#-makes me feel like shit because I know I don't have the willpower and I wish I did and it makes me feel so sad and weak | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 6 months

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spencer one shot where he’s angry at somebody else [bc he so does look so kissable when he’s angry >:(] maybe someone at one of the precincts they’re working at said something rude about r and he defends u and maybe he gets a lil kiss <3

im thinking “this is calm and it’s doctor” vibes bc that scene does things to me 😭

ty for requesting ♡ fem, 1.1k

cw for sexual harassment

"Jesus," Spencer says, rushing to stand behind you as you bend over.

"Mm?" you hum. You're fishing for your dropped change unsuccessfully by the precinct vending machines. "They have your chips, did you see?"

"Your pants are ripped," Spencer says, hand ghosting your thigh.

"What?" you ask, shooting up. You turn on the spot to hide, hand leaping back. You feel at the seam. "Where?"

"Top of your thigh."

"Shit, really? Can you see my–"

"Yeah," he says, meeting your wide eyes while you locate the rip. "How did you do that?" He laughs.

"Don't laugh!" you demand, though you're giggling as you do, hand covering your thigh and the bottom of your butt inefficiently.

"Do you want my jacket?"

"Don't cover it up, toots."

You and Spencer both blink. There's a crowd of grinning beat cops by the door of the cafeteria who've obviously witnessed your misdemeanour. "Toots?" Spencer asks.

"Sorry, boys, that's the end of the show," you say with a grin. Not because you particularly enjoy having been oggled, but it's always been like this. Men will always make weird comments to you, and you've learned to play nice until they're out of your jurisdiction.

"Turn back around," one says bravely, though you aren't sure which one.

Spencer stands in front of you subtly. "Do you know that thirty eight percent of women experience sexual harassment in the workplace?" he asks, quick but measured. "Thirty eight percent, but I'm sure a much smaller number of those women are federal agents, and a smaller number again have the capacity to break your arm. I've seen her give serial killers radial fractures. I've seen her do worse."

"We were just messing around," one says.

"No need to get defensive," says another. "Don't get mad, boy."

"I am defensive, but I'm not mad."

His tone attracts the attention of a precinct sergeant who barks at them to stop messing around and get back to work. "Were they bothering you?" he asks after they've filtered out with their heads down.

"No," you say swiftly. "Everything's fine."

Spencer frowns, worse when the sergeant leaves, turning to you to take your hand. A few weeks ago at a company picnic, when the sun was high and your spirits comparatively lower, you'd apologised to him for flirting. You love to flirt and especially with him, puppy eyed Spencer with his head of brown hair and his big brain, but some of the team suggested you were taking it too far. You apologised, but Spencer didn't really get what you were saying sorry for and took your hand to lead you out of the sun. He protects you.

"You okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?" His voice fries.

"I'm sure," you say. His hand is an interesting thing on yours. He has long, long fingers that seem to possess their own willpower, moving even as they're sewn through yours. "I don't know what to do about my pants."

Spencer's eyebrows pinch together. "Well, I'll take care of that. I'll find you something. I can't believe those as–"

"Oh," you interrupt, taking your hand back in want of a better thing to hold, his cheek a mix of soft and scratchy against your palm. "You're still mad."

"I'm not mad," he insists, though eventually he relents, "Alright, I'm angry that they'd think it was okay to objectify you."

"What else?" you ask, letting your voice drop in pitch, the sound smooth as angora silk.

"I'm thinking about if I hadn't been here."

"I can protect myself," you murmur, endeared by the heat in his gaze. "You said it yourself, handsome. Radial fractures."

"You shouldn't have to."

"We both already know that," you say, the side of your hand slipping down his cheek reverently. He squints gently, his lashes dark triangles, his irises a browned sugar. His jaw clenches under your touch. "You're handsome."

"Right now?" he asks dryly.

"Are you handsome right now?"

"Are you really flirting with me right now?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" You draw a line under his ear whisper soft to curl a longer strand of his hair around the tip. "You look hot when you're winning."

"What did I win?" he asks, like he doesn't want to know.

You grin at him, stickying. "Would you like an itemised list?" you ask, rising on tiptoes to speak into the shell of his ear. "What do you think you deserve, handsome? For such a fearless defence?"

He's not immune to your whims, but he is used to them, planting his hands on your shoulders to ease you back on sure footing. "I don't want anything. I'll always defend you."

"Can I give you a small token of my gratitude, at least?"

His pinking cheeks practically emanate heat. "We don't have time for this," he says regretfully, "I still have to find you a coverup."

"Just a small token," you say.

He hums and haws. "Alright. Okay, whatever you want."

"You sure?"

He nods once, his jaw working with something unsaid. You touch his neck, fingertips trailing along the underside of his jaw until you're sure it's what he wants before you brace your hands behind his head and press a chaste kiss to his cheek, close enough that the corner of his lips align with yours but don't overlap. His neck is hot in your hands, his hair soft, his breath hooking as you lift your lips just a touch and your nose digs into his cheek. "Thank you, Spencer," you whisper.

He pulls you closer.

You shudder as his hand presses into the small of your back, wondering what it is he wants to do. His fingers spread. Your thoughts turn to white noise. Like he can sense it, he breathes out and steps away, but any sense of urgency is gone.

"As much as I might tease, I really do need some pants," you say. "I'm not very interested in anyone else seeing my panties today."

He rushes off to find you something and you press the backs of your fingers to your cheeks, feeling the heat there with a resigned embarrassment. He has no idea how much power he has over you, in his stony anger and his eager reception. The phantom of his hand warms your back until he returns, his sweater in hand. "Sorry, this is it."

"If you want me to wear your clothes, just say so."

"Hotch is pretty pissed at us."

"Ah," you sigh, tying his sweater around your waist, "another day in paradise, baby."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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akookminsupporter · 1 year

Text

Namjoon gave a good interview to Vogue Spain and in it he said a few things that I thought I'd share with those of you who may not understand Spanish.

This was at the end of the article but I want to write it first:

One thing that needs to be made clear about this album is that, no matter how much the rumour mill is trying to spin it, it is by no means the end of the successful band. "Oh, I'm not leaving BTS. Absolutely not. This is the first time I'm launching a solo project like this, so I'm trying to stand up and take my first steps. But I'm ambitious and I have willpower. So I don't want to miss the opportunity to do both. So I will try my best not to lose control and steer these two ships at the same time. A lot of bands split up and fall apart, but I hope that doesn't happen to BTS. I just love the music, I love my job, I love the band members and I love myself. If I can keep both projects going, I think it can be something legendary in the long run".

Other important parts of the article:

"The k-pop industry hasn't stopped growing since we debuted with BTS [in 2013]. It's become a lot more complex and has brought a lot more people into its structures. I think there are a lot of lights, but also some slippery shadows. Many of us started our careers very early as a group: we slept and lived together as teenagers. We became a real family, which is great, but this culture has also affected me a lot, because sometimes I find it difficult to be treated as an adult who has autonomy in his decisions. I'm perceived as just another cog in the crew, in the context of a mass phenomenon",

Did you ever feel like you were getting completely lost in this delirium of success? "I used to think so, but the funny thing is that I am fully aware that it was my own choice to devote myself to the k-pop industry. Nobody pushed me into it. But yes, I have lost myself at times. Although perhaps saying this is an excess of 'self-empathy'. There is no answer. Except that, if k-pop is about recharging the batteries of a mass audience and I'm responsible for doing that recharging, then I have to keep my feet firmly on the ground. As an adult, as a musician and as a human being. And these ten years of my career have helped me define who I am and learn to love myself. But I'm still in that process, you know? All these internal struggles will be recorded on records and videos," he explains.

"Music is really necessary for the world, but, when it comes to my music, sometimes I feel like I'm producing something unnecessary. If I were to die tonight, I don't think anything would change. It might matter to some people for a while, but a farmer or a street sweeper is more relevant to the functioning of society. When I ask myself about the role of our generation in historical terms, when I look at all the digital platforms and communities out there, I am overcome with confusion. There are a lot of people who don't want to think. They have frenetic lives and turn to music or television to escape, so the last thing they want is someone trying to lecture them from a pedestal. In that context, I wonder how I can make my music matter. I haven't found an answer yet, but I keep trying to bring my own perspective to it.

As to whether he is afraid that the army he has on Instagram (42.4 million followers) might one day turn against him for a silly mistake or a blunder, RM answers bluntly. "Yes, it scares me. It scares me 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. When I was younger I tried to come across as a cool guy who doesn't give a shit what other people think, but I don't think that's right anymore. I care about the publicity dimension of my career and the influence I can have on others. It stresses me out, yes, but I think I can handle it. That's why I don't retire or do things like go out and drink the night away and then drive drunk. I'm human, I can make mistakes, but I will do everything in my power to be the best version of myself. One of the keys is to treat this job for what it is: a job. I don't think artists have any special rights or status.

Note: if you would like me to translate another part of the interview, let me know.

#Namjoon #RM #vogue spain #bts #bts solo careers #bts break

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bruhstories · 1 year

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blind

summary: after four years of being ignored and abused, y/n decides to teach aegon a lesson OR how aegon actually becomes king

pairing: aegon targaryen x lannister!reader (aged up, ofc)

warning & content: canon divergent, aegon is a piece of shit, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), bit of degradation (if you squint), a lot of manipulation, fem bodied reader

wc: ~4.5k

a/n: i have no words for this. i am a slut and i embrace it. not edited because we die like men

Every time Aegon took another of Y/N's maids to bed, a part of the her heart crumbled to dust. He was simply not interested in her, despite once being good friends. And it wasn't as if she could play the same game, no. Y/N had to patiently wait for her husband to drunkenly stumble back into his chamber, falling onto the bed into a deep slumber until his mother would wake him up with a slap and a string of insults.

