the bed, undressing you completely. If you kept touching him like that, he wouldn’t last long.

Wonwoo falls in between your parted legs and you both sigh at the feeling of him against you with fewer layers between you both. “Are you sure?”

You nod, and he squeezes your waist, asking for a verbal answer. “Yes, I want you.”

He loves the sound of that, but he still tacks on a genuine, “Stop me at any point.”

You pull him into a lingering kiss as he rubs the head of his cock against you, gathering your wetness. The sensation makes your thigh twitch in his hand. But when he notches the head into your entrance, he feels you tense. He presses another soft kiss to your lips. “I’ll go slow, but tell me if it’s too much.” Only when you nod does he start to push in inch by inch. He bites back a groan at the back of his throat, both at the feeling of you engulfing him and the way your mouth drops open at the stretch. Once all the way in, he places soothing kisses along your cheeks and jaw, hands running across your body soothingly. “Okay?”

You nod, though there’s still that little pinch between your eyebrows. Your nails are still biting into his shoulders. “You can move.” He sits back on his knees, pushing your legs up just a bit, but he can see that it changes the whole angle for you. He slides out and back in, and that pinch between your eyebrows is totally gone, replaced by a blissful look that makes him groan. You yourself pull up your legs even more and he slides in deeper with each pump.

Once all signs of discomfort for you are gone, Wonwoo picks up the pace and the noises you make are heavenly. He cages you in below his body, hips moving faster with every minute that passes. He feels how you grip his hand, fingers intertwining with his. “I’m close,” you say, words a little lost between the sweet whimpers and moans. He’s pounding into you, rougher than he ever planned for this first time to be with you, but you seem to enjoy it as much as he does.

Like earlier in the living room, your jaw goes slack as you fall off the edge, clamping down around him, back arching off the bed. One of his hands slides underneath your back, holding you like that to keep the deep stroke. It only takes a few pumps like this for him to fall off the edge too.

Once he’s caught his breath and your body has relaxed, he gently pulls out of you with a little kiss, going to your ensuite bathroom to dispose of the condom. He comes back with a damp towel. You shiver when he cleans you carefully. You fold into his side when he’s back in bed and you both are out like a light.

The next morning, you find Wonwoo in your kitchen, clad in boxers only while he makes some breakfast. He looks over his shoulder at you as you wrap your arms around him. “Aren’t you cold?” You ask.

“A little,” he shrugs, flipping off the heat for the burner and placing the skillet aside. He turns to you, arms folding around you. He’s felt a little anxiety about how the morning would go, and the way you fall into him inspires some hope.

“You should bring a change of clothes next time,” you say casually into his chest.

“You’d like there to be a next time?” Wonwoo asks cautiously.

“As long as you do,” you say simply, pulling away to look up at him. “As long as you enjoyed it.”

Wonwoo presses a long kiss to your lips. “I did. As long as you did.”

You laugh at the way he throws your words back in your face. He picks you up, placing you on the counter so he can stand between your legs. “Are you free today?” You ask, fingers folding into his messy hair. He nods, humming against your lips. “Good, I have some ideas,” you say with a little bit of a mischievous look.

Wonwoo chuckles, pinching your hips lightly. “Oh?”

“Mhm,” you nod, easy smile on your lips as your hands drift to his chest. He loves everything about this, but particularly that the nervousness from last night is almost totally absent. Your fingers drum against his collar bone lightly. “I was thinking of starting with a shower. Breakfast can wait.”

He doesn’t think anything of snatching you off the counter and carrying you out of the kitchen as you giggle in his ear, clinging to his shoulders. He thinks he could do this for the rest of his life. Not just the sex, but really anything with you.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #Jeon wonwoo x reader #smut

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phyrestartr · 8 months ago

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Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.4 | END)

W/C 7.2k #NSFW, male!reader, top!reader, bottom!sukuna, ABO elements, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, questionable relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, gojo/megumi/yuuji/nobara cameos, yuuji/megu/nobara are early 20s, sukuna is controlling/possessive/obsessive, rough sex, not edited enough (oh well) Note: It's finally over (dies like Noctis)

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx

“Google says kitsune are usually attuned to one of the thirteen elements,” Nobara prattled, scrolling through the random Japanese mythology website on her phone. “Itadori, what's his element, huh?”

Yuuji pursed his lips, face growing deadpan as he thought and quickly realized he had no clue.

“Uh…”

Nobara grimaced. “Useless.”

“Hey, I didn't know they were all, y'know, elemental-y, okay?! Jeeze!”

Megumi sighed and shook his head. “We're supposed to be keeping an eye on him, not arguing about garbage you found online.”

The two country bumpkins followed Megumi's gaze to where you snoozed under a tree. It felt a little strange seeing you donned in one of college's spare uniforms, but you seemed quite pleased by the modern take on fashion and aesthetic. Yuuji wondered if you'd take to modifying the plain, black clothes the way you'd done so in the past.

“Oi, kyuubi!” Nobara called as she wandered in your direction, much to the chagrin of Megumi. “I got a question for ya.”

You spared her a sleepy glance before sitting up and stretching with a wide, toothy yawn. It almost took the three aback, seeing how sharp and distinctly not-human your teeth were.

“You and everyone else, evidently.” You hummed and combed your tail with your fingers. “Speak.”

“Is it true that your kind are, like, elemental or something?”

Megumi sighed as he rolled up beside her. “She means to ask if kitsune are elementally-attuned, whether it be to fire, water, earth–that sort of thing.”

“I literally just said that!” Nobara hissed as she smacked Megumi's arm. The raven didn't react in the slightest.

“Yeah!” Yuuji piped up. His face grew red as soon as your lazy stare flicked to him. “I-I, uh–like, y'know, fire. Or…you talked about fire?”

“You are so tactless. It's starting to get sad.”

“Can it, Kugisaki!”

You smiled. “It's true, more or less. I was taught my sort usually falls into one of the thirteen elements: celestial, wind, spirit, darkness, fire, earth, river, ocean, forest, mountain, thunder, sound, and time.

“Then, there are the broadly ‘bad’ sort, nogitsune, and the ‘good’ sort, zenko. Most say only zenko reach total divinity, but that's not always the case.”

“Yikes, so the bad kitsune can be gods too?” Yuuji asked as he sat down with you and pulled at the grass idly. “Isn't that, y'know, bad?”

“Gods are all inherently bad, as far as I'm concerned,” you said.

“Gojo-sensei mentioned you were one,” Megumi offered as he and Nobara sat, too. “A god. The people revered you.”

You snorted and covered your mouth the way you might have if you had the long sleeves of a kimono to aid you.

“They didn't mind me. I don't think they particularly liked me, considering what company I kept.” You hummed and straightened out your sleeve.

“Yeah, but…you're not him, so what's the point in hating you?” Yuuji asked, and you couldn't help but feel more weight and worry behind the words.

“I don't care what they thought of me. I only cared about what the palace residents thought. They were my family, in a sense.”

“Even Sukuna?” Megumi asked.

“That's such a stupid question, oh my god. Boys are so stupid,” Nobara said with a deadpan.

You smiled, though, and kindly still answered.

“Especially Sukuna.”

“Hey, hey! Sorry for the wait!” Gojo called across the field as he made a show of sauntering on over before teleporting in the blink of an eye. “So? Are we all–oooh, are we gossiping?”

“What, no?!”

“No.”

Gojo pouted. “My students always leave me out. Thankfully, my sweet, pious, precious (Name) is nice to me!”

“You're late, Satoru,” you sighed as you stood, tying back your chopped hair into the tiniest of ponytails. “What is the reason?”

Gojo whined and trotted up to you, rubbing and petting your ears to bring you back to his side of the issue.

“It's not my fault! All the higher-ups are sooo annoying and yap sooo much!” He shuffled behind you and played with your three lush tails much like a toddler would. “Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy that's not gonna get mad at the Gojo Satoru?”

You sighed and flicked your ear, thwacking him in the forehead with it. “Let's not waste any more time, cretin.

“What're we even doing, Sensei?” Yuuji asked, rubbing the back of his head after raising his hand like he was in class. “You didn't really tell us anythin’.”

“Yeah, I thought we were just watching the fox until he had to go back in his cage,” Nobara said, arms crossed and expression sour. “Seems kinda stupid. He's not even a threat.” But Yuuji knew there was little truth to that statement.

“I'm guessing the meeting was about relocating (Name).” Megumi looked at Gojo. “So what's the plan?”

–

The five of you walked endlessly through the vast forest surrounding the college. Your gaze traveled up sky-scraping trees, admiring the ancient song of life only you could hear through the soil and air. Wind danced across the verdant canopy above, scattering beams of molten sunlight across the forest floor and dappling the shoulders of the sorcerers before you with golden kisses–a sight you so sorely missed from your tenure at the palace.

The land was not crying here. You'd heard the distant sound from the concrete jungle resting far below the rise of the college, and it shrouded you with jaded confusion and contempt for what had been done to the world in your stead; if you'd been smarter, wiser to the plans of one, could you have prevented this? Or were humans simply inevitable with their evolution? Perhaps it was up to the Earth to find the yang after the yin.

“Okay, this is it!” Gojo called, snapping you from your rampant thoughts.

You looked to where he gestured, and found a simple building. It was reminiscent of the college in its design–modern, but clearly inspired by traditional architecture–and it looked fairly new. A bell attached to a rope stood at the forefront, as did a well for mortals to throw their offerings before ringing the aforementioned chime. Beyond that, the shrine lacked character and decoration. It was a clean slate.

You blinked owlishly, and tilted your head. “This is…?”

“A shrine! For our new on-campus god! How fun is that, huh?” Gojo smiled, proud for a reason you couldn't decipher. “You get to make it home!”

The younger three all deadpanned, looking between each other, trying to parse if their teacher was delusional or just being a menace to society and doing this behind the council’s back. Honestly, it was up in the air.

“I–is that even–” Megumi tried, but gave up and rubbed his face instead.

“So…(Name)’s gonna be, like, our resident god, or something?” Yuuji wondered, feeling his heart pitter patter just a little faster.

“Haha! Sure, if you want to think of it that way.” Gojo smiled and looked toward the blank canvas of a shrine. “In exchange for divine favour, we grant sanctuary. Home. A place to call your own.”

You didn't say much, but your tails swished and flowed as you stared at the humble abode–your humble abode–and inhaled shakily.

“I suppose this will do,” you conceded, still too unwilling to give Gojo the satisfaction of knowing he'd touched your heart. “It's a bit stingy, however.”

“STINGY?”

“Indeed. Now, begone–I have work to do.”

–

Sukuna reached for you when he dreamed. He didn't need to sleep, he had no use for it as he was now, but he convinced himself into the realm of the unconscious regardless, searching for the doorway leading to your mind.

And he tried night after night, day after day, searching and sitting outside the palace of your inner realm once he found the entrance. The door was the same as the one leading to your chambers in your shared home; a simple, sliding door of wood and paper. Beautiful. Comforting.

He knew the door wouldn't open for him, not yet; he deduced what may have happened, and what that would have meant for you all and himself as a result. He'd have to be patient. Wait for you to let him in to confront him, or seek his comfort.

But he didn't expect the door to open so suddenly behind him, sending him rolling onto his back and staring upside down at the most magnificent sight he'd ever beheld–a kyuubi, sitting poised across the room, dressed in a haori several sizes too big, waiting with his back turned as candlelight flickered and lulled the room into a lazy, sleepy haze.

Sukuna righted himself and stood, spirit flailing and tearing itself apart in his uncontrollable want for you, for a desire to return back to the simplicity of this time. But he couldn't go back. Maybe he could recreate it.

“Fox,” Sukuna murmured, excitement igniting the small, human body he'd been forced to mold his soul into. It felt so much worse in this form, his want being so much more fucking unbearable and burning a hole in his damn chest and skull.

You shifted, head turning the slightest toward him yet refusing to give way entirely. But, then you stood, and Sukuna suddenly understood how you felt in the presence of his overwhelming power.

You stood tall. Proud. Powerful. Your ears pointed towards the heavens while your tails fanned against the gates of hell when you turned to face that lover of the past, the one you held so dear for decades.

Sukuna almost felt weak in the knees (or was that somehow Yuuji interrupting his delusions?) when bright red markings caught the light, shimmering in divine sparks of orange and teal in the firelight–and your eyes. Your eyes. They burned with higher purpose. With unreadable certainty and alien understanding. You made Sukuna's gut coil with need.

“My Sukuna,” you whispered to the room. You took a step forward, and Sukuna eagerly met you the rest of the way. “You look so…small.”

He looked up at you–yes, up--and admired your face and godly stature and just how fucking tall and unearthly and powerful you were looming over him.

“Stuck looking like this fucking runt while I'm in his body,” Sukuna explained bitterly. He reached a hand up while he spoke, and you graciously leaned down to let his skin touch yours.

An ache curled under Sukuna's skin, flushing his complexion with heat and suffocating him in those unbearable sorcerer uniform garbs. His pants strained too tight, his jacket and hoodie made his core swelter and his mind grow fuzzy. It was torture.

“He looks so much like you,” you drawled, holding Sukuna's face in kind. You hummed with sympathy when he moaned and leaned into your touch, only abandoning his own rediscovery of your features to hold your palms against him, to indulge in everything so wholly you.

“Forgot what I look like, huh,” Sukuna huffed. “This brat looks like a beaten monkey.”

“So did you.”

“Hey.”

“But I adored you anyway, did I not?”

Sukuna scanned over your face slowly, methodically, wondering.

“Adore. You mean ‘adore’.”

“Perhaps.” You smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “It's been some time.”

“You chose me. You belong to me.” Sukuna's lip curled as he growled and forced your hands into his skin firmer as though to leave scars. “Mine. Only mine.”

Your lips quirked upwards and Sukuna pulled you down to kiss you. His voice reverberated between your linked bodies as your tongue licked into his mouth far enough to nearly make him choke. You kindly pulled him flush against you, wrenching more pleased, needy noises out of him with no effort at all.

“You're as starved as Yuuji,” you whispered as his hands fumbled with your ornate clothes, yanking and pulling at them with reckless abandon.

“Shut up.” His grumbling lessened just a bit when you eased your robes open, exposing your perfect skin to him once again.

“I believe it'd displease you if I stopped talking, no?” You tore the clothing off the other's body as he pulled you down to the floor with him, suddenly so eager to submit.

Sukuna scoffed. “I–just touch me, fox.”

