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#but...i really cannot fucking stand this any longer...
jvzebel-x · 1 year
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#i genuinely-- GENUINELY-- believe more ppl would understand the phrase 'acab' if they were ever present for a camp sweep.#'''bUt ThEyRe JuSt DoInG tHeIr JoBs''' okay if you can give me that excuse after seeing a swat team worth of cops#shred tents in 30°< weather while trashing clothes&blankets at 3am in riot gear#youre actually just a bad person&should probably just admit that lmao.#like its currently illegal in pdx to hand out tents on the streets. street teams are no longer allowed to hand out life saving material.#this was enacted immediately after the last cold front bc fires happened bc how the fuck else do ppl stay warm#on the streets in 20°< weather. &like i dont think ppl realize how quickly you can go thru tents on city streets#SPECIFICALLY bc cops shred tents during camp sweeps. this is yet another in a continued line of laws passed#that-- to anyone who is willing to put in ANY EFFORT AT ALL-- are very obviously angled to kill homeless ppl.#&i really think that if more ppl saw the actual reality of what this all looks like together theyd at the very least#be embarassed if not ashamed to try to defend the pigs&their job which is literally to harm ppl lmao.#tell me theyre just doing their jobs after watching a team of them demolish everything a family has in the world.#there will for sure be officers laughing&physically+verbally abusing the ppl there. that will for sure be happening#bc i cannot stress enough that to do the fucking job in general you have to be a bad person willing to do heinous things.#but are the ones NOT doing that any better lmao? can you genuinely tell me theyre any better or feel any form of pity#as they do the exact same job as the awful ppl around them they just dont laugh or go even further while they do it?#its still legal in most states in the usa for cops to fuck fs street workers to prove theyre swers then arrest them after bc pRoOf lmao.#can you GENUINELY look me in the eye&tell me those cops are better than the ones that outright rape swers once theyre in custody?#i just. i just cant stand ppl who hold horrible beliefs wont further examine them at all&STILL need to be reassured#that theyre good ppl lmao. just be a bad person are you fucking serious why bother bending&breaking to deny it.#just like famous nepo babies crying about 'my mommy+daddy just FUNDED&CONNECTED me i wasnt GIVEN success :('#so you not only get to have EVERYTHING on a silver platter you also NEED to be assured that this wasnt what happened??? NO.
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queers-gambit · 5 months
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And Let Me Love You Anyway
[ part two of two ]
prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.
pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader only description given: red hair and Daemon's able to lift you
fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon
word count: 6.3k+
note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!
warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader-episode-insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).
part one: "Tell Me Every Terrible Thing you ever did, And let me love you anyway," - Edgar Allan Poe
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"Alicent, we're late," you sighed with a frown, wiping your sweaty palms nervously as your necklace was latched in place and perfume spritzed on your pulse points. YES - that included your ankles.
"That's the point, sister, we're supposed to be late. It sends a message."
Your eyes rolled, snipping, "The King will not be pleased. I am not his wife, he can get angry at me, you know!"
"He'll manage," she snapped, glancing at Talya. She continued, "He dismissed Father for telling him a truth he would rather ignore. So much so, after years of service, he'd - "
"Yes, yes, the King removed Father as Hand, sent him back home," you nodded with understanding. "But we both know how he feels about his daughter, The Princess! The rumors circulating would cost him his life in the end, we are lucky he was only sent home!"
"Rumors! Rumors, sister, truly!? Tell me, do you think Father lied?"
"I know he didn't."
"Exactly why we're late to tonight's affair," she huffed, fixing her hair in the mirror again. "It's a statement, it's deliberate. We will stand out, prove we are not happy with the turn of events. Why offer Rhaenyra blind respect when she continues to do as she pleases - regardless of consequences."
You paused, sensing her anger brewing and trying to distract, "You know, Ser Lyonel Strong is not a bad replacement for Father."
"This is not about Ser Strong."
"Isn't it? Father's served long and faithfully, but perhaps it is time for a new guidance. Lyonel Strong is a smart man - qualified, even!"
"Yes," she agreed, turning to face you in a shimmering emerald gown. "But this is still an injustice to our family that I fear I cannot overlook any longer. It's been weeks..."
"Yes," you allotted, nodding with a sigh. "All right, yes, you are right, sweet sister. This is all just - it's a lot to take in, to try and digest. And we talk of playing a game with the Throne - I do not think we've the strength to endure alone."
"This is not about Lyonel Strong, sister! It's about Father and the disrespect the Crown continues to offer. Remember that," she advised softly.
You nodded, "I know, sister."
She frowned, "And remember... They aren't our kin. Despite previous displays of kindness, the Targaryens have made it clear that we are not family to them. They are not blood to us, sister; they will protect their own, not us. If we wish to survive, we will need to ally ourselves."
"I understand," you told your younger sister. "I am not arguing, I know what our reality is now - I merely implore to explore the routes that won't label us as traitors."
"I know, we have much to discuss going forward. But none of that for now," she took a long breath, smiling as she looked you up and down, complimenting, "you look stunning. Truly, you might outshine the bride tonight."
"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, and that The Princess has a mature bone in her body - though I do not hold out hope." You smiled at her, "But enough about me, you look - you look like a Queen, sister-dearest. Gods, you're gorgeous, you look just like Mummy." The two of you shared an emotional, watery smile; embracing tightly as reality settled in your guts: it was you two Hightower Ladies against the whole of the Targaryen clan. "Come," you decided, taking a deep breath, "are we ready to go? Any later and I fear we might not get any cake."
"Oh, you and cake," she smirked, looking you over in a matching emerald, lighter-weight gown that had layers of thin fabrics clinging and dripping from your form. Golden jewelry was clasped around both your necks, wrists, tight around your fingers, and plugged into your ear piercings.
The Queen took your arm and left the dressing chambers you took refuge in, coming to a gasping halt when you were greeted by a well-groomed man in green velvet. "Father," Alicent exclaimed in shock.
"My daughters," he smiled, offering both arms, "I do believe we are now fashionably late. Hmm?"
"Exactly as we intended," you mused, taking his arm. "How is this possible? How are you here?"
"I was invited, if you believe that," Otto answered, the three of you walking slowly. "Though, I suspect your sister had something to do with that?"
"I only told Viserys I'd be deeply offended if you were ignored for this event," Alicent quipped.
"None the less, I am happy to escort my daughters to such a historic event," he spoke diplomatically, aware of the guards and servants milling around. Otto lead the way to the Throne Room - where you could hear King Viserys' echoing speech from the foyer.
None of you spoke, approaching the open doors and pausing to let everyone see the united Hightowers. Alicent wore her dark auburn locks pulled back from her face to cascade in thick ringlets down her back, your own Hightower-red hair left down around your face with the longer locks pinned off your neck. The entire room - the entire court - all wedding attendees and royal procession stared at you three in shock for entering during the King's speech. Your statement was clearly made.
Even from this distance, you could see how startled Rhaenyra was by your arrival, needing to fight off a smirk of amusement in order to keep your neutral façade.
You and Alicent walked arm-in-arm with your father, the once-Hand, down the stairs and up the aisle of banquet tables full of people, staring forward and giving no emotion away. The people buzzed in quiet gossip. The attending Hightowers of Oldtown, sitting closest to the royal banquet table because of their relation to the current Queen, stood first; everyone else following in a show of respect.
You and Alicent paused to let Otto sit with his relatives at the lower banquet table before joining arm-and-arm together. Over the muttering of the entire room, you whispered almost mutely, "Be kind, remain composed, we'll kill 'em with kindness."
Alicent gave a subtle flex to give indication she understood.
When you looked up at the table you approached under the King's heavy glare, you noticed there was an empty chair between Ser Strong and... Prince Daemon? Was that really him? When did he get here? Why was he back? It's only been a few weeks!
Your shock did not slow you, and as you approached the table reserved for the Royal Family, you saw Daemon smirking at your theatrics. Alicent did not let you part from her side as she greeted Princess Rhaenyra with a sickly-sweet voice, "Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you."
She ignored any other reaction to let go of your arm, kiss her husband's cheek in greeting, stand beside him, in front of her chair, and stare forward with zero other emotion.
"Congratulations, Princess," you whispered, bowing your head. "Your Grace," you acknowledged, doing the same and taking the empty chair between Lord Hand and Rogue Prince only to stoically stare forward in silence. You did as Alicent did, not looking at any other, and just waiting for a pregnant moment that seemingly never ended.
"Please be seated," Viserys finally permitted, everyone sitting at his behest. He cleared his throat, whispering to Lyonel Strong, "Where was I?"
"The joining of the two Houses, Your Grace."
You swallowed when a warm hand laid on your right thigh, Viserys continuing his speech. You glanced at Daemon, seeing his smirk, and instead of throwing his hand off you, you laid your own over his to give a long squeeze. You had wrestled with the idea of his favorite whore, Mysaria, and the idea of whatever he did with Princess Rhaenyra for weeks. Then when you heard word that his wife, Lady Rhea Royce, had met her untimely end, you knew he was involved, yet said nothing. You could only think deeply about what it all meant - and how you fit into the equation that was Prince Daemon Targaryen.
Tell me every terrible thing you ever did...
All you could understand was the overwhelming affection you held for him. His shocked-wide-eyes found yours for a long moment, seeming communicating telepathically - you telling him you wanted him. His hand tightened to keep hold of yours, hidden from the public for the time being.
And let me love you anyway...
You tuned back into the King's speech in time to clap with the others, showing your support of the union you technically helped influence between Targaryen and Velaryon.
However, you caught the way Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, sighing to yourself; having heard through long private dinners what Alicent came to know and why this upset her so much. How strange to learn Ser Criston Cole admitted to Ali that he was coerced into soiling the Princess' purity - not her Uncle Daemon, like rumored. Yet none the less, the girl had sworn on her beloved, dearly departed mother to Alicent that she was still a maiden... A huge, glaring lie - that both you and Ali took personally.
You found all of this terribly interesting, yet did not let the distain show so boldly. After Daemon came to you in confession, you had yet to speak a word outside of public politeness to the Princess; feeling betrayed by what your lover had told you. He had been right: you were Rhaenyra's friend, she wasn't yours. So, you demoted yourself to create distance.
When the drums rumbled and the Princess took to the dance floor with her intended, you spared Daemon a look and muttered, "You do not have to look so annoyed."
"I'm not, sweet one."
"Nor so amused," you tacked on.
Daemon smirked at you, leaning in and pondering, "I am only wondering if you would care for a dance later, my Lady?"
You lied, speaking in a teasing tone, "I'm not one for dancing, my Prince."
"A single dance with me, then. Just one, pretty lady."
"You're pushy," you whispered, nudging him to keep quiet; but the grin on your lips assured him you were completely enraptured by his antics.
He sat back with a smirk, watching his niece and her fiancé dance. The entire courtroom clapped at the end, others flooding to the spaces around them. You glanced over as your sister stood from her seat, meeting your eyes and offering only a soft smile before descending from the table to approach your aunt and uncle from Oldtown - standing with your father on the side of the room. You sighed under your breath, your lover tightening his grip on your thigh.
Daemon made for a great distraction. "Did you hear the news?" He asked softly, reaching for his goblet of wine with his free hand.
"Which news would that be, my Prince?" You asked casually, pretending your heart wasn't hammering in your chest.
"Of my dear wife's passing."
"I did, actually," you fought off your smirk. "I am truly sorry to hear of it, I understand Lady Rhea was truly one of a kind. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, love," you reminded in a whisper.
"Hmm. Don't be sorry, I'm not," he eased.
"You're not? Your wife died, Daemon..."
"I know," he met your gaze, "I'm not sorry because now it gives me vocation to follow my own desires."
You smirked, "Which desire will you follow first?"
His hand tightened to a bruising grip. He was not able to answer yet because your gaze was caught by movement, Rhea Royce's cousin approaching slowly, evidently a cup or two deep in the wine; making you remove Daemon's hand so you both could sit casually - without touching.
The man gruffly leered at Daemon, "In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes." Your lover spared you an exasperated look as he tacked on, "Even Targaryens."
"Who are you?" Daemon asked dully.
"This is Ser Gerold Royce, my Prince," you told him softly, "of Runestone."
Daemon perked his brow, asking sarcastically, "An excellent show of your knowledge, my sweet lady, but what does that matter to me?"
You didn't answer, Ser Lyoel Strong (who was listening in) didn't answer, because Ser Gerold was approaching the table by climbing the stairs. He growled at Daemon, "I am cousin to your late Lady wife."
"Ah, yes... Terrible thing," Daemon offered. "I'm positively bereft. Such a tragic accident."
"You know better than anyone, it was no accident."
Through a smirk, Daemon quipped, "Are you confessing some guilt, Ger Gerold?"
"I am making an accusation."
You shared a look with Lyonel to your left, catching sight of the King's turned head - showing he was listening, too. Daemon easily deflected, "Here, in King's Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you." This angered Ser Gerold visibly, the man stepping closer, but obviously restrained himself. Your lover continued, "The truth is I'm glad you've come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance."
"What inheritance?" Ser Gerold demanded.
"Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband, whatever she was due now passes to me. She stood to inherit all of Runestone. Did she not?" Daemon had Ser Gerold pinned by legality, the man looking disturbed by his own realization. So, naturally, Daemon taunted, "After my niece's wedding, I plan to fly to the Eyrie and petition Lady Jeyne myself. Perhaps I'll see you there, Ser Gerold."
The man sheepishly walked away, his inebriated mind whirling with possibilities. You glared, pinching Daemon's arm so you could scold him when he turned to face you, "That wasn't very kind."
"And?"
"You don't truly care for Runestone," you snapped. "Now that man will fear for his home, fret over the laws, and that's not very nice."
He sighed, "What would you have me do, sweet one?"
"Leave House Royce to grieve and rearrange their succession without your pettiness."
Daemon smirked, "Whatever my Lady wants."
"You're dreadfully annoying tonight, do you know that?" You whined. "I'm going for a dance, and no, this is not an invitation to follow," you warned him - albeit playfully - before standing to excuse yourself.
"Sister," Alicent paused you before you could pass her by. "Are you well?"
"Yes, yes, just felt like dancing, too much energy to just sit. Come join - "
"No, no, I should sit. Eat," she smiled. "Perhaps tonight will be when you meet your match and we can plan another wedding."
"Perhaps," you mused, squeezing her hand. "You all right? What did Father and Uncle say?"
"Later," she whispered. "Go on, go."
You joined the stream of people dancing, instantly grinning when you were welcomed joyfully by different suitors. The band played a lively beat, the crowd cheering in rhythm; you being twirled around men and women with matching grins.
You heard your name being cheered through a small giggle.
"Hi, Princess," you greeted Rhaenyra as you both marched along to the beat. You reminded yourself this was all a game and if you wanted to survive, you'd have to play your part strategically. So, you quipped as you danced with Ser Arryn Blackwell, "Nice party you've got, huh?"
"Oh, you know how we Targaryens do," she teased. "Where've you been lately? I feel as if I've hardly seen you."
"Just busy with chores since Father was replaced as Hand," you answered, spinning under someone's arm.
Nyra didn't comment on that, instead, waiting a few moments before complimenting, "That's a beautiful dress, really goes with your hair!"
"That's what I hoped for," you gasped girlishly, deciding to play nice when she reached for your hands. You felt weak for a moment, but the truth was, you missed your friend... So, you might've giggled a bit when you joined hands, dancing together instead of with anyone else. With kindness, you offered, "You look gorgeous, as well, Princess, I love this dress - "
"Yes, yes, we all look fantastic," Daemon interrupted abruptly, crowding over you, asking quickly, "can I speak to you a moment, my Lady? The Princess won't mind, right, Rhaenyra?"
"Uh, no, I guess..." She eyed the two of you with suspicion as she stayed in-beat with the music.
"Daemon, not now - "
"We need to talk," he pulled you from where you danced, glancing back at the head banquet table as he took your hand, and lead you deeper into the crowd. He turned you to face him, pacing a small circle around you, demanding, "Do you still want to marry me?"
"What? Why are you asking now?"
"Because I just asked your father for permission," he seethed, pausing in front of you, "and he outright refused, saying he's negotiating with the fucking Lannisters. I need to know what you want."
"I was not aware what I wanted mattered to you, the man who views marriage as a political arrangement," you eyed him with a curled lip of annoyance.
"What arrangement could I want? Your sister is Queen, my family is bound to the Hightowers already. My political marriage is recently dissolved, I am free to do as I please, regardless of what others want or say - "
"Then tell me what you want. Tell me plainly what you want from me, Daemon, no more pretty words and veiled truths. Be plain."
"You said I had a year, and look - it's been weeks. Weeks, my love, how much more plain can I be? I'm here, now, free to marry, and I need to know if you still want to marry me. I'll marry you tomorrow - "
"Oh, please! Would you steal me away?" You mocked with a chuckle. "Take me to Dragonstone? Make me your little wife that you'll come to resent, too? Just as you did Rhea?"
He reached out to aggressively hold your cheek and jaw. "I had no choice in my first marriage, I could never come to resent you - you're all I've ever wanted. I'd do anything for you," Daemon snarled over your lips, "including risking your father's wrath. I'd do anything to make sure we end up together, you are my heart - do not forget that."
"Then pull out your sword, cut them all down," you purred, feeling his hand tighten, "and claim me as your own - do not let anyone stop us."
His lips hovered over yours, breathing the same air, and before he could respond or kiss you, a woman screamed shrilly from behind you. Daemon instantly latched onto your body as a crowd formed to your left and right, and when you both looked, you were shocked to see the commotion happening at your feet.
"Love - "
"Daemon," you paused him, shocked as Ser Criston Cole was engaged in a fist fight with some Velaryon knight before Ser Laenor Velaryon, the groom, was tackling him to the side. What an interesting display of protectiveness from Ser Laenor over his knight.
Daemon rushed in your ear, "Do not look - come away with me."
"Wait," you held his hands to your waist, letting him crowd into your back as Cole had punched Laenor to the side and straddled the blonde on the floor once more.
He landed one blow before the knight was brandishing a dagger; but the White Cloak caught his arm and easily snapped it broken, startling the crowd. Beyond your ring of spectators, other men were trading blows and engaged in their own fights; total chaos taking over the whole of the Throne Room. You flinched back into Daemon's embrace when Cole screamed like a wild man in the mountains, repeatedly pounding his fist into the knight's face; literally caving it in, creating a human minced meat pie.
Someone better contact Mrs. Lovett!
"No more," Daemon decided, Cole rearing himself back as Daemon stooped to heave you over his shoulder. He was able to find safe (enough) passage through the people, approaching the royal banquet table. "Hey, hey," he whispered, setting you down and taking your face in his hands, the wailing of Laenor Velaryon seeing his murdered knight echoing in the Throne Room. "You all right? You hurt? Look at me, love, are you hurt?"
"No, no, I'm okay," you whispered, swallowing unsurely; reaching up to hold his wrists. "I'm okay."
"Sure? You shouldn't have seen that - "
"It's all right," you assured, stroking his wrists. "I'm okay, Daemon, truly. Just... A little startled, maybe?"
"What's this then?" Harwin Strong smirked, panting lightly from his rescue mission as the Princess was attending her father, the King. "You two hit it off then, yeah? Is it me or are sparks flying?"
"Something like that," you whispered, trying to regulate your breathing after the adrenaline-inducing scrimmage.
"Easy does it, love," Daemon whispered, keeping you close as you didn't let go of his hands; wanting to stay connected. He told Harwin, giving a half-shrug, "They aren't sparks. She's everything to me."
"Perhaps your second wedding will go better than this one," Harwin sighed, hands on his hips.
"In some cultures, deaths at a wedding are considered good luck," you muttered, Daemon snorting lightly in amusement before running his thumbs over your cheekbones in soothing gestures.
"Didn't your wife just pass, Prince Daemon?" Your father demanded publicly with a heavy glare. "You'd offer insult to her memory by remarrying so quickly?"
"I've grieved Lady Rhea plenty, Ser Hightower, it's time to look to the future," Daemon declared, eyes daring your father to challenge him. "The Lady Hightower and I will wed. The sooner, the better, in truth."
And history would never be the same.
"What?" Rhaenyra demanded, whirling around at the news, making all others pause in confusion. "What did you say?"
"That I intend to marry the Lady Hightower."
"Her? Her? Fucking her - who is more prude than woman?!"
Well, that was mildly offensive...
"Rhaenyra - "
"What makes you think you're worthy?" She demanded of you, turning from her father to stalk across the platform. "Worthy of a man like Daemon, of a husband like Daemon? You've done nothing to - to deserve such a title! The title of Princess, of wife!"
You were honestly confused to your core.
"I deserve a man like he - not someone like you!" She continued, shocking the group as the Kingsguard cleared the Room of any lingering stragglers to keep this as private as possible. "You think I didn't see you on my tour? You were fawned over, all wanted to talk with you, but were forced to line up for me! You rejected them all on your own, and now I see why! You wanted to wait until the Lady Rhea passed, which makes me wonder - what part did you play in that?"
"Rhaenyra!" You gasped.
"What? Honestly, it would make sense - the day Daemon's banished, you weren't seen! I wouldn't be shocked if you were seen somewhere lurking in the Vale! You cannot have it all - you've always wanted my life, and now look! You have to have what I have, and now you've taken a liking to my uncle after our scandal! What? He wasn't interesting before? You heard rumors about us and decided you wanted him for yourself? Just because he was mine first? You just want to be me, you always have - you've always reeked of jealousy! This is all you wanted, to steal my family, and - "
"That's enough," Daemon tried. "You are out of turn here, Rhaenyra, do not make this worse."
"Why? Because little Lady Hightower's façade of being a respectable, pure woman is now tarnished?"
"We share one dance, albeit intimate, sit next to each other at a single dinner, shared some conversation, and you now think it's appropriate to call my virtue into question? What of your own, Princess? You just admitted to scandal with Daemon - but I wonder why the service of Moon Tea if your virtue was unimpeachable?" You demanded, feeling defensive on a new level. Even Alicent straightened up at your words.
However, Daemon rushed to add, "With all due respect, Princess, I don't want you, and you can't claim me as your own when you never had me. You might be angry, but it is no use to take it out on my intended, she is of rare stock and breed - she will not be questioned. Nor will my intentions with her."