Y/N could not possibly fool around with other men without the realm finding out. She could not run away to Essos, nor could she change Aegon. He was far too irredeemable.

Alicent, however, was great with her. She made sure to treat Y/N with respect, to listen to her complaints. No matter how loving and caring Y/N tried to be, Aegon did not want her, which was a problem, because she hadn't given him an heir in four years. After their wedding, Aegon was too intoxicated to perform in bed, barely taking her maidenhead before passing out, leaving Y/N awake and distraught at what her life had become.

Whenever her husband was away, she would spend her time either reading in the Red Keep's library, or listening to Helaena's strange, yet intriguing dreams, or stroll through the gardens. Y/N liked Helaena. She was soft and sweet, and loved by everyone in King's Landing, despite her awkwardness and timidity. Y/N tried to be like her, to be kind and gentle, but her Lannister nature unfortunately made her vain and selfish, and it was taking a lot of willpower to mask it.

So, she decided to be exactly that — vain and selfish.

On Aegon's twentieth name day, a tourney was held, with knights from all around Westeros entertaining King Viserys' first-born son. Although Aegon himself wasn't much of a fighter, he enjoyed watching the men compete, and eventually fight each other to the death. And if the wine in his cup was sweet, and the maidens pretty, he could not ask for more.

"Where is your lady wife?" Otto scoffed at Aegon's disinterest in Y/N and interest in the wine he had accidentally spilled.

"How should I know? Shit, this was good wine!" The Targaryen smacked his lips in annoyance, only to feel his grandfather's hand tightly around his shoulder.

"Don't make me slap you in front of everyone, boy. You should be grateful Y/N married you. Who else would want a miserable, pathetic excuse of a man such as yourself?" Otto's words were harsh and they cut deep, but Aegon stopped caring a long time ago.

"You find her, then. In fact, I am thrilled she didn't come. She would embarrass me, sitting down, looking like a septa." The Targaryen scoffed, releasing his shoulder from Otto's grip, focusing on his tourney.

Alicent watched the scene between her father and her son unfold, and after exchanging looks with Otto, she knew exactly what was going on. Nothing she could do would change Aegon. She got up, straightening her green dress, and as she turned on her heels, she was faced with Y/N.

"My lady." She bowed in front of her mother-in-law. "My apologies for being late. I couldn't find something appropriate to wear for such an important day."

"Nonsense, you are beautiful wearing anything." Alicent complimented her.

"As are you." Y/N smiled before making her way to the empty seat next to Aegon.

She offered him no words, no curtsy, no smiles, instead giving her favour to Ser Criston Cole. It was then when Aegon noticed the corset around her waist was tight, and her dress was red and gold, the colours of her house. For a moment he thought he maybe drank too much, for he rarely saw Y/N wearing something so bright and bold, and when she sat down, he could see how low the cut of her cleavage was.

"How long have you been hiding those tits from me?" Aegon whispered in her ear, his breath reeking of wine.

"They were always there, you just did not bother to look, lord husband." Y/N beamed and waved at Ser Criston, but her voice lacked the warmth of her smile.

He leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes at her response. Only because she had decided to wear a tighter dress did not mean she was good enough for someone like him. Not that the servants or the whores he slept with were, but they were easy. They would never say no, they would not complain, and they would most certainly not talk back in such a disrespectful manner.

Indeed, it was Aegon's fault for not paying his wife more attention. To give her credit, she tried her best to show him affection, to care for him when he was too drunk to even stand, and to even defend him in front of his family. But Aegon never took the time to appreciate all of that because, like his grandfather put it, he was a pathetic excuse of a man.

When the tourney ended and he stumbled into his chamber, Aegon couldn't find his wife. Normally she would be there, waiting for him, helping him undress, despite him calling her all sorts of names in his drunken state. But that night, she wasn't there. His mind went blamk and he fell asleep, half-dressed, with stains of wine all over his chin, and his hair a knotted mess.

And when he woke up, she still wasn't there.

Aegon's head was hurting, regretting the decision of drinking so much the other day, and he lazily and clumsily managed to get dressed in clean clothes. When he looked in the mirror, he was disgusted by his own reflection for the first time in four years. Every night, every single night since he had been married, Y/N washed him and brushed his hair before bed, and without her he looked like an imbecile. Perhaps his grandfather was right — who else would willingly marry him when he couldn't even dress himself?

The Red Keep was particularly cold that morning —or perhaps it was him who was cold — and Aegon made his way down the stairs towards the kitchens, only to be stopped by the sound of laughter. He turned on his heels, taking a left instead of a right, and followed the melodious voice that seemed vaguely familiar. The Targaryen found himself in front of the dining hall, and the guards stepped beside the doors to allow Aegon to enter. Confused, he stared at the people gathered around the table — his siblings, his mother, his grandfather, and his wife.

"Finally!" Alicent waved at the maids to bring more food and mead.

"Uh, what is happening?" His ears were ringing, his temples burning. Aegon sat down next to his wife, and again, she was not dressed in her usual garments, but a pale green dress, with golden earrings and rings. She rarely wore rings, he thought.

"Your lady wife had the beautiful idea of breaking fast together this morning." Otto poked the sausage on his plate with a silver fork.

"Has she now? And where was my lady wife last night?" Aegon's eyes darted towards Y/N, watching her gingerly cut a piece of meat.

"In my chambers." She simply answered before chewing her food.

"Since when do you sleep in your fucking chambers?"

"Aegon!" Alicent slammed her cutlery on the table.

"Since last night." Came her response, bored and indifferent.

"To see, you must close your eyes." Helaena whispered. "To win, you must lose."

"Aemond, tell your wife to stop talking in riddles. My head is aching." Aegon devoured a piece of bread, helping it slide down with mead.

"Or, you could go back to your chambers." Aemond suggested, holding his Helaena's hand in his.

Aegon shrugged, already tired of everyone around him. He silently ate his food, considering his brother's idea of going back to bed, until his eyes landed on one of the maids, and her figure. He closed his eyes, imagining what she looked like under the dress, but all he could see was the silhouette of his wife. The Targaryen shook his head — clearly he had drank too much at the tourney, and the mead did not help.

"Y/N, thank you for the wonderful idea of eating together." Alicent got up. "If you will excuse me, I shall go see the King. But we must do this more often!"

"And next time tell me so I don't come." Aegon snorted, proud of his harsh words. He watched his wife get up, and instinctively, he wanted to ask her where she was going, however he resorted to sneering at her.

"Why do you think I haven't told you this time?" Y/N smiled before excusing herself, and even Aemond chuckled at how she barked back at her husband.

Aegon waited for the doors to close behind his wife before slamming his fist onto the table, startling Helaena. Not even the gods could understand how much hatred he held for her.

"What is her problem?" He asked, expecting his grandfather and his brother to side with him.

"You are her problem, you buffoon." Aemond got up, offering his hand to his wife. "Come."

Aegon watched how his sister looked at Aemond with so much love in her eyes, and how his brother gently held Helaena's hand every time they were together, despite how aloof Aemond normally was. Was that what Y/N wanted? To have him hold her in his arms? To whisper sweet nothings in her ear? How could he do that when now she stopped sharing his chamber? Of course it was her own fault for the treatment she received.

Weeks went by after the tourney, days spent drowning in wine and ale, but something changed — Aegon's cock wasn't buried in some whore's cunt. He tried. By the gods, he went to brothels as often as he could, but the women there just did not appease him anymore. If he closed his eyes, he would see his wife, and if he held them open, he would think of his wife.

Aegon hadn't seen her in days, and when he did, she would be busy — sewing, reading, sleeping, riding horses, taking baths, anything to keep him at away. He finally understood what it meant to be wed to a Lannister, because every time he would ask Y/N what she wanted from him, she would reply with incredulous requests — the finest Myrish laces, the sweetest wine from Pentos, the greenest emeralds from Lys. Aegon truly believed her, and complied, only to find out Y/N requested such gifts to spite him, to give him a taste of his own medicine — because if she wasn't good enough for him, then he wasn't going to be good enough for her.

It drove him mad that she wasn't there to take care of him anymore, that he had to rely on maids who did not know what he needed. Y/N knew exactly which clothes to pick for him, how hot he liked his bathwater, which foods he ate after drinking too much. Without her, he was incomplete and incompetent.

Was that what Helaena meant when she said to win, he must lose? Had he lost his wife? Aegon did not truly know happiness, not since his mother and grandfather filled his head with ideas that he was a threat to Princess Rhaenyra, that he should've been named Viserys' heir to the throne. He did not want the crown, he had no desire to be king, and perhaps he would've loved his wife if there wasn't so much pressure and weight on his shoulders.

There were moments when Aegon wished he could trade places with Aemond. His younger brother was by far better suited to rule, but he had the misfortune of being born first. If only he was the second son, things would've been different.

Aegon was sat on his bed, toying with the blade of his sword. He didn't deserve Blackfyre, didn't deserve to be named after Aegon the Conqueror, and he didn't deserve his wife.

His wife.

Lately she was all he would be thinking about. How she scrunched her nose whenever she saw him, and roll her eyes when he said something ridiculously stupid, how beautiful she looked on his name day, and how she would tuck her hair behind her ear when reading under the weirwood tree.

It took him four years to realise this, but Aegon was undoubtedly and irrevocably in love with his wife.

The Prince jumped out of his bed, opened the tall, wooden doors of his chamber, and ordered his servants to fetch his wife. He needed to see her to confirm his feelings, and while he waited, he paced up and down his room, like a pup, eager to see its master.

When the door creaked, his heart jumped out of his chest, watching his wife walk inside. She had a stern look on her face, but she was beautiful nonetheless.