It was your turn to purr and keen, basking in the soft tremble of anticipation the all-powerful choked on as he spread himself bare beneath you, your garbs cascading all around him like a waterfall–only you would get to see him, chest heaving, eyes swirling with lust and need, hidden behind a curtain of embroidered flames.

“Poor thing.” You dug your nails into his hips and dragged him toward you, prodding your aching length against his unprepared heat. “You've been so long without touch. Without love. Do you still think it's meaningless?”

The curse snarled, and you caught him by the throat, pinning him in place and jamming your other hand's fingers down his throat before he could bark back at you. And just that simple torture had the king's hips twitching and bucking, slowly falling into time with the rhythm of your digits slipping in and out of his bratty mouth.

“F-fuck you,” he gasped once his mouth fell empty.

You chuckled smoothly. “It's simply food for thought.” You pressed two fingers into him and worked inside with ease despite the crushing heat clamping down around you. You didn't know if his sweet, little body wanted you to stay put or fill him faster.

“Fuckin'--annoying, shithead, bratty fox–” he cut off with a ragged moan as you pressed against his prostate and rubbed against it slowly, firmly, deliciously. His eyes fell shut and his brows twitched up, a vivid look of desperation and concentration making him look far too vulnerable and breedable for his own good.

“It's strange,” you hummed, working him a little faster and jamming your fingers against his sweet spot over and over. “I never thought you'd willingly submit.”

“I need it,” Sukuna growled, fisting his hand around his weeping length and stroking to the beat of your fingers. His hips bucked forward and back, unsure of what searing pleasure to lean into more; luckily for him, you were keen to up the ante.

Your fingers slipped out and Sukuna snarled, crimson eyes snapping open to brand you with frustration. You felt the whip of desperate commands about to crack off Sukuna's tongue, so you wasted no time filling him back up, stuffing him beyond his limits.

The man almost gasped, though it could have just been the force of your cock punching the air out of his lungs. You pulled him against you, seating him to the base with a little effort and brute force. You knew he liked the pain. Pleasure was closely acquainted with it, after all.

“This is what you wanted,” you murmured as you rocked into him.

The curse didn't know if you beckoned an answer from him, or simply stated the facts. So, he didn't answer you. He instead gripped onto your shoulders to keep himself steady while you effortlessly drilled into his core with each and every thoughtful roll of your hips.

And it felt good. An uncomfortable, searing stretch accompanied the deep plunges filling him beat after beat. His body tightened and clamped down around you, forcing your length to rub against the weakest, most sensitive spots inside of him–places no one would ever dream of hitting inside the unruly king. None besides you, of course. You were different. Better than the rest. Fit to fuck and fill him if Sukuna so desired it.

“(Name),” he groaned when you changed up the angle, aiming to rub up against the ceiling of his insides with every thrust. You tortured his weak spot, and made a casual show of forcing his stomach to bulge and distend whenever you bottomed out entirely, and Sukuna reveled in it. He wanted to be yours. Just yours.

“You're so sweet when you submit,” you cooed, leaning down and nuzzling against his neck as you fucked into him harder and faster. “You should have done so sooner.”

Sukuna should have clapped Back, but he couldn't; he was too busy trying to angle himself to somehow get you deeper. He was too busy trying to pull you closer, to graft his thick thighs to your scar-riddled sides like a branch on a tree. He couldn't spare a single braincell on your arrogant Teasing when all he could think was, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me–

“Now he's lost his voice,” you sighed. “Such a pity.” Your hips hit particularly hard to punctuate, and Sukuna grunted.

“Again,” he choked out. “Fuck me like that.”

You branded a smile into his skin with a hum. “Are you sure? I won't stop if it's too much.”

Sukuna opened his bleary eyes and spied your nine tails fanned out, cloaking the ceiling from sight. It felt like staring death in the face. Maybe he'd been in its clutches this entire time. Maybe he wanted–needed–you to be the end of him.

Your hand found his throat again, and Sukuna nodded as best he could, too overwhelmed and overstimulated to get words out of his open mouth–but grunts and groans had no issue bursting through as you left mercy by the wayside and destroyed him as thoroughly as he requested. You were, after all, a selfless god.

Sukuna's eyes rolled back as his head tilted in kind, mouth left agape as you burned him alive; every push of your body into his lit new fires, and every second you stayed connected, more of his soul exhausted itself before rising from ashes once again. The tightness coiling in his stomach grew unbearable and insatiable, hungering for more and more and more until–

“There's no shame in coming undone,” you cooed, your lips and fangs replacing the hand in his throat and peppering apologetic kisses. “Unravel for me, my love.”

My love. My love. My love.

“Fuck,” Sukuna gasped. He clung to you, and you raised your head to kiss him, swallowing his strained noises to keep them a secret from the outside world and himself.

He grabbed at your shoulders and arms as his head tilted back and a hoarse cry left him–just as his body clamped down and sent him over the edge, he realized pushing in and out had become more taxing. Perhaps because of his cumming, or perhaps because of the ungodly thing swelling at your base and ripping him open.

You worked him through his high, never thinking of pulling away from him when he needed you most. Because this was bound to end. He was bound to wake up and feel cold where your hands now touched. He was stuck in the body of another with no hope of reaching you unless he somehow, some way turned the tables on all those weak sorcerers and broke free.

But he would. He'd claim his vessel and walk amongst the new world, autonomous and untouchable. It was only a matter of time.

–

Though Sukuna was selfish in chasing his own pleasure, he soon found immense satisfaction in yours.

The number of times he'd trap you against a wall and finger you until your legs gave out and your voice ran hoarse was too great to count. He couldn't help himself; that bewildered, wide-eyed look you gave him every time you were let go to fix your robes and catch your voice screamed, what was that for? And boosted Sukuna’s ego. He reveled in the glory of being the only one to do this to you, to being the one who forced you to lose composure.

In his chamber, he indulged further. He'd work thick fingers deep inside of you while his other hands roamed and touched, stroking, pinching and rubbing wherever he deemed needed attention. And you were putty in his hands, absolutely melting into everything he did to you, even if accompanied by a shock of pain.

Because you were a creature who only knew sex for the sake of bearing children. Beyond that clan using you in an attempt to create half-breed sorcerers, your primal nature influenced you to only seek out a mate for the purpose of bearing children, and not necessarily for pleasure.

But Sukuna was the opposite. He never thought of siring children. He only thought of pleasure of another's body and the thrill of total domination over them, never the idea he'd suffer the consequences of an heir; he had those women drink a special tea to prevent that for a reason, especially when a handful had come to him, offering their bodies in return for fame and perceived power.

With you, he could entertain the idea, however.

Yes, the mere idea of watching you walk around the gardens, properly swollen with his children, with physical proof of his ownership and coupling with you, sparked something akin to greed in his chest. Though it was a little warmer than just that, admittedly.

–

Yuuji liked you. There was no escaping it, no denying it–he liked being around you. He liked your smile. Your tails. Your ears. The way you scared the shit out of him the first time you properly met. You were just…weird. Interesting. Kind of like Yuuji himself.

But you were kind, too. The times he wandered out to meet you at your shrine to “check up on things,” or because he was bored, he always found you tending to your gardens, talking to the passerby wildlife, dozing at the entrance, and his heart would do something funny in his chest.

Then his mind would rot until all he could see was you sprawled beneath Sukuna, singing the king’s praises while he fucked you into the tatami and bred you.

It wouldn't stop there. Sukuna would taunt him, poisoning him with sinful thoughts and diabolic urges:

You think that fox'll give you the time of day? You, a petulant runt with not a shred of experience beyond your hand? Hah.

Consider it a blessing--you'd probably cum too fast to enjoy him properly. You'd embarrass yourself to death.

I know you think about him when your hand's around your cock. You wish he'd warm it, no? Wish you got to watch his ass take you in?

Go on, why don't you just try? Fulfill your fantasies! Maybe he'll act the part of a pious, pitying god and throw you a bone.

Yuuji, for as airheaded as he could be, knew Sukuna wanted to indulge in you through his vessel. Or, he truly believed Yuuji wouldn't be able to hook up with you and live to remember it. Maybe he was right.

But the young man thought you had a soft spot for him; he wasn't great at reading people by any means, but he thought you always gravitated to him before the others. You always held more warmth in your eyes when they fell upon him, and your preening touch constantly found him, your hands always smoothing out the creases of his uniform while deft fingers fixed his hair and pleated his hood into more attractive folds.

Maybe your touchy-ness toward him was a culmination of your need to parent something. Yuuji didn't fully understand it, but Gojo mentioned something about you wanting children, but you couldn't have them. Not anymore. And so those urges manifested in other ways.

But the young sorcerer wasn't so sure anymore.

“My Yuuji,” you cooed when he came to visit. “You're back again so soon. Is everything alright?”

Yuuji smiled and braced for impact, bowing his head the slightest bit to let you bonk yours against his in greeting. It really reminded him of the way cats would welcome each other. Thankfully, you didn't seem too eager to mark him with a dose of spittle, though.

“Yeah, everything's cool. Just–dunno. Wanted to come see what you were doing, I guess.” The sorcerer shrugged and pocketed his hands after you'd finished lovingly headbutting him.

“Mmh. Well, I certainly don't mind the company.” You smoothed back his hair and fixed the wild flare of one of his eyebrows before stepping away and meandering back towards your shrine. “It feels like something's going to happen soon.”

Yuuji's stomach flipped. “Yeah? You think so?” He followed you, watching the hypnotic swaying of your tails and hips and ass–wait, wait, wait, no, no, no–

What? Am I wrong? Sukuna's voice purred. Looks downright breedable, doesn't he? He said it more like a want than a taunt, this time, like if he were in Yuuji's shoes, he'd jump on you and pick up where you left off.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Yuuji chanted, trying to calm down. Don't ruin this!

Ruin what? Your sad attempt at courtship, brat?

Yuuji said nothing. Sukuna howled with laughter.

“Natural disasters cannot always be predicted,” you murmured, bringing Yuuji back to the present. “And they can never be stopped.”

The younger frowned and rubbed the back of his neck as he followed you inside. “Eh, I mean…we can stop a lot with sorcery, can't we?”

“And if that disaster is born of sorcery? What then?” You snapped your fingers, and every candle in the room ignited with amber flame.

“Uh…I mean…” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I still think we can stop it. We'll figure out a way!”

You sure about that, brat?

You laughed, soft and kind, bringing a smile to Yuuji instead of a ticked off frown. You had a way of settling his nerves and relieving the tension from tightly wound muscles. Is this the effect you had on Sukuna? Is that why he cherished you so much?

“I admire your optimism, Yuuji. Perhaps I should aspire to be like you,” you said.

Yuuji's face flushed. “E-eh? Wh–no! You're awesome the way you are! And, uh, you're–y’know. You're good!” Smooth. Eloquent. Exceptional.

You hummed and wandered further into the back rooms, allowing Yuuji to follow you to your chambers to relax. “Well, I'll trust your opinion, then.”

“Okay. Yeah. Cool.” The sorcerer cleared his throat and messed with his hood as he followed your lead, admiring the tidy, comfy space you welcomed him into. Pillows and blankets were plentiful and all bunched together on a futon, so much like the nests Yuuji often saw in his dreams. It felt a bit…intrusive to see it in person.

“Hey, uh,” Yuuji started, “I–can I ask something?”

You seated yourself down across the small, simple kotatsu, and gestured for the younger to join you. “Of course.”

The sorcerer sat down across from you. “You and Sukuna. Were you guys–did you ever…y'know.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Go on.”

“Were you, like, in love? Or something?” Yuuji's face burned red at the words. Talking about love was so damn awkward for some reason, especially when it had to do with Sukuna and the fox Yuuji himself pined for.

“Ah.” You tilted your head the opposite direction, and hummed. “I was in love, yes.”

Yuuji's chest ached. “Even now?”

“Eternally.”

“Do you want him back?”

You didn't answer right away, and the festering pain spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers; of course you wanted him back. Of course you wanted your ancient, all-powerful lover back. Why would you ever accept Yuuji in his place? A weak, mortal being?

Before Yuuji could retract the question, you'd shuffled around to his side of the table and held one of his hands in both of yours. The younger couldn't bear to look at your face, and so kept his eyes trained on your elegant fingers smoothing over his rough, scarred knuckles.

“I would not trade a soul that walks amongst the living for a soul that has already lived its life,” you said. “Sukuna has lived. And he has died. He may rise once more, but I do not seek to aid it; he chose to die in hopes of living forever. He must accept what his decision brings, as must I.”

The storm inside of the sorcerer calmed the slightest bit. Sails no longer whipped and frayed; they caught wind and led his heart back to placid waters, though the depths of the oceans could always threaten future treachery. For now, however, Yuuji found safety.

“Man, you really are like Yoda,” He laughed, filling the room with renewed brightness.

You blinked owlishly. “Yoda? What that is, I do not know.”

Yuuji laughed harder and clasped his hands around yours. “Nah, don't worry about it. It's a good thing, though. From one of the movies Gojo-sensei made me watch.”

“I would strongly advise against taking lessons from that man, Yuuji.” Your brow creased as your hands clutched his in a death grip. “He’s not normal.”

Yuuji grinned, then, and held your hands just as tightly. “Yeah, he's weird. But he's smart, too! One of the strongest guys alive, y'know?”

“Even the strongest can make mistakes,” you said. “Even the strongest can lose, Yuuji. Always be careful, even if victory is assured.” Your careful touch graced the curve of his cheek. “I would hate for your visits to stop.”

The sorcerer's heart beat in double-time.

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

–

The leaves crinkled and rustled, flashing shades of amber and ruby in the dwindling daylight. Gone was the warmth of Summer's smile; now, the cold, fierce nip of Autumn cut through the air, whispering secrets about the first frost and what it would do to devastate the green around you.

But you were a god. A creature of fertility and good luck. And so, the grass did not die, and the forest did not wither under the coming winter's threats.

It seemed your gifts could not reach into the depths of your soul, however. Perhaps you weren't to indulge in the privilege of what you brought the world--the mortal things around you could make use of a blessing from the divine, but could the divine themselves? Could you bring yourself a remedy to your loneliness the way you brought life unto the ground beneath your feet?

You didn't know.

–

The end of October came, and the world trembled with the force of thousands of lives ending in misery and terror. You beheld it from your home, the sight of the clouds turning orange and red as hellfire devoured all.

Bless me ‘n wish me luck! Gojo had said last time he swung by. Definitely don't need it, but you're my favourite cheerleader, y'know?

That was not too long ago, perhaps a day prior. Maybe it'd only been twelve hours ago since you last saw him. Three hours ago since you last felt his celestial presence upon the earth.