Rhaenyra snarled, "Yeah? You don't want me? Well, you wanted me enough to try and fuck me at that whorehouse!"
There were gasps and murmurs all around, but Rhaenyra was glaring at you and Daemon, still standing together. His arms actually dropped to hold your waist, keeping you close as he snarled at his niece, "But I didn't. If memory serves right, I walked away!"
"You wanted me!" Rhaenyra raged. "You always were and always will be mine - regardless of the whores you bed in the meantime! And I want you, I am not yet married - "
"Yet I will not be who marries you, I am betrothed to another," Daemon reminded with a venomous tone. "There's nothing you offer that I want, Rhaenyra."
"I am not some inexperienced little girl anymore, I'm a woman grown, and I could do more for you than she ever could!"
"Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared.
Everyone knew she had gone too far and there was no coming back from any this. After a beat, Alicent stepped in as if questioning for the first time, "And yet, sister, you said the Princess was served Moon Tea? If Prince Daemon did not touch the Princess, does this mean she still," she scoffed as if the idea were absurd, "sullied her maidenhood? Before marriage?"
It should be noted that Ser Criston Cole was already gone from the hall at this time. In fact, he lingered just outside a side door, listening, in case his name came up. When Alicent spoke, he straightened up and started the slow trek to the Godswood.
"Ser Lyonel? Do I misunderstand?" Alicent pulled the Hand into the fray.
"Well, that's what that would sound like, Your Grace," he agreed begrudgingly. "Moon Tea is beneficial to prevent unwanted consequences outside of marriage."
"From what I understand, she was served by Grand Maester Mellos himself," you told Ali, minds strung together by a common thread. "The castle likes to gossip, you can learn a lot if you just listen."
"This is..." Viserys seethed, "Unacceptable."
"I'm sorry, Your Grace," you instantly apologized.
"No, no," he deflected, hand held up, "you have a duty to the Realm to flesh out any deception. And this," he directed his glare at his daughter, "is a grand deception that cannot be undone, unknown, covered-up, anymore, Rhaenyra!"
There was a meltdown. Everyone began yelling.
Viserys was enraged. Rhaenyra was desperately trying to plead with her father. Lord Corlys was demanding to know what the hell was about to happen with the impending marriage to "the future Queen". Ser Strong was trying to keep the people from each other's throats.
His sons stood to the side and just let them all fight.
Daemon kept you out of the line of fire, away from the action; sighing as you deflated into his chest. Over it all, Viserys' voice was angriest, and you heard, "You are no daughter of mine! The position you have put me in tonight - I cannot undo this, Rhaenyra! I should have never disinherited Daemon for you, breaking centuries of tradition because I wanted to see your mother in you! You have spat in my face around every bend, but this? This is unforgivable, we will not recover from this and I will no longer endure your insolence!"
"Father, please, let me - "
"No," he snarled, "I have had it with your disresepct the past several years, this is beyond any scale." You blinked up at Daemon, his lips curving down as his hands tightened around your form. And then, Viserys said the words, "I made a mistake naming you my heir. You may marry Ser Laenor, if you so choose to, but after that, you will reside on Driftmark with your husband - you will no longer inherit the Iron Throne after me."
"Father!"
"No," he snapped, "you've exhausted my patience, Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared. "And while Daemon might be unpredictable, the woman he wants to marry is not - and from where I am standing, she will make a far better Queen than you!"
It was quiet as everyone forgot their own selfish woes as father disinherited daughter.
"Your Grace," your father tried to step in, "with respect, why not place your son, Aegon, in line after you?"
"Oh, for the love of the Gods, Otto," Rhaenyra raged, rounding on your father, "give up this campaign, you get all you want and more! Your daughter is Queen now and your other daughter will be Queen after that, aren't you listening? Your grandchildren will still inherit the Throne!"
"That's it," Viserys breathed, needing to hold onto the banquet table for balance as all eyes turned to him again. "It's time to do what I should've done all along. Rhaenyra," he shook his head, "I can no longer have you as my heir, this type of behavior cannot stand. I will give you permission to marry Ser Laenor, and if he chooses not to, I will allow you to reside on Dragonstone until a match is made. Until then," his eyes shifted to where you and Daemon stood, "I name my brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen, as my Heir to the Iron Throne."
"You would not name your son?" Alicent asked in mild disbelief.
"No," Viserys told her, "no, I would see my brother as my heir. Should Aegon prove to live up to his namesake, we can talk about succession again, but I know my brother is capable... And though he might be overly wanting, he will learn patience, because I know the love of a good woman can change a man for the better."
You smiled, feeling emotional for a moment, but Daemon asked for you both, "Brother, do you mean to give your blessing?"
"Of course," he nodded once, "why waste a good wedding tourney? We shall announce on the morrow our new intentions - to crown Daemon as heir and marry him to the Lady Hightower. This matter," he panted, glaring at everyone, "is resolved, I will not hear more. Make the preparations!"
It happened in slow motion. Rhaenyra's rage flared to a temperamental height previously unknown; lunging to seize her father's Valyrian Steel, prophesy-engraved dagger, turn, and charge straight for you as the remaining audience shouted in panic. You felt Daemon try to push you behind him, but instead, your own temper flared and you stepped up to meet Rhaenyra; catching both her arms to hold her at bay.
Daemon was at your flank if you needed him, otherwise, he kept the Kingsguard away from you two - knowing this needed to happen now. Or else something worse would happen later...
"For fuck's sake, Princess! What is this? Jealousy? Huh?" You asked through your tears, struggling to hold your old friend's weight away from you. "What is this jealousy, Nyrie, hmm?"
"Don't call me that," she grit. You just sighed, pushing her back a little but not enough to overpower her; the girl's anger making her stronger than you would've previously guessed. "You've gone too far," she seethed through tears.
“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the Kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please! Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!"
"You think you finally get my life, huh?" She snarled. "You won't ever be accepted - not as Queen - not as part of this family! You've wanted this all along! Haven't you!?" She struggled against you, hands sweating. "You've always wanted my life, that's why you stuck around! Your mother died - so you tried to take a place in my family, make them yours - and now, look! You're nearly there! Pouncing on my uncle the moment he's widowed!" She snarled, bearing her teeth.
“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are, Nyrie," you whispered with a broad smirk.
"You aren't fit to play this part! To have my life! You'll never be accepted as their Princess!"
"I wager I'll do a better job than you ever could," you hissed. "There's not much to live up to, you don't leave a lot of room to fill."
She screamed when Ser Harwin's arms seized around her waist, but the momentum of him pulling her back and Rhaenyra's thrashing cause the Valyrian Steel dagger to slice your forearm. You yelped and reared back amongst the startled gasps and panicked murmurs from the crowd, Daemon catching you. The dagger clattered to the floor as Harwin backed up several paces to keep the belligerent girl at bay. You whimpered quietly at the sting, a pool of blood forming to the side you held your arm at.
"Fuck's sake," Daemon growled, "lemme see, lemme see, my love, c'mere," he winced, looking around before using his own belt to yank free and tourniquet around your lower elbow. "You're bleeding a good bit," he whispered, "you'll need stitches, sweet one."
You pouted at him, wincing again in pain when he tightened the belt.
Around you, the Kingsguard was ordered to escort Rhaenyra to her chambers, and the moment she was marched out of sight, Daemon was warning his brother that she knew about her secret passage door and parts of the tunnels.
Go stand watch," a personal guard was ordered by the King. "Someone go - go find Ser Cole - I want him posted in the Princess' passage, he's trusted to us."
Alicent slunk off to do exactly that, and she'd tell you later that Cole was found only moments from taking his own life. He was overjoyed to hear the King had requested him personally to stand guard for such a sensitive situation.
In the meantime, Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, thought it best their son not marry Rhaenyra; now that she had been disowned, she was less appealing. Viserys was free to offer her again later if Laenor was not married in that time and if she showed true change, but after tonight, nobody thought that possible.
Daemon tried helping your wound, your father approaching as he laid a clean cloth over the cut. Your lover tisked, "It's deeper than I thought. We should get this looked at."
"A moment," Otto prevented.
"If it would please you, this is not an injury I'd like to wait to attend to," Daemon sighed, nodding at your bloodied forearm that he held.
"I only meant to say, you have my blessing to marry, my Prince," Otto nodded at him. "Seeing the kindness you show my daughter, I feel... Content knowing she will be loved and cared for."
"Thank you," Daemon nodded.
"Yes, thank you, Father, but we really must be going, this doesn't feel very nice," you rushed to explain, watching him nod and eye your injury with worry.
"This way," He even instructed, a few handmaids rushing forward to help herd you away.
"Doing all right, love?" Daemon muttered as you walked.
"Bit shocked," you admitted.
"I'd say," he mused.
"It burns," you pouted at him.
"We'll get everything tended to, you'll feel better soon," he soothed.
You peaked up at his worried brow, pouted lips, darting eyes; whispering, "You're heir, again, Daemon."
"So it would seem," he deadpanned. "Can we not talk about it now?" He requested quietly, "I only wish to see to this wound of yours."
You nodded, and once in Mellos' chamber, you were left alone with your father - since Daemon was not yet your husband. Otto was silent as your forearm was stitched carefully; the bleeding staunched, herbs stuffed in the wound to prevent pain and promote healing. As you let Mellos wrap you in gauze, you glanced at your father.
"So... Your blessing, is it?"
"He's different with you already," he nodded stiffly. "And after his nieces' display tonight, I can think of no better future Queen."
"I do not wish to talk about future station, Father, but instead, that... That Daemon makes me happy and I am relieved you have given us your blessing. It would've felt very wrong to marry without my father in attendance."
Otto wasn't affectionate in the least bit, but he showed his love by doing his best to understand situations before passing judgement. It created a sense of trust and security between father and daughter. So, he asked earnestly, "And you will overlook what he did with Princess Rhaenyra?"
"He told me of it all the morning after it happened, I've had time to think, and I've had time away from him. I know what I want, Father, and while Viserys has changed history - again - tonight by naming Daemon heir, I know he is the man I want for the rest of my life."
"I see," he nodded. "Then... By all means, I will see this union happen."
"Thank you," you whispered, the Maester tying the gauze. "Thank you, Grand Maester," you spoke calmly.
"Of course, uh, um, Princess."
"I don't think I'll get used to hearing that," you whined, standing off his table. "Will you talk to Daemon for me, Father? I think you need to clear the air... I will not say the King will instill you as Hand again, but if I am to marry the Prince, I will need there to be peace between our families."
He nodded, opening the door for you, "It will be arranged, my daughter..."
As Otto took his leave, Daemon, pacing the hall, approached you. He took hold of your waist, asking, "Are you all right?" You let him hold your injured wrist in a soft grip, viewing the wrappings.
"Yes, Your Grace," you teased, watching his pale face flush.
"Don't start with that."
"Mellos just called me Princess."
"You are," he grinned. "And we will be married in less than a week's time."
"I can hardly wait," you whispered, letting his lips find yours in a searing show of rare public affection.
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requesting rules and masterlist
HOTD masterlist
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notafunkiller · 4 months
Text
we found wonderland
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Summary: You have a choice to make: you either set yourself free or continue to play the game.
Pairing: (fake) boyfriend’s brother!Bucky Barnes x female reader
Warnings: 18+, age gap (r is 26, Bucky is 39), teasing, dirty talk, unprotected séx (but she is on the pill), pet names, daddy kínk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n
Word Count: 2.4K
story masterlist
Bucky Barnes masterlist
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this mini-series! Thank you for reading!
Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!
You had decided you should wait for a week before making your relationship public, using that time to try to convince your parents to change their mind while Bucky plays pretend with his. It’s not an ideal situation, but he understands, keeping the truth to himself.
What he can’t keep to himself is his hands. Not that you can… but as soon as he comes home, he’s all over you, not even caring you are in the living room sometimes.
Acting like you’re just friendly is very hard for you. You want to touch and kiss him like crazy. Having sex with him changed the game, and now you try your hardest to find a way out of this deal so you can be in this relationship completely.
You laugh at the way he pouts. “You’re really adorable for an old man.”
“Is it so crazy I want us together?”
You melt, leaning in to kiss his chin. “That’s not crazy, baby, but isn’t that a little fast?”
“We’ve been living together for months now. What’s the difference?”
You wish you could find the right words to explain it. It’s quite scary and exciting, but it feels strange. “We’ve been together for a couple of days. Maybe we don’t…”
“Are you thinking of a break up already?”
You jump immediately. “No! Maybe we don’t have things figured out enough yet. And by we I mean me. I won’t have a job anymore if my parents don’t change their minds. I won’t have a real home. I won’t have anything but you. And I love every moment I spend with you, but I want something of my own, and I definitely don’t want to feel like a burden even if you don’t make me feel like that. My life is a mess.”
“And I want to help. I am not trying to control you or suggest something you don’t want, but we are friends, too, not just a couple. I am here for you. You can stay with me as a friend if not as a boyfriend. I want you safe.”
You say nothing, only staring at him for a while. You don’t even know what to say because the mix of emotions you feel is confusing.
“You know what I want?”
“What?”
“I want to fuck you right now.” You don’t try to hide your neediness as you place your hands on his shorts. “Can I, baby? Can I ride you?”
“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me before I turn forty. Is this your plan? Do you want me gone?” He’s already raising his ass so he can help you take off his shorts quicker.
“I want you with me always. Want you inside me so badly.”
He groans at your tone. “Then go for it, baby, take whatever you want. It’s all yours. I’m all yours.”
You smile eagerly seeing his hard cock, and lift his T-shirt. You cannot stand anything between your bodies right now. You just need to feel him. “God, we should go to the bedroom, but I can’t wait.”
You take off your underwear, unable to wait any longer. As if someone is holding a knife to your throat, and if you don’t get Bucky inside you in the next seconds, you’re gonna die.
“Anyone can walk in,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. He probably even enjoys it. “Can you imagine their faces?”
You snort, bringing his dick to your entrance without hesitation after spreading your legs further apart. “No, but I can imagine yours when you come.”
“You don’t need to imagine. You’re gonna see it up close if you hurry up.”
Neither of you even realize you’re not using a condom for the first time until it’s too late and you’re already sliding down.
Your grasp on his shoulders is so forceful, you’re sure it will leave a mark, as you moan his name.
“James…” You desperately look at him, wanting to see if he feels the same. “We’re not using anything.”
“I c-can feel that.”
“God damn it, James,” you sound like you’re scolding him, but in reality you are just overwhelmed.
“What did I… fucking hell, I am totally not getting to turn forty. I will die tonight.”
You ask with your eyes closed. “Do you want me to get a condom?”
“No, I want to die.” He groans, already in a different space. “Unless you want to… I am clean and you are, of course, and I can pull out, but like it’s not… I can go grab a condom right now.”
You immediately shake your head, placing your hand on his chest. He’s not gonna do that. He has to make you come.
“You are not going anywhere, you get out of me and I’ll die!”
“So you’re ovulating?” He asks casually, with a playful grin spread across his face.
You chuckle, hitting him in the shoulder. 
“Yes, I am, and you gotta take care of me.”
Bucky groans, grabbing your ass, unable to keep his hands off you. You’re so hot and warm. “You’re really, really wet, princess.”
“Ihm.” You slide down further, almost taking all of his cock. “Look how deep I took you now.” You moan proudly, feeeling so stretched like this. “Look at this, daddy.”
And when he lets his eyes drop to your entrance, he has no idea how he doesn’t com right then. The sight is incredible.
“Baby…”
“I’m your baby, daddy.” You quickly take off your T-shirt at the same time you move your hips. As soon as he’s naked, you grab your breasts, holding them together with a smirk. You know that is going to affect him, and it makes you feel powerful.
“Oh God,” he groans as you bring your breasts closer to his mouth.
“Come on, daddy, go ahead.”
It’s all he needs to hear before he takes your right nipple into his mouth and the left one between his fingers. Riding him like this is a little difficult, but it’s not impossible. You love getting your breasts played with, and he loves doing it.
There is also something really hot and thrilling about the possibility of getting caught. You have no idea why and how, but you’re going to enjoy this as much as you can.
“You feel so good like this, nothing between us. Nothing between your come and me,” you moan, not even thinking about what you say.
“You can’t say that and expect me to be strong.”
That makes you laugh. “I’m on the pill, though, you don’t have to be strong.”
“Fucking hell, you’re gonna drive me crazy.” He starts to thrust his hips back so he can meet you halfway. Riding him feels so, so good. You got him deeper, and the lack of a condom makes you properly feel his thickness.
“You feel so… Fuck, your cock is filling me just the way I need it.” You grab his shoulders so you can move faster. “You’re such a good daddy, let-letting me use you right here, where everyone could see us.”
“You love using daddy’s cock.” He looks so drunk, in so much pleasure. “Such a naughty girl.”
“I’m your naughty girl, James.”
“All mine.” His hands on your hips help you move faster indeed, and you’re already so close you can barely keep your eyes open.
“F-faster.”
Bucky stops thrusting his hips back, and you groan. You need more.
“If you want it faster, keep your eyes on me, pretty girl.”
“I c-can’t-” As much as you want to fight this, your eyes instinctively close again. “Ss-so close.”
He can hear your desperation and without hesitating, he brings his hand into your hair and pulls unexpectedly hard. That’s enough for you to come loud. So loud you can hear yourself as you let the pleasure consume every bit of you.
But Bucky doesn’t stop moving his hips, making your orgasm last longer. He’s saying things, probably dirty things, in your ear, but you can’t understand anything. Your ears are still ringing.
And just like that, Bucky comes too, with his right hand still wrapped around your hair while the left one is digging into the skin of your hip.
“Fuck, I’m coming inside you, baby, can you feel it? Can you feel me filling your pussy, baby?”
“Ihm,” you can barely whisper, too overwhelmed by everything.
“Whose come?”
“Y-yours.”
“Good girl.” He groans as soon as he finishes coming, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you. “This feels like heaven.”
“I don’t think I can go back to wearing a condom now. I mean if you want to…”
“Are you sure? We can still use one just to make sure we are safer.”
You peck him. “We can still use it, don’t worry, I get it. Looking out for me and stuff.”
He lets out a deep breath, thankful you understand what he means.
“Of course I am looking out for you, that’s my job.”
“Job? You are my daddy, not my mom or dad.”
“I am your partner and your friend. I will always look out for you.”
A sudden urge to fuck him again takes over your body, but before you can do it, your phone starts ringing.
Bucky gives you the phone without moving, and when you both see it’s his brother, you groan.
“Hi, William.” You try to sound as normal as possible, but your voice is so raspy it’s impossible.
“Hey, gonna be home in a few minutes. Are you okay? Is Bucky home yet?”
“Ihm, he came.” You wink at James. “All good here. See you.”
You don’t wait for him to answer before you’re hanging up.
“You came too.”
You giggle immediately. It’s hard not to be around Bucky; he is goofy at the right time. “We need to clean up, though, he’s close.”
“Alright.”
*
Your parents didn’t want to listen to you at all. You didn’t have the chance to talk at the party since they’re avoiding you at all costs, and you had to go outside not to cry in front of everyone. You don’t just feel alone and treated like shit, you feel humiliated.
You’re lucky Bucky went to pick up William because his car broke down halfway here, so he didn’t actually witness your breakdown. You know he’d have done something about it. Something you should.
At this point, what do you really have?
“Hey, are you well? Why are you outside, it’s freezing?”
Bucky’s voice makes you jump as he’s suddenly by your side, rubbing your arms. William is right behind him.
“Baby, why are you outside?”
You see Bucky rolling his eyes, and you sigh.
“I wanted some fresh air, William.” You turn toward Bucky before taking a step back. You don’t want him to think you reject his touch. You really need his hug, but it’s not about what you need. “We should go inside.”
He nods, and all three of you make your way close to the improvised stage in the main room.
It’s crazy how many people actually came; it almost feels suffocating.
Your parents have been talking for a while, you assume, because people were animated. You wonder what they promised them.
“And since we’re all here now, I have something to announce,” Bucky’s dad takes the microphone all of a sudden, and William sighs. You want to ask him what is going on since he looks nervous, but you don’t have time to. “I want to invite my son, William, on the stage with us.”
And then he calls your name.
You look at both of your parents, trying to understand why you’d be needed there, and Bucky is just as confused as you are. Everyone starts clapping, and you find yourself dragged on the stage before you can protest.
“Tonight marks a very special moment for us both: professionally and personally.” You freeze, looking at Bucky instantly, but he’s also shocked, shaking his head. “A partnership that will last for a long time, hopefully, passed to a real-life partnership that has developed over the last months.”
William smiles proudly when his dad pats him on the back, and you want to throw up right then.
You turn your head to your parents, who display the fakest smiles you’ve ever seen. They don’t care about what you want. About what you need. Either way, you’re alone, and you cannot continue to play their game. You can’t!
And before anyone can stop you, you’re basically running down the stairs, straight toward Bucky. You quickly wrap your hand around his neck and force him to lean in so you can properly kiss him. You sense his surprise, but you don’t stop, using the opportunity to shamelessly kiss him in front of the whole company, including your parents. He’s yours, and everyone should know it.
He cups your face when you break off the kiss to breathe, and you smile.
You finally did it! You’re free.
You don’t need to turn around to know how upset your families must be. Everyone around you is either gasping or whispering around. You know they’ll be talking about this for a solid week at least, but you’re not gonna be there to hear. You won’t explain anything to them, and they can consider you a cheater who fucked the other brother all they want. It is not your mess to fix. You just want to leave.
“Let’s get out of here,” you whisper, taking his hand. All you want is to eat something and suck him off. “I need to pack my stuff.”
“Are you sure?” He asks concerned as you start to walk toward the exit. Neither of you turns when William calls your names.
“I have never been more sure in my entire life.”
He says nothing as you reach his car, lifting the hand he’s been holding closer to his lips so he can brush a tender kiss against the back of it.
You’re going to be okay.
Tags:
@charmedbysarge @identity2212 @vicmc624  @cjand10  @mayusenpai666  @abitofblues @doveromanoff @buckyb-stan @igotmajordaddyissues
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j-0ne25 · 10 months
Text
SAKURA — [18+!]
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“What are you saying? Y-You think I’m pretty and smart?”