"You wished to see me, lord husband?" Y/N straightened her silk robe.

"Do you love me?" His question was as sharp as his blade, and it cut right through her facade.

"I am wed to you." She answered, avoiding a clear yes or no.

"A political marriage, we both know that. What I am asking is if you love me or not." Aegon closed the gap between them, his hands holding her by the shoulders.

"I..." Y/N trailed off, eyes avoiding his gaze. "Used to."

He let her go, his hands falling down to his sides. Not the answer he was hoping for, but she wasn't done talking.

"I've known you since we were children, Aegon. I married you out of love, not politics." She bit into her lower lip, bringing her arms across her chest.

"Then what changed?" His tone was desperate.

"You cannot be serious. What changed? You mistreated me, disrespected me, insulted me! I did not stand by your side for four years out of duty, husband, but because I hoped and prayed you would change!" Y/N shook her head. "I washed you, dressed you, fed you, yet you never once said thank you. I am not your servant, Aegon, I am your wife."

"You are right." He agreed, his head hanging low and humble. "You are right, you are my wife. I cannot change the past, Y/N, so tell me what I can do to fix this."

She pondered with her index finger pressed on her lips before lifting Aegon's chin up.

"Make me your queen."

Her voice was as sweet as honey, her fingers ghosting over his collarbone.

"I don't want to be king." Aegon was tired of repeating that sentence so many times.

"But you want to be loved. Not just by me, but by the people." The words were seductive, and so was his wife. With each sentence, she slid the robe past her shoulders. "You want them to chant your name. You want them to bow down to you." She kissed his hand. "You want them to swear loyalty to you, my king."

"Careful, your words mean treason." His fingers trailed down her arm, gripping her wrist and bringing her hand to his bulge, urging her to palm his cock.

"Will you have me imprisoned? Bound and gagged?" Y/N licked her lips, the idea exciting her. "I am loyal to no one but you."

"Shit." Aegon threw his head back, enjoying the way she touched him. Not even the whores could be so enchanting. Clearly, he had been a fool all these years. "You really want me to be king? Or are you following your own ambitions?"

"A little bit of both." She allowed her nightgown to pool at her feet, exposing herself to her husband. "Right now, however, I want you to fuck me, Aegon."

"You really are something else." A smirk crept on his lips, his fingers pinching her nipples. The whimper that escape her lips made a shiver run down Aegon's spine, only arousing him more.

Whores pushed their luck and maids were terrified of him, but Y/N was exquisite. He allowed her to be in control when she dragged him towards the bed, pushing him onto the soft sheets. Aegon hastily removed his clothes, but not before burying his face between her tits.

"Fuck, Aegon-" Her breath hitched when his hand snaked between her thighs, fingers slipping past her folds.

"So wet." He mumbled into her skin. "You want my cock?"

"Gods, yes!" She whined when he removed his fingers.

"Show me, then. Show me how much you want it, how much you want me."

Y/N fell down her knees, her tongue poking out her hungry mouth. She had heard Aegon talk in his sleep about how he wanted his cock sucked, and she couldn't deny her own morbid curiosity. Hesitant yet inquisitive, she dragged her tongue up his shaft, tasting the salty droplets of leaking precum.

"Don't be shy." He groaned whenever he felt her hot lips on his cock. "Suck."

She did not need to be told twice, eagerly opening her mouth and taking in as much as she could. Aegon was big. Not that she had seen many cocks before, but she couldn't imagine they were all so thick, and she struggled to breathe when she could feel the tip in the back of her throat. The sudden feeling of asphyxiation brought tears to her eyes, but in a sick twist, it also brought her pleasure.

"You want to be a queen but you're really just a whore." Aegon's words were perverse, and they should have made her feel disgusted, yet they had the opposite effect on her. The kind of effect that left her skin dotted with goosebumps, and her cunt aching.

Y/N couldn't answer back, not when her mouth was full of him — and she did not want to answer, anyway. It took Aegon four years to finally see her sacrifices to, and her love for him. She couldn't possibly spoil that moment. It did not help that the more she sucked, the more she enjoyed it, and Aegon knew that very well from the way she moaned and rolled her eyes back.

That was just a taste of what she could give him, and a part of Aegon regretted not having that conversation earlier in his marriage, had he known it would end with his cock down his wife's throat. Y/N pulled back in desperate need for air, wondering if this is what her husband was doing on the Street of Silk every night he was away, but she did not have enough time to give herself an answer.

"Come here." Aegon offered Y/N his hand, and reluctantly, she took it, helping herself stand. Never has he been so gentle to her, but his kindness soon came to an end when the Prince slammed his wife onto his bed. Her reaction wasn't to scream, or protest, but to pull Aegon closer to her, his body hovering over hers.

"My lord husband," She whispered, her lips ghosting over his, "I know you do not wish this responsibility, but the burden is not just yours to bear. You did not marry me as your equal, but I equally and willingly share your duty. You are not alone."

"I know." Aegon's hand found its way between her legs again, his thumb rubbing circles against her sensitive bud. He never took pleasure in pleasing women, but something snapped inside the Prince. His wife was not just any woman, but his future queen. "I know, and I was blinded by my own thoughts. But not anymore." He kissed her neck, dragging his tongue down her skin, between her tits.

"Aegon..." She mewled, fingers raking through his silver locks. "Aegon, please..."

"What is it, my queen?" He sneered against her skin, unwilling to give her what she desired just yet.

"Don't make me beg." Her back arched when she felt two of his fingers slip past her folds yet again. "I already t-told you what I want."

"Say it again." The Prince demanded, and whatever Aegon wants, he gets.

"Shit-" Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, praying to the Seven Gods that the guards couldn't hear the wicked words that would come out of her and Aegon's mouths. "Want you, m-my king! N-need you... I've always needed y-you!" Her voice went up an octave, cracking and breaking like the most fragile stained glass in all of Westeros.

"Fuck." Aegon whispered, his hot breath tickling her skin. "Do you really love me?"

"I do! I do, I do, I do!" She cried out the more his fingers toyed with her needy cunt. He removed them when he felt her spongy walls tighten, and when she gasped, Aegon did the unthinkable. "Taste yourself then, if you love me." His fingertips smeared her slick all over her lips, and without hesitation, she sucked his fingers clean.

Her eagerness to please left the Prince in awe, because never has a woman so willingly allow herself to be degraded by him. All the humiliation he instilled in maids was by force, and whores did unspeakable acts for a coin. He would know that all too well. Y/N looked up at Aegon with doe eyes, seemingly innocent, but the way she squeezed her thighs together for much needed friction betrayed her.

"Do not worry, my lady wife." He cooed at her, his soft voice in complete contrast to the predatory gaze in his eyes. "I am a merciful king, I shall grant you what you so desperately desire." Aegon's much broader frame hovered over hers. "Open."

Y/N complied hastily, obediently spreading her legs for her king, lacking any shred of dignity. She had been shy on her wedding night, pulling the bed sheets over her body trying to cover herself, but not anymore. Aegon pushed his cock between her folds painstakingly slowly, as if to test the waters. Although he took her maidenhead four years ago, he hadn't laid with her since. And it did hurt, for a short while — the pain turned into discomfort, and discomfort into pleasure.

"Harder, faster! Please!" She squirmed under him, hands roaming all over his back and arms, fingernails digging into his skin. Aegon wasn't the kind of man who took orders from others, everyone in the realm knew that, but he gladly took that order, thrusting into her with ferocity and anger. Anger, because he had been so blind for so long.

"Whore." He mumbled, still trying to blame his wife for his own demons. His silver locks fell over his face, and she pushed them out of the way to gaze into his violet eyes. "My whore." Aegon kissed her, teeth sinking into her lower lip. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"Oh, gods!" Y/N arched her back before wrapping her legs around his waist. "I'm yours, Aegon! Your whore, your wife, your queen!" She pulled him closer, until she could feel his chest pressing onto hers.

His frantic thrusts became quicker, harsher, until all his vision blurred from the bliss. She was close, he knew that from the way her walls clenched around his cock and how she gripped the white sheets, chanting his name like a prayer. His grunts were louder, and so were her moans, until the room fell silent, his seed filling her up. They stayed like that for some time, his heavy body collapsed onto hers, the silence interrupted only by his chuckles.

"What?" She was intrigued by his juvenile laughter, her fingers twirling his hair.

"Nothing." Aegon kissed her chin, burying his nose in the crook of her neck.

"Must I ignore you for a moon before you talk to me?" A smile crept on her lips.

"Heavens, no!" His body tensed under her touch as he propped himself on his elbow to look at her, his other hand resting on the plush of her hips. "I was just thinking about how bitter the wine tasted when you weren't there for me. So bitter I could not bring myself to drink it today."

"Aegon..." Y/N sighed, almost feeling sorry for her husband, however, he deserved it. He deserved to feel what she had felt, to understand how dark and sorrowful her days had been.

"I will be king, and all of Westeros will bend the knee to me, to us." He laid his head on her chest, the sound of her beating heart loud against his ear. "Just... love me." Aegon's embrace was needy, searching for her approval, her acceptance, as he fell asleep. He couldn't see the lack of emotion on her face, the indifference in her eyes when she professed her love to him right before his eyes closed, chest rising and falling.

She knew all too well Aegon was still Aegon, and that he would perhaps still fuck up every once in a while, infuriating his mother and grandfather, even after taking the crown. But all of that did not matter.

There was a reason she agreed to wed him, and it was not love. It never has been.

"The Lannisters send their regards."

#aegon targaryen #king aegon #aegon the second #aegon the usurper #prince aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x y/n #aegon targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon spoilers #hotd #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon smut #game of thrones #got smut #got fanfic

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angelltheninth · 6 months

Text

Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse with Jinx

Pairing: Jinx x Reader

Tags: fluff, teasing, flirting, survival, meet-scary, protectiveness, typical zombie violence

A/N: For my collab with @alberichness.