“I would hate for your visits to stop,” you murmured, and your chest froze with the cold.

–

Winter brought with it snow and darkness. Kuraokami had his ways of slipping his icy presence through the slivered cracks of wood grain no matter the time or place; the great dragon would be heard and seen if it was his final act upon the earth.

Not even you could keep him out, the lesser deity you were. But you didn't mind the company; the cold breaths against your skin woke you from nightmares and empty blankness when you dozed and dazed, feeling the days slip by and blur together into one grey smear of solitary existence.

Something had happened. Ever since the sky lit ablaze in a familiar scene of ungodly strength, you felt a shift in the state of existence. In your relevance in the grand scheme of the college and history.

Your sorcerers lost their way to you, you realized. The cushions around the kotatsu stayed fluffed and untouched save for one. Five of the six clay tea cups gathered dust as they waited, hopeful, like you.

–

You woke to the feeling of hollowness. It jostled you to consciousness, in fact; those two little unborn lives swirled and stirred, clawing at your stomach before vanishing in an instant.

Maybe they'd grown too sick and weary of the loneliness and snow, too.

–

Sukuna had walked down this path too many times. And too many times he'd been unable to move, unable to claw his way out of the prison of his vessel to get back to you–but things were different now.

He held a bundle of blankets close as he wandered toward a speck of verdant green amidst the snowy whiteness blanketing the forest, and remembered a distant past he yearned to return to:

Sukuna was a restless creature. He often distracted himself with challenges, duels, leafing through stolen knowledge of other clans–but, on rare occasions, none of that would appeal to his tumultuous mind.

You always appealed to him, however. You, with your lavish tails, your exquisite appearance, your superior poise and prose, you always enthralled him, made him wonder and stare.

Maybe it was because you were always doing something. If you weren't tending to his women, you were meandering around the palace, admiring trophies earned in whatever form they came in: art, weapons, bones. If you weren't doing that, you might be in the garden instead, fine-tuning the patterns drawn in the zen garden yourself and feeding the massive koi. If not that, then you might be asking Uraume to teach you to cook, or you could be fiddling with your loom or–well, it could be anything.

Sometimes, you’d choose to lay with Sukuna and keep him warm and content throughout the dreary haze of winter.

You didn't hate winter yourself, no, but Sukuna most definitely did. The snow and ice were a pain in the ass, and they always threw the garden into a messy disarray of dead foliage and slushy mud that'd have to be tended to come springtime. And it was cold as hell outside. Who asked for that? No one.

“My love,” you cooed as you stepped to his side while he stared out the window. “Glaring won't make the seasons change.”

Sukuna scoffed. “That a challenge?”

“Not at all.” You reached up and smoothed his hair back, stopping pesky, rebellious strands from tickling his forehead. “I'd hate to see what you'd do in an attempt to play god.”

“I'm already a god,” he countered as he snatched your hand from his hair and looked down at you.

“Not a god of the seasons, I'm afraid.” You held his hand and pulled it down to kiss his knuckles. “But a god amidst men, nonetheless.”

Your beast hummed deep in his chest. You had a funny way of setting his roiling soul at ease with your effortless praise and acknowledgement.

“Knew there was a reason I kept you around,” the man purred, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours.

You leaned up into the soft gesture like a cat too eager to be pet. “You'd be quite bored without me.”

“No kidding. I'd go fucking mental if I didn't have you to entertain me.” His voice was a murmur, then, and softened even more when your warm hands cupped his cheeks like he was a priceless, fragile artifact: precious, special, breakable.

“Yes, yes, I go insane in your stead, loved one.” You touched your nose to his, then, before placing the softest of kisses upon his lips.

A light, sighed grumble slipped past Sukuna's lips when your skin left his. It was his turn to nudge his nose against yours, earning himself a petal-like smile from his prized possession, before he blessed you in return, trying to match the kindness you'd met him with.

You held the front of his garbs as you leaned up into him, and his hands all found their places on your smaller frame in return, pulling you closer, keeping you against him. He hardly wanted anything like this in the past before you came along and tore his mind and soul to pieces before hunkering down in the hollow of his ribs and setting up shop. It was aggravating. Captivating.

“Come,” you softly beckoned, slipping away from his desperate hold and leading him back to the bundle of blankets and linens he’d learned to accept as a bed.

As always, he had no choice but to follow, abandoning his mad-dogging of the outside world to join you and the infinite warmth his personal Amaterasu brought him.

“You’re lazy as hell in the winter,” Sukuna noted as he sat himself down in the middle of your nest and let you get to work adjusting blankets and such around the both of you for optimal comfort.

“You're free to traipse off into the snow if you so wish.” You settled yourself by Sukuna's side and tucked under his heavy arms. “I will remain here. Warm. Dry. At peace.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and pulled you close to his side, squeezing a chirped purr from your chest. “Think I'll pass on the snow.”

You smiled to yourself, feeling warm and content with the settling silence engulfing you as the snow engulfed the world. Winter was the only season where he'd stay by your side, so you often indulged in it, bothering him and sticking to him like a needy pet until spring inevitably rolled around to ruin your happy spell. Because Sukuna was more wild and feral than you. He had to go wander, to go fight. Otherwise, he'd have no purpose.

Unbeknownst to you, he may have another purpose in mind.

His hand breached your clothes and reached down, stopping just above your navel to your surprise. There, he drew gentle, thoughtful circles against your skin. You felt pulses of cursed energy flicker and feel, searching for something neither of you yet knew of.

“What is it you're looking for?” You murmured, knowing full well what he sought.

Sukuna inhaled deeply and exhaled just as heavy. “How long does it take to get one god knocked up, huh?” He tutted and looked down at you, holding an annoyed look while you met him with doey, lovey eyes as you leaned into him more.

“I'm sure you'll be the man who finds out.”

Sukuna grinned to himself and adjusted the lump of blankets he held. Arrogant pride blossomed in his chest alongside his bolstered ego; if he could do this as a mere man, what could he do as a curse?

The king sighed as he breached the warmth of the halo surrounding your humble, comfy abode. He was getting sick of the shit weather in the games, all the cold and emptiness. Being near you was what he needed.

“Oi, don't make a fuss,” Sukuna grumbled lowly to the whining duo he adjusted in his arms. “You wanna get inside or not?”

But before he could make use of his newly freed arm, the doors slid open before him.

And you stood there. Tired. Disheveled. Eyes big and hopeful, yet rimmed with disbelief and shock as you stared at your man and the package he brought to your doorstep.

Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't melt, too. Being here, standing firm and whole and so very real and untethered in the spot other sorcerers stood in their attempt to spirit you away from him–it was the reason for his existence.

And so was your arms wrapping around him and holding him close.

“Ho? So you did miss me, huh?” He hummed, looping an arm around you and pressing you closer to him. “Sure didn't act like it earlier.”

“I didn't wish to believe in something that felt untrue,” you murmured into his shoulder. “Even now, you're not…entirely yourself.”

Sorrow stained the undertones of your voice. Whether it was for the fate of Fushiguro Megumi, or for the state of your lover, Sukuna did not know.

But he was here. He was tangible. He was in control. Finally.

“At least I'm here, yeah?” He said. And you nodded.

You led him inside and into the room filled with comfort and warmth. Works of embroidery lined the once-unremarkable tapestries draping down from the ceilings and walls, and the wooden pillars now boasted intricate carvings in various states of completion. Seemed like you'd gotten quite bored in your wait.

Sukuna sat with you, being the man to finally make use of the fluffed cushions around the kotatsu as he dragged it to your side to stay close. You needed it. He thirsted for it.

The bundle whined and cooed as soon as Sukuna’s ass hit the cushion, and he sighed. “Think you can take care of this, fox?” He teased, but felt a rush of something overtake him when he caught you with your ears perked, tails swishing, back straight as you stared down at the bundle.

He eased them into your arms and, with shaking hands, you pulled back the wooly linen to find two perfect little treasures staring up at you with big, red-lined eyes. One held the colour of yours, while the other took responsibility for sporting Sukuna's hues, but both boys’ eyes glimmered with divine flecks of gold and amber. Their hair blushed with the colour of sakura petals, and two, itty bitty tufts of soft onyx ears dotted both of their heads like chocolate chips in strawberry ice cream.

Two perfect kits. Your perfect kits.

“You seriously wanted these things?” Sukuna asked, teasing and rude, but softer and warmer than the fire burning in your chest. “Gotta say, they're pretty fucking annoying.”

You swathed your tails around them and purred with the ferocity of an avalanche as you leaned into your partner and doted on the teeny tiny babies he'd somehow brought back to the land of the living. A part of you felt guilty for what this could mean. The rest of you screamed, I don't care.

“Look at them,” You whispered, tracing the roundness of their cheeks with a gentle touch. “They're beautiful.”

“Well, lookit who their parents are.” Sukuna chuckled and held you against his side, which you eagerly melted into. “Kenjaku had a plan for them too, turns out. Who woulda thought?”

“You never told me,” you said. “Why did you not tell me?”

“You would've been pissed,” Sukuna said, voice matter of fact. “Better to just do it and reap the benefits later.”

You looked up at him, and found his gaze locked onto you. “That's quite selfish.”

“I'm a king. I can do whatever I want. I can have whatever I want,” He reminded you. “As soon as I take care of a few pathetic, loose ends, everything'll be in place. Right where it all needs to be. And life goes back to normal."

Your heart did something funny when you read between the lines. “Must you–”

“Don't question me.” Sukuna grabbed your chin and forced you to look down at your snoozing babes. “You’ll lose this. All of this. You'll be left with nothing all over again if I don’t finish this off. That what you want, fox?”

“You know the answer,” you murmured, too content to let him guide you and sway your reason. He tugged your chin toward him, forcing you to look his way again.

“Tell me anyway.” Tell me what I want to hear.

How could you refuse?

“No matter the case," you murmured, soft as forgotten winter snow, "you will always have my favour, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

–

Forever to be loved, herein lays a God's young,

Imprisoned by none, held dearly by the Disgraced One.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #sukuna x m!reader #sukuna x you #jjk x you #male reader insert #male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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northopalshore · 2 months ago

Text

Northopalshore's

24/25 Solar Return

Observations

It's my birthday! (21 dec), I thought about writing predictions for myself based on my SRC every year just as a marker that the year is ending & a new one will commence shortly. Are you finally the person you've been striving to be?

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

𝄞 Capricorn rising (17°)

I'll be busy this year, focused on my work and goals. I'll aim to be very productive this year! To be more responsible & act more mature. Taking in a lot of responsibilities. Though, with that Leo degree I may be gaining a lot of attention for my work or competence. An "examplary" character.

𝄞 Pluto (0°) & venus (15°) in 1st H aquarius

Another glow up! I could lose a lot of visible weight this year, and I could refine my aesthetics or perfect my makeup as well. Since they're in aquarius, it's likely I'll be standing out with the way I look or dress this year. I've been really itching to get a tattoo too. I don't give a fuck that we aren't supposed to lol.

𝄞 Aquarius 2nd H, Saturn in 2nd H/Uranus in 4th H

Venus aquarius (gemini) square uranus Taurus (aquarius °)

• unusual spending habits (i.e being very stingy with something yet spending a lot on other stuff)

• finances could be quite unpredictable this year i.e I won't be able to expect when I need to use money/ unexpected events. I'll could earn a lot of money for something unexpected, or just work odd jobs/online, by doing something I don't usually do or have never expected to do

• stable or restrained income

• dressing differently than others around me

• people talking about how I look very 'unique'

𝄞 Venus 1st house square uranus in 5th house

An unexpected relationship? Or an unexpected love interest. I could be attracting a lot of borderline unwanted romantic attention. (Venus in aquarius squaring uranus in taurus)

𝄞 Fama (10° Capricorn), saturn (13° Aries) in 2nd H pisces

• gain more attention through aesthetics

• getting attention for care in expenses

• being frugal/ disciplined with finances

• spending/earning money on/from esoteric stuff

• hard time controlling money ʕ⁠´⁠•⁠ ⁠ᴥ⁠•̥⁠`⁠ʔ

• if I start offering my services, I might get a lot of traction/clients, but it might be more than I can handle if I don't put up any limits/restrictions

𝄞 Neptune (27° gemini) in 3rd H pisces

• talking on social media

• speaking with a dreamy gentle tone

• I might lose my train of thought quite often TT

• talking about esoteric knowledge/ metaphysical

• bursts of creative writing

𝄞 Neptune (27° gemini) trine mars in 7th house

Working on or creating art, music, writing with a partner. Could also mean learning or talking about the occult with someone closely. Could be creative projects with partners/coworkers/friends. Working well in collaborative projects.

𝄞 North node (2°taurus), chiron (19°) in 3rd H aries

• focus on communication/learning

• communication & mental fatigue

• feeling burdened by the amount of work that has to done

• feels like I have to juggle my intellect between a lot of events

•. feeling rushed with projects or events concerning writing or speaking

• having a lot of ideas, offering a service related to writing, thinking, communicating (literally signaling that I'll be starting private readings lmaoo)

𝄞 4th H in aries, mars (r) in 7th H

• living situation feels rushed, combative, competitive

• independent home life, living alone, switching housemates

• arguments amongst the people I live with, being outside more often

• visits to a significant person (?), constant moving around

• visiting people I work with /clubs/organizations a lot & being at home less

• reflecting approach to relationships

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ .₊๋‧₊

𝄞 Uranus retrograde (23° Aquarius) in 5th H taurus

• rethinking what brings excitement to me

• thinking of picking up strange hobbies

• unexpected love interests

𝄞 Jupiter retrograde (14°taurus) in 5th H gemini

• reshaping what truly brings value and joy especially in love life, being more careful with love interests

• getting a lot of new experiences

𝄞 6th H gemini, mercury in 11th H:

• making a lot of new friends online

• popularity amongst coworkers

• gaining a lot of diverse friends

• doing daily activities w friends

• talking a lot during work

• creative collaborations

• working online more, posting more

𝄞 Groom (4° cancer) retrograde in 6th H cancer

Working with future spouse but it also counts if I'm doing something related to him on a daily basis. In my case, I think I'll be writing about him but also longing for him (hah!). Longing to be next to him. Even if I meet him this year, I don't think we'll be able to spend much time face to face with eachother because of distance or work. Our routines may clash.