Fuck. He cannot turn the conversation around and made a complete fool out of himself as it seems.
“I–“ He takes a deep breath.
“Listen. If you were my girlfriend–“
Jisung stops himself again when he sees your eyes widen.
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🌸 SYNOPSIS: After seeing your ex with the girl he told you not to worry about, you rush to the café your roommate works at but find Jisung there instead. Despite being in the same friend group, he has always hated your ex and consequently ignored you, too. So, why on earth is he taking care of you then, once you start crying and explain what happened?
This is my entry for skzwritingcafe‘s May/June event “Blossoming Love”!
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🍒 CONTENT INFO: jisung x afab reader, enemies/frenemies to lovers, angst/smut/fluff, kinda ‘only one bed’ trope, mutual pining, college au, barista jisung, reader is demisexual although not explicitly mentioned, reader is referred to as girlfriend once, content warnings and smut tags under the cut
🧁 WORD COUNT: 12.4K
☁️ CONTENT WARNING: alcohol consumption, mention of breakup, mention of cheating, past toxic relationship, insecurities and taking the blame for other people’s faults, jealousy, slut shaming
🍰 SMUT: dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi-protected piv, praise kink, possessiveness, marking (m receiving), one pussy slap, dacryphilia, name calling (pretty, good girl, baby, slut)
The characters do not portray any of the skz members in real life, the names are just used for fiction. Minors do not interact, this post contains mature topics. By reading you consent to nswf content and agree that you have read all the warnings above carefully.
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You knew it.
You fucking knew it.
Time to pick out that expensive colour palette and draw a stupid clown face on your skin.
After today you will definitely need it.
‘No need to be jealous of her, dear,’ he said back then. And you believed his bullshit.
But what disgusts you the most is the fact it took him less than a month to jump into a new relationship with the girl he told you not to worry about—as it seems, judging the fact you just saw them with your own awake eyes holding hands in public, bickering into each other's ears.
Maybe it has even been going on longer than a month but you don’t want to think about that. Well, you can’t. It makes your stomach twist and turn, an uncomfortable knot in your lungs making it hard to breathe.
That’s the last thing you needed to see. Even injecting bleach in your veins sounds like a five star party in comparison to that. You would rather much live in ignorance, unaware of what you witnessed.
Your fight or flight reflex decided for the latter—actually mentally healthier, once you will have a chance to rethink this situation with a clear mind. But not for now. Escape is your best friend this evening.
Especially, since your actual best friend and roommate, Lee Felix, left the apartment without his charger and for once again his phone must have died some time ago. Not a big problem—you decide to go home instead, already looking forward to some spicy instant ramyeon, an unopened bottle of soju and a new series on Netflix you wanted to start days ago.
But—as it seems today is the worst day to ever exist—and you get reminded of it when you stand in front of your apartment building’s door, ready to open it with your keys. One small problem occurs—you must have left those keys at home. Inside. Just a door, a hallway and another door separating you from it.
You sigh and let your head fall back in annoyance, before you check the time on your phone’s dim lit screen, reading 21:48.
It’s late enough to head to a bar and that’s exactly what you do, finding yourself in a dark, stuffy pub half an hour later, sipping on your second Somaek of the night. The atmosphere doesn’t really brighten up your mood but the alcohol for sure does. The third drink in, you can feel yourself get dizzy, scrolling through the apps on your phone.
Felix still hasn’t texted you but you remember that he met with Hyunjin, telling you they really really have to get some project done for one of his classes that he has failed before. So, you decide to not annoy him further. It’s your fault anyway. You’re the one that forgot their keys and you’re also the one that overreacts completely, whenever the tiniest inconvenience triggers some bad emotions to bubble up.
You just want to start over. You don’t want to be caught in this endlessly running wheel like a stupid hamster. Yes, your ex has left many scars that will bring up the past for some time whenever you think back of it. But you simply don’t want that anymore.
You’re craving closure, real closure. A love that is blossoming with passion instead of coldness, blooming with honesty instead of lies and shining bright with trust instead of doubts.
However, you are aware that those things don’t exist. Maybe in the arts although you’re not quite convinced about that either. No matter if it’s the eighth Netflix show you put on this week but can’t even get through a whole episode, some book you laid aside after it got too unrealistic or a movie they showed in the cinema that makes you mad you spent as much money on a small bag of popcorn as on the ticket itself.
Nothing really touches your heart anymore, nothing gets under your skin. That’s what he did to you.
Or maybe you’re just overthinking, over exaggerating like you always do once the booze hits your brain. You should stop drinking, be responsible. Despite that, there are too many men seeking your attention in this pub and that’s the last thing you want.
Yes, you said you need closure. But not that kind. Well, you need to get laid, too. However, some random idiot isn’t your first choice. It’ll maybe help you forget about your ex but this still isn’t the passion that you need. You’ve never needed someone like this. You crave intimacy that’s characterised by trust. So, how is some stranger supposed to know what satisfies you anyway?
Not even your ex was able to do that. Which makes the fact you’re still crying about that little shit even more pathetic. But, well, at least you know that he won’t be able to make that girl—that he told you not to worry about—cum and that kind of leaves a little triumph to you. At least something.
Maybe you really need to start over. But dating is so fucking exhausting these days. No one wants anything serious anymore and isn’t even interested in getting to know a person first. You’ve never really enjoyed casual hook-ups. You don’t have to be absolutely in love with someone to have passionate, mind-blowing sex with them but there has to be some type of emotional connection, something that keeps you going and already lets you roll your eyes to the back of your head at the sheer thought of their fingers grazing over your skin.
There’s only one person you’ve ever had this dynamic, this utmost wild chemistry with, although nothing has ever happened between the both of you.
Because, unfortunately, you don’t really get along with him. Well, you do. He is the one that is always avoiding you. You’re not even friends but tend to see each other quite often since you’re part of the same group. Still, there’s a special connection between you although it’s hard to believe.
God. You already sense him making fun of you once he finds out that your ex must have been cheating on you. He was already so fucking happy about your breakup. The smile that was plastered all over his stupid, beautiful face was disgusting.
Yes. Your ex and you had been a couple for many years but you’ve never managed to get that other stupid boy out of your head. There’s something about the look in his big brown eyes that he’s got whenever he looks at you after defeating you in yet another round during board game night.
There’s been some tension between the both of you throughout all these years. But not in a common, usual way. It’s a heated desire that under all the hate and mess wants to be more, wants to be the opposite. He has never been necessarily mean to you, simply ignored you and maybe made fun of you during games but that’s it. Still, you’ve always seeked his attention and some delusional part inside your heart tells you he does the same.
God, Y/N. You’re a hopeless little fool.
You feel your thoughts drifting away further, the surroundings becoming as unimportant as your silly little dreams and hopes.
Until two very familiar faces approach the table next to yours. The two plop down on the seats. He helps her out of her jacket, before they start skimming through the menu.
Out of all the pubs, bars and lounges in this freaking big city he chooses to bring the girl he’s told you not to worry about to this stupid place. Idiot. God, you hate him so much. You hate her so much.
There’s an uncomfortable feeling bubbling up in your chest. They haven’t spotted you yet but the urge to go to their table and down the rest of your drink all over him is within reach.
No. Calm the fuck down, Y/N. You’re better than that. You’re better than him. Better than both of them.
Until the waiter comes to their table and even though it’s crowded and loud in here, you’re close enough to catch parts and bits of their conversation.
‘Welcome, my favourite couple.’
‘We’re glad you’re here once again.’
‘Happy five month anniversary.’
Well. You finally have honesty now. A little late but at least you don’t have to worry anymore, think about the ‘what ifs’ and so when you’re indeed aware that he cheated on you.
Maybe the healing process will be easier this way, knowing you can fully blame it on him. If your heart and insecurities let you grasp that.
You want to start over. Be better than him. Better than all this. Ready for a blossoming love that has been waiting for you all this time.
But maybe not today.
At least that’s how you justify your actions, when the liquid in your half empty glass spills all over your ex’s head and you rush out of the venue, knowing for sure you will never go here again anyway.
🌸
Half an hour and half a bottle of water you bought at some shady convenience store later, your bladder announces itself. Fuck. You should have used the bathroom at that pub before probably gaining a ban on entering that place again.
Still no message from Felix which means still no possibility to go home.
You could just go to the next bar, sure. But you’ve lost your interest in getting shit-faced or talking to some stranger a long time ago.
Grabbing your phone from your pants’ pocket, you open Google Maps and search around in the area your drunk self has brought your feet to until you realise you’re pretty close to the workplace of that friend who isn’t replying to you and has the only other key to your shared apartment.
Perhaps, Felix is at the café he works at. He usually gets school stuff done there with Hyunjin, snacking the last delicious brownies that weren’t sold that day and sipping on one caffeinated beverage after another.
You’ll see. Maybe they’re even still open and you can get some lemonade or cupcake to fight against the dizziness in your head. The water has helped a bit but not quite enough. You’re still tipsy and fear having a hangover tomorrow because you mixed different types of alcohol together.
Fuck. You really shouldn’t have drunk out of impulsiveness but unfortunately impulsiveness is practically your middle name.
A little walk later, you end up in front of the house right at the corner of the street. The lights in the café are still turned on. However, the sign reading ‘closed’ shines just as bright. You decide to enter nonetheless. The whole crew knows you quite well, since many people from your friend group work here.
Pushing the door open, you enter the building. It smells like blueberry muffins, hot chocolate and vanilla brownies. A slight scent of cherries makes it into your nostrils, helping you feel at ease. They have always been your favourite fruit—reminding you of safety and better days, the blossoming leaves on their trees a metaphor for a new start that you so exhaustingly crave.
You take a few steps further, walking around and spotting some used dishes at the counter. There’s no sound coming from the kitchen. Maybe one of the employees is taking a break before they get back to cleaning up the place.
And Felix isn’t here to study with Hyunjin. Dammit.
Where did that freckled boy go?!
You stay there for a few minutes—standing rooted in the spot, as you contemplate maybe quickly using the bathroom and in case Felix’s colleague gets aware of it, you will just explain the situation to them.
After a quick fresh up and somewhat regaining some dignity despite still being pretty much shit-faced, you decide to have a short pause. That’s why you sink down on one of the chairs, checking your phone but still no message from Felix or anyone else.
This is ridiculous.
Just like your whole fucking life.
You let out a deep groan that’s followed by a sigh.
And then—out of the blue—a voice startles you, making you jump up again from your seat.
“What do you want here?”
It’s Jisung.
The Jisung.
Your longtime enemy—whom you have that incredible tension with—that happens to be a part of your friend group. He has always been adored by all the members. Well except for one.
Your ex.
They’ve never gotten along.
And maybe that’s why Jisung has always ignored you, too.
“Y/N? Are you listening?”
His voice sounds annoyed which isn’t news. He’s always made you feel as if you don’t… exist. Basically ignored you to a point that it made you feel like you’re air.
What you don’t know is that Jisung does in fact view you like air—but more like oxygen. A slightly addicting, toxic oxygen which molecules make him dependent on you so he decided to stay away from you instead to save both you and him. But he still needs you in order to survive.
Apart from that, he has always in fact despised your now ex boyfriend. Not just because of the fact he was with you and—in Jisung’s opinion—not treating you as you deserve. He has never liked the dude in general.
But it’s just now that he realises that his voice suddenly came off too harsh, twice. Fuck. He just can’t think straight around you. Or think at all.
“Yeah– sorry– I d-didn’t know where else to go and I saw the lights were still on in here…” you confess now, as little sniffles fill the room.
Jisung finally grasps that you’re intoxicated and probably confused, maybe don’t even know why you came here and he won’t blame you. He would never. But he’s just as confused, too.
“Y/N… you’re drunk, aren’t you? Why else would you stay when Felix isn’t here? You hate me,” he says and those last three words are so small and almost inaudible but you still catch them.
You don’t hate Jisung. It’s more of a reaction of the lack of interest and almost disliking towards you he has made sure to constantly rub into your face for the past four years.
But that’s not the current debate of the synapses inside your brain.
You don’t want to break down. Not in front of him. Or anyone.
But you’re drunk. You’re exhausted. You are so fucking tired of all this.
There’s no control over the words, they simply spill out of your mouth, slip from your lips.
“I… He… He– He cheated on me.”
You burst out into tears then, eyeliner and mascara ruined as the black paint runs down your face. You hide your eyes behind the palms of your hands and everything becomes a blur, your sobbing the only sound you’re listening to.
“Fucking asshole,” you hear Jisung in the distance.
Footsteps echo through the room and suddenly he’s so close to you that it makes your heart skip a beat and you don’t quite understand why it does that.
Your enemy pulls you into a hug then and your whole body paralyses, as he softly strokes your back. His hand wanders up to your head, giving it a few little pats.
 “Okay. Listen,” he begins again, “you’re obviously drunk. I’ll prepare some food and water for you.”
You let go of him for a second, searching for any sarcasm in his words.
“Why are you so kind?”
Jisung blinks, a little surprised you ask him this question and he can’t differentiate if you’re astonished by him being kind while being your long time enemy or if you don’t expect any kindness from anyone at all. To not add any fuel to the drama, he settles for the second option.
“Don’t praise me for the bare minimum, Y/N. That dude really left some scars.”
Jisung brushes with his hand over your head a second time, before he grabs a tissue. Just when he is about to guide the paper to your swollen eyes, he decides against it and places it in your hand instead.
You wipe some of the tears and mascara away but it doesn’t help that much.
“Here, have some water and a bagel first and tell me what happened,” he says a little later. Jisung sits down on the other side of the table, as he gives you the drink and food.
The tears arrive again when you realise how kind Jisung is to you and that your ex would have never done the same if you showed up at his place after a mental breakdown.
Jisung watches you drink a bit and take a bite from the cake before he hands you another tissue when you spill some of the liquid, the droplets running down your chin and throat.
It takes everything within him to not lose his mind. This is fucking inappropriate. You come here devastated, bawling your eyes out and Jisung’s head is filled with the ideas that aren’t supposed to be there. But your makeup is smudged and the tears are streaming down your cheeks again. Jisung feels like the biggest perv on this planet that your crying face makes him think of unholy thoughts he shouldn’t have.
“Why would… why would you listen?”
His heart breaks. He’s back in reality at least. He assumes it’s caused by your insecurities but he fears that he’s responsible for your distrust, too. After all, he’s never really approached you these past years, staying as far from you as possible. He’s got his reasons for that as well but he could never speak them out loud to you. That would be the end.
“It’s just an offer. I won’t leave you alone like this.”
He wants to say more.
“T-Thank you.”
You thought he hated you? Well, he’s never explicitly said that. But he’s acted that way by ignoring you constantly and since he does in fact dislike your ex boyfriend—which was communicated many times and is a mutual feeling—you assumed Jisung hates you, too.
“I… you remember the girl my ex brought along at our last board game nights?”
Oh, he definitely does. He’s never liked her either and didn’t quite understand why she tagged along with your now ex when he was still with you back then. Inviting a friend is one thing but giving them all attention instead of you, their partner, is a line crossed. Jisung would never do something like this if he was your boyfriend.
“Yeah, I do,” he says. He’s taking a sip from his water, too. Jisung is already expecting the worst and he wouldn’t be surprised if your ex is either now with her or has already had something going on during your relationship.
“Well… I–“
Your throat cuts off the words. Another sniffle escapes and you wipe away the tears once more.
“It’s alright, Y/N. Whenever you’re ready, yeah?”
You nod, trying to ignore the confusion in your head and the butterflies in your heart when his hand softly grazes over your own.
“I saw them together… after my class. So, I wanted to get out of there, just ran away and ended up in some bar. Unfortunately, they had to choose that location as well and I overheard their conversation…”
He is still stroking your hand, attentively listening to every syllable you let out.
“I found out that way that this has been going on for five months, therefore he cheated on me and I got so angry, I spilled my beverage all over his head and–“
“You did what?”
There’s a proud smile on Jisung’s face but due to the countless tears blinding your vision you don’t see it.
“D-Downed my drink on him– fuck, I should really call him and apologise–“
“What?! Why would you apologise?”
Jisungs scoffs. He can’t believe you are taking the blame for such a disgusting thing your ex did. Your reaction is more than understandable. If he was in your position or even saw him do this to you, he would have done way more than that. That bastard deserves all of it.
“He’s… he’s probably got his reasons to choose her,” you quietly say, head hanging low.
“That fucking asshole cheated on you and you’re the one taking the blame?”
Jisung can’t decide if he’s more angry or sad—the dude has practically smashed your self confidence to the ground and stomped on it when you were already on the floor.
“I’ve seen her… You know her, too. She’s prettier and smarter than me anyway.”
Jisung does know your ex’s new girlfriend. After all he invited her to every fucking board game night after they became ‘friends’.
“Okay, Y/N. First of all, there’s no one smarter or prettier than you. Second of all, don’t put the blame on yourself. That’s something I noticed you’re doing quite often. I get that. I know where it’s coming from, but it’s not good for you. If people treat you like their doormat, you have to fight back.”
The synapses of your brain shut off for a moment. If that’s possible. Nonetheless, you can’t think straight. But, well, you’re never able to think at all if you’re around Jisung.
Did he… did he just say you’re pretty and smart?
As if one compliment wasn’t already enough to make your head spin.
“What are you saying?”
Jisung’s eyes hastily blink, a cough follows. He’s readjusting himself, slightly feeling caught but he knows he can turn the conversation around and maybe not make a complete fool out of himself.
“You should stand up for yourself,” he repeats.
“N-No… I know that, in theory. I meant the first thing… y-you think I’m pretty and smart?”
Fuck. He cannot turn the conversation around and made a complete fool out of himself as it seems.
“I–“ He takes a deep breath.
“Listen. If you were my girlfriend–“
Jisung stops himself again when he sees your eyes widen.
“He’s a fucking piece of shit. End of discussion.”
You hold back a giggle and decide to keep wondering if there is more behind those words.
Pretty.
Smart.
Both of it.
Wow.
You take another bite from the bagel—it’s filled with hummus and grilled vegetables—as well as the last sip from your water, before you place the glass back on the round table with a thud.
“What would you like to drink? It’s on the house,” Jisung offers.
He’s already standing up, still severly embarrassed, as he disappears behind the counter. You stand up too, approaching him as if it’s the middle of the day and you’re making your usual order.
It’s rare that Jisung has a shift when you’re here but when he ends up having one, he usually grants you the same nothing of attention as he usually does.
So, this is all so new. Him talking to you. Offering you another drink. Listening to you.
Gosh, you will never get over this stupid crush on him if he–
Fuck.
Well, it’s no secret towards yourself anyway. Hasn’t been anymore for a long time now. But you have always tried to not give it too much thought, knowing he doesn’t like you back.
However, your view shifts a little with these two words.
Pretty. Smart.
It’s the most mundane compliment. But sometimes it’s not that much about what you say and rather about how you say it. Just the way he accidentally slipped it between those other words makes your knees go weak.
“So, what would you like?”
His voice drags you out of your daydreams, bringing you back to reality—somewhat.
Caffeine would be nice.
“Can I have an iced coffee?”
Jisung grabs a fresh glass and the ingredients.
“Sure.”
You don’t know what it is, maybe the comfort, the fun, the general safety to be around him—which the Y/N from half an hour ago would have never believed exists—but you get a little more open around him and with this the urge to tease him grows rapidly.
“You’re not gonna ask me if I want anything with that? Like extra whipped cream, caramel sirup–“
He sighs. “Would you like some extras with that?”
It’s fun being like this. After all he deserves it for the things he’s put you through those past years and you're glad he takes it on the humorous side.
“What do you guys have?”
You’re playing this game perfectly, acting as if you’re actually one of his customers and Jisung gets reminded once again what a pity it is that his shifts are rarely at the same time as you usually enter the café. He could forget about everyone and everything else when you’re around.
But he catches himself drifting off again, it’s way more fun for him too, playing along.
“Ketchup and mayo,” he states.
You scoff but on the inside you’re fighting for life to hold back the immense laughter that’s bubbling up. But you won’t be defeated so easily.
“Okay, Han, forget what I said.”
He chuckles but at the same time pretends to be hurt, placing a hand on his chest. “Stop calling me by my surname.”
You click your tongue, leaning over the counter with your upper body.
“I call you what I want.”
Jisung ignores you first, instead focusing on preparing a beverage for you. With the angle he’s practically disappearing behind all the baked goods in the vitrine, you can’t witness what he’s doing exactly.
A minute later, he stops his actions and turns around towards you again.
“3500 won, please,” he says, looking at you with a fake, bright smile.
“You’re charging me after you said it’s for free?”
He chuckles again, “Only good girls get free drinks.”
Fuck. You feel your knees suddenly becoming all wobbly, as if they’re made of pudding, similar to one of the cakes they offered today at the café.
Han Jisung has always managed to make your head spin and it’s not different now. You’re afraid, though, that he will notice. You need to play along. No matter the cost.
“Okay, sorry, Sungie. Please, please forgive me. I’ll be a good girl for you.”
What has gotten into you, Y/N?!
Jisung tries to ignore what the begging of yours does to him and he’s quite glad that he’s standing behind the counter. Otherwise, you would see the outline of his immense erection that is growing inside his pants. Yes. Just with those few words.
Fuck. He’s dreamt about this so many times—your cute voice asking him to kiss you, to touch you, to shove his cock inside you and rail you into oblivion until you cum all over him.
“Fine,” he says and catches himself, preparing the beverage for you. Grabbing the ingredients, he gets to work as you wait for him, already sitting at the table again. Your drunk eyes hover through the café, admiring the pretty blossom trees. You’ve always liked the decor here.
Once he’s finished and this way awakens you from your daydream, Jisung heads towards you and places the glass right in front of you—an iced coffee latte with caramel swirls and whipped cream on top.
“Here you are.”
When he sees your questioning look, he adds, “I’m not gonna make you a new one. You mentioned these two things so I added them.”
You look at him again, a little apologethic.
“Thank you… it’s just– the milk.”
“It’s plant based,” he explains. “Therefore, lactose free. I know you don’t drink dairy products. Same counts for the cream.”
He remembers?
Han Jisung remembers a stupid detail like this although you’ve never told him? Which is, well, not surprising since the two of you talked more tonight than compared to all those past years combined.