Zombie apocalypse survivor!Jinx threatens to shoot you on sight and does actually fire a warning shot. It grazes right past you thankfully. Until she's sure you're not bitten she can't let you stay in her base, so you're gonna have to let her inspect you. She won't touch you, she just wants to make sure you're not one of those people who thinks they can beat the zombie virus by sheet willpower.

"Shy are you, sugar? I'm not some kind of pervert you know, I just wanna make sure you're not gonna bite my face off anytime soon. I'll keep my hands where you can see them okay? Just turn around for me, let me get a good look at you."

Zombie apocalypse survivor!Jinx has her whole base filled with cameras, traps, weapons, ammo, food and water supplies but only one place to sleep. She's been on her own for a while and it's taken it's toll on her. Hardly the one to get the idea of personal space before the apocalypse now it's even worse because she can't stop leaning in and talking your ear off.

"Only one rule: if you spend it you gotta replace it. With the two of here this stuff's gonna go a lot faster. You might find a sleeping bag somewhere in here, honestly I've got no idea what shit I've got stored up, I only use a few rooms in this place. If you want a room while you're here feel free to pick one."

Zombie apocalypse survivor!Jinx seems to enjoy herself a little too much when the two of you go out to get supplies. She's not scared of the zombies, be it one or ten or more, she has her trusty guns and explosives' with her. Plus you to watch her back now. That being said you are still a little bit freaked out when you hear her laugh while she's killing them.

"If you keep staring at me like that I'm gonna get performance anxiety. You ever had that? Yeah, me neither. Why you looking at me like that? Their blood isn't gonna... ah, I get it. Look, it's us or them, and I've never met any of these people, so when it comes down to it I'm choosing to live. Plus, heh, you gotta admit they look funny when they explode."

Zombie apocalypse survivor!Jinx is a very light sleeper and a very early riser. You've hardly ever seen her sleep. Sometimes you think you hear her talking to someone, but no one talks back. It could be your imagination. Turns out it's not because one morning when you walk into the kitchen area you see her having an argument with... no one.

"Don't mind Milo, he's an asshole who doesn't know what he's talking about. Anyway sugar, I made you breakfast! Noting major but consider it a thank you for making my days here a little less lonely. I would have gone crazy if it was just me and these guys."

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #arcane x you #jinx x you #arcane imagines #jinx imagine #arcane headcanon #jinx headcanons #league of legends x reader #league of legends x you #league of legends imagie #league of legends headcanons

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shhh-secret-time · 2 months

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is me again hiiiii:•)

you don't have to do it right away, but the sp writing fandom is pretty busy with irl stuff from what i can see and i'm literally dying of withdrawals from no lovesick-idiot mccormick like its such a vital need for me to be alive. suave kenny is great, but STUPIDLY red-faced kenny fumbling a corny pickup line? [SLAMMING THE TABLE]

if you have a crumb of anything at all with kenny being a dummy when it comes to his lover, spare please if you want actually i'm not forcing give it now it's ok 🤲

ALSO HOPE UR DOING OK!!! :•D

- 🪼

Well hi you! I'm glad to see you back! I hope you guys don't mind that I combo'd yours together again! I'm so glad more of you are asking for Kenny! I couldn't resist the "Can't take a compliment to save his life" Kenny. Because same.

Warning: NSFW, Strong Language, Bad Flirting, Praise Kink

Pairing: Kenny x GN!Reader

The way his hair lays across your lap makes it look like little strands of golden thread. Such a peaceful look on his face would make any man jealous. That little thought tickled the front of his brain, how lucky of man he was.

Kenny opens his eyes just a bit, heavy lids beckoning him to close them again. It takes all his willpower not to listen to the sleepy siren song. But how could he even consider that when you look so beautiful.

He takes in every little detail he can. Watching your eyes move across your phone, it's hypnotic. You're not paying attention to him and sometimes he likes it that way. Getting to admire you in peace like this, without you trying to hide the things he loves so much about you.

But sure enough, when you feel his loving eyes on you, you stop and raise a brow down at him. He can't stop the lazy smirk that tugs at his lips. It makes you smile in return and Kenny feels his heart pounding in his chest.

"How's the most beautiful person in South Park feeling?" Kenny purrs up at you.

His flirting makes you chuckle and run your fingers through his hair. It only encourages him, you know that. Just a bit of attention from you and he becomes an addict wanting more and more. All you did was smile and laugh, and he's already pushing for more of that sweet sound.

"I don't know, how is he feeling?" You hum softly as you push the shaggy bangs out of his face.

You have to stifle back another laugh when you see his eyes widen. Even more so when a small blush begins creeping up his neck. He'd be lying to himself and any God that was listening if he thought you were going to shoot back like that. His heart wasn't ready, not by the way it slammed against his chest.

"You're a big flirt Angel. C'mon now, don't upstage me at my own art." He says trying to recover from the little counterattack.

"But Kenneth," Oh the way you say his full name. Even in that playful tone, it would make him stand at attention. "You're the real piece of art here."

And oh, the way your fingers trace down his jawline, like you're trying to memorize all his features on touch alone. Kenny's breath hitches in his throat, hoping that you don't feel the way his face heats up under your touch.

"S-Sweetheart. You're laying in on a little thick."

"Am I? I don’t think I tell you enough."

How can you sit there and tell him something like that so easily? The shade of your eyes holding such a deep passion. You look at him as if he's the most precious thing in the world, like the most devoted would their God.

"I don't think you hear it enough. I love you, Kenny. I love you so very much." You pause for only a moment, "From the way you smile at me with that earnest smile. I know you're trying so hard…even when you're tired, you're smiling and it's so beautiful."

Fuck.

"Oh, and the way you take care of those around you. I could go on for hours about how I adore you for that. You always make sure other people are happy before yourself. That heart of yours is gorgeous."

Fucking shit.

"And the way your eyes light up when you get excited. Oh, it's so cute! Pretty lavender eyes, I get envious when they're not on me. How could I not admire you as art?"

But they are! Always! He wants to tell you that, but the way you speak so softly. The way your voice drops to a whisper, tracing his lips as you speak. He can do nothing but open his mouth in awe. The blush on his face deepens and crawls up to the tip of his ears.

Just as he throws his arm over his eyes, burying his flustered face into the crook of his elbow, you let out a laugh. The sound rings out like a bell, a sound he wants to remember for the rest of his life.

"Kenny, don't hide from me baby~. Please." You know his weakness, a whisper against the shell of his ear in that pleading tone.

Kenny groans and slowly moves his arm away. He's barley able to look you in the eye. The way he tugs his bottom lip in between his teeth tells you everything you need. His face is such a deep red you think his skin is going to be permanently stained by that cherry color. In between nibbling on his bottom lip, the soft pink flesh quivers into a wavy line. From the way his fingers tap against his knuckles you know he wants to pull his hood up and pull the strings to hide his face.

So, you take them in yours and bring them up to your lips, pressing a kiss onto his bruised looking knuckles. You trail your kisses from his knuckles to the palm of his hand where you nuzzle into the warmth.

"And how could I forget these hands. These hands that protect people… these hands that hold me when I need it. The way you touch me with them makes me feel so loved." You hide the little smirk in his palm, watching the way he tries to hide into the side of your thighs.

"I-…I do love you. I love you so much." You think you hear him moan but it's hard to tell from the way his muffled voice barely reaches your ears.

If it was there’s no way you were going to let him hide them from you. You let his hands face go and cup the side of his face. Just like before you bend over and guide his face back towards yours. Your lips brush against his not quite kissing them yet, you want to see if his mind is still working.

Luckily, it still is. Once he registers that you've got your beautiful soft lips on his, he presses into them with a shaky breath. It feels like he can't catch his breath the way the kiss pulls the air out of his lungs. The rhythmic pounding of his heart picking up speed made its way up into his ears. Every time you pulled away traces of mint would make his mind hazy, only for your lips to anchor him right back in.

Kenny's kissed you before, plenty of times he'd ambush you and pepper your faces with an assault of his love. He’s snuck up behind you and dipped you in his arms, placing a passionate kiss before you could even register what was going on. A few times it earned him a smack on the shoulder or a punch but every time it was worth it.

Kenny's kissed you with want and need behind every little press of his lips. Everyone who knew him knew he was a physical lover, expressing admiration in touch. What better way to tell you how badly he craves you than with a long-drawn-out kiss?

Kenny kisses you with a toothache, how sweet you taste moving your lips across his.

He reaches up. His fingers through the locks of your hair, intertwining fingers through them so carefully one would think you were made of glass. His faded lifeline brushes against your chin and settles right on your jaw line.

His lifeline.

You.

"I love you." Kenny repeats himself.

"I love you too." So do you. Sneaking in the affection, weaving it between the kisses that just won't stop.

You can't stop, not when you can feel all the love, he's giving you. Normally it's his tongue that sings your praises. Kenny McCormick gave you all he had and more. He was a well of devotion and how you wanted to just keep pulling from him.

But sometimes you needed to remind him to take his fill. He could take from you more than he does, that it was alright to be a greedy man. That he didn't need to give so much without getting a little in return.

"No other man makes me feel like you do. When my time comes, I'll always remember you Kenny and all that you do." You whisper with that beautiful smile coming across that gorgeous face.

God if you only knew what you were saying to him. If you knew how heavy your words sat in his heart. You'd remember him? Through everything you'd remember him.

Your words echoed in his mind, your voice sounds like you are worshiping him. It should be the other way around. It's always been the other way around. He was put on this earth to serve, and when the universe gave him you, he was rewarded. Every time he felt the cold embrace of death, he'd wake up the next morning with his head in your lap.