𝄞 Descendant in cancer (17° leo), moon in 8th H

• feeling safe & comfort within relationships

• harmonious relationships

• changes in relationships

• possible crushes, secret relationships

𝄞 Briede (8° Scorpio) in Sagittarius 11th house squaring moon (8° Scorpio) in Virgo 8th house

I could learn (realize) something quite hard about my love life (more specifically life as a wife). Perhaps it will be harder than I thought it would be. I might have to sacrifice a lot for it.

𝄞 Briede (8° scorpio) conjunct mercury in 11th house

I could be learning more about myself as a wife online, or through purchasing esoteric services. People could also gossip about me or my relationship this year. Could be online, could be my social circle as well. However, it's likely I'll just be the one yapping about the Briede (19029) asteroid/persona chart a lot next year.

𝄞 Mars (4° cancer) retrograde in 7th H leo

Getting secret admirers, my love life could be quite difficult. Perhaps my future spouse and I will be butting heads or have a few arguments. However, since it's retrograde I think rather than being mad at eachother we'll be frustrated with our situation. That is, if we do "meet".

On the other hand, it also means indirect confessions, or having to take the leadership role/compromise a lot in joint collaborative work i.e assignments.

𝄞 Mars opposite pluto in 1st house

If this concerns my FS, we could have disagreements on whether our relationship should be public or not, our relationship could also effect our images greatly whether good or bad, or both.

If not, then this means I'll be taking on more work than I'm supposed to this year, finding it difficult to let things go as is, or some group members may be rather negligent of their tasks, forcing me to decide what to do.

𝄞 7th house ruler in 8th house

A secret relationship? Something scandalous could be happening in my love life. Since it's Cancer/moon, I could be keeping a lot of my feelings about this person a secret. Our relationship could be kept a secret as well. Could be a karmic relationship.

𝄞 8th H in leo, sun in 12th H (29°leo)

• nightmares could be possible perhaps due to exhaustion

• deep introspection of self

• reshaping how I attract attention

• choosing to be alone, do my own thing

• having to keep a lot of secrets

• I might travel on my own this year

𝄞 Moon (8° Scorpio), vertex (15° gemini) in 8th H virgo

• the way I think & process emotions will be transformed

• fated transformation/death/rebirth

• feelings are more intense this year

• lots of fast, sudden, "unexpected" new beginnings

𝄞 9th H in virgo, mercury in 11th H

• travelling with friends

• travelling for studies

• documenting travels

• planning travels

• working with friends

𝄞 POF (26°Taurus) in 9th H virgo

Perhaps I'll have good luck with my assignments. I'll be very focused and lucky when it comes to my studies. I'll be very hard working, and that hard work will be paid off.

𝄞 Lilith (19° Libra) 9th H in libra

There may be some issues with traveling alone. I might have to be moving around alone a lot even if I'm not comfortable with it. There might be some disagreements or slight dissatisfaction when it comes to studies or friendships.

𝄞 10th H in libra (23°aquarius ), venus in 1st H

• harmonious work

• popularity in work

• self focused work

• attracting more attention in general

• something about my relationship/love life could be highlighted or very prominent, a relationship could be revealed as well

• being an "IT" girl

• working on social media? Doing something I've never done before, getting attention for it

𝄞 Union (24° pisces) & Juno (15° gemini) Scorpio in 10th house:

Working with future spouse. Meeting through my work..? Meeting through my blog? Lmao. Honey are you reading this?! I don't see myself working with him on his career (at least not yet), perhaps he'll be reading my posts (writing) online and not notice it's me at first. This makes the most sense to me at the moment but it's just a theory though.

Note: SRC union conjuncts my natal union, SRC Pluto conjunct natal Juno, SRC Uranus conjunct natal Briede in the 3rd house, SRC Chiron (retrograde ) conjunct natal Boda.

There seems to be something significant about my love life but it looks like I'll also be rather weary of it at first. Perhaps I'll be contemplating on what I truly need or believe about my FS, things may feel rather rushed, and I might start having second thoughts about how things will progress. I think so especially because both SRC Chiron & natal Boda are in Aries. A lot of second-guessing may occur. A lot of procrastinating for some reason.

𝄞 Vesta (24° pisces) Libra 10th house:

I'll be making a lot of new connections, friends and relationships. Most of my new friends/acquaintances are ( and will be) from different states & even countries. Our relationship will likely be very harmonious or mostly harmonious. We will share the same goal or drive. Meeting new acquaintances through my blog perhaps?

𝄞 11th house in scorio, pluto in 1st house

• posting more online

• being more popular online

• transforming online identity

• transformation social circles

Something shocking about me could be revealed to my close circles, or even on my blog. The blog might come under scrutiny this year as well, with people suddenly flocking in to either disagree with my posts or just people looking into my blog more (usually with an intent to dig some dirt or information about me). This could also cause a lot of discomfort or discourse trying to continue something I've been doing or even cause a shift in the way I approach something.

• could be related to my face reveal hoho

𝄞 12th H in Sagittarius, jupiter retrograde in 5th H

Education being draining or tiring. I could be rather burdened by school work or assignments, perhaps I'll be doing most of my work alone or may not truly feel connected to my work. Uni life will grant me a lot of opportunities to do things I wouldn't normally do. Perhaps I'll have a lot of fun doing assignments & learn to love my life here.

I'm also really close to the capital city of my country so I'll be able to go to many, manyy events in & out of uni on my own. Since it's in retrograde it's still going to be quite overwhelming. A little bit of a culture shock for me as well.

𝄞 Boda (24° ) conjunct Eros (26°) in 12th H Sagittarius

• thinking/dreaming of marriage feeling more connected to the future, being more laid back about love, marriage, and connections, going with the flow

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⭑

Thank you for reading ily!! ♡

@northopalshore

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candylix · 9 months ago

Text

a functioning member of society | han jisung

Pairing • Jisung x GN!Reader

A/N • This takes place during the events of another series called one little lie. This can be read as a stand-alone fic, but some parts will make more sense with the context of one little lie. (The reader is not the same person as in oll!)

Summary • Jisung is sick at home... or at least, that's what he tells his boss. Really, he just wants to sleep in and hang out with his cute neighbor across the hall. However, less time working means more time fighting the thoughts in his brain.

Genre • smut (with feelings!)

WC • 3k

Content • no pronouns used but the reader does have a vagina, making out, fingering, oral (reader receiving), jisung has issues

Jisung shot up from his bed. He looked at the digital clock on his bedside table; it was 12:54.

He was late.

He had everything planned for today. He woke up early and called in sick to work, just so he could stay home. He was going to sleep in until 11, eat breakfast, make himself look good, and then pay his neighbor a visit across the hall. You invited him over to 'hang out' at noon, and he didn't want to miss it. Unfortunately, he forgot to set his alarm, and he hoped you wouldn't think he's the worst fling ever.

He scrambled to change out of his pajamas.

He might kill himself if he ruined this, like he'd done so many times with so many people in the past. There's only so much a dumb joke and a cute smile can resolve.

You moved in a few months ago, and ever since then, he'd been looking for excuses to see you more. You were gorgeous, fun, smart, and to be honest, way out of his league. He didn't know how he did it, but his boyish charm captivated you enough to have a one night stand. Which turned into a two night stand, and then you just started having casual sex every once in a while.

Maybe one day he'd want something more, and he could certainly see himself falling for you in the future. You were, quite honestly, a perfect match for him. You actually liked his personality instead of just tolerating it, and you were respectful of his boundaries when he avoided more personal questions. The sex was good, but your friendship was better, and for now, this was enough. Whether or not his feelings would grow, he liked to live in the moment- and in this particular moment, he was very late.

He knocked on your door, and when you didn't answer fast enough, he knocked again. Were you ignoring him? Did you get tired of waiting and leave?

He finally heard the door unlocking, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He stood leaning one hand against the door frame, trying his best to look cool, calm, and collected. Unbeknownst to him, his messy hair stood up on end and his shirt was half-buttoned and half-collared, and when you finally opened the door, he gave the impression that he just woke up.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," you said, and your fingers combed through his hair, smoothing it down to look more presentable.

"I wasn't sleeping... I was just sick." He faked a cough, a purposefully unconvincing performance.

"Ew, go home then," you laughed. You lightly shoved him, and he dramatically staggered back.

"How dare you! Do you know how hard it was for me to get here?" he asked, knowing full well his door was three feet behind him. "I had to climb uphill, both ways, in the snow, barefoot, just to see you."

You looked down. He was wearing pink fuzzy slippers.

"Just get in here," you said, and opened the door wider to let him in.

You barely had time to close the door before he pulled your face towards his own. His lips met yours, and he pressed himself into your body. He couldn't keep his hands to himself, and you felt the ghost of his fingertips all over your back, until they finally found purchase in your hair. His tongue slipped over your soft lips, asking for entrance, and you gladly parted them for him.

Your back met the door as he pinned you against it. You cupped his cheeks, melting deeper into the kiss, and soft moans passed between his lips. He rolled his hips into yours, hungry for as much contact as possible.

Suddenly, you heard something. It sounded like... creepy carnival music.

He pulled away from the kiss.

"Sorry, that's my phone. My friend is calling me," he said, no attempt to turn it off or indication of how ridiculous this situation was. Knowing him, this was probably in his top 10 most normal things to happen while making out.

"What... why is that that ringtone?"

"One day he pissed me off and I changed his ringtone, and then I just never put it back," he explained. "He hates it, but I kind of find it endearing now, like my nightmare clown friend is calling."

The music continued to play, creepy music box melody haunting the room while sinister laughter faded in and out. You couldn't believe this is the man you invited over.

"Aren't you gonna pick up?"

He took his phone out of his pocket, and threw it across the room, landing on your couch and bouncing across the cushions.

"But it's so far..." he said, weakly raising his arm out towards the couch, as if the phone was barely out of reach.

He cupped your face, and went in for another kiss, but you struggled to kiss back. The music completely killed the vibe. You tried to get back into the mood, your hand finding its way into his hair, but his phone was too distracting.

It's only when his hand reached between your thighs that you're finally able to forget about it. You don't know when it stopped, because your mind was consumed with his tongue in your mouth and his hand on your cunt. It clouded over with thoughts of Jisung and his body, and it wasn't until he picked you up and carried you half way to your room that you came back to reality.

His mouth was still pressed against yours when he laid you down on your bed. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, not wanting him to go. You were too addicted to the taste of his tongue, and when he broke away for air, you chased his lips back onto your own. You could tell he felt it too, with the way the hard bulge in his pants pressed against you when he leaned further in.

He was finally able to part from you, and he peppered kisses over your nose, cheeks, chin, where ever he could reach. He lowered himself down your body, kissing you over your clothing, until his head reached your crotch. He wasted no time pulling down your pants. He licked your core over the wet spot in your underwear, savoring the taste of your arousal for him.

Maybe you would've been like this for just anybody, wet and excited for a touch, but he wanted to think this was especially for him. He didn't care if you fucked other people- that would be hypocritical, considering he'd fuck anyone that asked- but he did look forward to seeing you the most, and he hoped you at least felt that way too.

He nestled deeper into your clothed cunt, nose pressed into you, just to stall until you couldn't take it anymore. You whimpered his name, asking for him to do anything, to please touch you, and the sound of you begging for him was like a sweet melody that he never wanted to stop listening to. You liked him, you wanted him, you needed him.

"You're that desperate for me, huh?"

He finally gave in, and pulled your underwear down your legs, stuffing it into his pocket.

If there was one thing Jisung liked, it was the way you reacted when he licked up your folds, lapping up your juices and seeing you squirm. Both his heart and his dick throbbed seeing you get this worked up because of him.

Words could be deceitful. He was painfully aware of this. His thoughts haunted him when he was alone.

But when your fingers combed through his hair, pushing his face closer to your core, those thoughts vanished. He knew, at least right now, you wanted him here. Words could deceive, but actions under the influence of pure pleasure didn't lie.

He inserted one finger, slowly pumping in and out while his tongue flicked over your clit. He licked and sucked, tongue poking down into your hole, savoring the way his name spilled out of your lips. You rocked into his face, needing every inch of him on your pussy, and he happily obliged. He licked a long stripe up your cunt, making you gasp, and he pulled out his finger to tease your entrance. You were soaking wet, and by the way you clenched around the empty space where he once was, he could tell you were desperate for more.

He pushed his finger back into you, a second finger joining this time. His thrusts were faster, and he loved the way you moaned in pleasure when he curled his fingers. Your bucking became more frantic, and he met your desire by sucking on your clit.

You could feel your orgasm building up as his fingers rubbed into you harder. He forced them into you, completely filling you up until he reached his knuckles, before pulling them out and pushing them back in again. You twitched wildly in pleasure, and he had to hold you down with his free arm just to keep licking your folds and circling your clit.

You were trapped under him, unable to grind into his face at the extreme pleasure you were feeling, and he gave you no respite either. He inserted a third finger into you, stretching your walls while he kept pumping into you, and when he pressed a sensitive bundle of nerves, you could feel your climax coming quicker. You barely had time to think before it came gushing out of you, a loud moan of Jisung's name being the only warning he got before his fingers were drenched in your cum.

He pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his tongue, lapping up your juices from inside and out. Not a single drop went to waste.

All he wanted was to pleasure you. Maybe if he made you feel good every time he came over, you'd keep calling him. Maybe you wouldn't get tired of him, like so many others did when they stopped finding his jokes charming for seemingly no reason at all. At least with you, he knew how you liked to be touched.

He didn't want to feel like his friendship was transactional, but how could he not. Everyone found him annoying eventually. It was inevitable.

He didn't want this to end. He was scared. When you caught your breath, would you expect him to go?

"Jisung," you called, snapping him out of a spiral you didn't know he was having. You patted the bed next to you, and he hesitantly climbed in.

Why was it that the more time he spent with you, the worse his thoughts became? It was like his brain couldn't accept a reality where you enjoyed his company, even though you were the one that invited him over in the first place. It made up excuses to explain how this could be happening; you probably just liked sex and he was the only one available, or you just felt sorry for him and somehow this was all you could think of.

You cupped his cheek, looking into his eyes to bring him back to earth. He pushed those thoughts aside as best as he could, and snuggled into your arms.

"Are you alright?" you asked. "You looked a bit distracted right now."

"Oh, uh, just thinking about how sexy you are.

He wanted you to smile, forget about your concern, but a look he can't quite place flashed across your face. It went away just as quickly, but he can't help but read into it.

Was that pity? Disappointment? Worry?

Was there a difference?

He wished he could open up to you, especially after something as vulnerable as sex, but he didn't know how to break down that barrier that kept his anxieties to himself.

"How was I?" he asked softly, and as if he was afraid of being genuine, he added "Was that the best sex you've ever had or what?"