You take a sip from the caramel iced coffee, humming a little when the taste spreads over your tongue and the sweetness helps you forget about all the bad stuff that happened today.
Taking your time, you gulp down the liquid at a much faster pace than usual but you can’t get enough. Your so-called enemy watches every move you make, while he drinks a little bit of his water from time to time, snacking on some bagel—one with mozzarella cheese, tomatoes and basil pesto.
It’s the first time you take in every detail of his appearance now, probably the longest you have ever looked at him—it could almost count as staring—which once again reminds you how beautiful he is.
Jisung’s hair has gotten much longer. But you’d be lying if you said you’re only noticing this now. You’re always admiring him. He’s pretty, handsome and attractive. You can’t deny it.
God. You’re a hopeless fool. Who falls for their enemy?
Well. Maybe we can finally agree that enemy is a little too harsh to describe him. Rather a frenemy. He’s never been a rival of yours, it’s just that there was lots of distance created between the two of you and the wall that has been separating you is finally crumbling down into a thousand tiny pieces.
You notice another thing now.
Jisung is wearing shimmering accessories that look like your favourite fruit and you have to ask him about it. In case it comes off weird you can just pretend you talked about it to find out where he bought them. Not that you would care about any reaction of his. Of course not.
“Wait– are you wearing cherry earrings?”
He nods, “Yeah.”
Great. This makes him even more amazing. As if you weren’t already doomed anyway.
And as if this isn’t enough, your appetite for your favourite fruit announces itself and faster than you’re able to realise that you’re speaking, the words are already spilling from your lips.
“Do you have… anything with cherries here?”
Jisung looks at you dumbfounded.
“Cherries?”
“Hm. I love them,” you say. “Just like the blossom trees. Whenever they bloom it feels like a new beginning to me.”
A new beginning.
Do you mean with him, perhaps?
Probably not.
Because you’re definitely still tipsy. A little philosophical. It’s normal. Jisung shouldn’t aim those words at himself.
Which is hard. Considering he’s had a crush on you for four years. Despite the fact you hate him and he’s never understood why. Sure, he detests your now ex boyfriend—but for a reason.
First, he saw all the red flags and the bad things that guy is up to. Although it hurts him seeing you like this, it doesn’t surprise him that your ex cheated.
Second, jealousy has always been taking over Jisung’s whole body, flooding his veins, demolishing his heart, whenever he saw him touching you or kissing you. At the thought of him on top of you, grazing with his hands over your skin and body, Jisung’s stomach turns.
But… yeah.
You asked a question.
Let’s get back to it, Jisung.
“Anything for you.”
No matter what he does. His precious voice is playing like a song on repeat in your head. Rose-tinted glasses are glued to your face. And everything just feels so comforting with him. As if you’re meant to be here with him. As if he's meant to be taking care of you.
As if the both of you are meant to be together.
Goosebumps. All over your skin. Even though it’s still twenty degrees outside and even warmer in the café. That’s it—the passion you were thinking about. Jisung has literally done nothing but just with a few little words and glances he manages to conquer your stupid little heart. It’s not even to blame on the alcohol—you’re barely tipsy anymore and it’s not as if this is the first time he has had this effect on you.
Fortunately, you’ve got enough time now to both drown in your emotions and observe Jisung preparing a drink for you from afar. He’s taken off his sweater and is now only in a tank top, showing his firm arms to you and you wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. But you don’t want to get your hopes up too high, although they look kind of realistic at the top of the cherry trees here.
A little later, Jisung comes back with a pink drink in his hand, professionally placing it on the table with a small thud before he sits down again.
“A sakura latte. But my own version with cherries at the bottom of the glass,” he says, his cheeks coloured in the same shade as the beverage.
“Thank you, Sungie.”
It just slipped out. The nickname.
And the thin rose tinted layer on his face turns cerise now, copying the fruits at the bottom of the glass.
But can he blame himself?
The odds have never been in his favour but tonight everything seems as if it’s meant to be, as if it’s destiny screaming at him to finally make a move. Jisung has been referring to you as his chérie in his head for some time now but he would never admit that.
It’s too weird—an hour ago the both of you still believed that you’re longterm enemies just to realise that you get along quite well. More than that. And on top of that, the intense desire, the utmost tension is still lingering in the air, increasing its density with each fracture of a second.
Your eyes hover around, when you get a little shy after Jisung has been looking at you for a sole minute. Your gaze hits the remaining sweets that were offered today when the sun was still up. Getting up, your feet bring you a little closer now, appetite announcing itself once again.
You read the little cards with names attached to them, as you place your index finger on the glass, pointing at the colourful cupcakes.
“The blueberry-vanilla muffins are called Little Sin?”
Jisung chuckles, “Yeah. Minho came up with the idea.”
This doesn’t surprise you. Minho—Jisung’s best friend and unofficial boss of the café—has always had the funniest ideas, his personality seems to work with a fourth dimension. You like him, he’s part of your friend group too, and the only one who’s desperately been trying to convince you to, first, leave your now ex boyfriend and, second, give Jisung a chance to at least become friends.
You’ve always wondered why. Especially, why you were supposed to approach him when you’re the one who gets ignored. But it makes sense now. Being with him has granted you more safety, comfort and excitement in a little more than an hour than all those years being with your ex combined.
You smile then, when you read the name of the other cupcake.
“And naming the raspberry-vanilla ones Hot Love was his impressive creativity, too?”
“Exactly,” Jisung says, laughing out loud.
“Of course. Should have seen that coming.” You turn around completely now. “Can I have one?”
Jisung instantly gets up from his seat, getting behind the counter.
“Of course. Which one?”
You tilt your head, your index finger tapping your mouth, as you try to choose.
“Hm… can’t decide,” you admit.
“You can have one of each, you know?” Jisung offers, until another idea hits him. “Or… we could share.”
“O-Okay,” you immediately respond.
A minute later you find yourself once again at the table, sharing the sweet goods. It feels so familiar and not at all uncomfortable. Jisung doesn’t make you shy around him, if any, he worms out the potential that has been slumbering inside you. You feel at ease, being near him.
“Jisung?”
Another half an hour has passed and the two of you have talked about almost every imaginable topic, realising you get along quite well when you both try.
“Yeah?”
He feels comfortable around you too and he wants to regret not approaching you earlier but it doesn’t matter when he sees you smile whenever he cracks the dumbest joke, when he witnesses you get flustered after a compliment or when he observes your eyes flickering around in the room, looking at the cherry trees.
“I’ve always liked the decoration inside the café. The blossom trees, you know. Who came up with the idea?”
Are you reading his mind, perhaps?
“Uhm… it was me,” Jisung confesses.
“You like cherries and blossom trees, too?”
Yes, but I like you more and that’s why I chose that theme.
Jisung decides to simply nod instead.
“We have more in common than I thought,” you say, downing the rest of your sakura latte as Jisung does the same since he made one for himself, too.
“W-We do…”
He gets a little shy now, even shyer than he usually is. But luckily, you’re the one taking the initiative now.
“Wow, we could have really become friends earlier if you hadn’t ignored me for the past four years,” you say, not really thinking about your words before speaking them out loud but that’s the effect Jisung has on you—you can be completely honest and share whatever appears on your mind.
“I-I’m sorry…”
Silence fills the room for a minute until you speak again.
“I just… I’ve always wondered why. It’s because of him, right?”
Jisung hesitates.
“Hm, I fucking hate that dude, to be honest. I’ve always had. But… with the way he treated you– I–“
“Yeah… he’s the worst. I seriously don’t understand how I stayed with him for that long,” you quietly admit with a forced smile.
“Please don’t blame yourself for this, yeah?” Jisung adds, reaching for your hand and you let him.
His skin feels so smooth and warm against your own, heating your heart up from the inside, similar to the sakura latte and the warm muffins you shared earlier.
“He… he always said that… that I make everything about myself. As if I’m some self-centered bitch,” you say.
You don't care if it ruins the mood or if it’s inappropriate to talk about your ex with the guy you… like.
But it’s different with Jisung. Besides that, you know how much he despises him, probably even more than you detest that piece of shit.
“You?”
You nod and Jisung squeezes your hand tighter when he sees the hurt swirling around in your beautiful eyes. God, he could get lost in that view but he absolutely hates seeing you like this. You deserve to be treated like a queen, worshiped like a goddess.
“Yeah… because I’m passionate about the things I like or when I engage in conversations I tend to share my personal experiences, that’s just how I show my interest and affection,” you explain, head hanging low.
Jisung’s other hand comes to your face now, placed under your chin, so he can tilt your head in an angle that you're forced to look into his eyes.
“Y/N, listen,” he begins, his jaw clenching at the thought of how much your ex destroyed your confidence. “You’re not self-centered at all. He definitely is, though. Besides that, there’s nothing more beautiful than listening to people talking about something that touches them or just makes them smile.”
There it is.
A smile appearing on your face again and you believe what he says.
“T-Thank you.”
“Not for that,” he reminds you once more.
“Jisung?”
His gaze shoots up from where your hands meet up to your face.
“Yeah?”
“Just so you know, I’ve never hated you either. If anything, I’ve always liked you and wanted to get to know you better,” you say.
And there it is.
A smile appearing on his face as well and he believes what you say.
You stay like this for a solid minute, enjoying the atmosphere.
Until a vibrating sound startles you, indicating you received a message.
You excuse yourself, grabbing your phone from your pants’ pocket. Opening the chat with your roommate, you reread your own text from earlier first.
[You 21:32]: felix are you at home?
You realise that you’ve never mentioned that you aren’t at home either and you’re glad about this now. Otherwise, Felix would have probably gotten a heart attack reading your words. At least you can tell he’s somewhat calm—despite the stress caused by his uni project—judging his message.
[Felix 🐥 01:56]: sorry for the late reply my phone died but i’m not coming home tonight, Hyunjin and I really need to finish that project, love you 💕
But fuck—it clicks then.
You will not be able to get home today. It’s ridiculous to stay up all night and what are you supposed to tell Jisung?
Jisung. Right.
No… that’s a dumb idea. You can’t ask him that.
“Jisung?”
His eyes find yours again, after you put away your phone.
“Hm?”
Deep breaths. It’s gonna be okay.
It’s weird isn’t it?
But it’s also two in the morning.
You will just emphasize you only have innocent intentions.
Well. Is that the truth, though?
You don’t want to scare him away but, again, you feel comfortable and safe enough to propose that idea.
So, that’s exactly what you do.
“I don’t want you to think I mean it in this way but– can I stay at your place tonight?”
Fuck. His heart skips a beat. Of course, you said you don’t mean it like that. But the sole idea of you being in the same room as him for more additional hours makes him absolutely excited.
“A-At my place?”
Shit. You already regret it. It’s in fact weird. A few hours ago you didn’t even talk to him and now you’re behaving as if you’ve been friends for centuries.
But the even weirder thing is that it actually feels like it.
It doesn’t help that you’ve had this incredible crush on him for such a long time now.
And it doesn’t help Jisung either that he feels the same about you.
“Felix has this important project and I forgot my keys inside the apartment and I don’t want to annoy–“
“Of course. Whatever you need,” Jisung interrupts you.
Despite the (not so) obvious feelings for you, he will not leave you alone at night.
“Thank you,” you say.
“Not for that.”
That’s the bare minimum again and Jisung will remind you from now on that you shouldn’t settle for just that.
“Are you already tired? We can head home, if you like,” he offers, when he takes a quick glance at his phone, realising how late it is.
“S-Sounds good.”
🌸
Jisung’s one room apartment is small but cosy. A tiny kitchen leads to a balcony. You can’t quite explain what it is but every detail seems carefully chosen, reflecting Jisung’s personality perfectly. It’s not as if he’s put lots of thought into the little decorations but maybe that’s exactly what makes you think of him—an insane intuition without any intention behind it.
“You can sleep in my bed, I’ll stay on the couch,” he says, as he points at the furniture.
“Don’t be ridiculous… there’s enough space for the both of us,” you tell him.
You appreciate the respect but a quick glance at his sofa tells you that not even an elementary student could sleep on it without breaking their neck.
“A-Are… are you sure about that?”
It’s almost cute that he’s become so shy again. That’s what’s fascinated you the most about him all this time. Jisung is versatile and still so predictable at once.
“Hm, it’s the famous trope after all,” you tease.
He looks at you dumbfounded, as he heads to the kitchen in order to bring water for the both of you. You sink down on the couch, reaching into the opened bag of crisps as if you’ve been here nth times before.
“Tro– what?”
Jisung plops down next to you, handing you the beverage.
He’s oblivious. You won’t tease him more. It was a joke after all.
Wasn’t it?
“Nothing,” you giggle.
Taking a sip from your glass, you grab your phone from inside your pocket and place it on the couch table. The screen lights up in an instant.
It’s just now that you’re realising you’ve missed a bunch of notifications since looking at your phone the last time when Jisung drove the both of you to his apartment a few minutes ago.
[idiot]: (8) missed calls
That’s when time starts standing still.
You probably dissociate for at least half a minute and everything becomes a blur. Since Jisung opened the balcony door, a breeze of fresh air enters and hits your skin but you barely notice it. The same counts for the sakura taste on your tongue, it’s still present but you can’t focus on anything right now.
“Are you okay, Y/N?”
You blink once. Twice. A third time.
Until you manage to turn your head towards Jisung.
“I… He– He texted me.”
He scoffs, his eyes growing wide, “God… that’s pathetic.”
“Hm,” is all you’re able to let out. You grab your phone from the table next, staring at the notifications. You’ve got a message from him as well but you need to open the app first to read it.
Fuck. What are you gonna do now?
The most rational answer would be to ignore it. But you can’t. Messages make you emotional although they shouldn’t. They get under your skin and pretty often you have the urge to immediately reply when receiving some risky text and then responding way too emotional.
Maybe Jisung knows what to do.
“Can you… can you help me?”
He gives you a soft smile, as he nods and places his hand on your shoulder. Jisung squeezes it a bit just like he did with your hand earlier at the café.
“You can always just ignore him, you know?”
It is the most rational answer. But you don’t want to be rational right now.
“Yeah… but I also always have that immense urge to have the last word,” you admit.
Jisung chuckles, “Very relatable.” The palm of his other hand is directed towards the ceiling now, telling you to give him your phone. “Let me see.”
You’re glad he doesn’t argue with you and just supports what you think is right for you. Your ex would have never done the same.
Jisung opens the messenger app and you both carefully read the disaster of a text.
[idiot 02:18]: Y/N… please answer… I swear it’s not what it looked like… it happened after our breakup 😔💔
“That guy… I doubt he’s even believing himself,” Jisung hisses, which makes you laugh a little.
You get back the device and start typing. Once you’re done, you press ‘send’.
[You 02:34]: stfu I overheard your conversation
“Yup. Very valid,” Jisung says.
It doesn’t even take another full minute for the next message to follow.
[idiot 02:35]: I am at your house with cookies and a bottle of wine… we can talk about everything… I’m not with her anymore 🥺😘
“He can’t be for real,” you mumble and at the same second get another one.
[idiot 02:35]: if i really think about it, i have only ever wanted to be with you, baby ❤️❤️🥺
“God… he is in fact fucking pathetic,” you laugh.
“What I’m saying,” Jisung adds.
You have a great idea what to respond and immediately start typing again.
[You 02:36]: if it was possible i would punch you through the phone screen
“That’s my girl,” Jisung mutters under his breath but you still hear him.
The three little dots appear on the screen before they vanish away again. They make a comeback and a second later you get bombarded with the following monstrosity…
[idiot 02:37]: baby… please. i’m in front of your house. why aren’t you opening the door for me? we can discuss everything 🥰😘❤️ and then get back together… I missed you 😔🥺❤️❤️
Jisung cringes. You do the same.
“God, the way he texts should have been a reason enough to break up with him, pretty.”
You chuckle. And ignore how the use of the pet name makes you feel.
Then you type something again.
Maybe without thinking enough but impulsiveness is still your middle name.
[You 02:37]: I’m at Jisung’s
“Y/N– I don’t know if that was such a good idea,” he says, a little bit of fear audible in his words.
“Fuck– I’m sorry– I didn’t want to drag you into this–“
“No, no. Not because of me. I think he will turn this against you,” Jisung says.
And as if he’s summoned it, his thoughts become reality.
[idiot 02:38]: Jisung?? tsk i should have known
“Fuck.”
“You don’t have to answer, you know that, right?”
You don’t have to reply and at this point you don’t want to anymore. Laying the phone aside is probably the best idea.
But your ex is faster to double text.
[idiot 02:39]: that pathetic loser has always wanted to fuck you… but i’d never expected you to be such a whore… I wonder for how long this has been going on
“Y/N.”
Jisung’s voice is strict.
“Huh?”
You turn your head around, looking at him. His jaw is clenched and there’s nervousness spreading all over his face.
“Give me the phone. Now.”
You obey his words, trusting him completely as you try to ignore the effect the tone of his voice has on you.
Jisung sends a message, hesitates and adds another one before he hands the device back to you.
You read the first one.
[You 02:41]: Jisung’s here. Watch your mouth before I stuff it with tissues. I’m just here for her and taking care of the mess you made.
You giggle. The tissue thing sounds like something he learnt from Minho.
You read the second message.
And your heart skips a beat.
[You 02:42]: Just for your interest: I’ve never fucked her, you idiot. But I can promise you that tonight I’ll definitely have her screaming my name ;)
Fuck.
You lock your phone and lay it aside, screen facing the table.
Your head is spinning again.
But this time in a positive way, if that makes any sense.
Does he mean it?
No. That was probably just to end this nerve wracking conversation.
Yes, you know now that Jisung is indeed not your enemy but wants to be your friend instead.
But that’s it, right?
On the other hand, you’re still thinking about the fact he called you pretty and smart three hours ago and that he said something along the lines of ‘if you were my girlfriend’.
But that was just to prove some point… nothing… nothing personal.
Right?
But fuck it.
You’ve never been so close to tasting everything you’ve ever wanted and although you’ve never believed in destiny, you know that all this can’t be a coincidence.
Now or never.
“I-Is it true?”
Jisung looks at you with those big doe eyes. God. Your heart could melt at the sight.
“W-What?”
Deep breaths, Y/N.
“That you have always wanted me?”
He shyly giggles. “Y-Yeah.”
Oh.
You wouldn’t have expected him to, first, actually return those feelings and, second, to confess it so quickly.
It grants you an insane boost of confidence.
Especially when you think back to the last message he sent.
Tonight I’ll definitely have her screaming my name.
You hesitate. But you don’t want to test the waters, you want the whole ocean right now.
“The other thing, too, Sungie?”
He gulps. “What d-do you mean?”
“That you’re gonna fuck me tonight,” you say, catching your lower lip between your teeth.
The boy instantly turns red, hiding his face behind the palms of his hands.
“Y/N– I’m sorry I– I thought that maybe he would stop text–“
“Because I’ll let you,” you cut him off.
His face appears again and where there was an absolute shy look a second ago, there are dark eyes now staring right at you with the utmost form of pure lust swirling around inside them.
“Say that again,” Jisung challenges you with a husky whisper.
“I’ll let you fuck me,” you admit. “I’ve wanted this for so long, too.”
He lets his head fall back and when he tilts it down again, you watch his tongue wet his lips first and then graze over his upper teeth.
“Are you kidding me?”
Fuck.
Have you gone too far?
You probably have.
You shake your head. “No. Of course, only if you want to–“
Jisung interrupts you by smashing his lips into yours.
You stay like this for some seconds—mouths being pressed against one another until he slowly starts moving.
And when he invites your tongue in, you can sense some hints of the sakura flavour from the beverage earlier since he had one of those rose tinted drinks too.
That’s when it hits you.
Cherry blossoms are blooming all over and around you. He tastes like your favourite fruit but even better. The goosebumps are back on your skin when he pulls you closer.
That’s it.
The passion you’ve been hoping for, no, that you have been craving all this time.
You want to turn back time.
Make up for all the missed years.
Or at least switch back to a minute ago so you can experience the feeling of his lips aligning with your own, sending the first spark through your whole body, for the first time once more. Over and over again.
Your initial idea with this was to deal with the tension but it’s about time that you stop denying and lying to yourself.
It’s not just that. It’s so much more.
You feel a little dumb for only fully realising now but Jisung is all you’ve ever wanted, ever needed—on every level imaginable.
And as much as you want him to take of each layer of your clothing, he has to know first that this means more to you than just a one time thing that happened in the heat of the moment.
“Sung– wait–“
He immediately pulls away. Jisung fears he’s gone too fast, too much, too far.
Fuck.
He wishes the first kiss between the both of you would have been in a more romantic setting. As cliché as it sounds—aligning his lips with yours while you’re standing under those pastel pink trees would have been a dream come true and what you truly deserve.
But can he really be blamed when his long-time crush asks, no, begs him to basically devour them like a five star meal?
“Do you want to stop?” he asks then.
You can see the fear in his eyes. That’s the last thing you want.
“N-No– it’s…”
But it’s hard speaking up about all those thoughts that are running at high speed in your mind. Especially, when he’s looking at you with his beautiful brown eyes that have gotten a few shades darker since the first kiss.
Fortunately, Jisung senses you’re just as shy to speak as he is but he still manages to initiate the conversation. He dearly hopes he’s not misinterpreting something. In case you regret what has happened so far, his heart will immediately shatter into a thousand pieces.
“What’s on your mind, pretty?”
You giggle when you hear the pet name. But you have to be serious now. It’s so important that you don’t give the wrong impression to him.
You want this. You really do. But you want this to be more after and not just a one time thing. Jisung is way too important to you and your stupid little heart.
“I don’t want you to think this is a rebound… I–“
“I know it’s not,” he cuts you off.
He’s got his truth now and Jisung can officially call himself the fucking happiest man on earth, if not even in the whole universe and whatever follows after that.
“How do you know?”
It’s hard to explain. But, subconsciously, he’s known for some time. Jisung’s insecurities simply have gotten in the way, telling him it’s just his imagination.
But the conversations you shared in the café earlier, the way you allowed him to take care of you, the fact you’re at his apartment now and, fuck, the way that kiss felt—filled with such a passion he has been craving for years, if not his whole life, convinced him.