Warm and safe. Home.

Does a man like him deserve more? Does he deserve to have his heart beating so deeply from your praise. Did he deserve to feel the way your lids lower, staring at him like he was the low lamp light of heaven?

"Can I tell you something Ken?" You start to say, snapping him out of the spell you've put him under. "I think I'd love you no matter what universe we were in."

Did you know just how much he'd do for you? The things he'd do to get back home to you. That there wasn't a god or death in the universe that would keep you from him. What he would do to anything that tried to get in between the two of you?

That was it. This is what was going to take him out, but if it was you maybe he wouldn't care.

Luckily it doesn't, not this time anyway. Kenny pulls away from your touch, sitting up with his back facing you only for only a moment. He knows he hasn't said anything in a while, but his silence doesn't scare you. You know him better than that. You know him better than any person has even bothered to.

He twists his body until he's facing you with either leg resting by your hip. His knees propped up to cage your body with his. Hands find home on your waist, pulling you into their lap. Kenny tilts his head like he's going in for another kiss.

"I know we would. I'd find you and give you my heart every time." Confession never sounded so saintly, not by the way Kenny says it.

The blond doesn't even seem to mind that his face is still a deep crimson, that he's all but shaking while holding you. The man's a lovesick fool.

"And I'd give you mine. My Kenny."

"My Angel."

Lips connect again ending the praise and sweet names. Hands begin exploring bodies, mapping every inch of skin. Calloused fingers push up against your soft skin and Kenny can't help but damn himself for how rough they feel against you.

But you seem to love it. You seem to love everything he does. When the pads of his fingers trace up and down your spine it makes your arch your back, chest pushed into him. The barrier of clothes has never really been a problem for Kenny, but tonight they were the source of his frustration. He needed to feel you against him, to touch you and feel that warmth that makes his skin buzz.

When your shirt is peeled off you expect him to dive straight towards your flesh like he had done so many nights like this. Instead, his hand comes up to the back of your neck and he presses his forehead against yours. He calls you an angel again, reminding you that you’re his, before his eyes trail down your form.

Why couldn't he just put into words how you made him feel? Put it in a way that wasn't a stupid pick-up line or some filthy comment. Kenny wishes he could just tell you, tell you how you're the only thing that makes him feel like this. He wants to tell you all the things you're so quick to tell him. But he can't. He can't form love on his tongue like you. He forms love on his tongue the only way he knows how.

His head dips down right where your shoulder connects with your neck, pressing a kiss into tender pulse of your heartbeat. Hoping it'll carry down your body landing right where it needs to. The pleased sigh it pulls from you tells him that's exactly where it went. Kenny speaks to you through chapped lips on skin trailing down your neck. Where he'd normally leave red splotches, tonight he leaves promises.

I love you. - a kiss on your collarbone, he lays you on your back against the bed.

You mean everything to me. - he bites your flesh and swirls his tongue, tasting you.

Don't forget this, don't forget me. Please. - he begs with a shaky sigh as he comes up for air only to dive right back to the other side of your neck.

Your hands slip into the folds of his orange jacket to push it down his arms. He tears himself away from you just long enough to grant your silent request. Sitting on his knees, he tosses the jacket to the side where it disappears somewhere in your room. Next is his worn-out tank top that leaves him bare to the cool air.

"You're so pretty Ken." Your voice and hand beckon him back down as you trail fingers up his chest.

He groans into the crook of your neck followed by a soft moan. He can feel himself slipping each time you compliment him. The feeling fuels him further, tugging your bottoms off. You feel him fumble for a moment until his thumbs hook into the waistband of your underwear, there he smooths out the flesh under them with the pads of his thumb. Rolling your hips up against him, you can feel just how pretty he thinks you are.

"M'gonna make you feel so good baby." He promises as he finally removes the clothing separating you.

He finishes removing your underwear and starts working on the rest of his clothes. Pants with a silver chain on the side and boxers that only served to keep him away from you. His silver necklace dangles off his neck between the both of you as he crawls back over you. Somewhere along the way he hooks his arm under your leg, pushing it up towards your head. His other hand follows by skimming up your thigh and gathering it up into his palm. They guide your legs apart, opening you up for him.

"I know you will." You laugh. Not at him. But in a way that's so carefree, "You always do, you're so good to me."

Kenny's hips buck forward in response pulling another sweet moan from you. Another one of many he hopes. He bites his lip when you take his member into your hands, gently guiding it into your warmth. It's slow the way he nudges the tip against you, opening you further to him. He wants you- needs you to memorize every inch of him so he takes it slower. Sinking further into you until he bottoms out.

Moans mix in the silence of your room. Until you lull your head to the side with that same pleased smile. "That's it. You feel so good Kenny. Come on love, have me like only you can do."

He almost feels bad when he squeezed your thigh, so sure that you'll complain about the bruise later, but you know what you're doing. You know praising him lead to this point, even if that wasn't your intention. To pull a gasp from him was just a little treat, one you were happy to have again and again.

When he drags his cock out of you, you mewl and squirm under his grasp. Your back arches again trying to encourage him to take more of you. Every long drag brush against your walls, every move feels calculated. He knows your body, knows where to push and grind to pull every sweet sound out of you.

Every time you call out his name, he feels his control lose and any other time it wouldn't be a problem. Right now, he hates it, he wants to take this slow and show you what you mean to him. But he can't, not when you press a kiss onto his throat whispering praise after praise into his pale flesh.

Kenny's hips snap forward, long slow thrusts have turned to sharp quick ones. "Say it again." He pants in-between each slam, "tell me you want me."

"I want you! God, please!" You cry out just as you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Again!"

"I want you, Kenny!"

"Fuck!"

He can feel it, he's at the end of his rope. That fire at the pit of his stomach is raging, consuming too much, but he can't finish yet. Not when you haven't. He inhales trying to focus on making you feel good. Making you feel like the way you should, but it's so hard when you're clenching around him and saying all the things that make him weak.

That's when he hears it, the way your tone pitches up an octave. You're not moaning anymore, they're silent cries of pleasure. Your nails dig into his back, and he hisses, you're close. So close.

"Ken- I'm gonna…I'm gonna cum!"

He doesn't even register when you do, not when you pull his own release from him. Kenny's moan is muffled by the way he turns his head and captures your lips again just as he spills himself into you. His cock twitches and throbs inside you, where he stays locked and connected for a few more beating moments.

A breath.

Shame washes over him, this was supposed to be about you. He was supposed to take his time.

A heartbeat.

Show you just how much he loves you because this was all he was good at. All he was ever going to be good at. Using his body to-

A laugh. Yours.

You're giggling and peppering kisses across his face. Gentle hands cup his face and hold it there. That smile that wakes him from the internal battle he put himself through.

"Kenny! You're crushing me baby!" The way you say it makes him think you don't really mind. The way you kiss his nose makes him think you're just happy he's in your arms. The way you hold him makes him think. Why'd he ever wants to be anywhere else. He smiles and presses his lips into your cheek blowing a kiss, lips make your skin vibrate.

Kenny’s just happy to have a home.

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crp-low-quality-content · 7 months

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Eyeless jack cheating headcannons

Just because I'm traumatized and rarely have happy scenarios with my S/O characters unless they're women.

Warnings: angst, depression, cheating and mild nsfw.

-I'm very traumatized by relationships, but I still can't see Jack cheating on you, not out of pure willpower.

- but there are two scenarios in which he could do this: scenario 1 would be if he only had the opportunity to eat the victim if he had sex with them (for me he doesn't eat just kidneys but he can eat the whole person), or in scenario 2 if he met another demon.

- starting with scenario number 1, which doesn't make sense because Jack has much more strength than any human, so he doesn't need to have sex with the victim to devour them, he can easily overpower a person especially when he's hungry.

- but if it happens, he'll feel like shit and humiliated because he literally had to have sex with a human who is much weaker than him just to have dinner one night and betray his lover.

- so that leaves scenario 2, which is more likely to happen, and get ready because it's going to hurt a lot.

- in scenario 2 he will meet another demon (gender unspecified because my EJ is bisexual) and if this other demon is in heat, Jack will automatically go into heat too.

- he'll be very attracted to the other demon, to the point of forgetting that you exist, and if the other demon is up to the standards that EJ is most attracted to, that's it for him.

- like if the other demon have a small body and easy to dominate, Jack will fall to his knees for them. Bonus if they look good.

- When Jack comes to his senses, he'll try to stay as far away from the other demon as possible because he respects you and doesn't want to lose your trust, which has obviously been built up over time and it would be stupid to lose it so quickly.

- But if he doesn't hold back, he might not speak to you for a few days. Obviously you'll be worried, you'll text him but he doesn't answer, you'll call him but he doesn't answer, you'll ask the other creeps but they can't answer where he is.

- you might think something has happened to him, you'll get really worried and paranoid, imagining a thousand scenarios of how he might have been captured, if he's seriously injured somewhere and slowly dying or if he's already dead. And it will get to the point where you can't eat properly thinking about having lost your Jack.

- the other creeps will also be worried but maybe they'll just think he's just hunting or doesn't want contact now, maybe because he's depressed or something.

- when he comes back he won't want to look you in the face. He feels extremely guilty and dirty about what he's done, but he won't say anything so as not to lose your trust, he'll just make up an excuse for everything that's happened.

- Until the other demon started coming for EJ, he fell in love with them, and now he's all over them. Jack can't resist either and even though it feels wrong, he goes out every night while you sleep.

- EJ is becoming more and more attracted to the other demon than to you, his touch, smell and voice are very intoxicating, Jack is losing more and more of the attraction he had for you.

- the other demon is much more attractive than you in Jack's view, he starts spending more time with them, and all the relationship plans EJ had with you are forgotten.