"You were amazing," you said, and a bit of tension eased up in Jisung's body.

"Avoiding the second question, I see."

"Maybe if you used this," you said, and your fingers move to trace the bulge in his pants.

A sudden rush of nerves washed over his body, and he realized just how hard he was. He was so distracted by his own turmoil that he didn't even notice the way his cock throbbed in his boxers.

"I will if you promise to invite me over again," he said, winking at you.

"Of course I will, you don't even have ask," you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't obvious to him.

His heart beat in his chest. Maybe, just this once, he'd believe it.

His body reacts on its own, leaning in to kiss you. It was soft and sweet, an unspoken 'thank you' that he wasn't prepared for.

It's over just as quickly as it began, breaking away to snuggle into your chest.

And then his stomach growled. He didn't eat breakfast because he slept in, and he didn't eat lunch because he was late. He hoped you didn't hear it, but he knew you had to have. Maybe you had some granola bars he could snack on. He could check in the fridge, maybe you could eat together in the living room, make a fun moment out of it...

The living room. Where his phone was. Because he threw it there when he got a call.

He should probably see what Minho needed... but he was so warm and cozy. He didn't want to leave the bed, and he definitely didn't want to leave you. But he really should.

"Hey, remember when my clown friend called?"

You winced, remembering the creepy music that almost completely ruined the mood.

"No, I don't remember. I'm choosing not to."

"You don't remember this?" he asked, before singing the ringtone, followed by menacing laughter, cut off when you covered his mouth to get him to stop.

His creepy laughter turned into giggles as he tried to pry your hands off his face.

He finally did, holding both your wrists in his hands.

"Should I go call him back? The circus might be in trouble..." he said, and then sunk his head deeper into the mattress, "but it's so nice here..."

"You probably should," you replied, and Jisung groaned.

"Ugh, fine."

He pushed himself up, leaving the comfort of your bed and the warmth of your body. He walked out of your room, turning his head repeatedly to give you his sad puppy dog eyes. You shooed him away, and he finally left for the living room. His phone was still on the couch, face down and waiting for him to rescue it.

One new voicemail. Press 1 to play.

"Jisung, call me back ASAP. It's an emergency."

"Oh, shit."

He called Minho back, and he immediately picked up.

"Oh thank god," Minho sighed.

"What happened!?"

"Ok... don't laugh."

Of course, as soon as he heard what Minho had done, Jisung erupted into a full body laugh.

He hadn't noticed you enter the living room, but you couldn't help but be curious after what you heard.

"Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can," Jisung said, and he heard Minho sigh in relief. "But I wouldn't worry about her. Trust me, I've known her waaaaay longer than you. She'll be fine."

The conversation didn't last much longer, Jisung promising to be there 'as soon as he finished some important documents', and hanging up.

"Are you leaving?" you ask. "I was going to get you some food."

The way you looked at him, sad to see him possibly go... maybe he should've felt his heart break seeing you like that, but instead his heart swelled. You didn't want him to leave, you didn't just want him for sex and nothing else.

"Well... if you're offering food..." he said, and your face lit up. You body language was expressive, and he noticed it every time.

He knew words could be deceiving, but your actions always told the truth. He would always have thoughts about how people perceive him, if they really liked him or not, if they would leave if he became 'too much'... but with you, he wanted to trust you. He chose to trust you, even if his brain screamed the opposite.

"Nah, I'd stay regardless," he said, "he thinks I'm at work anyway, so I can spend more time here, if you want."

"That's why I invited you over, isn't it?"

If only he could express the warm tingly sensation that ran through his body when he heard those words. He felt butterflies in his stomach, something he hadn't experienced since high school.

He was going to ignore what that could possibly mean for him.

Time passed, you enjoyed your time together, but he thought it was finally time to go rescue his friends. You walked him to the door, and hugged him goodbye.

You pulled away, and that's when you see it.

"Is that my underwear in your pocket?"

"Huh?" he looked to his pocket, and sure enough, white fabric was spilling out. "Oh... whoops! How did that get there? Must've crawled in when I wasn't looking." He pulled it out and shoved it into your hand.

"You know what? Keep it. You obviously want it more than me," you said, stuffing it right back into his pocket.

He was definitely going to use that later.

"If you say so," he said. He turned to leave, but you grabbed his arm to say one more thing.

"Just... when you're done, please wash it and give it back."

He gasped, and his hand clasped his chest in mock offense.

"I would never do something so uncouth-"

"Jisung. Wash it. It was expensive and I want it back."

"Ok, ok, I will," he said, and smirked. "You want me back here that bad, huh?"

You roll your eyes.

"You're lucky you're cute."

He finally left your apartment, and when the door closed behind him, he felt twice as light as when he came in.

taglist: (using the same taglist as one little lie since it's a spinoff, hope you all don't mind!)

@loeyscock @0325tiny @5starlee @miupow @mapofthemazeinthemirror @sadrosessing @luminouskalopsia @minghaosimp @curiousgworge @azuna-sz @piscesrising01 @g-bbzz @extrhotjne @nabi-tokoshi@kpopsstuffs

@weareapackofstrays @jabmastersupriseee @neko-squidblog @lurking-coconut @kiaralynn3838

@chanssmiles @linos-kitten @jehhskz @stanskzot8 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @ell0thebell

@hinalara @kaicreech @lazybean246 @idoughnutreadsmut @aeliuss

@the-ninth-moon @poody1608

#stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader smut #stray kids smut #han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han jisung #jisung smut #jisung x reader #jisung x reader smut #han smut #han x reader #han x reader smut

515 notes · View notes

platonicyanderereverie · 3 months ago

Note

ok how about gn reader x fatui harbingers. BUT the reader is OBBSESED with cooking and is damn good at it to.

Make this some headcanons lets see your skill.

Thank you for your request‼️ (You can definitely tell I have favourites😭)

Platonic yandere fatui with a reader that loves to cook.

(No Tsaritsa or Pierro in this one unfortunately😭)

[Warnings: none? Other than usual possessive/protective behaviour]

Capitano

Capitano would be a bit confused by your ambitious nature in the kitchen. Cooking is not exactly what he would deem the most useful skill from a combative standpoint, but he doesn’t mind overall. Being able to prepare a nutritious meal is a rather valuable resource, after all.

He wouldn't object to tasting what you prepare and would seem rather pleased, standing in his usual quiet, stoic manner if you offered him something you made. Although he believes you shouldn't be getting your hands dirty with such menial tasks- rather than, let's say, learning to fight...seeing your passion for it, he doesn't seem all too bothered. It simply means more for him to protect.

"It's good...you seem to enjoy doing this."

Dottore

Dottore would show a slight interest in what you do, mostly observing how crafty you can get with the minimal resources you can find to make something yourself. If you were to offer him a meal, he would accept, dissecting the flavors carefully on his tongue and, with his inquisitive nature, asking about the process. The measurements you used or if you just eye balled it and so on and so forth.

If he feels like it, Dottore might even test you, observing how creative you can get with the resources you have and perhaps throwing random hurdles your way in the form of difficulties in the kitchen. That being said, if he is pleased by the results and your dish turns out well, you will receive praise. It’s really rather simple.

"It seems, you compensated for the lack of variety in vegetables with the broth itself, interesting..."

Columbina

Columbina rather enjoys watching you bustle around in the kitchen, simply observing with a smile. She's more than willing to taste what you make, even making requests at times. She seems to just enjoy watching you obsess over something she deems rather silly.

Columbina will be less pleased, however, if it comes between your time with her. If you want to run off back to the kitchen, you'll have to wait until she finishes her song- then you can go craft up your little meals. It's a flawless arrangement in her eyes.

"Don't run off just yet...I'm not done. When I am, I'll come with you."

Arlecchino

Arlecchino is rather glad you have something you're passionate about. The children and the household seem to enjoy your cooking as well, so it works out rather well.

She’ll humor your little workings in the kitchen. The children of the hearth often crowd around the table in awe to see what you've made. Any dishes you present to her will be judged with high standards, but seeing how skilled you are, that shouldn’t be a problem.

"It's tender and flavorful, as expected. Well done."

Pulcinella

Pulcinella is delighted by your little passion, finding the way you obsess over it cute. He'll often gift you little knickknacks or tools to use in the kitchen.

Pulcinella gladly eats any meal you present to him, finding pride in how well they turn out. He pats you on the head when he finishes, for him, it's a skill made to be shown off.

"Delightful as always! Hmm, how about I get you a new plate set?"

Sandrone

Sandrone is rather disinterested in your cooking escapades but allows them nonetheless.

She might even offer up a few gadgets for you to try and use in your recipes to speed up the process and make it more practical. You'd merely be wasting more of your time than you already do by declining.

"Why not use this to speed up the process?"

Scaramouche

Scaramouche thinks your little obsession is laughable at best. The concept of human cuisine is not exactly something he thinks about often.

He might not always accept your little meal offers since, chances are, unless the dish is bitter to a certain degree or lacks any sweetness, he won't like it. But he still might humor you, all while teasing and judging sharply. In the off chance he is impressed, you might not even be able to tell.

"Hah... is this what you've been wasting your time on? You truly find enjoyment in slaving away in that darned room?"

La Signora

Signora would have been highly critical of what you made as well, but she would allow it, finding how you worked away amusing.

If you offered her a meal, she would sigh in an exaggerated manner, as if begrudgingly petting an insistent puppy. She decides to humor you.

"It's something, alright. Your skills would be of better use elsewhere, but I suppose it's enjoyable nonetheless."

Pantalone

Pantalone might be the only one actually against your little obsession because, honestly, why would you want to get your hands dirty? He has chefs at your beck and call, and you choose to tire yourself away in the kitchen?

He acknowledges your skill and finds it rather amusing how desperate you are, seeing all the ingredients at the disposal of the chefs. However, he truly doesn't think you should be going around filthying up the clothes he's given you. But alas, he will still eat what you offer him.

"It's good, great even, but really, my dear? The chefs would have been more than happy to make it for you if this is what you've been craving. But I suppose your stubbornness can't be helped."

Childe

Childe is actually happy about how ambitious you are when it comes to cooking. He will often use it as an excuse to drag you into family dinners and boast about your skills.

Inviting you over so your skills can be displayed to his whole family is going to become a rather recurring situation, so be prepared. He's also more than happy to gift you any kitchen supplies you need, all while not-so-subtly pushing you to help out in the kitchen.

"It turned out amazing comrade! We really need to do this more often. Teucer is still raving about the food you made!"

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readingcoco · 1 year ago

Text

Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 3444 words

Ao3 Link

Summary: When a new sandy-haired Deputy Sheriff arrives in town, you can't figure out why he gives you and the other Working Girls so little attention. It becomes your mission to figure him out and hopefully make some money along the way.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, eventual smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honor Arthur Morgan, angst, mutual pining, Deputy Callahan.

Thanks to @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr & @shootybangbang for all your help on this story and for being dreamy angels.

Chapter One - The Deputy

[chapter 2]

“Guess who’s downstairs!” a voice interrupts from behind your door.

The autumn sun sits heavy in the sky, casting a warm pink haze that spills in through your bedroom window. You were supposed to start your shift an hour ago, but instead, you are here, sprawled out on your bed, hair undone, counting the money from the evening before. Muffled notes from the piano downstairs drift softly into your room. You inhale deeply on your cigarette, resenting all things that pull you away from these precious sleepy moments before you have to head downstairs. Make conversation. Smile. Perform.

Timekeeping has never been your strong suit, and you have lost count of the times Lulu had threatened to dock your tips for tardiness. These were empty threats, of course. You knew your position was secure - Even if Lulu liked to kick up a fuss in front of the other girls.

Brow furrowed, you take another drag from your cigarette. $15. $75 total from the week so far. Money hadn’t been flowing as freely as it had done seasons past. The drought had hit everyone hard, and you knew, sure enough, if the boys were feeling it in the tobacco fields, it wouldn’t be long till you were feeling it in the cat house, too. Seemed everyone was praying for rain. Still, Saturday meant full pay packets and men eager to let loose after the working week - something you were more than happy to help them with.

“Who!?” you call out, just as Minnie peeps her head around your door.

“Christ! You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge ass backwards! Lulu’s been askin' after you?”

You hum in response, dragging a comb through the bird's nest atop your head sweeping it up into a loose bun. “Who's got you all giddy? Surely not some John?”

“That new Deputy’s back!”

You roll your eyes. “How big’s the pot now?”

“$5. $5.25, if you still fancy your chances”, Minnie smirks, perching herself at the foot of your bed, watching as you put the last of your face on. “but Ida says she’s out. She don’t wanna waste more time on a Trick who don’t want tricking.”

“Tricks always want to be tricked,” you say, rooting through the collection of bills and coins laid out haphazardly across your bed, handing Minnie 25¢, which she slips into her coin purse.

Men were mostly the same. Sure, some might pretend to be respectable in the streets with their wives or taking their mothers to church on a Sunday, but you’d had every colour and creed between your legs. This deputy would be no different, and you were going to relish claiming the prize pot for yourself.

With a final drag of your cigarette, you smooth out your skirts and collect the pile of money on your bed, stashing it in your linen drawer - making a mental note to deposit it in the parlour safe before the night was out. Keeping that much money in your room is foolish, and if you were more sensible, you would deposit your tips between each John. But then you’d miss out on watching the pile grow. Evidence of your labour, your time, your craft. It wasn't like you worried you wouldn’t get it back as soon as requested - Lulu’d always been good about things like that, but to hand it over before you’d even had the chance to feel the paper fully in your palm seemed like it would make it less real somehow.

You turn to Minnie-

“You ready?”

“Girl, I’ve been waiting on you!”

“Let’s give that deputy the night of his life.”

Although the sun is yet to set in the sky, the house is already live with music and laughter, the mezzanine balcony providing the perfect vantage point to assess what the evening might have in store. There are men fresh from the fields playing Faro, Lemoyne Raiders several whiskeys deep, a few of the younger, more boisterous Grays and the creepy gunsmith, Mister Feeney. Not amazing pickings, but not dire either. Then you spot him, sitting quietly on the table closest to the door, hat pulled low, scribbling something furiously into some book. An odd sight, all considered. You weren’t sure most of the men in this town could read, let alone write.

Minnie squeezes your arm before descending the spiralled staircase, the Deputy firmly in her sights. You lean back to watch as she glides effortlessly across the room—a vision in teal silk taffeta.

As you settle onto your hip, the fine hairs on your neck abruptly stand to attention as the air pressure changes behind you.