“I’ve had my doubts for years and was sure it’s just my desperate feelings for you telling me you might return them but I know now you might like me just as much,” he says, adding a little teasing smirk at the end.
“H-How… so obvious?”
“You’re fucking obvious, baby,” Jisung continues, grabbing you by the waist and placing you in his lap and you just let him. “Maybe that’s why I’ve never given up. I was convinced you hated me, understandable, since I ignored you all this time and do in fact hate your ex.”
“Don’t mention–“
He places a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“Sorry. But do you wanna know why I’ve ignored you for four years?”
You look into his eyes again and you can already feel the secrets unveil themselves in a heartbeat. Although you seem to already know what he’s about to say.
“Why, Jisung?”
He gets closer now, his mouth dangerously near to your face, lips practically hovering over your skin if there wasn’t a thin layer of air separating you.
“I had to hold myself back. For several reasons”—a kiss on your cheek—“to not… sorry for the mention but punch that dude in his face”—a kiss on your jawline—“To ignore my own feelings for you. But, also”—a kiss on your neck—“to not bend you over the next surface, if I’m honest.”
You’ve always known there’s been utmost desire blooming between the both of you. A blossoming connection as bright as the leaves of your favourite tree.
And it feels exactly like this when Jisung aligns his lips with yours another time and you’ve never wanted to drown in a feeling this much before—he tastes like everything you long for. The sweetness of the blueberry and raspberry muffins. The freshness of the sakura latte. The comfort of the safety he grants you. The passion of the desire you have for him.
That’s why you allow him to take the next step, when he slowly pushes you down on the sofa, towering over you now. Jisung tugs a strand of your hair behind your ear, as he looks at you with the warmest smile this earth has ever witnessed.
But there’s no time to react or do anything, when his mouth collides with your neck again and as if you’re on autopilot, you spread your legs for him, allowing Jisung a more comfortable and intimate position.
One of his hands wanders up to cup your breast, massaging it through the fabric of your shirt and bra. In an instant, you prop yourself up on your elbows and Jisung seems to be able to read your mind when he helps you out of those distracting barriers.
He becomes that cute guy again when his eyes flicker down to your bare breasts and it makes you almost as shy as he is right now.
“Sungie… don’t look at me like that,” you say, covering your chest with your hands but he softly pulls them away.
“No, no. You can’t look as beautiful as this and then hide.”
You allow him to continue, rolling your eyes to the back of your head when his kisses meet one of your breasts. Jisung starts twirling his tongue around the hardening nub, while his hand is busy playing with the other.
A moan slips out of your mouth but you don’t even try to hold it back since there’s neither a reason nor a need for it.
“Sungie?” you call for him again when you notice something.
He looks up at you through his thick lashes, big eyes staring right into yours.
“Yeah, pretty?”
You giggle because of the name again, “You know, it’s kinda unfair that you’re still wearing your shirt…”
He chuckles and within a few seconds the fabric lands on the pile of clothes on the floor and your gaze on his upper body. You’ve always expected him to be on the more muscular, athletic side but this beats all of your expectations.
“Wow… you’re beautiful,” you let out.
Jisung shies away but you grab his face and direct it back towards you.
“You can’t look as beautiful as this and then hide,” you quote him.
That’s all he needs for his eyes to turn ten shades darker again and a few moments later, he’s carrying you bridal style towards his bed. Your body meets the mattress, the weight of it shifting underneath you and Jisung wastes no second to help you out of your pants, leaving you under him in only your underwear.
“Fuck… pretty,” is all he says, brain turning into mush at the sole sight of your almost completely naked body.
Jisung positions himself between your legs then, thighs lying on his shoulders when his mouth approaches your covered pussy. Even in the dim lights of his room, Jisung is able to witness the little wet patch on your cerise laces. He giggles to himself, before he lets his tongue collide with the fabric. Licking a long stripe over your hidden clit, he makes you arch your back because of this slightest touch.
And it’s enough for you to desperately, impatiently beg for more.
“Take them off,” you cry out, already freeing yourself from your panties.
With the most evil smirk to ever exist, Jisung helps you slide them down, leaving you naked on his bed for him and him only.
He dives back in, about to devour you like a five star meal, when his mouth comes in contact with your mound. Jisung starts with small little kisses, as two of his fingers painfully slowly spread your pussy lips apart and he could come undone untouched at the spot when he sees and feels how drenched you are.
“Sit up for a second,” he tells you and you follow suit.
Jisung is on eye level with you now, bringing two of his fingers close to your face.
“Open, pretty.”
You do as you’re told, inviting his digits in before you start sucking on them.
“Fuck…”
His eyes are practically glued to your mouth, watching how you take his fingers in and Jisung wonders how heavenly it would feel if he replaced them with his cock—which has by the way already been painfully hard since the two of you started kissing.
But it’s about you now. Jisung has waited for four years for this moment, being selfish is the last thing he wants.
That’s why he gets back to his previous position. In an instant, his tongue is back on your clit—this time without a layer of fabric between them—and his fingers are circling around your entrance, teasing you to beg for more.
Jisung hears another moan spill from your lips and it’s the most beautiful melody his ears have ever witnessed. He wishes he could record it, play it over and over again as a memory of tonight and all the following nights after this one.
“Sungie,” you call for him again, as you hide your face behind the palms of your hand. The anticipation is practically killing you by now, a feeling so intense it makes it impossible to hold back any longer.
“Need you…”
Jisung chuckles. “You need me, baby?”
His voice has dropped down low by probably two octaves.
“Yeah… your fingers, inside me,” you manage to speak.
Jisung follows suit, as he enters you, immediately feeling you clench around him. He lets out a moan himself now, before he slowly starts thrusting into you, stretching you so deliciously.
“Fuck–“
You arch your back when his tongue meets your sensitive bud again, drawing the prettiest movements around it, making you curl your toes.
Jisung lets go for a second, but keeps his fingers inside your tight hole as he slows down the pace.
“Baby?”
“Hm?”
He chuckles a little when he sees your fucked out face.
“Listen how wet you are, pretty. For me, hm? Only for me,” Jisung says. His fingers start thrusting faster into you now, as squelching sounds echo through the room.
“For you…” you whisper under your breath, before your head falls back again.
He picks up his pace, adding a third finger before he begins curling all three of them so he’s able to brush that certain spot inside you.
That’s it. The build up is getting more intense with each second that passes. You’re overdosing on pleasure.
“Sung–“ your words get cut off, when his tongue once again starts making out with your clit, saliva running all over it.
Jisung moans against your heat, not even thinking about stopping any time soon but it seems as if it won’t take you that much longer to reach that sweet relief.
“Come on, baby,” he encourages you, continuing with his movements like an expert, “cum all over my tongue and fingers.”
As if he’s flipped a switch on you, his demand turns into reality, when time stands still and the indescribable feeling takes over your body, possesses your mind and soul. It’s like a thousand sparks of fireworks, a million blossoms of those cherry trees blinding your vision when the sensation spreads through your core and gets welcomed by your whole system.
Jisung helps you ride out your high, his movements becoming slower when he feels the overstimulation kicking in. He slips his fingers out of your hole, giving your clit one last but soft kiss before he licks his digits clean from your essences.
He stares at you for a solid minute, waiting for the next move to follow from you this time.
But it seems as if he doesn’t have to be impatient, when you’re already sitting up again, pulling him closer by his neck, as you whisper, “You… you c-can’t eat me out like that and– you have to finish what you started, Sungie.”
He chuckles, before his lips crash into yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue.
“Then let me fuck you, yeah?”
You fall down on your back again, as you watch Jisung dangerously slowly fumble with his belt. The leather drops to the floor and he wastes no time to let his jeans follow. The tip of his cock is staining his boxers, a wet patch very visible for your eyes. It looks uncomfortable, almost painful, how restricted he is behind the fabric, the tent proving it quite much.
“Please– c-can’t wait no more–“
Jisung pulls the remaining fabric down, kicking it to the rest of the clothes and you gulp when you see him fully naked for the first time. The head is leaking precum, the length a little above average but the girth is probably what makes your head the dizziest.
“Let me go grab a condom real quick, pretty.”
You circle your hand around his wrist, stopping him from making a move.
“I’m on birth control. I’m fine without one, if you’re, too.”
He smiles at you, truly touched by the trust you have for him and it surprises him once again how the two of you used to be anything like this a few hours ago. Well, maybe it wasn’t ever like this. Maybe this is how it was supposed to be all along.
“Of course.”
His hands wander under your thighs then, as you’re still spreading your legs so beautifully obediently for him and Jisung pulls you closer, until your ass is practically right at the edge of the bed. He’s still standing in front of it, his cock back in his hand as he starts stroking it.
“You’re gonna beg for it, pretty. Beg for my cock, beg me to make you cum again, hm?”
Fuck.
How on earth are you supposed to survive this?
Jisung spits in his hand, smearing the saliva all over his length before he brings it closer to your pussy, tip slowly grazing over your clit which forces a moan out of you.
“Sungie– please, please, please,” you beg, just how he asked for it.
But that’s not enough for him.
“A little more, baby.”
Instead of finally sliding his cock into you, he continues teasing you, brushing it over your clit until the grip of his hand tightens and those soft movements do a one hundred and eighty degree turn, when his length collides with your clit, as he slaps it against your sensitive nub.
You let out the so far loudest moan that night, unable to wait any longer.
“Please, fuck me. I need you– need you to stretch me with your cock– need you inside–“
“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, “I adore how desperate you are for me.”
“Only for you, Jisung.”
And that’s when he pushes just the tip inside, your pussy walls inviting him in as you start clenching around him. Jisung takes his time with you, checking your face regularly but all you do is impatiently begging him for more. Centimetre after centimetre follows until he’s bottoming you out completely.
“You better be,” he adds, still referring to his possessiveness.
You usually don’t like it when guys act that way but it’s different with Jisung. It’s not as if he’s doing it out of jealousy but you’re aware he’s driven by his utmost desire for you.
Positioning your legs over his shoulder to reach that certain angle, he starts thrusting into you at a steady pace.
And, fuck, does it feel good. You’re convinced the both of you are anatomically made for each other, destined to be connected in the most intimate way to ever exist.
“Fuck– I’ve dreamt about this for years– fucking years,” he cries out in between thrusts.
“Feels so good,” you compliment him, more and more synapses in your brain shutting off with each second. But you don’t need to think right now anyway. All you need is Jisung to take care of you, pleasure you, make you cum once more. Over and over again.
You’re a little dragged out of your daydreaming, when Jisung slips his length out, earning a whine from you. He grabs you by the waist and turns you on your stomach.
“Ass up,” he says and like a puppy you follow suit like you always do.
A few seconds later, he’s stuffing you full of his cock again, pounding into your desperate hole at a merciless speed.
“You’re such a good girl– only for me, yeah?”
“Hm, yours, only yours,” you whimper.
Your head is buried into a pillow, as you’re drooling all over the fabric. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head but that’s nothing new.
“Good little slut– fuck, I can’t believe I-I’m gonna be able to be inside that tight cunt every day from now on–“
“Yes, please–“ you cry out, not quite sure what you’re asking for but subconsciously the idea of having Jisung fill you whenever you need him is everything you’ve ever wanted.
“You’re mine, yeah? You get that?”
You slam your hand against the headboard, desperately trying to find some balance but failing miserably when Jisung rams his thick cock into your quivering hole like that.
“Yes, yes!”
He chuckles, “Good girl.”
And faster than you’re able to realise what’s happening, he’s got you in the previous position now, but this time Jisung is even closer. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders and his face is so close that he wastes no time to kiss you. It’s both once again so soft and passionate at the same time.
He’s still rutting into you although he’s lost some speed because his movements are getting a little sloppier too. Especially, whenever you clench around him, as two of his fingers are between your legs, playing with your clit to bring you closer to that sweet relief that you’re so desperately longing for
You bury your head in the crook of his neck. The beautiful marks you leave on his skin are destined to stay there for a while, like a tattoo that’s supposed to be a memory of tonight.
A few moans escape Jisung’s mouth. He pulls back a bit so that he can both stretch out the time until his orgasm washes over him and get a closer look of your face. He admires the few littles tears running down your cheeks, caused by the stimulation he is granting your body with his fingers, his cock and his words that follow next.
“You belong to me– I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this–“
Fuck. You won’t be able to hold on any longer, you can practically already taste your climax again, when your cunt quivers around him.
“Hm, more– please– don’t stop, Sungie–“
So, he follows your instructions and Jisung watches how you come undone once more, this time much more intensely than the previous one. You fear you black out for a second when the white glittering sparks fill your vision again and you allow the feeling to take over you.
Jisung’s movements become even clumsier.
“Please– inside, Sungie– I’m begging–“
He lets out a moan at the thought of stuffing you full of his seeds. Jisung places another sloppy kiss on your lips before he can’t hold back any longer.
“Whatever my g-good slut asks for, s-she’ll get,” Jisung says, before his cum seeps into your aching hole, painting your walls white.
Everything after that becomes a blur and a few minutes later, Jisung has already taken care of your exhausted body, cleaning you all carefully before he puts you into some of his clothes.
He joins you under the covers a little later, pulling you close to him as he watches your eyes almost fall shut. Jisung adds a soft kiss to your forehead, simultaneously stroking your cheek.
“I’m happy you came to the café tonight, you know?”
You nod, “I’m happy that we’re finally on the same page.”
“It was getting exhausting, to be honest, pretending that I’m not interested in you,” he says.
You chuckle, kissing him on the cheek.
“Same here.”
Staying like this for a while, the both of you get ready for bed a little later until you meet in his bed again. Jisung turns off the lights, as he cuddles closer to you.
“We should get some sleep, pretty, so that we’re well rested for our date tomorrow.”
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🩷 AUTHOR’S NOTE: I'm so grateful that I was able to participate in this event. It was lots of fun! Thanks so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging it and sharing your thoughts with me—there are no limits, from keyboard smashes to long essays, every kind comment is dearly appreciated and the number one motivation for authors to keep going. Have a nice day!
© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited
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capricornlevi · 2 months
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no surprises - toji x reader
wc 1.6k - hitman!toji x mobwife!reader, fem!reader, strangers to lovers -dark elements (but not really related to sex -- toji breaks into reader's house to assassinate mob husband), cheating (technically -- reader's husband is a piece of shit lol)
nsfw, mdni
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Toji hates it when his hits have wives or girlfriends.
As cruel a bastard as he may be, the thought of unnecessary collateral makes him uneasy to say the least. It's messy, too, unnecessary and uncomfortable. When one of his targets has a wife there's a sure guarantee she'll be by his side more often than not. It increases the risk for all parties, whether they know of their involvement or not.
He wonders why these men never have the decency to get a divorce before involving themselves in shit like this.
And so, as he carefully picks the lock to your kitchen window, he hopes that tonight's job is clean. That you'll stay out of his way.
Kill the guy, clean up, and ideally, get out without even waking you.
So imagine his surprise when he makes his way inside as planned, turns down the hallway to get to the bedroom he's so carefully mapped this past week, only to find you standing pyjama-clad in the hallway with arms crossed, looking at him with an expression one could only describe as inconvenienced.
"He's not here," you mumble, the words laced with sleep but still pointed.
Toji prides himself on being quick on his feet, but in this rare instance, he's lost for words. He doesn't even draw his weapon.
"Uh ... hm ... what?" he finally decides, though the words leave him without much active decision-making on his part, spilling out into the cold night air.
"He's not here," you repeat, enunciating each word slowly. "Did you not hear me? Though that would explain why you made such a fucking racket breaking in."
"What the fuck-"
"And you're replacing that lock, by the way," you spit, eyes heated with frustration as you give him a once over. "I heard you give up and break it."
Toji's head could explode right here and now. How has this ... this cannot be happening ... he's carried out hits numbering in the three digits, and not one target has ever seen him coming, much less the wife of some low-ranking gangster who stole the wrong amount of money from the wrong people.
Still, you don't shy away from him, keeping your gaze fixed on his increasingly confused face.
"What do ya mean he isn't here?" Toji huffs then, finally realising the futility of this situation. Standing there stupidly isn't going to improve his image, he needs to cut to the chase. "Is he out?"
You huff a laugh. "You could say that."
He arches a scarred brow. "He's dead?"
"May as well be," you answer plainly, devoid of any sympathy or grief. "Kicked him out on Sunday. Tried to steal my engagement ring and then went after my parents, mumbling some shit about collecting their life insurance policy even though the idiot isn't even named on it. So I made a call and the name of his hotel is with your bosses now."
"Then why didn't they--"
You roll your eyes, exasperated. "How should I know? They probably sent some other guys to the hotel and kept you here in case that worm came wriggling back."
Toji's not sure why, but he believes you -- probably because of the unafraid, unemotional manner in which you're delivering this information. As though you're a teacher scolding him for a failed assignment.
He releases his grip on the weapon tucked at his hip -- he doesn't even remember at which point he went to grab it -- silently swearing at a wasted evening.
Sure, he'll still get the flat rate for a call-out like this one, but if he has proof of death he gets triple pay. He could really use that this month; he likes having his lights stay on for longer than forty-eight hours at a time, and figured tonight would've been an easy job, particularly with how stupidly your husband has been acting these last few months.
"Uh ... okay. Sorry for inconveniencin' ya," he mumbles, figuring it best to leave now without wasting either of your time any further.
He could stay here and argue more, but he's not in the mood. He needs to get back. Plus, he's already disrupted your night enough -- as curtly as you've addressed him these past few minutes, he can't say he doesn't see where your frustration is coming from.
In this short interaction, he's developed a sort of begrudging respect for this woman who views an assassination attempt in the same way most would view a parking ticket.
"Wait!" you call out just as he turns around. He hesitates -- though you don't seem like the type to call the police given your knowledge of your husband's business.
Maybe you're not finished giving him shit for this embarrassment of a botched assignment?
"Yeah?" he answers dutifully, brushing his hair from his eyes with a tired swipe of his hand, turning back to face you.
"Want to have a drink with me?" you ask straight-forwardly, arms still crossed and expression unmoving. "He left his 20-year whiskey behind, and I haven't had new company since he weaselled his way into my life."
"I-"
"If you've nothing better to do, anyway."
This woman ...
He has never had as difficult a time reading someone in his entire lie.
"Well?" you press, a hint of impatience growing in that beautiful voice. "What do you want to do?"
Surprise once against takes precedence over any other emotion in Toji's body.
Tonight couldn't get any weirder. He's sure of it.
Except it definitely can, as he discovers just thirty minutes later, with you sitting atop him as he's spread out on your bed, riding him so hard the bed rattles against the wall.
This is a little fucked up. You both know it. He came here to kill your husband, but it's so hard for him to care about minor details like that when he sees how your tits bounce with every thrust upwards, how your face looks when it's torn in pleasure.
Your husband is a bigger idiot than he thought.
You haven't been touched like this in a long time, haven't had someone's hands on you like you deserve, and that thought enrages him for some reason.
His focus for tonight has shifted entirely. He's no longer out to kill, to hurt, his one responsibility is to make you cry out on his cock, on his tongue, on his fingers, until both of your voices are worn out and hoarse.
You're so pretty like this, so responsive to every twirl of his thumb and jerk of his hips.
Though -- and he hates to admit it -- you're exerting some control over him as well. His well-worn self-discipline is being tested like never before. On your couch just a few minutes ago, with his mouth spread against you and your leg tossed over his shoulder, you had managed to then manoeuvre yourself until your fist was wrapped around his cock, your pretty fingers stroking him until his breaths sounded choked and desperate, until a flush spread up his chest to his neck and jawline.
He had to still your wrist to keep from coming all over his own chest. That would lose him any shred of credibility he had left.
He's obsessed with the way you kiss him, too, so hungry and desperate with no sign of that earlier unshakability you possessed. He's sure you still have yourself in some semblance of control -- though he barely knows you, he knows you wouldn't relent that quickly -- but you release yourself a little, sinking into it with a quiet moan that sends ripples up his spine.
And now, with your hips sitting flush against his own, it's hard to imagine caring about a single other thing than the sight of his cock disappearing inside you.
You take him so well, every inch of him, knowing exactly what to say to drive him insane. In turn, he learns what he can from your reactions, each microexpression showing him how you like to be touched.
You toss your head back, that beautiful throat gulping down gasps of air in between cries of Toji's name, shoulders tight with the tension of keeping yourself seated on him.
He gives you more when you ask for it, pumping up into you and relishing the answering groans and mewls of pleasure.
(Honestly, he'd give you anything you wanted from him. He'd give you the shirt off his back if you requested it with those pretty doe eyes and your lips curled into that sly little smile.)
A familiar heat curls in his stomach but in a way he's entirely unfamiliar with; usually, it builds slowly and reliably, bit by bit, but this time it rises erratically and without any sign of when he's approaching the edge.
This is dangerous. You're dangerous for him, you have him in the palm of your hand and hold the ability to crush him into tiny pieces if you so wish. It scares him while also sending pulses of pleasure straight to his cock, coupled with the feeling of your throbbing clit as he circles it with his thumb --
Thankfully, you fall apart at the same time, spasms of pleasure overtaking every single thought in either of your heads.
As you settle into the afterglow, Toji is in no rush to move you or shift himself. He runs a roughened hand over your thigh, the skin smooth as silk, marvelling at how you shiver under the touch.
He just looks up at you, that hint of confusion from earlier still present but accompanied by something else.
Strange, he thinks to himself. Not a wasted evening after all.
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byizoyas · 11 months
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tears of themis ; drabbles
nsfw. ✩ nxx boys being so jealous they have to remind you (or themselves) who you belong to [fem!reader] featuring: artem, marius, luke, vyn
a/n ✩ this is only just a teasing, longer versions for each of them will be uploaded later ehe also this is my first tot fic idk if y’all read it BUT ive been wanting to write for them for a while now
⸻ ꕥ ⌎ artem doesn’t talk a lot when he’s feeling irritated or upset about something. he usually prefers to keep it to himself but when he sees you from afar, joking around with his forever rival, he cannot contain himself any longer; taking you by the hand and pulling you away from the party, away from him. his hand is gripping a bit too hard on your wrist that you feel it hurting already yet before you can speak, his lips are already pressed against yours. his hands go down on your body, reaching out to your ass, squeezing it as if it helped him relax. and it seems that it does help, because you feel his lips curling up into a smile against your skin. ‘what’s gotten into you ?’ you ask. and all you get as an answer is him, looking away; obviously avoiding your eyes.