- Over time you realize that Jack is becoming more and more distant from you, the moments of affection are becoming rare and the nights when you have sex are even rarer.

- you start to feel alone, you see other couples being happy together and having mutual affection but not you and Jack, you start to feel single within a relationship.

- you start to worry, maybe his mental health is fucked in some way, so you tell him if he needs to talk you'll be there to listen.

- you've had depression once, and you know how much it destroys you, so you don't want to see Jack destroyed too, you don't want to lose him.

- Until one night you wake up and look over, you see that Jack isn't around, and as you're thirsty and your bottle is empty, you decide to go to the kitchen to fill it up.

- as the mansion is huge, the trip to the kitchen has put you out of sleep and you notice that EJ is nowhere to be found, you look for him in the mansion and ask the nocturnal creeps but they haven't seen him.

- You return to your room but now come to new conclusions about your boyfriend's disappearance: what if he's hiding something or doing something he doesn't want you to know about? What if he's cheating on you? Now you're starting to get angry with him.

- You see him coming back through the window and you stand in the doorway staring at him, your eyes are piercing, you're clearly someone to be taken seriously, after all, you live in the Slendermansion for a reason.

- he also stares at you, but not as seriously as you, he's even a little intimidated by your gaze because he knows he's done something wrong.

- you ask for an explanation, he tries to think of another excuse but he feels it's not a good idea to do that, so he says everything. Looking down and half-shrinking like a dog with its tail between its legs.

- Now how you react is all up to you.

#creepypasta #eyeless jack #eyeless jack headcanon #creepypasta headcannon #creepypasta headcanon #ej x reader #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack hc #creepypasta hcs #hcs #angst #angst without a happy ending #cheating hcs #sad headcanon #angst headcanons #creepypasta angst #EJ hcs

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teastainedprose · 1 month

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I want to ramble about Homelander in bed.

Blah blah "Homelander is a sub!", "NO, he's a Daddy Dom!", "No, he's!" He's whatever you want to fap to, who the fuck cares

He's none of the above. I don't think any D/s dynamic roles encapsule Homelander, not even Switching. (It's not his scene, bondage is a waste of time, this collar look stupid, don't call me that, that's weird...)

He's simply not into sticking to any set kink dynamics. (The vibes are off, fam. He'd be the vanilla boy within the BDSM dungeon. Confused and bemused.)

He doesn't have some innate desire to give up control to someone constantly, or to lead someone with a firm or gentle hand. Switching, yeah but he doesn't care enough to begin with. He's too insecure and uncertain of what he is as a person to even understand slipping into a role in the bedroom. Too volatile and what he wants and needs switches depending on his mood and/or partner.

What he is, is a starving man and his partner is the feast.

Poor idiot doesn't even know how to do intimacy properly and has gotten all of his sexual education from someone grooming him, someone paired with him for publicity, and porn.

The dude is lost. What he in bed I feel like boils down to three specific things:

Sadistic - He's a bully, he's mean, he likes watching others suffer in some form or another. (Giving pain play, orgasm denial, edging, forced orgasm, overstimulation)

GGG - Good, game, giving. He'll try anything and be up for whatever as long as his partner is into it. The dude can't be harmed in conventional ways, what's he got to fear?

Attention whore - Craves positive attention in any form (wanting to please his partner, praise kink to the MAX, receiving worship play, demanding attention, bratting, pestering and teasing, topping from the bottom)

-and then how those three things manifest depends wholly on his partner.

With Madelyn Stillwell, he wanted to be her good boy. He craved her praise and affection and he was restrained because she wanted him to be. He's a brat, he's petulent. He's needy. He's picking a fight with a toddler. She's his Mommy Dommy. I suspect she denied and teased Homelander endlessly and he took whatever scraps she gave him because he was starving for it.

With Maeve, they would have been two equals that he was horrifically territorial of. She was his and he had no issues broadcasting that to the world while emotionally intimidating her, but never getting physical. No, she's a god just like him. You can't hurt gods so why would he try?

With Stormfront, she encouraged all of his bad behavior, so Homelander was reckless and hungry. Break shit and fuck like animals, push and pull and playing with their combined strength. They're primal and at war and it's fun.

Soyeah, Homelander is going to fill whatever role suits his partner best. He's going to pay attention to what gets his partner off because he wants that positive response from them. It can be a good thing, or it can lead to the most toxic relationship possible. The man is fucked so it can go sideways fast. You're gonna need a strong constitution, a steel spine, and willpower to survive Homelander at the start else you'll get steamrolled and dropped by the plot like Becca AUGH.

Is it the fear mingled with arousal that gets them all hot and bothered like I imagine poor Hughie would feel with Homelander? Fuck, he's going to exploit that. He's gonna make that twink jump in fright every chance he gets.

What about little Starlight getting a spine and trying to play his game? Yeah, he's going to push those buttons and show her how good he can actually be for her. The gnawing need for the praise from the girl next door would eat him alive.

With Butcher? Scorched earth, baby. They're going to destroy each other in the most toxic, hate-fuck filled fest. Just tearing chunks out of each other to show the other that they can still feel. Raw and painful.

Until Homelander actually figures out who he is without his powers, status, or fame? He's going to play whatever role his partner needs, be that god, perfect gentleman, monster, or sweet boy. Then again, he's all of that and then some at once. He'll want to devour his partner in one moment, consume them wholly and just taketakeTAKE and the next he wants the intimacy that comes with being inside them/them inside him and he's so so so soft and gentle and reverent when he strokes them, and then he's a bastard who wants to twist the knife and make them beg and cry and scream and just tell him what to do, he'd do anything just to know he's loved.

-and anyway, this man is broken and the perfect putty for anyone to mold sexually consciously or subconsciously.

Not a Dom, not a sub, or a switch, but a chameleon.

#headcanons #homelander #Homelander x EVERYONE #Homelander Headcanon #these were my shower thoughts this morning #I didn't think that I'd have to point out that this is my personal headcanon n doesn't apply to EVERY SINGLE HOMELANDER bit of media EVER-#-but this is obviously my headcanon based on my D/s experience #nor does it contain EVERY POSSIBLE DYNAMIC #I didn't even put any HL x reader stuff and that's MY BRAND like-#uh #yeah #As a sub I can't claim him #the man doesn't have enough of a spine to be a REAL sub #HMPH #just a man with wet eyes and mental issues #¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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sussysluttyscorpio · 1 year

Text

Scorpio Placement Observations

(This picture doesn't belong to me in any way) (These may apply to 8th house placements too. Tell me if it does) (I won't make another post for Saturn and Jupiter. I'll include it in some astro-notes post briefly, if anything)

For Moon, Venus and Mercury, click here

SCORPIO SUN:

~Okay so, I won't typecast anything but Scorpio Suns are generally more comfortable around their male besties than their female counterparts? Like they don't get the girly shit or they don't like it all the time? But with the "bros", they get the homie feeling? You know?

~I feel people mistake Scorpio Suns a lot to being introverted and like ✨mysterious✨. Like, most Scorpio Suns (Tropical and Sidereal) are pretty chill, and ambivert, if not extraverted.

~Tropical Scorpio Suns are Sidereal Libra Suns. And well, out of all debilitated signs, this one is the least, well, difficult. A weak sun is good. Imagine looking at a very bright sun. It hurts your eyes, that's what it does. In the sign of Libra, it makes the native very diplomatic, very calm, very creative (fine arts or creative writing too even) The IT-girl placement? These people are so well liked. (Maybe the girls are envious from these people?) The guys who have this are so aesthetically pleasing to my Libra Venus. I see you🤍

~Sidereal Scorpio Suns are Tropical Sagittarius. These are the people who might be your stereotypical introverted, mysterious people, but that's generally because of an underlying insecurity, trust me. These people have a no-nonsense approach in life. Like if you're gonna bring me down, rightfully, fuck off. I'm not here for your shit.

~Well, as a Scorpio Sun (Sidereal) myself, I'm the biggest ambivert you'll ever find. I'll be an extrovert with the extroverts and with my introvert bestie, I'm a mild introvert. Haha, she makes me introvert. I love her.

~Also, most Scorpio Suns befriend other Scorpio Suns? I used to lose my mind when I first came across zodiacs. All my friends were Sagittarius Suns (Tropical). Like 5 of them, the closest ones. Or they were Scorpio Suns (Tropical). I didn't know about Risings then, let alone Sidereal. So, I used to always wonder why this is. Now, I know.

~I used to befriend Sidereal Scorpio Suns (Tropical Sagittarius Suns), and those were the closest ones always. I was myself always with them. Other Scorpio Suns always brought out the real me or a part of me I wasn't very open. True Vibe Soulmates, ngl.

~As for the Sidereal Libra Suns (Tropical Scorpio Suns), that was mostly because I have prominent Libra Placements so, comforting.

SCORPIO MARS:

~Tactical. Freaky hotties. Intense. Bold. The perfect "Lady in the streets, freak in the sheets" placement.

~Not an observation but I wanna fuck a Scorpio Mars. At least once in my life. Call it my fantasy.

~You guys and your strong ass willpower has me weak in the knees. You can commit? A person in today's day and age who can friggin commit? I want it. Please. Take me in.

~Like when you decide to do something, you make sure you do it and that you do it better than any other motherfucker. You go study the depth of the subject and know the roots, like real focusing on the "how"s and the "why"s. "Why is Sodium a soft metal? WHY SODIUM, WHYYY?!!"

~See. The simple logic behind this is Mars is domicile in Scorpio. It's comfortable here. It's in its element. It will show its full effect now. And what does Mars represent? Passion. So, these people are passionate towards whatever they do. And when you do something passionately, you become the friggin best in it.