“So kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Lulu’s voice drips thick with syrupy disdain. Smile remaining tight. Never in front of the guests.

“Punctuality is a virtue of the bored, Miss Lulu.” You smile sweetly.

She’s not impressed.

“Just get to work. Make Some Money.”

As you look back down to the floor below, a dispirited Minnie is walking away from the Deputy, his nose still firmly in his book. You bristle slightly. Did this man think himself better than the women who worked here? Sure, he was paying for drinks, but a man could drink at home if he was looking for solitude. In a parlour house, it was polite, proper even, to tip the girls, whether you require our services or not. And if the deputy didn’t know this etiquette, you were more than happy to educate him. Prize pot be damned.

It was your turn to make the night’s debut down the curve of the parlour’s stairs, something that on an ordinary night, you liked to draw out for as long as possible. Feel the eyes of each man gaze up at your form like they were watching a goddess descending from heaven, blessing them with your time. True power. But tonight, it takes everything in you not to stomp down the last few steps onto the floor.

That cad still isn’t paying you a lick of attention.

“Deputy.” Your voice comes out curter than you intend as you reach him. You hope Lulu isn’t close enough to overhear.

“Maybe another time, Darlin” " the man responds without looking up.

Make conversation.

“Deputy” You try again. “Are you aware of the price on your head?”

The sound of pencil scratching comes to a halt as he turns to face you. To your surprise, you notice that he was drawing rather than writing as he snaps the leather-bound book shut—the sound startling your gaze upwards to meet his own. And for the first time, you take in the scale of the man. Built like an Ox with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, upon which the words ‘Deputy Sheriff’ shine out from his silver badge. From this proximity, he looks unlike any lawman you’ve seen.

He watches you intently as though trying to predict your next move - eyes a piercing shade of azure blue, locked dangerously onto your own. You have his full attention, but now you’re unsure if you want it.

“Excuse me?”

You swallow and try to make your next words lighter in tone.

Smile.

“Nearly five and a half dollars, in fact.”

His shoulders loosen ever so slightly. Eyes still on you but less predacious, perhaps even the suggestion of a smirk beginning to form at the corner of his mouth.

“Five and a half dollars? That’s some bounty. What I do, rob a bank?”

“Worse,”

He rubs his jaw.

“Oh?”

“You got five whores questioning our faculties. There’s a sweep on which lucky lady’s gonna be the first to get you upstairs, but so far, no one’s got as far as your name.”

A low rasp of a laugh passes the Deputy’s lips, and you feel a sense of relief as the danger in the air dissipates. Bluntness- this man responds to bluntness. And you wonder if you can hold his attention long enough to work your magic.

Perform.

“There are normally two reasons a man mightn’t want to lay with a girl like me…”

You pause for effect, starting to have fun now.

“He’s broke. Though that don’t stop most from pushin’ their luck. Or they’re queer.”

The Deputy straightens and clears his throat. There is something delightful about making a man like this squirm, and you can’t help but sense that he may be enjoying it too.

“So which is it, Deputy?”

You give him your most innocent of smiles. Hand finding purchase upon the swell of his shoulder, knowing full well that its removal could signal the latter of your accusations. You are being cruel now.

There is a moment of hesitation before the man can find the words to respond. Your unassuming smile not giving him an inch of wiggle room. Thumb beginning to make slow circles atop his shirt.

“I-It’s just not really my thing. Payin' for it, I mean. Not that I can’t, or - or-”

“Oh? There’s some third thing I ain’t privy to? A sweetheart somewhere you’re keeping true for?”

“Not really, no.”

A hint of regret in his voice.

“Then why deny yourself a bit of company?”

You notice the tips of his ears turn pink and leave his lack of an answer to hang in the air for a moment before taking pity-

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasin’, but you ought to know it’s customary to buy a girl a drink, even if you ain’t planning on laying with her. We all have to make a living, Deputy, and this is my house.”

And you're not sure if it’s out of a sense of gratitude at you relenting your line of questioning or because he has started to enjoy the warmth from your hand on his shoulder, but that’s when he motions for the barkeeper to bring two drinks over to the table.

Your eyes dart over to Minnie, who is sat between two Grays. She throws you an encouraging wink, and you become keenly aware of the four other sets of eyes watching too. This is the furthest any of you has got with this man, and a wave of responsibility washes over you. You are going to earn that $5.25 plus the additional $5 when he fucks you. You feel foolish for ever doubting your ability in the first place. A man is a man, is a man.

“Ethel White”, you hold out your hand “but call me Ettie.”

“Arthur Callahan.”

Arthur.

He nods to the chair across from him as he removes the leather book from the table and puts it away in his satchel. You pull out the chair next to him instead, purposefully pinning him between you and the wall.

“Christ woman, you ain’t coy, are you?” he laughs, removing his hat, revealing a sandy crop of hair.

Without his hat, you are better able to take in the details of his face: the strong brow, the crook of a nose broken one too many times, a smattering of sunspots across his crown. Quite handsome, you think to yourself, a welcome change from the interchangeable looks of the Grays or Braithwaites who make up the bulk of your clientele.

“Not at all,” you smirk. “Besides, I want to take a look at what you were scribbling away at in that book. Must be awfully interesting to hold your attention so well.” You glance down at the journal now peeking out the top of his satchel. “Is that watercolour paper?”

“Huh?”

“Watercolour paper, you know, to stop the paint seeping through and spoiling the rest of the pages? I saw you were drawing and-”

He looks at you then, and you can see a slight flicker of shame cross his face momentarily. The feeling of someone pointing out the unfamiliar to a previously known thing, changing it somehow, making it less your own. You feel guilty. Watching him squirm was fun, but you never intended to make him feel foolish.

“I don’t paint. It’s for sketching mostly, keepin' track of the people and places I’ve been.”

“You do a lot of travelling, Deputy?”

“A bit.”

That instinct again, that there is more to this man than meets the eye. The lawman artist a walking contradiction.

“What do you paint then?”

His question catches you off guard. Men like to be asked about themselves. They rarely ever show interest in you. A prick of heat flushes across your cheeks, and you hope the rouge of false abashment covers its authentic companion. It’s you who is in control here - not him, goddammit. But his face is filled with genuine curiosity, like he wouldn’t have asked if he wasn’t interested, and that’s what puzzles you further.

“Um, landscapes mostly, but I prefer painting people.” The words spill out before a filter of allurement or double entendre can be applied. “It’s just difficult to get people to sit for any length of time. Though I’ve painted all the girls here at some point or another.”

“Where’d ya learn?”

And that is a question too far.

You’d been gifted a great many things over the years, some thoughtful, most not, and learned the hard way how easily something given could be taken away. You’re art though, no one could take that. You wondered sometimes if that had been an oversight when you’d been promised lessons. The techniques acquired the only remaining thing worth a damn apart from your horse. Leftovers from another life.

“Don’t change the subject, Deputy. Are you going to show me your sketches or not?” Before you can stop yourself, you are leaning over him to grab at his satchel, totally aware that the danger this man displayed to you only moments earlier still lies just below the surface. With lightning-quick reflexes, he grabs the wrist of your right hand, firm in his warning. Do not push me, girl. But you have never been one to know when to stop. Your eyes are locked onto him as your breath comes in quick and heavy to your chest; You notice his start to slow. He’s read you like a book. Left hand spearing from under the table to meet your secondary attack, pinning it against his thigh.

You look down at your fingers splayed out under the weight of his own. Knuckles scarred and calloused from a lifetime of work not typically required by law enforcement. The warmth from his thigh radiates beneath your palm, and it takes everything in you not to edge your fingers closer to the source of his heat.

He meets you with an expression you struggle to place. Not anger - though you couldn’t blame him if it was. Amusement maybe?

“Think careful about your next move now, Miss. I wouldn't want to have to arrest you for larceny.”

You give him your widest of smiles and look carefully over your shoulder behind you. And as though suddenly clocking the inference of your shared position, Arthur lowers your right hand so it rests on the table rather than in the air. The grip still firm.

“If I let you go, will you behave?”

“Will you show me your drawings?”

“Woman-” But he doesn’t say no.

“I’ll behave.”

He looks at you, trying to figure out whether he trusts you.

“I promise.”

Gaze still set, he experiments loosening the grip on your wrist and then shadows the hand on his thigh - awaiting any sudden movements. You hold still. And for a moment, you see him grapple with himself as though he can’t quite believe what he is about to do. He releases you fully, and you take back your right hand, leaving your left firmly in place.

“Now, if I show you, you gotta promise not to go grabbin'? There’s stuff a man should be able to keep private.”

You nod.

He grins as he bucks his thigh, dislodging your rooted palm.

“Hands behind your back.”

With a playful huff you acquiesce, putting both arms behind you as though bound and look back at him coquettishly. And although he feigns disinterest at the way this new position pushes forward the peak of your chest, you catch his eyes dart across them, guilty in their haste.

He removes the leather-bound journal from his satchel, smoothing open two pages carefully on the table.

“Here. But that’s your lot.”

Spread across both pages is a beautifully rendered sketch of the parlour’s exterior, and you don’t know how to react. He stiffens slightly beside you.

“Just a silly doodle,” he says, moving to close the book. Clearly reading your quietness for disappointment, disgust, something else?

“Wait-”

To see the parlour captured in such effortless detail; The ornate carvings of the porch where you take your morning coffee, the Virginia Creeper that had to be cut back for fear it’d engulf the entire house, the hanging baskets of petunias that Lulu so lovingly tended to - feels exposing in a way you’d not expected. What other unnoticed minutiae had his perceptive eyes picked up on?

“It’s beautiful. You’ve captured it just right.” You half-whisper.

“Ain’t as good as a paintin’.”

“Different thing entirely, but if you can draw like this, I’m sure you’d make a fine painter.”

He gives you the smallest of smiles as you catch sight of Lulu’s permeating glare as she sweeps down the central staircase. You are on the clock. If he’s not biting, move on. And you remember you are not here to discuss painting or art unless it serves your more explicit purpose.

“See that top window at the back?” You make sure to graze his arm as you remove one hand from behind your back, bringing it slowly to the open page.

“That’s my bedroom.”

“Oh?”

“Might you like to come up and see some of my work?”

You can see him contemplating the thought over in his mind, and you start to wonder if there really is some poor woman he is betrothed to… or perhaps your prior insinuation was correct, for you have never met a man so ill at ease at being in close proximity to a woman-

“Mister Callahan!”

You are both pulled away from each other's gaze as you turn to face your intruder. Sheriff Gray. And you are up and on your feet in an instant. Eyes twinkling with faux excitement to welcome this invader of fun, spoiler of all things delightful and new. Arthur straightens to attention.

“I see you’ve met Ettie. Ain’t she a peach? I hope she’s been treatin’ you with all the hospitality we here at Rhodes can offer.” As he slurs his words, it is clear he’s already halfway soaked and once again, you feel Lulu’s watchful eyes on the back of your neck. You have a responsibility to your house, and Sheriff Gray isn’t any regular John. To keep him placated is to keep the house protected, and it is your duty to ensure the Sheriff remains happy and drunk, coddled and empty.

“Oh, stop it!” You coo in his ear, wrapping your arm up tightly in his. Voice layered thick with honey.

The shine on his breath hits like a train, bringing tears to your eyes that you mask by nuzzling your head to his shoulder. He sags heavy on your hip, oblivious.

“You didn’t tell me you’d hired such a handsome new Deputy-''

Arthur shifts in his seat, and you wonder what detail of your performance his observant eyes have picked up on.

“You keepin’ secrets from me, Sheriff? Or do you just want me all to yourself?”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t.” Sheriff Gray hiccups and turns to face Arthur. “Do you mind if I accompany the lady upstairs?”

Arthur stands, towering over the Sheriff by quite some measure and places his hat back atop his head.

“Course not. You both enjoy your evening. I’ve to be headin' back anyway.”

For a second, your eyes meet Arthur’s, but his expression is impenetrable. The Sheriff speaks again.

“Safe travels, Deputy. Rhodes is honoured to have such honest men like you and Mr Mackintosh about. Your work rootin’ out that shine is already being felt around the county.”

Arthur nods. The effects of the shine are certainly being felt.

He hiccups again. “Don’t be a stranger, now.”

“Don’t be a stranger.” You repeat, all traces of the sickly sweet affect gone from your voice. You yip as the Sheriff swats your backside, but you keep your head high, eyes still held on this curious lawman artist.

Don’t be a stranger.

“Miss.” Deputy Callahan touches the brim of his hat as you lead Sheriff Gray upstairs to your room.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x oc #painted red

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dallasgallant · 3 months ago

Text

Country/southern slang and vernacular-

This is what I’m going with for the title as honestly I’m not sure what else you would call it, but it is also linked to class a little bit? It’s complicated. Anyways, surprised I haven’t done one like this sooner as I’ve done:

JD slang. 60s slang. Rodeo terms

However, it can’t include everything! As usual take this as a jumping off point, it’s funny as Oklahoma is technically southern, culturally and such. Some are sourced from general knowledge, others from southern or “Oklahoma slang” which heavily overlaps but is more accented.

A lot of this ended up actually being more writing accented speech with some slang thrown in, a lot of it is about contractions! Also word usage! They’ll be a more “general grammar” and accent section at the bottom.

—

All get out- sentence enhancer (ex. Funny as all get out)

Air up - Pump air into something (Tires, mattress)

Ain’t - am not; are not; is not. has not; have not.

An’ all - and all

Awfulest - Most awful *air guitar* , very bad [Appalachian?]

Belted- beaten

‘Bout - about

Billfold- Wallet (Oklahoman, used in place of wallet)

Caint- Can’t

‘Cos - cause/because

Coke- soda (any kind) (ex. You wanna get a Coke? What kind?)

Crick- creek

Do up - prepare : clean/repair (Ex. Y’all do up the dishes)

Do wut - say again

D’yall - Do y’all or did y’all

don’tcha - Don’t you

Drop trou- pull down one’s pants , especially as a stunt in public

dyeet - did you eat?

Figure- Calculate, consider, decide

Fixin’ - on the verge of something : getting ready to

fronta - in front of

Fo’ sure- for sure

Fussin’- overexagerated concern, fidgeting

Gettin’ round - getting ready to go somewhere or do something (ex. Gettin’ round to it)

Gonna- going to

Good-for-nothin’ - Worthless/useless person or object (usually said while worked up)

Gussied up - dressed nicer than everyday (ex. Church clothes)

hafta- have to

Hankering- desire, yearning, craving

Heap - a large quantity (ex. Heap of trouble)

Highfalutin- pompous/pretentious/fancy

Holler- loud cry or shout

Honky tonk - bar where people dance (typically to county, line dance )

Hootin’ and Hollerin’- wild shouting, making a bunch of noise

Howdy- Greeting or used to express surprise

howta - how to

Hush- quiet, shut up

Ice box - fridge (Oklahoman or rural)

I’mma - I’m gonna or I am

Imma geddin sig n tard" - I’m getting sick and tired

ja'eet yet?- did you eat yet?