‘is it not okay for me to want you when you look so divine in that dress ?’
⸻ ꕥ ⌎ marius easily gets jealous whenever you get too close to other men; because he knows how beautiful and desirable you are.of course he’s not speaking his feelings everytime he happens to not like you talking to a man. but this time it is too much. he puts down his glass, approaching both of you slowly. ‘i need to see y/n in private.’ he says. actually he orders you to follow him. and his hand quickly seizes yours anyway, so you cannot deny his request. he closes the door to his office behind you. locks it. ‘oh ? here ?’ you say, walking around his huge office, staring at the city lights. the view at night is breathtaking from up here yet you don’t have the time to truly enjoy it when you feel his body pressing against yours. he is hard, and slowly unzipping the back of your dress. ‘i want you.’ he whispers against your skin. ‘you are mine.’ he adds, dropping kisses on several places and you feel two of his fingers slide into your wet cunt. ‘ngh~ why are you like that ? the event only just started.’ to that he simply keeps on fucking you with his fingers, and stuffs your mouth with the fingers of his other hand, commanding you to suck it.
‘no.’ he giggles ‘me fucking you only just started and you will be moaning my name over again, asking for more of my cock inside of you.’
⸻ ꕥ ⌎ luke hates himself for having the idea of bringing you here; to a jet ski class. he feared that you’d spend a bad moment and wouldn’t dare to tell him; yet you seem to quite like it. a bit too much he thinks. now, he’s standing alone on the sand, unable to take his eyes off you as you’re clinging hard onto the teacher’s body. of course he keeps his composure with the stranger; but the way he takes your hand and takes little time to get you out of here says a lot about his true feelings. luke sits on the driver’s seat of his car, but does not turn the engine on yet. instead he pulls you into his lap so he can enjoy the direct view of your boobs. a view that is his and his only. he helps you take your shirt off. he’s usually softer, but you ask no question because you already know that this is only a vague insight of how jealous he must be. he buries his head into your neck, biting and licking it to show you how bad he wants you now. and since actions don’t seem to be expressive enough to him, he speaks up against your skin.
‘i’m gonna mark you as mine. i’m gonna fuck you hard and you will be clinging to me, begging for me to be more gentle.’
⸻ ꕥ ⌎ vyn can get pretty sadistic in bed if he feels like it and since he knows you enjoy it too, he doesn’t really hide his fantasies to you. he’s eyeing you now. has been for a while since the beginning of the party in fact, and no cheerful expression of yours around that man escaped his observant eyes. ‘may i ?’ he politely asks for more of you in the middle of your conversation. but this is only a facade and you know it. you can see in his eyes, all the things he’s going to do to you and feel yourself getting wet to your simple imagination. he opens the bathroom door to you. ‘the toilets ? very elegant doctor richter.’ you tease; but he’s in no mood to accept it. he’s grabbing your waist, making you turn around and forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. he pulls down your skirt and before you can tease him again, he spanks you hard, and bites your shoulder.
‘a pretty slut like you deserves no better than a vulgar bathroom to be fucked. and i will be doing it all night.’
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softest-punk · 7 months
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@helloparzival13, monsterfucker Hob 4 u 💜 (no actual monster fucking but the spirit is all there)
---
“I have been having the weirdest nightmares of late,” Hob says, toying with the condensation on his pint glass. “This isn’t a complaint, by the way. I know I’m having them for a reason. They’re masterfully done, actually.”
“Thank you,” Dream says. “Do you know the reason?”
Hob raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”
“I am not, as a rule, privy to your dreams. Unless something went catastrophically wrong, I would not intrude on your privacy. Not consciously, in any case. I do of course contain them.”
Hob makes the same face he always makes when Dream says something that reminds him of his inhumanity. He is yet to determine what that face means.
“I think they’re about… fear of inadequacy,” Hob says. “Of, umm. Being a disappointment.”
Dream raises an eyebrow. He would not have listed this amongst Hob’s likely fears, had he been pressed to name them. But then he is no longer obliged to fear death, and that is the sort of thing that warps the mind. Dream is satisfied he was right all those years ago: no sensible creature would choose this. Hob, if he ever was sensible, has long been broken of it.
“Would you like to tell me about them?” Dream asks.
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” Hob says.
He insists on thinking of Dream’s creations as people. But then he insists on thinking of Dream as a person, so this is perhaps no great surprise.
“You have my word that no retribution will occur. Tell me,” he insists, curious now. He has wanted to look in on Hob’s dreams, of late. Curious about his friend, about a man he can now freely admit to be his friend, who he can keep. He has wanted more of Hob.
“Silly, really,” Hob says. “Just, you know how sometimes you’ll fall in love with people in your dreams, have a whole thing going with them, and then it’s a bit heartbreaking to wake up and discover that they never really existed?”
“I do not dream,” Dream says. “But I am aware of the phenomenon.”
“Right, no, of course you don’t,” Hob agrees. “Just, sort’ve a variation on that, I s’pose. Except before I wake up they… change. They’re not what I thought. And then I’m stuck standing there awkwardly apologising that they’re not my type. Mortifying, since I’m the one making the move in the first place. Makes me feel awful.”
Dream hums. “Surely this is about the inadequacy of others?”
Hob shrugs. “I mean, you’re the expert, so if you say so I’ll just believe you. But I still think it’s about me. About, umm. Trying to see it from the other perspective. It’s not easy to reject someone, especially if they’ve done nothing wrong except, y’know, not be quite what you’re looking for.”
“And you have a romantic pursuit in mind, where you are uncertain your suit would be welcome?”
Hob smiles wryly. “Got it in one,” he says, sipping his pint.
“I am not in a position to give romantic advice,” Dream says. “But I have heard humans offer some general advice you might appreciate.”
“Oh?” Hob asks.
“Mm,” Dream hums, and has to force himself not to smile in advance of what he means to say next. “You only live once.”
***
Hob’s laughter—long, loud, and repeated sporadically for the remainder of the evening—after Dream’s first attempt at a joke with him still echoes in Dream’s mind long after, as he pretends to work on the steps to the throne. Really, he cannot tear his attention entirely away from Hob.
Or his mystery romantic pursuit.
Purely out of concern for his friend, of course.
Certainly not out of the very human instinct to immediately want something another has.
“My lord?” Lucienne interrupts, although perhaps to interrupt is the wrong verb. It implies that Dream was engaging in an activity other than staring into space.
The hesitance of her tone tugs on Dream’s curiosity.
“Is there a problem?”
“Well…” Lucienne glances off over his shoulder, at the stained glass. “It’s difficult to say, my lord, but because of who it concerns…”
“Who?” Dream asks, already aware of the answer.
“Hob Gadling,” Lucienne, predictably, says.
“What is happening?” Dream asks.
“It’s, umm,” Lucienne wrings her hands. “It’s… the thing is, no one’s complaining, exactly. They’re just… disappointed, I think? His name is on quite a few pairs of lips and… other methods of communication. It seems, he, uh… he’s breaking their hearts, sir.”
Dream blinks.
In the absence of an immediate idea about what to say in response to this, he blinks again.
“Breaking their hearts?” he asks after a pause, keeping his cadence slow and even with monumental effort.
“The nightmares,” Lucienne explains. “The rumour is that they go to him as called, but then the dream he’s having isn’t actually a nightmare, exactly, it’s, umm. Somewhat more…”
“Romantic,” Dream fills in for her, recalling what Hob had said earlier.
“Excellent word, we’ll use that one,” Lucienne says. “And he keeps rejecting him. Which they aren’t designed for. It’s breaking their hearts.”
He had assumed, when Hob told him about his dreams, that they were being attended by the appropriate creations. There are things in the dreaming meant for such a need. But Hob was right: they are nightmares.
They are entirely the wrong nightmares, it seems.
This does not perhaps constitute something catastrophically wrong, but it is upsetting his creations, and upsetting his friend, and falls under his purview. It would not be wholly unforgivable, he thinks, to investigate. Especially as it might be the first symptom of a larger problem. Hob would understand.
“I will see to it,” Dream promises, rising.
***
The problem becomes obvious the moment Dream steps into Hob Gadling’s dreamscape—a dark wood, the ground choked with twisted roots, hidden so as to catch unwary feet, the canopy blocking all but the minimum light, and the breeze whispering like the dead through the trees.
It is not the typical setting for a dream of romance.
Aside from that, Hob is being pursued.
Dream watches, unobserved, as one of his creations—snapping maw and vicious claws, single-minded in the hunt, glossy black under the moonlight, limbs too long, eyes flashing red in the scant moonlight, snout twitching as it seeks its quarry—dashes past him, weaving between trees as it chases Hob’s crashing path through the undergrowth.
He moves more calmly through the landscape, catching up to the nightmare as the nightmare catches Hob, pinning him to a tree, sharp teeth close to the delicate flesh of Hob’s neck.
This is where thinks become. Strange.
“Caught me,” Hob says, breathless. Not breathless, Dream thinks, in the way of someone who is exhausted from physical exertion, however.
The nightmare growls.
Hob shivers.
Not. From fear.
Rooted to the spot and unable to look away, Dream senses distantly that he has made an error in coming here.
“What will you do with me?” Hob asks, putting a confident hand on matted fur, stroking with the reverence of…
A lover.
These are the dreams, then. Hob might have been clearer in his description of them.
The nightmare makes a confused sound, but they are curious creatures. He cannot help but give each of them his own curiosity, his own drive to understand.
So when Hob raises a hand to touch its face with utmost gentleness, as though approaching a strange horse, it allows it. Leans into it. Makes, as Hob pets it with his warm, broad, confident hand, a sound of surprised pleasure.
“Gorgeous,” Hob murmurs. “People don’t tell you, do they? Because they’re afraid. But I’m not.”
The nightmare huffs, and nuzzles Hob’s hand, radiating pleasure as Hob murmurs meaningless praises at it, dream-nonsense that nonetheless is clear in its intent.
Its intent, in this case, leaning towards the decidedly carnal. Hob is enacting a seduction on this nightmare. Worse, the nightmare is responding to it.
He ought to intervene, but this in and of itself is… unorthodox, but not truly a problem. It would be. Unseemly. To interfere so directly with the dream of a friend. It is bad enough that he has witnessed it.
And what manner of creature could Hob possibly wish to be in romantic pursuit of to make any of this relevant?
Hob has misunderstood the dreams, he decides. They are about coming to terms with desires he worries are ugly, or monstrous. He has lived long enough, Dream suspects, to have had many of those.
This feels like a perfectly reasonable explanation until Hob draws the nightmare close and brushes a kiss over its mouth, over sharp, flesh-rending teeth. The nightmare makes a nearly pained sound, surging towards Hob’s show of affection, shifting shape into something much more human—a human man, nothing out of the ordinary. A shape Hob could love.
Dream chooses not to consider the implications of a creation of his falling on a scrap of affection like a starved beast.
Hob, meanwhile, sighs and pulls back.
“Not again,” he says, stroking the nightmare’s conventionally handsome cheek. “I’m sorry, I’ve gone and led you on. You��re just… you’re not what I’m looking for.”
Dream feels his nightmare’s disappointment in his own chest. Heartbreak, Lucienne had called it. Yes, for a creature as small as a nightmare, as fragile, this would be enough to break their heart. To be offered such affection, and then have the offer withdrawn.
“Dream?” Hob speaks up, looking directly at him. He had meant to keep his presence outside of Hob’s awareness, but it seems in his distraction over his nightmare’s feelings he has stepped fully into the dreamspace.
The nightmare steps back, and bows. Dream dismisses it kindly, suggesting it seek out Lucienne’s comfort, and then faces his friend.
He might end the dream. He might. But Hob will likely remember this, as one tends to when the lord of dreams makes a personal visit to their sleeping mind.
“I am here to investigate the unhappiness of several creations,” Dream says.
Hob’s face falls.
“See? I told you it’s miserable business. But they keep turning into humans and I don’t want them to be humans. I can’t help it. It’s not…”
“Conscious,” Dream fills in for him. It is not, of course. Hob has no more control over his actions in a dream than any other human.
“It’s not,” Hob says. “I’d never do that if I had control.”
No, of course not. Hob is not a cruel man, certainly not for the sake of cruelty.
“I just… you can have anything you want in your dreams, right? Things you maybe shouldn’t, if you were awake. Without being funny, I could have any number of humans. Not every day you get the opportunity with something… properly dangerous, is it?”
Dream ought to leave. A conscious Hob would not tell him these things.
“A monster,” he says, instead of leaving.
“They’re not monsters. Nothing that wants to be loved like that could be a monster. But they could hurt me and they choose not to because they like me. And I want to love them. They need to be loved so badly. You need to be loved so badly and you could’ve obliterated me at any point and you never did, even when I upset you, because you like me. You’re dangerous. But you like me. And you need someone to love you. And I want to.”
Dream swallows.
He had not, at any point, considered that the person Hob might worry about disappointing, of whose rejection he was afraid, could be him.
“This is not a conversation for dreams,” he says at length, as Hob looks at him, expectant. Coiled, tense, aware he has said something unwise and waiting for consequences to follow.
Even in the middle of the night, it seems a kindness to wake him.
***
Hob’s bedroom is primarily dark, and secondarily dominated by the bed itself, with little room around the edges to move. Dream hovers, therefore, mere inches from Hob’s bedside as he wakes, blinking and groaning, pulled from a dream and struggling to rouse.
He yelps, when he spots Dream, and grabs for a dagger which is not actually present under his pillow before recognsing him.
“Hello,” he says, catching his breath, heartbeat rabbit-quick but beginning to slow. “Umm. Problem? Were you just…?”
His voice is thick with sleep, low and rough, and Dream is so preoccupied with this detail that it takes him a moment to realise Hob’s distress.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Listen, you can’t hold things I say in dreams against me, that’s hardly fair. And you said—”
“That I was not in the habit of looking in on your dreams, yes,” Dream agrees. “And I am not. But you have left a string of disappointed nightmares in your wake.”
“Oh,” Hob says. “See? I did say.”
“You did,” Dream says, finally absorbing all Hob had said, and coming to a conclusion.
He reaches out, then, towards Hob’s face, and places the needle-pointed tips of glossy black claws against his cheek.
Hob’s breath hitches. He stills, and glances up at Dream’s face. It is impossible for Dream to know, precisely, what he sees there, but he suspects it is a long way from human. It feels a long way from human, teeth too sharp, eyes too fathomless, tongue too long.
Hob swallows. After a heartbeat more, he reaches out in turn, tentative. Dream turns his face eagerly into Hob’s palm, kissing the heel of his hand, rumbling deep in his chest.
In the dark, in Hob’s bedroom, he is a nightmare, climbing onto the bed with him, holding him in place, trapping him there. Inescapable as he would be in Hob’s mind.
Hob’s heartbeat picks up again, his eyes wide and lips parted as he pants for breath.
“Umm,” he says, wetting his lips. “If I kiss you. Are you going to turn back into an inoffensively pretty boy?”
Dream shows Hob his teeth.
“Perhaps you ought to kiss me,” he says. “And find out.”
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rizsu · 1 year
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please, be mines !! atsumu miya.
sum. love-struck atsu tries to court his new crush.
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atsumu's confused. he finds himself sitting in his car practically devouring you with his gaze—no, none of you know each other but atsumu feels like he's in one of those romantic stories where the lovers reincarnate into the modern era.
am i a pervert, he fights with himself for an answer. by no means does he want to ever come off as a stalker but if you saw a silver coloured car with G5 tint parked parallel from your position... yeah he'd look like a creep. for another ten minutes atsumu sits there. he feels like those women in hallmark movies sitting at the table sighing lovingly as the blow their cup of coffee. “you know what,” atsumu talks to himself, unbuckling his seatbelt before finally making a move.
on your side, you're inside the café wiping the tables. you work here as a little side job—it's your friend's café to be exact, she begged you to work and you needed a part-time job to keep yourself occupied before summer. just seconds before you turn the ‘opened’ sign to closed, a rushed pair of arms slam against the glass door welcoming a lanky male.
you cannot be serious, your eyes twitch at the sight of two handprints on the very clean and very sparkly door. switching your mood into customer service mood, you welcome him, “hi! what would you like?”
an awkward silence introduces itself—atsumu's still trying to catch his breath from battling his luck versus the sign. sucking in a deep breath, atsumu gives a little grin before answering.
“'m new here. can you recommend something?”
“sure! how about an eclair with some frappucino to start?” gesturing him to one of the tables, you make a u-turn towards the counter.
atsumu follows and sits comfortably watching you do your job. he gets a little fidgety.. atsumu really isn't one for awkward silence. awkward in the sense that he's the only one here and you're the only worker here, probably on closing shift duties.
it takes him a few minutes and some playing with his fingers before he pulls out his phone to text someone (osamu).
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“and here's your order...”
“it's atsumu.”
“atsumu! enjoy it.”
placing his order on the table, you give him your mastered customer service smile, walking away with thoughts about how pleasing he is to look at. meanwhile atsumu's malfunctioning—when your crush smiles at you (no matter the reason) it immediately stuns you. if there's anything that can describe what atsumu feels and thinks it'll be ‘!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!?!?’
forcing a cough to recollect himself, he finally digs into the meal, relishing in it's glorious flavour (he's exaggerating). wait fuck, atsumu thinks. he's a bite away from finishing his order and after that he'll have no reason to stay here any longer. trembling hands brings the last bit of the eclair to his mouth as imaginary tears race down his face. a heartbreaking story, really.
looking up from your phone, you notice his table's lacking the food you gave him, “are you finished? i'll come get it.”
“huh? oh, yeah, i'm done unfortunately,” whispering the last word, atsumu looks at you with an awkward smile; he doesn't know what to do, so he decides to start a conversation.
“so... uh, you work here?”
“well...”
“forget i asked that—what's your name?”
stifling a laugh, you take off your apron, folding it in half before resting it on the counter.
“i'm y/n.”
standing from his table, atsumu stretches a little, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walks up to you.
“so, y/n, do you need a ride home?”
“it's a bit too early for that but i'll give you my number.”
atsumu's lips shape itself into an ‘O’. a pink dust works its up his neck as he rubs his nape, looking away with another awkward smile. right, we barely know each other.
writing your number onto a random piece of paper, your fold it before handing it to him, “text me!”
muttering a little ‘thanks’, he gladly accepts your number. i'm too good, he compliments himself—celebrating because he got your number.
grabbing your stuff, you look at atsumu, tilting your head at the door to suggest you're going to close up for the night.
“oh right,” he grabs his keys, shoving his phone into his pocket before he walks up to you, “but what about the pay?”
“it's only two items. don't worry about it.” walking out the door you lock up the café, matching steps with atsumu out to your car. “you drive!?” atsumu's shocked. why didn't i think about that, he questions himself. god, he feels like a dumbass.
smiling at him, you nod your head. he's kinda cute, you think. unlocking your car, you dump your stuff in the backseat, slamming the door before you open the driver's door. “g'night, atsumu. see you later!”
“g'night. i'll text ya.” waving you off, atsumu walks back to his car with the biggest smile. he's going to make it everyone's business that he got a potential girlfriend and maybe even a wife.
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pippin-katz · 7 months
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Alright, I have mostly restrained myself, but I cannot stay quiet any longer. There is a question that has been eating at me...
Whose fucking idea was it to have Henry (Nicholas) constantly grabbing Alex's (Taylor's) hair?!
Note: I'm adding this in after finishing writing this because this was supposed to be a relatively short post, and then it spiraled out of control, so if you want to listen to me gradually lose my sanity over this question, feel free to keep reading, cause it is admittedly funny lmfao
Another Note: This is me being overly sarcastic and hyper cause it’s funny for me to think about that situation. This is supposed to be a funny post. I said that at the end, but I’m adding it here too.
Listen, remember what they said about the intimate scenes: they were planned down to every detail. Remember what Nicholas said about having conversations with Taylor, Matthew, and Robbie about boundaries, what was okay, and not okay. Remember that they have A LINE IN THE FILM ABOUT HENRY GRABBING HIS HAIR (iconic).
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Do you see it? Do you see where this is going?
The hair pulling/grabbing is not random. It doesn't happen in just the New Year's kiss to set up a funny line later.
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It happens all the time.
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Even in soft moments, Henry has a hand in his hair.
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The hair grabbing gets its own shot in their love-making scene.
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Consistent small actions (twisting a ring, biting nails, drumming with fingers, etc.) are character habits. They're things that they do all the time, subconsciously or for a decisive reason, usually if you know that action causes a specific response that you want for any reason.
There's a coworker that drives you crazy, so you purposefully hum really loudly whenever they're in the room to piss them off. Your friend has a sensitivity to the color red, so on days you know you're going to see them, you avoid wearing it. Your partner has muscle cramps, so you massage their shoulders whenever you're standing behind them.
These habits usually start as conscious decisions, then gradually become subconscious, hence the term "habit". You've been doing something for so long or for frequently enough that you do it while on "autopilot".
I think it's pretty obvious why this action happens. It's because A: Henry likes feeling of his hair, and/or B: Alex likes when someone touches his hair. Note: This could be in any context, not just sexual; running fingers through it, washing it, styling it, etc.
Either you figured out what I am going to say, and you're wondering why I'm blabbering on so much, or you're just confused about where I'm going with this at all, so here's where it all clicks together.
When you have a character, habits are something you give them to give them more personality, more insight into their mentality through subtle things they do. It's something the director/writer/actor chooses to give to the character.
BUT - nothing in the intimacy scenes happen without being discussed and agreed upon.
This isn't like Nicholas fidgeting with the signet ring to show Henry's nerves. This isn't like Taylor frequently making little hand gestures (peace signs, finger guns, tapping the side of his glass, etc.) because Alex has undiagnosed ADHD and that's one way to physically imply it.
They can do those things without being told or given "permission" because it's their portrayal of the character, it doesn't effect anyone else, and small details like that are typically up to the actors, unless the director is incredibly strict.
BUT - AGAIN WITH FEELING - NOTHING IN THE INTIMACY SCENES HAPPEN WITHOUT BEING DISCUSSED AND AGREED UPON.