~Um, you know, with Mars, the Sign is one part of it. I feel more important is the house it is in and what planets are aspecting it. But since we're not discussing that, let's not digress.

~Sex is important? Fuck no. Sex is IMPORTANT. How will you know if you can mate this person for life? Sexual compatibility is essential for you guys. And it's understandable too. The blending of souls through the bodies is utmost to show the love you feel. Words? Mean shit. Actions? Speak louder.

~I don't remember where but I heard this from an astrologer that the difference between Aries Mars and Scorpio Mars is their approach. Aries is represented by the Ram. Scorpio, whereas, is represented by the Scorpion itself. So, when a Ram attacks, it does with its horns. Face to face, head-on confrontation, while a Scorpion does it with its sting, which is on its back.

~What I'm trying to say is when you wrong a Scorpio, they won't react immediately. They'll be like "Oh. Okay" and months later you find all your friends falling out with you, people knowing the shit you did and then you realise, it was the Scorpio Mars person's doing. So, these people will take their vengeance when their enemy would be at their fucking lowest.

~And these people hold their vendetta forever. Forgiveness? What the fuck is that?

~You guys make elaborate plans. Like Money Heist level plans. On a smaller scale could be, um, Mass bunking college or Dating your shitty ex's enemy/best friend as a revenge? Just ideas.

~NSFW: You might have a breeding kink. Just saying. You're all dominating ASF. Everyone. No switching. Just Dominants. Dominatrix. Idk. But you are.

~If you want to manifest something important, like good body, work place stuff, like manifesting the passion, use the color black, purple or red. These are the Martian colors. Red is more for Aries but works. I did it with a blog of mine. Customised it full red. It became an overnight hit.

~Oh and did I tell you you're hot? I'm sorry. You're hot. As hell. Femme Fatale Vibes. Like you can tell me Jennifer from Jennifer's body was Scorpio Mars and I'll believe you. A harshly aspected/placed/afflicted Scorpio Mars gives me Joe Goldberg/ Love Quinn vibes from You. I mean, especially Joe Goldberg cause Scorpio Mars can get stalkerish. It depends on if it is receiving negative aspects from nodes. Like I said, with Mars, sign is secondary. Primary is house and other planetary aspects on it. Not all Scorpio Mars will be Joe Goldberg, come on.

~This happened in another post of mine when I said something about Aquarius Sun and being Hitler-like as an example. Not all Aquarius Suns can be or will be Hitler. One placement does not define you. If it did, you won't need aspects or house systems for it. Pfft-

SCORPIO LILITH:

(I wasn't going to write about Lilith but @lavenderundmintt asked me in the comments, so here goes nothing)

~Honestly, I desperately try to find sources on how to interpret Lilith myself cause whatever I've read never made sense to me based on my placements. I have a Lilith in 1st. And many parts stay, well, conflicted. I'm no Mary Sue in parallel universe as many suggest but whatever. This will be a little shorter. I don't want to fill large paragraphs at the cost of inaccuracies.

~Lilith Scorpio people, I believe, may have stalker-ish boyfriends or lovers? See, with Lilith, you'll experience everything about the sign its in. The roles reverses.

~I just discussed it with a few people how people obsess hard over Scorpio Lilith people. Hookups reaching out, past lovers having difficulty moving on from you. Breaking up then coming back to you? Stalking you on social media? "I'm sorry. I'll change. I'll be better."

~Um, not sure about this but, you might feel uncomfortable in accepting your sexual-ness? Like, maybe, you find sex something taboo or disgusting? Or even to the extent of being Asexual? Or insecure in bed? Its okay if it is true. Many people do and are. But I just, what I'm saying is that after puberty or losing your virginity, you could've find it hard to accept your sexual urges. You could feel unclean/dirty. Might not masturbat3. Reason could be anything, I won't mention any triggers cause triggers are real. If it resonates, you get it and I don't have to say it out loud.

But, I'm just saying. I could be totally wrong here and I'm sorry if I am.

~Oh and this doesn't mean you are unsexy or people don't want to fuck u. You exude a very high, unresistable, sexual aura, many-a-times without realising it.

~You're maybe very submissive? Again, you may not be if it's in, say, 1st house. But just saying, you could attract people through your submissive side. Or "innocence" or "Purity" or wtvr bullshit guys these days find attractive.

~Oh and another very prominent thing I came to know from the discussions. Eyes. Something with eyes that you guys do which drive people insane. Like, you have very hard-to-not-notice eyes. There's power in those eyes which is like very magnetic.

~Needless to say. Lilith isn't a very positive planet. I've seen people discuss how traumas surrounds this planet. And it being in the sexual sign of Scorpio could go anywhere. Not implying anything.

~But one thing I am very certain of. You're unavoidable. You draw people towards you. You're the ✨moment✨

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riality-check · 11 months

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👉👈 could i request another lil ficlet that includes steve getting comfortable with his body as it changes over time, that shit is so healing

Hi anon, of course you can!! I love getting requests, even though I might take a bit to answer them!!

I'm going to take this one in a slightly different direction, if that's alright with you. I've got a couple of thoughts about Steve and migraines that I'm using this opportunity to share.

(For those who missed it, this ficlet is the one anon is referring to!)

Steve thought, like most people, that his twenties would be filled with adventure. He'd get to party, make mistakes, learn about himself, and have fun. He'd go places and find a place to call home and maybe even a person, too.

But he's twenty years old, and at least once every two weeks, he's out of commission because his brain decides to scream at him.

Scream is probably too kind of a word. Jackhammer through his eye socket fits better, but that takes too much effort to say.

Today is one of the jackhammer days, and Steve doesn't even get all the fun warning signs and the aura before it sets in because he wakes up to pain so bad that opening his eyes feels monumental.

Woo-hoo, twenties!

He rolls over to smash his face into his pillow. It blocks out the light, and the pressure helps, but being face-down is going to make him nauseous in a few minutes.

What he'd give to be normal.

A hand snakes its way into his hair, lightly ruffling it, and while, normally, Steve considers himself exceptionally lucky and ahead of the curve (for once) for already having found his person to call home, right now he wishes he were alone.

Not really. The hand in his hair has to go, though. It's too much when breathing hurts.

He groans and tries to move out of the way, but that hurts, too.

"Oh, shit," Eddie whispers, taking his hand away. "Migraine day?"

Steve hums, though it ends up being more of a whimper.

"Okay," Eddie says.

The bed shifts next to Steve, and the sound of footsteps appears and disappears. Before Steve musters the courage or willpower to turn back over and open his eyes, the bed dips again, and gentle hands are rolling him over.

He groans in anticipation of the light, but it doesn't hit his eyes. Eddie must have closed the curtains.

"Water is on the nightstand, along with your meds. I don't know how much they'll help now, but if you can stomach them, I think you should take them," Eddie says softly. "Do you want the ice pack?"

Steve nods, just barely.

Gently, Eddie places the ice pack, already wrapped in a towel, on his forehead. Steve sighs when the cold makes contact with his skin.

"Sorry," he rasps. He's glad Eddie brought him water, even if he can't make himself grab it yet. His voice is a wreck.

"What for?" Eddie asks, lightly running a hand up and down Steve's bare arm.

"Making you do this."

Eddie huffs. Steve cracks his eyes open to see him frowning, like he expected.

"You don't make me do anything," Eddie says. "Do I make you do anything on the days my nerve pain flares?"

"No," Steve mumbles.

It's just not fair. The monsters are dead and gone. Steve is young and strong and hot and able, except for the days when he isn't. He shouldn't have days when he isn't, not when the shit that caused them is dead.

He wishes this was something like the Mind Flayer. Something that could be exorcised from him or cut out like a tumor. Something that can be killed.

Steve is good at killing things. He isn't good at fighting by standing down.

"So, we have a day in," Eddie says, still quiet. "I wanted to finish my book, anyway. Mind if I read next to you?"

"Sounds good," Steve says.

He closes his eyes again, hears the rustling of sheets as Eddie gets settled in next to him.

It does sound good. Eddie has a way of spinning things, of distracting them both from both of their pain.

Steve wishes he could see himself in Eddie's eyes. He wonders what he'd look like. He wonders about the thoughts that Eddie doesn't share.

He's long grown past the misguided belief that those thoughts are bad.

Steve isn't good at fighting by standing down. But he thinks, as the light sound of Eddie's steady breathing and the blissful dark and the pleasant cold of the ice pack start to lull him back to sleep, despite the pain, that he doesn't have to fight. That this is just a condition of existence, just something to be lived with.

Not an enemy. Just baggage. And Steve can use his arms to hold it instead of swing.

He isn't normal. Neither is Eddie. And that's okay, too.

#ria writes #asked and answered #thanks for asking!!#anon #steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #st #st ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson

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nardos-primetime · 23 days

Text

RANDOM WRITING BECAUSE I CAN'T SLEEP.

"You gonna throw us away too?"

Tw//Mentions of child neglect/abuse, overall bad times all around, angst hours, Leo has a bit of a melt down

(Damn the Draxum's Side ideas go crazy in my brain I don't even know if this Canon or not yet I just wanted to cook. Aka this is barely proofread and I haven't slept we run on willpower alone.)

Leo hates the concept.

After all the work they've done, accepting Draxum, Baron-fucking-Draxum into their family, they learn about this. This... bullshit. That's all he can really call it after all, bullshit.

"And you didn't tell any of us?" Splinter asks.

"Drax, we said no secrets!" He can hear his younger brother's voice crack, choking on his words.

"...I had forgotten. It was not my intention and by the time I'd remembered I didn't want to—"

"To what?" Donnie pipes up from his right side. "You break any established law of yokai morals once again, and given the chance to fix things, you lie, and you hurt people? Real great work on your redemption, Buddy, ten-out-of-ten."