Keep your shirt on- stay calm (also see : Be cool)

Kin- family (not always by blood. Could be someone you’re close to)

Laying out - staying the night (doing something illicit) or

Let alone - leave alone or to indicate somethings less likely

Like to - Almost (rare)

Lick [Noun] - any amount (Ex. Didn’t get a lick of sleep last night)

Lick [Verb] - beat (ex. Steve Licked that soc good)

Musta- must have

Mom’ n’ em - Mom and them (literal), asking how one’s family is doing

Might could - might be able to

Muddin’ (Oklahoman) - off-roading, going down muddy trails

‘N - then/than or and

‘N em’ - And them

Naw- no

Neither- not one or other (sometimes used in place of either)

Nuss - To nurse

Okie- native resent of Oklahoma (formerly derogatory during dust bowl)

Ornery- combative, mean

Ought- indicate something correct or probable

Oughta- ought to

Ope- oops

Outta- out or

Preddy sure - pretty sure

Prolly- probably

Pop- soda

Purdy- pretty

Pitch a fit- throw a fit, be really upset

Reckon- think: suppose

Rise- upset someone (ex. He sure got a rise out of her)

Rile- upset someone (ex. Don’t rile up the dog)

Ruther - rather

Shouldn’t’ve- shouldnt have (double negative)

Shoot- polite way to say shit : go ahead and speak

Sho’ nuff - sure enough

‘Sides - besides

s’not - it’s not/is not

s’okay - it’s okay

Sorta- sort of

Sprinklin’ - light rain

stocking feet - wearing just socks

Sumbitch - son of a bitch

Tailing- follow without being noticed

The city - Oklahoma City (even if you live in Tulsa. ‘The city’ is Oklahoma City)

Tore up - upset

Tryan- Heavily accented Tryin’

Twister- Tornado (used to be more regional)

Upitty- conceited, fancy, snobby

Welp - well or expression (ex. Welp, I better head out)

Whup/whoop- hit

Whipped- beaten

won’tcha = won’t you

Y’all - you all

Yall’re- y’all are

Y’ain’t - you ain’t

Yer - your

Grammar-

The more I added to the list the more I realized writing for the gang is just as much learning to write accent than it is slang, it’s the way they talk and that includes grammar etc. Im going to try and explain some points that I’ve noticed in an understandable way, but it’s also important to note that these rules don’t apply every time necessarily.

Using the wrong word

less words in certain sentences (ex. Don’t mean nothin’)

With above, fewer words to describe things.

Drop the G occasionally (ex. Nothin’ )

Adding ‘d instead of saying ‘would (ex. Soda’d)

Real> really (descriptive)

Anybody > anyone

Weren’t typically goes with a double negative ( ex. weren’t nothing we could do)

Use of ‘you’ (used instead of a name or ‘your’)

Use of ‘was’ instead of ‘were’ ( ex. I knew you was)

Both Aren’t and isn’t become ain’t (sometimes even more)

A LOT OF CONTRACTIONS

Combing words - either a new contraction or new spelling to emphasize accent, especially around questions (ex. ja'eet yet?)

Use of expressions/idioms (ex. That dog won’t hunt)

#the outsiders #outsiders #lemme know what I missed and I’ll add!#outsiders novel #outsiders book #slang #vernacular #accent #outsiders meta #writing help #fandom dictionary #southern/country slang dictionary #time period post #time period post : accent and vernacular

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beware-of-pity · 16 days ago

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You believe me like a god (I destroy you like I am) VI

Masterlist

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Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

TW: Self-hatred/Implied Self Harm. Complicated family relations. The reader is a Targtower.

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter VI: What fear a man like you brings upon a woman like me (please, don't look at me)

. 𓆰♕𓆪

Court could be a ludicrous affair. If there was one thing you had become good at during those times Rhaenyra called for the throne room to be filled with her courtiers and petitioners alike, it was to stay hidden away unless you required anything, which was too often than you’d liked.

You had become good at stalling around, under the canopy of the floor beside the hall, blending in with other overlookers, and watching over the ordeal silently.

The walls of the throne room were abundantly draped in exotic tapestries and ornaments, a reminder of the ancient strength of your house. The looming statues of Kings of old, whose eyes were ever watchful, silently judged those who came after them. The latest addition? Your father, whose head gleamed high with the crown of the Conciliator - which now rested upon your sister’s brows.

A possession she never parted from, not when in public nor in private as far as you were aware of. One time when she called you to her room, once the Kings’ apartment, you had caught her studying the golden band of steel and colourful rubies like she held the entire world in her hands. The reflections of the memories of the deeds done, the blood shed, swords unsheathed, and dragons killed glistened in the stones forged for a monarch to wear on their heads.

At the steps of the throne, the most loyal of her Queensguard stood vigil, two sets of eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger, as Rhaenyra sat high upon the throne. Lord Corlys, her hand, and Jacaerys, her heir, ever ready to advise her, stood beside her as good counsellors would. Today, you would watch. There was no use in begging or making a public spectacle of yourself about your more-than-known wishes. You were done with begging; you would get no use of it whatsoever. What you needed to do now was find a discreet way to get what you wanted most, freedom, no matter how the idea sent wrecks of panic through your body.

Under the gallery, a cluster of lords, great and small, old and young, milled restlessly on one side of the room, while in the other, eager and awaiting smallfolk and commoners stood high on attention for the right opportunity to speak and make their case to present to them.

A hundred or so, you could count. Your father’s court had been one that showed the height of the power that House Targaryen had come under his reign. Of course, not because of him, but everyone would rather have him believe so than object to the King. Your father did not like conflicts, but he neither liked to be slighted nor offended by those he felt had no right to do so. Those who had lost their tongues for daring to speak of his grandsons’ less than-faring looks were more than alive to prove such an assertion…since they could not speak of it.

Many travelled far just to be able to attend them, and while he liked his feasts and wine, his small council made sure the city never ran without them to not insight less than…feelings of unjust to take root in the heart of its people. The side of the room in which the nobility stood was a sea of jewels, furs, and bright fabrics. Lords and ladies filled the back of the hall and stood beneath the high windows, jostling like fishwives on a dock. A great contrast to the rather shaggy and less than impressive common clothes of the smallfolks. You could see that many of them had made great many efforts to put a good hand in their presentation. Hair slicked and combed, many wearing their best clothes, which most of the nobles might regard as kitchen scrabs were they to be presented to them, and jewels, if they possessed any.

But there was one thing the two factions held in common — they all were trying to out best the other, the nobles most of all. It was a matter of pride, and perhaps greed, to show their riches to the extremes, as if their names, titles and family relations could not do so. Strip that away and all that remains is but a man and the greatness of a man cannot compare to what is given to illustre himself with.

Just that, you thought, should satisfy them enough, it was something that, after all, the common folks could not boast about. When they were asked in the streets how they would recognise themselves, they would profess their profession or whose son or daughter they were. But that was a trick they could only use in the streets of King’s Landing, where everyone knew the other, not in front of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

What could Rhaenyra know of the mastery of blacksmithing, that passed from father to son in an effort to make a family name for themselves? Whose hands shaped the blades her sworn men wilded? Or the bread makers whose stalls had stood by time, opening and selling bread to the famished mouths of families and people alike? that fed the city more than the food those ships that entered the city's port did? Food that was reserved only for the people of the Keep.

Everything these poor people did was to live, unlike those who thought they did so for recognition. The smallfolk had no time to think about becoming high lords, even though they dreamt of such a thing, when the matter of survival was an everyday occurrence for them.

And who could dare to think they could outshine Rhaenyra, for the vain thing she was.

She shimmered in a cloth of burgundy red, slashed in gold brocade and adorned by trims of black, while beside her, Lord Corly fussed and simpered in a brocade of sea green, the same colour of his house’s banner. Jacaerys wore a new motley suit that was as clean as a spring morning. In crimson samite, his black mantle studded with rubies, on his head, a slim, golden band sat upon his brow, framing his dark mane of curly hair. No one had ever looked as princely as he did now, in his elaborate clothing, hand on the pommel of his sword, a show of dominance you were not familiar with, but no less unpleased by.

He looked handsome, you thought, the most comely man at court. He held a woman’s beauty within a man’s face, a kind not seen since the days of your grandsire and his brother, The Brave and The Pale Prince.

Everyone seemed to have dressed for the occasion, even Baela and Rhaena, who stood not far from the three. They matched in style with each other and Rhaenyra, their mother-by-law, but both dressed in different colours — Baela in a bold red and black, a true show of lineage, and Rhaena in pastry cream and shimmering pink silk.

How pretty they looked, with their jewelled hair and flaring gowns. Oh, how you wished to one day be allowed the same….

By comparison, your gown must have made you look like you belonged with the common folks. No embroidery or intricately woven design ornated the fabric of your simple black gown, one that belonged to your mother in her youth. You had been told by an old maid, that had once been in your mother’s services, that your mother had worn the gown during the mourning period that had ensued over the court when Queen Aemma had first passed. You wondered, was it also the one she used to wear when she would visit your father to comfort him in his grief? The one her own father, your grandsire, asked her to wear to make her look more comfortable and easy to open up to? For your father to find a companion in his grief?

There was no use in inquiring over such matters, they were passed beyond you and your comprehension to understand. These were matters, schemes and plots you couldn’t wrap your mind around. Your grandsire, was he so desperate in his wants that he would use your mother in such ways? To further improve his standing and that of his line by…extorting your mother?

In the depths of the nights when you could not find sleep, you wondered, 'Would you end up like her?'

When the courtiers hungry for scandal whispered behind your back as you walked down the halls of the Keep, you asked yourself ' Would you meet the same fate?'

Were you bound to suffer under the hands of the same men that sealed your mother, your sisters, and your niece’s bounded futures? In the pains, in the torments that prickle their soft skins, scarring them with the signs of the sufferings of senseless acts of violence committed in the name of glory? Promised and bound to them by men who could only feel hatred and contempt towards them unless they were of use to them?

Your thoughts drove you to a madness you were sure every woman thought they possessed, in the anguish that wrecked your body as you sobbed and pulled at your hair in the hope that as you pulled at your tresses you would rip at the skin of your skull you would free your mind from the confines that tortured it. From the walls of the prison, it had been born into.

Men will call you a whore for doing the deeds of others but praise you for being their whore if it meant you were doing theirs.

Your scalp throbbed still from how raw your scarred fingers had tugged at them the previous night. You neither flinched nor hissed this morning when your maid had braided your hair, but your teeth had clenched together enough to leave the shape of your canine on the inside of your cheek. She asked no question, for there was none to ask, the cause of your pain in plain sight for her to see, professing in the angry, pulsing, redness that adorned the paleness of your skin. There was no need to pretend - everyone was to a degree aware of your plight, what use would you make of hiding what you wanted everyone to know or rather what everyone wanted to know? You’ll let them have it all, were it up for you. Give them everything they sought in you; the entertainment, the gossip, the pain. They seemed so desperate for it. Like rabid dogs betting money and throwing rotten food at some unfortunate soul in a ring built to secure them in place.

The pins used to secure your twisted and braided hair pushed and propelled into stray strands of hair they had not caught and chafed at your irritated skin, tugging your temple into a deep and tight ache around your head.

You pulled your shawls closer around you as you felt a loose chill pass by you when the door of the throne room was opened for another set of petitioners to enter, while the one from before walked out, some pleased by the arrangements given to them by the crown, while others grumbled under their breath about the unfairness of their end of the deal.

You watched as petitioners came and went like flies, one by one being replaced by the next, more awaiting hands and demands presented to Jacaerys. How he handled matters which might be difficult for others to sort, in fairness and equality.

With cool efficiency and a mind as sharp as the firm decisions, he had to make. He listened intently to each petitioner, asking the appropriate questions and weighing all sides of the issue before coming to a fair and just conclusion. He’d council his mother through whispered words, which she would listen to, and consider, before making her mind up through what he had counsoled.

He could feel your gaze on him as he handled the matters before him, making it all the harder for him to concentrate. He was acutely aware of your presence and would often sneak glances at the balustrade you stood before, sharing hidden and fleeting smiles before he returned to more pressing matters.

"Quite the sight" an older, deeper voice commented from beside you, pulling your attention away from the spectacle before you "So young and yet so well-meaning, not many men boast about such quality”

You settled back, returning to watch as the next petitioner stepped forward, his voice shaky as he explained his dire situation. “Lord Reynford” you greeted lowly.

Reynford nodded in response, returning the greeting, his expression courteous and respectful, even as he inched too close for your comfort. He turned his gaze back to the scene unfolding before the two of you. You noticed, that he too had seemed to join the nobles in their childish contest of playing dress up — somehow more flaring than the last you’d seen of him, his greying hair pulled back into a short ponytail at the base of his neck.

“Young Prince Jacaerys seems to be handling things quite well” he observed, his voice low, almost in your ear, which made you wonder just how long he had simmered around before deciding to approach you “Not every man his age would have the maturity and patience to hear out so many cases without getting exhausted or annoyed.”

“It’s what’s demanded of him,” you remarked, the obvious truth you both knew “Any man with a just sense of duty would understand that”

Reynford chuckled slightly at your response, his expression amused. “Spoken like a true Princess,” he said, his tone monotonous, bordering on mocking as you had come to know it. “You were raised in high society, taught the ways of court since birth. It makes sense you would understand duty and responsibility better than most.” He added “Sometimes, your gowns begets me to forget”

"I make no use of such knowledge now" you retorted "Not much to do when I spend my days like a prisoner, wouldn’t you agree?”

He tightened his lips, his eyes following a man being manhandled out of the room for thinking he could step forth in line, his protests ringing among the chattering of the crowd, and the faint sound of music coming from somewhere, surely to entertain those most in need of it. “You still retain your noble composure and wit, despite being kept prisoner here.” He said “That’s more than I could bargain for, were I you”

“We scraps of war must always find other ways to keep our wits sharp”

“Indeed, it is those who can adapt and improvise that survive the harshest of environments,” he said, his tone almost philosophical. “And you, Princess, have proven yourself quite resourceful despite being a traitor’s sister, no?”