That means that someone, one of the four of them, brought up grabbing his hair as a suggestion, and further more, Taylor (and Nick, but obviously Taylor's consent is more important in this specific case) was fine with it.
Think about it. Think about them sitting around a table discussing the kinds of stuff that Matthew and Robbie would want to see, and what Nick and Taylor would be okay with. Think about the fact that one of them was sitting there, and looked at the other three, and said: "What if Henry grabs Alex's hair a lot?"
And then the four of them had to sit there, and talk, in depth, about what that would mean.
*inhale*
Who... the fuck... said it?
WHO SAID IT?!
Did Matthew and Robbie present it as part of the initial planning?? Or did one of them look Taylor and Nick in the eye and say it?? Did Nick throw it out there as something he thought Henry would do?? Was it Taylor??? Since it's his hair???
Cause it's not just like, running Nick running his fingers through it, combing it during some tender moment, like when Alex talks about his father being an immigrant.
HE FUCKING GRABS IT.
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What the fuck were these conversations like?! I cannot think of a single way to have that conversation where someone wouldn't have to say something that would make me make me go UHHH-
What? So - Matthew's like "how do you guys feel about touching each other's hair?" -and they're like "what, you mean like running our fingers through it?" -and he's like "nah yanking it while you're making out"
Like... what do you say to that?! - "oh which one of us would do it to the other?" -and what, did Taylor fucking volunteer?? Just like - "he can pull my hair, it's chill" - WTF?!
Or did he suggest it in the first place, like they were discussing things that would that could be part of Alex and Henry's dynamic and he's just like - "he could pull my hair?" -and the other three just stared at him for a second, because wtf that's a intensely intimate action to suggest?!
Hair touching in general is really intimate, in like, every context, at least I think to most people, and definitely to me. Most people wouldn't just let someone, even someone they were friends with, start playing with their hair or touching their head. I wouldn't even let my best friend randomly touch my head; I would instinctually try to bite their hand off (not a joke). Maybe I'm a slight bit more touch-repulsed than most, but I feel like it's safe to say that the majority of people don't want their hair and head being touched, grabbed, or played with unless they say so.
And again, they do it CONSISTENTLY. It's not a one and done scene. It is an actual dynamic between Alex and Henry they chose to establish.
SO I ASK AGAIN: WHOSE IDEA WAS IT?!
I'm looking at you four, Matthew, Robbie, Taylor, and Nicholas. I know it was one of you cheeky bastards that suggested it. One of you brought it up, and the rest of you were like "sure".
I will be forever haunted by this mystery, as I doubt I will ever get an answer.
Note: Please don't take this super seriously. I'm not trying to imply anything; I'm literally just joking around cause the concept of having that conversation boggles my mind lol
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aajjks · 9 months
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yandere!BTS: you say you don’t love them.
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disclaimer: this post contains dark heavy content, it is filled with themes that can be triggering for many, so viewers discretion is heavily advised. This is purely fictional and this does not represent bts members irl.
warnings: YANDERE CONTENT, crying, extreme jealousy, profanity, degradation, emotional manipulation, guilt tripping, obsessive behaviour and unhealthy relationship dynamics, mentions of punching someone.
note: BACK IN MY 2020 ERA HAHA. share your thoughts n feedback, after so long I’m finally writing for other members too, it felt really nice!!!! ENJOY!!!
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Jimin:
You won’t even look at him.
“YN, look at me.” He has been begging you to look at him for the last couple of days. He feels like he will go insane if he doesn’t feel your gaze on him any longer.
Jimin knows you are upset. And you have every right to be, he’s always doing something to make you hate him even more. Why can’t he just learn to control his jealousy?
“YN please! I’m sorry!” He scoops in closer to you, he is so distraught, how can he fix this, this time he knows he fucked up bad.
Insulting your friends was a stupid thing to do, he’s learnt that by now, if only he wasn’t so blind with his jealousy.
“Fuck off, Jimin.” You groan at him, your face is tilted towards the other side and his hands grab your shoulders, but you are stubborn. “P-Please I’m sorry I told you I’ve realised my mistake!” How can he get you to forgive him?
“I hate you! You’re fucking immature and stupid!” Your words are like bullets to his chest, but he maintains his composure, he cannot start crying right now because he doesn’t want to prove you right.
“YN- I-I know… I’m sorry I fucked up bad, but p-please don’t say you hate me!” Jimin gasps in surprise as you finally turn towards him, your gaze settles on him.
“Y-YN!!!!! Thank God baby!” He leans in closer to hug you but you immediately stop him. “No. I’ve had enough, I need a break.”
His whole world crashes down in front of his eyes.
“W-What do you mean!?” His eyes are wide and glossy already, he cannot believe this, you are going to leave him? Just because of your shitty friends?
“Yes you heard me, I need space from you- fuck I don’t want to look at you!” You stand up and glare at him. “This is not the first time you’ve crossed a line Jimin!”
He follows you, “YN THIS IS ABSURD! I TOLD YOU THAT IM SORRY! Y-YOU CANT LEAVE ME! Not over s-such a small issue!”
“SMALL ISSUE? Oh God… why am I even trying with you! You’ll never understand!” You try to move past him but he is quick to block you, “n-no you can’t leave me! YOU LOVE ME!” His crescent eyes look back into yours with a dark hue in them.
You laugh, “I-I did love you but I don’t think that I love you anymore.”
“Y-You don’t mean that!” Jimin breaks down at your words, fat tears start rolling down his eyes, it always ends like this.
He always manages to make you feel guilty.
But this time you’ll stand to your ground. You have to leave him.
“YES I DO. And you can’t stop me anymore Jimin.”
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Taehyung:
Taehyung is glaring at you.
“Quit being a brat already.” He rolls his eyes but you don’t respond, it irks him so much, he doesn’t like your silence.
Taehyung doesn’t know how to handle you, or himself if he’s being truthful. Your relationship with him is fragile, he knows, he can see it breaking into pieces that he won’t be able to pick up.
But he can’t let that happen.
“YN.” He calls out your name, “you know that I won’t let you go out so why are you even trying huh?” He grabs your face and caresses your skin gently.
It makes you sick, how can such a monster like him even try to act gentle with you.
“Don’t touch me.” You slap his hand away, he sighs softly, his eyes make you nervous, you know he’s holding back his anger.
“You know, you always manage to test my fuckin patience.” He laughs, you look at him with no emotion, he doesn’t mean anything to you, you don’t care about him, you don’t love him.
You’ve never loved him, you’ve always feared him.
“You’re so lucky that I love you YN, but you always have to act like an ungrateful bitch, don’t you?” His words are harsh just like his soul.
How can anyone ever love him.
“Taehyung I don’t love you.” You stare back at him with equal anger, “what? Don’t act like you didn’t know.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes at him, he’s biting the inside of his cheek.
The satisfaction of hurting his feelings washes over you, the man doesn’t move an inch though, his eyes are empty.
“Well you better start loving me or I’ll fucking kill you.”
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Jungkook:
It’s eating him up, you’re fuming with anger.
He doesn’t know what to do, it’s too late anyways.
He already fucked up.
“FUCK YOU!” You spit at him, he can’t even look at you, his heart is thumping loud. Your voice is so loud that he cringes at the vibration. “YOU ARE FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE TO BE WITH!”
He doesn’t feel guilty about it though, he just feels guilty about the fact that it happened in front of you. “SPEAK NOW! You don’t shut the fuck up when you should and now you’re fucking quite!” You cross your arms to your chest and stand in front of him.
“YN I’m sorry to disappoint you but I don’t regret it one bit.” He looks up at you and confesses, you study him and yes it’s true.
There’s no regret in his eyes.
“Of course.” Your voice is breaking. He can never change, and it hurts to realise that. “HE FLIRTED WITH YOU RIGHT INFRONT OF ME!”
He’s screaming at you, it’s scary how he doesn’t realise his actions.
“You fucking punched him. That’s it I’m DONE.”
You are crying at this point, “I th-thought that you could change, Jungkook but you can’t. And I can’t take this anymore, your behaviour is starting to make me hate you.” You start to move back from him as he moves closer to you.
“Y-YN you love me and I love you! That’s enough for us, a-and I only protected our love!” You are too slow to get away from him and he grabs your body,
“What love? This is not love at all, I should’ve realised that way before but I chose to ignore my instincts! I don’t think I love you anymore.”
“You are impossible to love, Jungkook.”
“W-What?” Jungkook looks broken, his hands leave your body finally, he falls down to the floor of your bedroom, his tears don’t escape his eyes.
He feels numb.
Just like how you’ve been feeling this entire relationship, you both are toxic for each other, you bring out the worst in him.
He needs to let you go.
“I-I love you- YOU LOVE ME. I won’t l-let you go! I WONT! No matter what you say!”
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hyperfixat · 3 months
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MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!! here’s the first chapter to a new multi part series i’m working on! it’s an isekai of honkai star rail. (sahsrau, sort of…?) ANYWAY!! enjoy,,, updates will be. idk maybe once a month so i don’t get stressed about pumping out chapters… this baby has been baking for a few months in the drafts already LMAO. likes and reblogs are always appreciated <3 and my reqs are perpetually open! 4.1K words.
next >
** Written PRE 1.4 – Any mentions of new characters is pure speculation and or headcannons.
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Your dailys are finished and there’s no new content, so you decide to look for some hidden quests throughout the map. You’re sure you’ve collected all the chests on the Herta Space Station, but you use a teleport waypoint there anyway. Caelus (although that is not what you have named them,) sprints under your control, running against the invisible wall separating available land from unavailable land.
You click aimlessly, your character summoning their weapon of choice, a bat in this case, and attacking the blank divider. They hit it a few times, the animation sparking as they attacked the blank. It’s not like you’re expecting something to happen, although a person can hope, but then something does happen.
The office around you, where you’re playing on your PC blurs. You attempt to clear your vision with a few harsh blinks, but your vision only gets worse. It’s golden tunnel vision to your computer screen, the Trailblazer isn’t there, oddly enough, but that doesn’t quite matter at the moment, as you feel the world around you warp. Your body and soul, something you weren't even aware of, are pulled, nay sucked, into your screen. The screen, something that should be impermeable, gives way like nothing, like air.
Something as large as the human body should not be able to fit through your screen, but you do. Somehow you do.
It’s warm and hot and cold and freeing as it is oppressive.
You’re disoriented and confused, and for some reason you know you’re no longer alone and in your office.
Tentatively you allow yourself to move and lift your head. Instead of being seated on your desk chair, you’ve fallen into a heap in… is this one of the rooms in the Supply Zone? That.. that cannot be right. That’s in a video game and this is real life.
…Right?
What are you thinking about?! Of course this is real life, just a dream, yes, a dream. What are they called, lucid dreams? That makes sense, you’re lucid dreaming, even if you’ve never had one before, you’re lucid dreaming.
Well if you’re lucid dreaming, maybe you can have some fun? What do you do?
Fuck, you aren’t prepared for this.
Before you can think of something good someone moseys into the modern-style storage room you're in. Oh, hey, it’s the main character of Honkai: Star Rail, the game you were playing before falling into this lucid state. You want to greet them; you should greet them.
Wait, do you call them Caelus or the name you put into the game? Ah, wait, can you pause this?
“Huh? What are you doing in here?” Their voice sounds… well just like it does in game.
You hesitate, unsure of how to answer because you don’t know what you’re doing here. They wait for a reply, head tilting cutely as you think of a comprehensible answer.
“I’m… not sure.” You draw out the sentence as if by prolonging the words a better answer would appear.
Caelus walks closer to you, moving from the doorway to stand only a foot away holding out their hand to help you up.
“Are you lost? What part of the base are you stationed at? I know this place really well, I can help you find where you belong.” The confidence in their voice wanes, “Well, by your clothes…” their brow creases “are you from here?”
“Uh, I don’t, I don't know.”
They purse their lips, head tilting as they think. “Well, I don’t know who I should bring you to. You’re not a threat, at least not yet. Herta would be my first guess, but I don’t like her, and she might not even care or respond.” Another moment as they ponder, “let’s go find Mr Yang. He might be able to help jog your memory, or find out where you’re supposed to be.”
“Okay.” The walk through the station feels like a fever dream, though this is a dream, so that makes sense.
Caelus pulls open the heavy metal door to the Astral Express and holds out a hand to help you climb up inside. They don’t let go of your hand as you enter the passenger cabin.
“Mr Yang?” They call out, fingers readjusting over your own. Their hand is cool and comforting, realistic for a dream.
Welt Yang, sitting on the red curving couch looks up, setting down his book. His eyebrows raise when he sees that Caelus is not alone and is towing along a strange person dressed in even stranger clothes.
“Yes, Caelus? What do you need?” His eyes flicker between your faces before settling on Caelus’.
“This person, ah what’s your name?” They flush a pretty pink and turn to you, fingers flexing nervously around yours. When you give it to them, they repeat it aloud to Welt. “Is lost. How do we help them?”
Welt Yang frowns, a crease denting his forehead and he adjusts his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose as he gives a low, thoughtful hum.
“What did Madam Herta say? You found them on her vessel.” Caleus rubs the back of their neck, a pink falling over his cheeks and tinting his ears.
“Well, I was hoping to avoid taking them to her…”
Welt doesn’t react, as if already knowing the answer. “Well,” his amber eyes meet yours. “What do you say to staying on the Astral Express for the time being? Of course, we’ll have to check with the conductor to make sure that’s okay.”
Caelus nods, their eyes narrowing as they think. “Do you think Ms Himeko might have an idea of how to jog their memory?” Their body shifts towards you as do their eyes, “in any case, we should find Pompom first, that’s the conductor.”
You want to say you know exactly who Pompom is, but that would sound odd from what should be a stranger, wouldn’t it?
Speak of the devil, Pompom comes waddling their body over to your gaggle. They aren’t as small as the game made them seem, maybe four feet of smooth fluff, and a content face.
“Hi Trailblazer, hi Welt, hi… Hi.” They pause and look up into your face, their features contorting, before they accuse you. “You aren’t a passenger!”
“Oh.” You don’t really know how to respond to that. Aside from acknowledging the obvious, they haven’t given you anything worthwhile to say. Before the silence can become too suffocating Caelus comes to the rescue, saving you from the critical look of the conductor.
“About that!” They give the creature a charming smile, putting their body between yours and theirs. “I was hoping my new friend could stay on the express until they can remember where their home is.”
So that’s why you’re staying, well staying til you wake, maybe wake. Fuck, you need a minute, well maybe once it settles in and you realize that you can’t escape, and don’t know how or why you’re here. Oh, you hope this is just a sleep deprived, very immersive deep sleep.
“Hmm,” Pompom shoves past Caelus’ legs to size you up. Their large, animal eyes make you melt, and you offer them a shy, nervous smile. “We’re out of rooms, but,” they turn back to Caelus, “if you or another passenger are willing to share, Pompom guesses they can stay.”
“Thank you, Pompom,” your smile widens a bit more. “But, maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to say that. I don’t know if anyone would want to share a room with me.” A breathy, panicky laugh leaves you, “I am a stranger here, after all.”
Pompom gives you one last, long look before shuffling away back to their rounds of the train.
“Hm, well, I understand where you’re coming from. But,” Caelus frowns and their eyes darken, going downcast, nervously. “I feel oddly connected to you. There’s more than one reason I didn’t take you to Madam Herta. I was hoping you might be able to stay on the Express, at least for a bit. So I could get to know you, a bit.” As your expression remains impassive, they’re quick to continue, taking hold of both of your hands. Their hands are large and warm, engulfing yours earnestly. “Please don’t get the wrong idea. I am trying to help you, however I can. Which is why I want to extend an invitation for you to stay with me, in my room.”
“Thank you, Caelus.” Warmth fills both your heart and face, both from the words and their touch alike. “I know you’re trying to help me, I truly appreciate it.”
They’re being so genuine, it makes you want to cry. How can you tell them this is all a dream, your dream at that. They aren’t even real, for crying out loud! The way they treat you makes you never want to wake up, stay so they can care for you, spend time with you. Would it be selfish to want to stay, to never leave, what would happen to your life if you never woke up, never left this dream (game, whatever it is now)?
You have the sudden urge to harm yourself, just for the sake of proving if this reality is just a dream or if some spatial temporal nonsense happened for you to get sucked into your PC’s game, turned real world.
The time you spend worrying cuts short when March 7th’s cheerful voice calls into the express. You hadn’t even noticed the metal screaming of the door as it was pried open.
“Caelus~ Help me convince Dan Heng to let us go back to the Xianzhou Luofu for some Berrypheasant Skewers and Immortal’s Delight- oh!” She’s spotted you. Her face lights up, an odd reaction, you think, upon seeing a stranger in what is essentially her home. “Hi there!”
“Hi,” you greet meekly, not used to being around someone so high energy. Not that you don’t like it, on the contrary she’s a very gregarious person, and the energy she brings makes you feel content.
“Caelus didn’t tell me they brought a guest!” March giggles. “It’s nice to see you, have we met before? I’d hate to think I’d forgotten your face.”
“No, you haven’t met me before.” It’s not a lie, you craft your words carefully. You know her though, very well, at that.
“Oh, well you can call me March 7th! What’s your name?” She fully enters the compartment now, the heavy train door slamming loudly behind her. She’s really pretty and cute in person, you wish that your mind could come up with any better words to describe her, but your mouth feels more than a little dry as she gets closer to you. You tell her, words sounding like mush, but she smiles and repeats it back to you, giving it a compliment.
She makes your heart stutter, and you smile at her, a little dumbly. Luckily Caelus seems sympathetic to your plight (going dumb at the sight of a pretty girl) and takes over explaining why you’re here.
“Memory loss, huh?” March pulls a sympathetic face. “I can relate. Well, you seem like a lovely person, and a friend of Caelus is a friend of mine, so my door is always open if you need to talk.”
Your deceit feels harsh, because you don’t have memory loss. Now March might try to bond over this perceived shared trauma, one that you don’t have…
March pats your shoulder in an attempt to soothe, a rush of her scent (solidifying this is more than a dream) fills your nose, fresh, clean, and sweet.
“Thank you, March, I appreciate it.”
“Anything for a friend!” March turns to Caelus, who lets your hands go as March engages them in a conversation. “Now, Caelus, help me convince Dan Heng to vote for Xianzhou Luofu on this week’s stop! I really want some of the local food.” She exaggerates the ‘really’ dramatically, making her eyes wider; the epitome of puppy dog style begging.
“Ah,” Caelus turns their head away, squeezing their eyes shut. “I already was planning on voting for Jarilo VI, and I’m pretty sure Dan Heng is dead set on his vote for another week at the space station.”
March sighs in disappointment, eyeing Welt as her next target before, “Wait! You’re officially a passenger now!” She is talking to you, “won’t you please vote for the Xianzhou Luofu as this week’s destination?”
The Xianzhou Luofu, you think about it. They don’t know that you know the place like the back of your hand, but it’s not like you have anything against the place. In fact, you’d rather not face the harsh cold of Jarilo VI so new to this world.
Oh, you shouldn’t have thought about that right now, the fact you’re stuck here for who knows how long, and you’re passively deceiving everyone you meet. Your knees feel a bit weak, but you manage to force an agreeable response to March.
“I’m feeling a bit tired, Caelus,” you grab their forearm to steady, “could I have a moment to lay down?”
“Oh shit,” they steady you, leading you to the couch, and helping you lay diagonally. Your eyes slip closed. Not caring about what you make yourself look like, you turn your face into the back cushion, tightening the harshness of how tight your eyes are closed.
Are you really stuck here? Is this more than a dream? Without fully realizing it, you drag your blunt nails over the length of your forearm. A soft, trembling gasp disguises the hiss of pain you make. Not a dream.
Fuck, not a dream.
You push your face deeper into the cushion, inhaling the scent of dust and fabric. The sensory input makes you even more certain this isn’t a dream. How do you go back to your world? Are you a missing person yet? What harm will come if you stay here, both to this world and your world? Do you tell them the truth?
How earth-shattering would it be to find out that your whole life is nothing but code? You are but a character built to entertain millions, any sense of individuality and personhood would surely fade. You can’t do that to them, can you?
But maybe it would help you get back to where you belong…
It hits you then, Welt Yang. Well, he doesn’t hit you. He’s still reading his book on the couch opposite to you. You’re no lore expert on any Honkai game except Star Rail, but he’s from like, another world as well, or something like that, right? Sure that world is another video game, probably, but alternate dimensions are alternate dimensions, right?
How would that conversation start? Hey Mr Yang, you’re a video game character and I’m from a different world, teehee can you help me figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now? Would he even believe you? Would you even believe you?
A warm hand rubs over your upper back, along your shoulder blades and vertebrae. Caelus, your heart stutters, a funny thing, at how you already know how much you’ll miss them.
“Do you want to use one of my Life Transmitters or a Healing Spray?” They offer their voice, kind and calm. “Or would something like Comfort Food be more to your taste right now?”
You move your face out of the cushion, “thank you, Caelus, you’re too kind. I’ll be okay, just… thinking.” Thinking of how this shouldn’t be real, how you’re too good to be real.
“Of course, let me know if you need anything. Anything at all, no matter how small.”
Caelus eventually left with March to pester Dan Heng, leaving you to revel in your confusing thoughts. After a few more minutes of lying on the couch, you steel yourself to face Welt Yang.
Thinking of his face is enough to make your hands clam up. Will he send you away and dismiss it as insane ramblings of nervous breakdown from one of Miss Herta’s overworked employees? He’ll believe you, won’t he? Surely a man of his caliber and experience can spot when someone is telling the truth, no matter how fantastical?
Pushing yourself up, you fight the tired and nerves that cling to you, and stand on unsteady legs. Welt looks up as you approach, folding the ear of the page he’s on and snapping the book shut.
“Uhm, Mr Yang, could we maybe talk in private?” Your voice sounds warbled, but if it’s more than a trick of your ears Mr Yang doesn’t let you know, instead offering you a reassuring smile and nodding.
“I will lead you to my room. No one will disrupt us there.” You’re glad he hasn’t questioned your intentions. Does he suspect you already and was unwilling to call you out openly?
Welt leads you down the sleeping cart aisle, maintaining a respectful distance from you the whole while.