"Donnie—" Raph reaches out to calm the other

Leo stops his hand, raising his head to glare at this poor excuse of a family member he foolishly, so fucking foolishly let in. "You threw them away."

"It..."

He looks around the room. Playing stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. That's all any of this was, it was just Draxum playing stupid to get an easy way back in. He could've reformed himself just fine on his own if he really meant it, but no. No. He had to use Leo's little brother to carry himself right to the manhole of their warm fucking family with NONE of the struggle involved.

"—it was my intention, yes."

"Oh my God, Draxum," Mikey drops the familial remark they normally use as his arms slump.

"How old were they. And you threw them away."

"They... physically... they had just gotten towards the ending of their toddler years... it... it was some months ago, you will have to forgive me..."

"So you forced them to grow faster with mystics?!" Donnie blurts, Draxum tries to speak again. "No, I don't CARE! I don't care if you know more about it. Do you know how that looks?! You know we know they wanted you arrested for your experiments, WHY would we trust you to say it was healthy!"

"You gonna throw us away too?" Leonardo crosses his arms.

"Of... of course not, you're like sons to me! I... I've appreciated all you've done despite my... former actions, and I—"

Splinter turns to him and shakes his head. "Do not speak," he whispers as he looks at Leo. It makes his skin crawl to see that pity in his father's eyes.

"Fuck you. Fuck you. I heard them, they called you dad! You're a piece of shit, they NEEDED YOU!"

He walked into their lives with none of the fucking struggle and has the fucking gall to act like he's sorry. Like he knows. Like he had a father who fell into disrepair when he needed him. One that broke down and left to snore while you and your brothers took care of each other.

His face scrunches up, and his chest hurts. "You two fucking deserve each other."

"Leo, Leo, no—" Mikey wipes his own face.

"You two are the perfect duo!" He laughs, for some god forsaken reason he laughs. "One didn't care enough to help his kids train for basic life and the other seems to have fucked up so bad his kids want him DEAD!"

"Leo, no! Dad's sorry, we know he's sorry, he loves us!"

Why's Mikey defending Splinter? Why's he of all people defending Splinter?! He was the youngest! He needed him the most when dear old dad became too tired to cook or play or get clothes or do anything. Mikey was at the most risk!

He... he was too young, that's it! That had to be it because that's the only way any of it made sense. "You don't remember shit, Mike."

Silence.

The guilt tries to ping up from his stomach and his lungs, squeezing his organs just enough to make him feel nauseous as soon as the words leave his mouth. It just makes him angrier. He doesn't know why, but he's angry. He's so angry.

Things were finally coming back.

They finally had a functioning unit! And Draxum had to—

"Leo, you need to apologize."

Who said that? He can't tell, and you know what? He doesn't care. There, he said it! He doesn't fucking care for once! Leonardo Hamato DOESN'T FUCKING CARE BECAUSE NOBODY CARES-CARE-CARED -WHATEVER ABOUT him.

"I don't need to do anything you guys say. Y-you're just making shit up at this point!" He cares.

"Leo, calm down."

He cares because it's not fair.

There's a hand on his shoulder and it feels gross. Irrational. There's a part of him that knows this is all so Irrational as he shoves it away and throws himself back.

He cares because sometimes he wondered if Draxum would've been attentive. If Draxum would've filled that void in their family. If maybe he'd reached out to Draxum's offer, he would've been valued.

"Leo!—"

But he's gonna do everything again.

"Get away from me."

And only Leo can see that.

"L-Leo?"

He scrambles to get up as he tries to grab the handle of one of his blades. "Get away from me."

Stupid voice cracks.

It's so stuffy in here. His stomach hurts and memory after memory is hitting him far too quickly for him to process. He thought it got better, he thought it was all better now. He thought it getting better was enough he, thought he didn't have to bring anything up and it would all go away he thought he thought he thought.

Since when the fuck does his thinking ever result of anything good, anyways?

He stumbles onto his feet and holds the blade out.

There's voices behind him, he can't differentiate them and frankly he doesn't fucking want to! He kind of wants to feel bad for once. That's so gross, he's so selfish. What a baby. Why's he so beholden to his emotions? They don't even make sense! If he leaves he'll get all numb again. He won't have anything to give him a sense of purpose but God he's going to throw up if he stays here.

He thinks of anywhere but here. Anywhere but here in this hellhole he fucking loves so much because it's his home and it's all he's really known. He thinks about anywhere but his family, the man who tried until he totally suddenly "couldn't", his brothers who fucking hate him and they should why wouldn't they he's having a hypocritical meltdown like a baby over shit that happened years ago that nobody else cares about!

And the man he finally called dad yesterday.

Anywhere. But. Here.

He hears one last thing as he throws himself into the warm light of the portal.

"We love you."

For a second, he forgets to tell himself not to look back, but it's alright. He can't see anything through his tears anyways.

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da-proti-toku-grem · 2 months

Note

18 for Jance please? :)

Thank you for the request! Hope you like it 🫶

Send me a Ship and a Number and I will Write a Kiss

tw description of (social) anxiety + an anxiety attack (therefore, a bit angsty + hurt/comfort)

18. …as encouragement.

Jan didn't feel like going anywhere right now, much less having to be in a place full of people and having to interact with them.

Yes, he loved going out for drinks with the guys to that gay club in Ljubljana that they loved so much and dancing in a crowded dance floor. But there were times when the mere thought of being in a room full of people – no matter if they were friends or strangers – was terrifying.

Yes, he played guitar in a band that played sold out concerts in huge venues and loved to play music at full volume with his headphones. But sometimes the noises around him seemed to increase tenfold in volume and he felt like pulling his hair out.

Yes, he always tried to talk to as many of their fans as he could before or after gigs. But there were times when a simple small-talk was enough to put a lump in his throat and make him want to cry.

Oftentimes he was completely fine. Sometimes it was simply too much.

So that's how he found himself at the moment.

Joker Out had been invited to an event and, of course, that event would be crowded. And not only that, but it would be full of people who would want to talk to them, to interview one of the most successful bands in Slovenia at the moment. And Jan didn't feel like he had the willpower to cope with that in that moment.

So that was what had brought him to the situation he was in now: sitting on the floor of his and Nace's room, his back leaning against the side of the bed, his legs pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around his legs and his head resting on his knees, black hair covering his face. He was breathing heavily and that pang in his chest – that was unfortunately so familiar – had returned.

Jan wanted to cry. Or scream. Or maybe both. But even that seemed to be too much right now. All he could do was sit there, trembling.

“Janči, have you seen my-” Nace's voice snapped him out of his train of thought.

He had entered the bathroom a few minutes ago to take a shower, but apparently he had forgotten something. He went out to grab it before showering, but the question hung in the air as soon as his eyes fell on the younger. “Hey, hey, love, what's wrong?” He said, concern evident in his voice as he approached the man on the floor.

Shit shit shit, now I've worried him, Jan thought. Why can't I do anything right?

When Jan didn't answer, Nace asked again, gently. “Is it because of the event?”

The guitarist let out a broken sob.

“Oh, honey,” he reached out to touch him, but stopped himself before doing so. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Jan's heart melted as he tried to nod.

However, Nace didn't touch him immediately. Instead, he sat next to him, close but not touching him yet.

“Okay, I know you probably don't have the strength to talk right now, so let's try something,” he said softly. “Tap once if you want to say yes, and twice if no, okay?”

He tapped once.

“Good job. Are you still okay with me touching you?” He asked again. Not pushing, not judging, just not wanting to force him. And God, what did I do to deserve him?

Jan tapped again. A ‘yes’.

Nace slowly approached him, put his arms around him and, oh so gently, began to move his hand up and down the younger's back, soothingly.

Jan's brain is too cluttered to process how or when it happened, but he found himself in Nace's arms, facing him this time, resting his head against his chest and crying.

The bassist's arms wrapped around his body, tight enough to give him the comfort he needed, but not so tight that it became too much.

When Jan stopped crying, leaving only some small sobs, the older spoke again.

“Breathe with me, love.”

And so he did. He followed Nace's breathing until his own breathing regulated and his heartbeat returned to normal. Then, he slowly separated himself until their foreheads rested against each other.

Again, Nace was the one to break the silence.

“I want you to know that if you need support at any time, I will be there. You can always hold my hand or, I don't know, whatever you need. And if at any point you think it's becoming too much and you need to get out, you tell me and I'll make an excuse to get us out of there, okay? No interview is more important than you and your well-being, Janči.”

If it weren't for the fact that he had already used up all the tears he had, Jan would surely have started crying again at those words. He still couldn't understand how he had managed to have someone so caring in his life, and what's more - to have the enormous pleasure of calling him his boyfriend.

“Thank you,” he said in a small voice, hoarse from all the crying.

Nace started leaning closer and, when their lips were about to touch, he stopped. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” Jan smiled and closed the distance with a soft, tender kiss.

As their lips slowly parted ways, they stared lovingly into each other's equally brown eyes.

“You can do it, Janči. You're so strong and I believe in you, alright?” Nace kissed his forehead.

Jan leaned into the gentle touch as a whispered 'thank you' escaped his lips.

“Wanna join me in the shower?” Offered Nace. “I can wash your hair if you want. Maybe it’ll help you calm down a bit.”

Jan was sure his boyfriend was an angel sent straight from heaven.

“Mhm,” he hummed, giving him a weak smile.

“Okay let's go, baby.”

masterlist | ao3

#i took a bit of inspiration from another fic idea i had a while ago but don’t know if i'll ever get to write #and yes. i'm projecting my own social anxiety here #can i have a nace in my life pretty pls :(#joker out #jan peteh #nace jordan #jance #ask #mine #maca writes #kiss prompts

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