Your face did not turn, but your eyes did, as they clashed and pierced with his. In turn, he held himself high, a smile that bordered on a smirk that threatened itself on his face as he remained unflinching in the face of your penetrating glare.

“I did not mean to offend”

“No offence taken” you assured, bitterly.

Reynford chuckled again, a hollow sound, the corners of his lips now fully curled into a smirk, but no amusement whatsoever danced along it. “You still have that sharp tongue of yours, I see,” he teased. “I’ve always appreciated your… spirited nature.”

"I don't see you appreciate others in such a way" you mused "Any nobles, not even my sister, the Queen, which you’ve no attempted of warming to”

“That’s different” he argued, voice gruff. “The Queen is… not someone I have any fondness for. And I do not appreciate the way she is treating you, being a prisoner in your own home.”

"One can only wonder why that is," inching closer to him, you hoped that perhaps the air closing in on him would make him feel the same way he did with you. Claustrophobic.

"You've shown genuine concern before, but I don't suppose this is a matter of emotions”

“Concern is for those who matter to me,” he said, his tone bordering on sharp, but not for you. “Your sister does not fall into that category, I assure you.”

"You avoid her" you sighed after the revelation had unfolded "I suppose I cannot blame you, I'd rather not think of it but," you said "I try to steer away from Rhaenyra's gaze before I fall victim to it”

Reynford’s eyes narrowed at your comment, both pleased with your cautiousness and on the choice you had made, which he thought smart of you.

“Wise of you,” he praised, his tone approving, which you almost found yourself melting for, having forgotten the feeling of being seen as good by someone else that wasn’t….Jacaerys.

“The new queen has a temper that can rival our fair waters in its tempestuousness. It’s best to keep your distance if you value your health.”

Despite the truth of his words, you found yourself defending Rhaenyra the only way you could "She's no less cruel than the kings that came before her" you rebuked "She knows what she must do and what requires that, it is not temper, rather...indulgences in the role she now fits”

He shook his head as if in disagreement but rather exasperated with all this talk of Rhaenyra. Despite this, his eyes remained thoughtful as he considered your view of Rhaenyra, one very different from his own, out of respect for you and your voice, so little heard and opinionated. He knew you spoke the truth, that Rhaenyra ruled with a firm hand and was willing to do whatever needed to be done to secure her position because it came from the need for it, whose circumstances required it be so.

“She is indeed her father’s daughter” he commented, his voice laced with a hint of bitterness. “A Targaryen through and through.”

"Our father? No, no, no," you said. "He was weak." The admissions startled both of you, you of all, speaking in such ways of your own father.

He didn’t look surprised by the admission as much as you did. Sure, it was quite sudden, but he appreciated your honesty and the fact that you were not shy of admitting just how much of a mediocre ruler your father was, given how rare it was for people to acknowledge it openly. Viserys ‘The Peaceful”, what a joke.

He gave a slight cough, that bordered on a scoff, to regain the composure he had never lost, but rather to allow you to gather yours, his voice gruff as he spoke. “That he was” he agreed. “The late king was not suited for the throne, that is true.”

You gather your breath "He was a good man, a kind man, that, no one can disagree with" you rasped lowly, just between you and him, almost annoyed that whenever there was talk of your father, he had to be predisposed as a good man before being critiqued. His being a good man would not change the fact that he had been little use to no one "but he was a wavering ruler riddled with indecision. His legacy inspires no one”

He lets a satisfied hum escape his lips “On that much, we agree”

“I know her well, Rhaenyra….despite everything. I know her better than most, perhaps more than I like to think. We, sisters, bound by blood, our paths converged by the shadows of our shared pain”

Your eyes racked over Rhaenyra’s form, seated where your father had sat before her, and the Old King before him, and Maegor and Aenys and Aegon the Dragon in days of old. She sat on high upon every man and woman in the Red Keep, like the day the city had fallen to her, stern-faced and with a grip of iron on the mental armrests of the throne. You knew she still bore the scars of the night she had first sat upon it, having gripped it so hard she had bled her way out of the room come dawn.

“War changes people”

Reynford nodded, his expression thoughtful. The bitterness and pain in your voice were as clear for him to see as the moon on a clear sky, as well as the toll that the war had taken on you and your family. Despite it all, you still spoke of Rhaenyra with a hint of affection, perhaps out of the memories of the sister she had been before everything that had happened, a reminder of the bond that still existed between you two despite the conflict.

“Aye, war has a way of changing people,” he agreed. “I, myself, have been a witness to that. It has a way of shattering the most steadfast of souls. It chips away at their innocence and their humanity, turning them into people they might never have envisioned themselves as before. The horrors and losses endured, the betrayals and alliances... they all take their toll on the soul.”

"Rhaenyra always knew she would be challenged, I just don't think she thought she would have been usurped, and not in such a way” you observed as your sister raised her hand to dismiss a man who had clearly overstepped his bounds "that must have stung and made her realize that if she wants to change hundreds of years of tradition, she must first change to closely fit it"

"You speak with a wisdom that belies your years, Princess," he said, his voice laced with a hint of respect. "Change is never easy, and often comes with sacrifice and pain. Rhaenyra is discovering that the hard way.”

You studied him for a moment, unsure of how your next assessment would go with him “I seem to recall, you were amongst my brother's most ardent supporters" you murmured "and yet you seem to understand Rhaenyra's cause quite well"

His expression remained cool and neutral as he held your gaze, his eyes never leaving your face. Despite the confrontational nature of your statement, he did not falter with intimidation.

"I am a pragmatist, my Princess," his words were blunt. "I support the side that I believe holds the most promise and has the greatest chance of securing the future of my lands and family.” He turned to face you “Nothing in this is personal, you should learn to know that”

He could see the scepticism in your eyes, the doubt that lingered in your mind. But he didn't blame you.

"Believe me when I say there is no loyalty to be found in politics, only self-survival." he spoke carefully "No one here is bound by honour or allegiance, only by their own interests.”

“I share this secret with you because I have my reasons to, but” There was a pause as to let his words sink in, his eyes never leaving your face. “Sometimes, it is wiser to bend the knee to those in power, rather than remain staunchly standing on the losing side.”

He gave you a knowing look, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “And sometimes, it pays to keep close to one's enemies. Everyone here is out for themselves, Princess. Everyone. Even your dear Jacaerys. He is no different."

“You misunderstand” you rushed to deny, the lines on your face hardening “There’s nothing but a fair friendship between me and my nephew”

“Do I now?” He asked, a hint of mock disbelief in his tone “One only need to look, and I have been looking” he warned you and your breath shuddered “I know he spends his evenings with you, supping with you, and one can only wonder what else. Were anyone to catch word of this, the scandal might ensue. People would wonder….”

Please no, you thought, Mother have mercy on me. He wants something, he’s asking for something, he thinks he deserves something, and the seven-pointed star dangling your neck will not ward off this kind of evil, after all, as you’d been thought, even the seven cannot reach where their light does not shine upon. Your hand gripped the stone balustrade, cold and searing under your son, marred, skin. You now wished you had not dismissed Ser Rickard.

“But fret not, I will keep your secret” he reassured, his hand coming to rest on top of yours with the same prudence one might with a wounded animal “because this….this is very personal to me, my princess” something in the way he had looked at you then filled you with dread. “As if reassured you, I only wish the best of you”

He leaned in to murmur the next words in your ear, his hot breath on your skin making you shiver. “But I believe I am at liberty to demand something in return for looking out for your interests……”

“Be brave,” he whispered, squeezing your hand “Ask me what I want”

“What do you want?” You rasped. As if on cue, he glanced at where Jacaerys still stood, the Prince completely unaware of the situation you were put in. He had his back towards you, completely absorbed in the matters presented before him, brought by his page who had entered the room when you were most distracted. “You said you had my best interests at heart, this-“

"Of course, they are in your best interests, my sweet," his tone patronized you. "Why, I only want you to thrive and survive this...political maze that you find yourself in, with as little harm done to yourself as possible.” He said “And for that, you’ll need me”

Reynford leaned back slightly, his expression calculating. His eyes shone with a dangerous mixture of desire and greed. "I want your favour, Princess," he said simply. "Your trust and loyalty, in exchange for my silence. I cannot have you running to our prince the first chance you get to share what I know. No, I want you to owe me. To come to me when you are in need.”

“You want me to depend on you" you spoke the true intent of his demand "so that my every trouble becomes your shining, bloody, coin to flip on me whenever you want”

“Seems like we understand each other better than I thought”

"I assure you I will do everything in my power to give you what you want" he leaned in again, his voice dropping lower "and I'm certain, in time, you will reward me for it. You're a sharp girl, and fair, I know you will do the right thing, and when the time comes, I will call upon that debt, for a favour, a secret....or something more.”

He studied you closely, his eyes searching your face for any hint of doubt or resistance. He knows he must have frightened you, coming off so forward, when he had been nothing but destitute in your last meeting, so good and willing, and so false. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the way your body tensed ever so slightly. But he also noticed the resignation, such a familiar sight on your face, as if it came normal for you to feel. His eyes crinkled with the fact that you were beginning to understand, the game he was playing, and the power he now held over you.

"You are a smart girl," his voice was as smooth as silk, praising you once more. "I'm sure you will make the right decision." you watched as he retracted his hand, reaching for the pouch dangling by his belt "And as a sign of my goodwill towards you" he said, showing you what he had taken out of it.

A flower, one grown from your own garden, a snapdragon. Deception.

Your eyes widened in alert, and your senses filled with the danger in the air. "From your own gardens" he said, voice reverent as he twirled the flower in his hand "I had a member of my household gather it, to give to you. A token of my…goodwill" He stretched his hand to you, offering the flower, but instead of giving it to you, he held it to pin it in your soft ringlets. Before you could protest, he had already pinned the flower in the curls of your hair. The look of satisfaction he gave you sent shivers down your spine, as he took a small step back to admire his handiwork, his eyes swept over your face.

Then, he moved before you, as if to shield you from the crowd, hiding you behind his form. He took your chin in his large hand, turning your face to face his, which you had turned defiantly to face off the shame reeling inside you. He tilted his head as if to admire the flower in your hair more closely. His touch was gentle, but there was something almost predatory in the way he held you, his grip firm and possessive. "much better, no?" he mused "Better than those jewels your cousins abound themselves with, which I know you lust for”

You grumbled, trying to wrestle yourself out of his hold. He shushed you gently, his thumb caressing your face, and his eyes roamed over your features with an intensity that made you uneasy.

"Such a beautiful face should be adorned with flowers, not fake jewels. You are a dragon, they say, a blood of Old Valyria, and you should be celebrated as such" he sighed, as if displeased by your want of such trivial things. You should yearn for far grander things than jewels "but if it's those that you want, I will make sure to give them to you. In time”

He removed his hand from your face, returning it to his side, and you wretched yourself away. "But we shall speak of them another time, for it is getting late" his eyes turned as if he wanted to look behind him as if his eyes could turn around his head to look at whoever was glaring daggers in the back of his head “I've taken up enough of your time with my blathering, and it seems as if my own presence is not welcomed any longer”

He turned first, casting a meaningful look behind him, you followed his gaze up to the throne, where Jacaerys stood facing you once more, his eyes fixed on the both of you, while Rhaenyra conversed with Corlys. The look he gave was cold and stoney, and you could swear his face darkened once your eyes met with his. He was watching you two closely, his hands clenching around the pommel of his sword.

He regarded Jacaerys’ displeasure with chill distaste, sending him an amusing smile with a nod of his head "Ah, there he is" he mocked "your beloved nephew. Ever the guardian of your honour" he paused for effect "and your soul"

He took your hand, bringing it to his lips to lay a chaste kiss on your skin, and you held yourself back from snatching it away. “I hope to hear from you soon, Princess”

You watch as Reynford leaves you, his smile still on his old and lined face. The kiss he planted upon your hand lingers as if it left a mark on your skin, and your hand reaches to scrub away any memories of it with your thumb.

You let out a shuddering breath, his words still ringing in your head. As if drawn by an invisible force you looked down at the throne, where you find Jacaerys staring unblinking. He stands there, his gaze fixed on you, his expression unreadable. His body emanates tension, his muscles taut yet coiled tight, as if he were ready to pounce forward at any moment. He watches you silently, his eyes flickering away for a second only to check on the direction of Reynford’s movements.

You lean forward, letting your hand rest on the cold stone. You want to reach out to smooth the deep frown off his face, to soothe the anger and tension that gripped him. You mouth his name silently, concern writhing through you—for him, for you, for his anger, and for who it was directed.

Please don’t be angry, don’t be mad at me, please.

Jacaerys’ expression flickers for a moment, his eyes slightly softening a fraction at your mouthed plea. The tension in his body eased if only slightly, replaced by a sense of uncertainty that seemed to fill him.

His eyes don’t linger on the soft flesh of your face for long, his eyes dropping for a moment to the sight of your fingers clinging onto the stone, still raw and bloody from the last time you had your indulgence of them. He swallowed, his throat bobbing, and when he looked up at you again there was guilt written all over his face.

His eyes watch you, and yours follow suit, and for a moment it seems that nothing else exists behind the world you two created when around one another. His foot itches to move, to walk towards you, to make sure you are safe and fine. His shoulders sag as if carrying a heavy weight, his mind troubled. You stumble as you fidget in place, the helms of the many layers of your skirt move along you, ruffling against the floor, and your breath gets caught in your lugs.

He smiles strainly, wanting to give you the comfort of the assurance that he wasn’t mad at you. How could he?….he could never. But the smile doesn’t last long, before he turns to face the crowd before him once more, making the brief interaction seem casual, friendly… and not what it was. A tense interaction.

A tense moment.

AN: Heyyyy, so it's been a while. A month, huh? I do feel the need to apologize for the prolonged absence I had not planned nor had in store for you all. Between the holidays, going back to uni, preparing myself for my upcoming exams, and a writing block I got stuck with, I just didn't have any sort of motivation to write. Anyways, on more jolly thoughts, happy late holidays and happy new year, everyone. To more chapters and fanfics to come from me, hopefully. Also, Reynford is now part of our main cast, I know he can be unsettling and downright seem like a Larys 2.0, which he kind of is, but he means well guysss.... for now. I've always been an avid enjoyer of period dramas and historical recounting, books, movies and series, so I've been watching Wolf Hall over the holidays, and I do feel the need to say that Reynford is heavily inspired by Mark Rylance's performance of Thomas Cromwell in the series. Do with that what you'd like.

Taglist: @esposadomd @aleemendoza2425-blog @nen-nyy

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