He uses the handle of his cane to tap on his door handle, a jolt of pink-red magic and a click of the door’s locking mechanism and you are presented with your chance to talk to Welt Yang privately.
Welt’s eyes meet yours expectantly. You gulp.
“So. On a scale of one to one hundred how well would you react to me telling you this is a video game?” Yeah, and if this goes poorly you can pretend this was all a joke–!
Welt's previously curious harden into something more serious. “What?”
Ah fuck, nope, nevermind. “Hahaha.” It’s fake and painfully obvious to you both. “Sorry to bother you Mr Yang, I will see myself out.”
“No.” Welt positions himself between you and the exit. “Tell me.”
It’s hard not to spill the beans when those dark amber eyes bore into your very soul. And, you do.
You tell him how you got sucked through your PC and woke up in what should be simply pixels on your monitor. You tell him how you don’t know what to do and how he’s one of the only characters, well, you correct yourself, people, you thought might know how to help you.
Welt’s face is stoic and you purse your lips as your nerve filled ramble comes to an end. “How… odd.”
You’re sure it must be. Especially for him, learning he’s a game franchise’s tool, everything he’s done was all written out and predetermined by forces he has no hope to control.
Welt sits on the edge of his bed, cane used to steady himself. “I need a moment, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, I’m the interloper here.” You kneel in front of him, trying to comfort the man in any way you can. After a brief hesitation you cover his hand with your own. Perhaps physical contact will bring some sense of consolation.
His brows are furrowed, but your touch lesses it minutely.
“Do you… want to go back?”
It’s a fair question, but you aren’t sure of the answer yourself. Because on one hand, being in this fantasy world with characters you like that treat you nicely is quite literally a dream come true, but on the other hand you have a life. Not anything important, you’re just a person. A person with friends and family and a job that all needs you.
You cannot be sure of how much time will pass before you can leave this world, universe, whatever. Is this even your real body? Is there an empty vessel sitting in your desk chair that will wither and decay while you explore the wide world of Honkai Star Rail? You are led to believe this is your real body due to the sensations that an artificial vessel wouldn’t feel.
But.
There are your favorite characters and they’re so so nice. So far.
Your inner turmoil must be showing on your face because Welt squeezes your hand, running his thumb over the back of your palm.
“I suppose a better question might be: are you comfortable staying in this world for a prolonged period of time?”
This time the answer comes easier, “yes.”
“That certainly makes things easier,” Welt relents.
“Do we tell anyone?” The question brings on another bout of quiet. You wet your lips, nerves still simmering from the confession you made.
“I think it would be best to keep it among the, how shall I phrase it, main characters?” Welt winces. “Who would they be? Me, if you know enough to confide in me, and who else?”
“Well, I don’t think you, the Express, like all the main characters, but,” you sigh, beginning to count off who you can think of. “Caelus, March, Dan Heng, you, Himeko, Sampo, Gepard, Serval, Bronya, Seele, Natasha, Luka, Blade, Kafka, Silver Wolf, Herta; maybe, Asta, Arlan, Jing Yuan, Yanqing, Jinglui, Loucha… There might be more, but they seem to be the most lore relevant and repetitive so far.”
“Yes, I imagine some conflict might crop up with that roster…” Welt thinks. The way his brow furrows and his legs spread (manspreading… drool) is subtly attractive.
Ah, the Stellaron Hunters. You can and will admit you want to see Blade and Kafka badly, but if it could result in… tension, would it be worth it in the long run? Just to satiate your thirst? They’re so imposing in the best way possible.
“Hm. Do you want to tell them?” Welt interrupts your little Kafka slash Blade slash you fantasy.
After a moment of mentally debating, you decide that, “yes, I do. All of them.”
“Very well.” Welt gives a reassuring smile, “I will support you in any path you may choose to take.” And if that didn’t make butterflies flutter all the way from the pit of your tummy up to your throat.
“If they were to ask; how am I going to prove myself? Is there something that can show I’m not from this world?” Sudden anxiety seizes you, will your favorite characters mock you? You’d die.
“There’s nothing to say they won’t believe you. You’ve convinced me after all.” It helps you stay calm, and you nod seriously. There’s another gap where neither of you speak.
“Who will we see first, do you know?”
“How about the whole Express has a meeting and we can decide from there, sound good?” Ah, that smile. A shot to the heart it is.
“Yes, thank you, Mr Yang.” Your face is hot when you say it, suddenly desperate to leave the room and cool yourself.
Oblivious to your sudden burst of attraction, Welt continues on. “Of course, always feel free to stop by my room. I’d like to extend an invitation as the others have, if you want to rest in my room, you’re welcome to.”
Rounding up the entire Astral Express doesn’t take as long as you expected it to. Himeko was in her room; and March, Caelus, and Dan Heng weren’t far from the loading deck; and Pompom is always on the Express.
“So.” You start, folding your hands together and looking at everyone around the table. They’re all watching you, and it’s really sort of scary, but you need to be brave. “I’m not from… here.”
Honestly they take the news well. Sure there were some questions, some you knew the answer to, others you are unsure of yourself.
“Is that why,” Caelus cuts themself off. “I feel drawn to you.”
“Drawn to me?” Your head tilts curiously, “could you expand on that?”
“I feel it too,” Dan Heng murmurs, eyeing Caelus. At this you lean back, furrowing your brows in thought.
“Oh?” March leans into Dan Heng’s seat. “I think I know what they’re talking about.”
“Something, emotionally, maybe, makes me want to be close with you,” Himeko speaks to you directly for the first time. “It’s like a tugging in my chest telling me to care about you.”
Ignoring the blatant rush of heat to your cheeks, Caelus expands on Himeko’s words. “Exactly. I can’t explain how or why, but I feel that you’re important, at least to me.”
Fuck, they’re going to make leaving so hard, won’t they? They can’t just say things like that.
“Oh.” Processing those words is hard.
Noting the way you’ve halted and your body language, March hovers a hand over your forearm, debating whether to touch you.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” She asks, already sounding let down.
“No! No, not at all. It’s just.” You laugh, not out of humor or joy, but something nervous. “If you guys say things like that I’m not going to want to leave.”
“What if we don’t want you to leave?”
“I think that’s a conversation for another day, Caelus.” Welt steers the conversation back on track; what you really came to ask: “Where are we stopping first?”
next >
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cagesofgold · 8 months
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eren jaeger headcanons <3
🎵teenage fever - Drake 🎧
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His favorite way to unwind is to play with your hair. Due to having longer hair himself he’s grown accustomed to the different skill sets required to craft different hair styles, and actually, is really good at it. His fingers are lithe and nimble and are able to weave through strands with ease.
He drives an all black car with tinted windows, and has a polaroid of you in a photo booth with him on your first date in a plastic case hanging from his rear view mirror.
he also always makes sure to keep your favorite snacks in the car, as he’s a guy who’s bound to text you at 2am asking bout some “you up for a drive?” 💀
in terms of tattoos despite popular belief, i personally think he’d keep it on the minimal side. He’d maybe have some on his arms - or a sleeve, but he likes to keep them tidy. Although, he is one of those guys that would have that tiktok thirst trap spider on his chest or adjacent to his v line…..
this mf smells gooooood, he’s so paranoid about smelling bad because of Jean saying he smelt like a burning pile of bodies in high school and hasn’t been able to shake the fear since.
despite not being overly adorned in tattoos he does like piercings. He’s got about five on his ears and has a nose piercing but he always forgets about it.
loves reality shows. A few months into your relationship he noticed you watching them and acted with his full chest that he had no interest, yet as the weeks rolled by he somehow got closer and closer to the couch and before you knew it he was fully shouting over Lisa Rinna. (You’ve also seen him following over 30 housewives from the different shows on instagram…)
cannot stand metal music because he spent his entire childhood covering his ears from where it bled from under Mikasa’s door. (Otherwise he’d probably enjoy it)
he’d dress quite simply, mainly with blacks and whites and would sometimes mix and match with some red or green, but i don’t think he’s as ambitious as some of his friends fashion wise, but he still looks good as hell.
his favorite holiday is with out a doubt halloween, is some of this because he spent so long as a child building the most elaborate scares for the kids on his street? maybe. but he also likes autumn as a season so that has something to do with it.
doesn’t get along with his dad too well but is a total mamas boy. He visits her at least twice a month considering they live in different cities.
is a cat person, but when he was younger he liked dogs more as according to him they were “much radder” - his own words 💀, but as he got older and became more subdued he developed a preference for cats.
has anxiety that he manages to hide, he wasn’t used to being comforted and it took a while for him to fully open up to you.
despite smoking weed with Jean and connie almost every other day he still makes a dramatic scene any time Zeke lights a cigarette around him, i’m talking coughing and clutching his chest, Zeke’s standing there like this 🧍‍♀️waiting for him to stop his fucking shenanigans.
if you want to go out with Eren Jaeger prepare to be a victim of the sassy man apocalypse, because my god, this man is relentless, and the SIDE EYE on this mf is ridiculous. He could knock down an army with his sass alone.
takes good care of his hair, oils it twice a week and does hair masks in order to keep it soft and shiny. He can’t have his gorgeous girl going out with some guy with brittle, greasy ass hair…
goes to the gym but doesn’t like it very much. he goes most days for at least an hour but never posts gym pics on his instagram or anything, he just has no interest apart from maintaining his body.
cannot sleep without you. he can try, sure, but he’ll never be successful. Before you both decided to move in together he was at your house every night, nuzzled against your body with light breaths slipping from his lips, which sparked the conversation, why not just move in, you’re here everyday anyway?
tends to bottle things up, and if something is bothering him you will have to work it out of him slowly…but he’s trying, for you he’s trying.
his lock screen is a photo of you asleep against his chest, he just thought you looked so peaceful.
gets embarrassingly competitive in just dance, threw a Wii at Connie once because he made him lose a perfect score on timber.
finally, he loves stargazing, especially with you. He’ll take you out to a deserted street, a bag full of snacks and a joint as you both lay on the hood of his car, chatting about whatever comes to mind, and it’s at those moments, when his eyes focus on the slope of your nose and the shape of your mouth, that he feels a warmth inside him he’s never felt before. <3
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antianakin · 1 month
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I think I'm able to perhaps put a few words to why I really dislike that the Ahsoka show had her choose to come to the conclusion that Anakin was GOOD, that he was a good person and good teacher to her, rather than having her refuse to forgive him and just having to let go of him entirely.
Ahsoka is a character who has been, for her ENTIRE RUN on Star Wars, defined by Anakin and her relationship to him. She's never been able to escape that. She was created as an explanation for why Anakin "matured" over the three year gap between AOTC and ROTS, but her lack of existence in the films means she can have no greater impact on Anakin than that. She is wholly irrelevant to his character but she does not EXIST without him. In Rebels, she is only in one season where all of her appearances are fixated on her discovery of Anakin's betrayal and how that impacts her, leading up to their final confrontation where she appears to die fighting him. She comes back only so her relationship with Anakin can be used to help Ezra let go of Kanan. In TOTJ, she has an entire episode dedicated to explaining that the only reason she survived Order 66 was because of some kind of special training Anakin gave her that made her stronger, better, faster than any other Jedi. In The Mandalorian, her appearance was full of subtext about her trauma regarding Anakin and the way she reacts to other Jedi as a result of that. In The Book of Boba Fett appearance, that subtext is still there, primarily in her conversation with Luke where she even tells him how much he reminds her of Anakin. Which leaves us with the Ahsoka show itself and how it REVOLVES around that relationship, from Sabine being turned into Anakin 2.0 to everything in episode 5 to Ahsoka claiming she'll support Sabine in everything because this is what Anakin did for her to Anakin literally showing up in ghost form to Thrawn predicting everything Ahsoka will do because he has some familiarity with Anakin.
Ahsoka CANNOT escape this relationship, she cannot move out from this particular shadow and become her own person because her character seems to ONLY EXIST to be "Anakin's student." She can almost literally not stand on her own at this point. If her story doesn't revolve around Anakin in some way, it doesn't seem to really exist (please keep in mind here that I am mostly looking at HIGH CANON appearances for this because that's what I am familiar with; I'm sure that some comics have probably managed to move away from her relationship to Anakin a little bit sometimes but I haven't read any of them so they're not being counted in this analysis, especially since I don't think they're really impacting her higher canon characterization anyway).
It's even just visible in how other characters perceive her. She is constantly being COMPARED to Anakin, we keep hearing how like Anakin she is. The only time I can think of that she is compared to anyone OTHER than Anakin is when Trace and Rafa tell her that she acts like a Jedi even if she isn't currently calling herself one (bless their SOULS for this moment, they deserved so much better than the hate they got and one single appearance on fucking TBB). We never hear anyone say she reminds them of Obi-Wan, or Yoda, or Plo Koon. It's ALWAYS Anakin even though she's known Yoda and Plo Koon longer and she seems to spend almost as much time with Obi-Wan as she does Anakin.
By having Ahsoka decide to deal with her feelings about Anakin by just... setting aside all the bad shit he did and focusing ONLY on the good moments that he had and letting that define him, it makes it nearly impossible to separate her from him. If he's good, then it's a GOOD thing to compare her to him. If he's good, then his influence on her HAS to have been a good one. For me, it ruins ANY nuance that could have come from going the opposite direction and recognizing that while he had some good moments, he was in fact an overall bad person who was a terrible teacher to her. He betrayed her, he tried to kill her (and only failed because she was saved by someone else), he abandoned her. I don't care WHAT he did before this, this automatically makes him a BAD TEACHER.
And recognizing that Anakin was a bad teacher would force Ahsoka to look at HERSELF more critically, too, to recognize the places where she has made the same mistakes perhaps, where she's started leading herself down a similar path to his, and then choosing to NOT BE LIKE HIM. Anakin should be (like he is with Luke) the personification of her own darkness. Palpatine represented Anakin's greatest demons and personifications, Anakin can represent something similar for Ahsoka. He is an indisputable part of her now, but she doesn't HAVE to become him, she doesn't have to let that CONTROL her. And by making that choice, she frees herself from being defined by him for the rest of her life.
But now, the narrative has bound Ahsoka to Anakin forever. She'll never be anything more than Anakin's student because this has become what defines her as a person and a character. And it just... it sucks. Ahsoka deserved better than that.
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pandorxxx · 1 year
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Enjoy the show…
Neteyam(20), lo’ak (19) x Omatikayan fem reader(19).
Supporting character: Aonung
Tags: @kittycow8875 @yulliandahot
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Warnings: SMUT THE HOUSE, p in v, oral, CNC, rough sex, double penetration, choking, cursing , praise kink, degrading kink (slightly).
🔞Minors, do not interact🔞
When you and the sully family moved to the Metkayina village to seek uturu, Aonung took a liking to you. He would show you the village and take you to hidden places. You two would sneak off from the group to hang out, and talk to each other all night. Slowly but surely you started to open up to Aonung romantically, teasing the idea of being with him, but there was one problem….rather 2. Lo’ak and Neteyam.
You three had a little rendezvous back home, making them believe that you belonged to them. That no one else could have you unless it was them. You realized early on that you made a mistake having sex with both of them, and you wished that your relationship could go back to normal. You felt like you finally found someone who understood you, but you couldn’t entertain it too much without the brothers getting angry, or threatening to tell Aonung.
“You were way to close to him today, y/n…” neteyam snarled, standing against the wall as he watched you take your jewelry off.
“I definitely agree, what the fuck was he doing with his hand on your ass?” Lo’ak asked confused as he untied his hair, shaking it loose. You snapped your neck at lo’ak, shooting him a mean glare.
“His hand was NOT on my ass, skxawng! It was on my back!” You hissed, turning back around to take your necklace off.
“It doesn’t really matter, now does it?” Neteyam asked, crossing his arms eyeing you up and down hungrily.
“No one should be touching you, but us!” He growled kicking off the wall, walking over to you. He stood behind you, holding your waist as he kissed your neck passionately. You melted into his arms as your body started heat up. He pulls away, turning you towards him.
Lo’ak walked up next to him, crossing his arms, as he titled his head at you.
“You wouldn’t want us to tell him what- I’m sorry- I mean WHO you like to do in your free time, would you?” Lo’ak trailed off, pushing your hair back behind your shoulder. Neteyam chuckled at his brothers question before looking at you through his eyebrows, awaiting an answer. The way they towered over you, staring down at you made you nervous, but it also made you hot.
“Listen, I want out of this! We shouldn’t have done that back at home. We cannot entertain this fantasy any longer.” You explained, only making them angrier. Lo’ak let out a dark chuckle, making your eyes widen. He pursed his lips, grabbing your neck and pushing you against the wall. There was nothing but anger behind his eyes, and it scared you. You tapped his arm lightly, essentially tapping out, but he could care less. You looked at neteyam as he watched his brother man handle you.
“Neteyam!! Please!!” You called for him to get his erratic younger brother. He walks over laughing at your absolutely terrified expression.
“Break it off with Aonung, or we’ll break YOU off in front of him…how about that?” Neteyam explained with a sadistic grin plastered across his face, placing his hand on the wall above your head.
“Don’t test us!” lo’ak growled looking you up and down before releasing your neck. They both walked out of your hut swiftly. You fall to the ground, hyperventilating. You had fell for Aonung, but you couldn’t act on it because of a stupid mistake you made back at home. You loved lo’ak and Neteyam, but they were a fantasy; there was no way that all 3 of you could be together.
It was morning when you found yourself in the same place the boys left you. You woke up groggy, with a massive headache from crying yourself to sleep. You sat back against the wall, bringing your knees to your chest thinking about yesterday.
Maybe I should just tell Aonung, and hope to eywa that he still wants me.
What if he doesn’t? What would I do?
All of this because of a simple mistake.
But was it really a mistake?
You loved the boys when you guys weren’t fighting. They were great to be around, caring, loving…protective. The way they handled you with care, and the way they dominated you. It made your heart flutter. You had to make a choice, and fast.
It had been a few hours, and you already took your morning bath, and was back at your hut, getting dressed. You went to put your necklace on when Aonung walked in. Your heart sank to your stomach. You knew you needed to tell him, but you didn’t want it to be now.
“Hey y/n…” he smiled holding you from behind, resting his chin in the crook of your neck. Your heart rate spiked at the reality that Neteyam and Lo’ak could walk in at any moment, as they always did.
“Hey Aonung” you muttered before pulling out of his grasp. You frantically walked over to crack the makeshift door before coming back to where he was.
“Ummm are you ok?” He asked confused as he watched you pace back and forth, fiddling with your fingers.
“Listen, I have something to confess. I have to be quick, before they come.” You finally stopped in-front of him, swaying back and forth. He chuckled nervously, looking around the room.
“Who is “they”?” He asked tilting his head at you in confusion. You sighed before speaking.
“Neteyam and lo’ak, have a thing for me. I want you, but they just won’t leave me alone.” You lied, looking down at your feet. You decide to save yourself the embarrassment of telling Aonung that you had sex with both brothers, at the same time…
Aonung stepped back with wide eyes. His fists balled up, jaw clenched. “Won’t leave you alone? Did they hurt you? I swear I’ll!-“ he was immediately cut off by the door flying opened, revealing your absolute worst nightmare.
“You’ll what? What are you going to do, Aonung?” Neteyam calmy spoke, walking towards him slowly.
“She came with US, She’s leaving with US when it’s time to go!” Lo’ak snarled walking towards you. You back away from him with every step he takes closer to you.
“Stop fucking playing with me!” He shouts before extending his arm to snatch you up. You Yelp from the whiplash before he wraps his hand around you neck.
Aonung tried to get to you but Neteyam pushed him against the wall, pulling his knife to his neck.
“Oh there’s a lot more where that came from. She’s clearly been a bad girl, and we’ve gotta handle that.” Neteyam explained with a sinister grin. He holds the knife closer to Aonung neck, lightly sliding it across his jugular.
“ now Leave…” Neteyam commanded through gritted teeth. Aonungs eyes widened with anger, he stopped struggling, and stood tall.
“If you think for a second that I’m leaving her in here with you two, you’re fucking crazy!” He shouted, eyes flickering between Neteyam and lo’ak. Neteyam chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Fine, have a seat then.” Neteyam punched Aonung in the face, knocking him out cold. Aonung slumped to the ground, falling back on the wall.
“NO!” You shouted, trying to get over to him, but lo’aks grip on your neck was too tight. Neteyam started tying Aonungs hands and feet together with the rope in the corner of the tent.
“We told you to stop speaking to him, y/n!” lo’ak shouted through gritted teeth, shaking your neck with every word.
“I-I was about to tell him! I swear, please lo’ak!” You pleaded with him as tears started to well in your eyes.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, y/n!” Lo’ak was growing angrier. He pinned you against the wall, squeezing your neck tighter.
“We heard it all, y/n.” Neteyam started, standing to his feet glaring at Aonungs unconscious body.
He turned to you with a devilish smirk.
“We won’t leave you alone, huh? We’ve got a thing for you?” He asked, squinting at you angrily, walking closer to you, slowly.
“No, NO! I-I di-“ you were cut off by lo’ak pushing your head into the wall. You whimper in pain, tears falling from your eyes.
“Nah, you said what you said!” Lo’ak whispered, fangs inches away from you face.
“But I said what I said. Aonung will not want anything to do with you after we’re done.” Neteyam stated, finally making his way next to lo’ak. Neteyam tapped lo’aks arm, signaling him to let go of you.
“Lo’ak, get that water and pour it on aonung.” Neteyam commanded, and lo’ak oblidged.
Neteyam towered over you, looking you up and done with hungry eyes. He placed his hands on the wall behind you, boxing you in.
“You look really pretty today, y/n.” He whispered, chuckling as he licked his fangs.
“You’re crazy.” You whispered as you stood on your toes, almost inches away from his lips.
He smiled, looking at your lips and then back to your eyes.
“I’m crazy about you.” He clenched his jaw, placing his large hand on your breast, sliding it down your torso. Your eyes widened, watching his hand grab your loincloth band, pulling you closer to him.
“This is turning you on, so what does that make you?” He whispered in your ear before kissing your earlobe. You twitch under his warm touch before looking back at lo’ak standing over Aonung. Lo’ak poured the water on him, and Aonung gasped loudly, choking on the water.
“Wake up, fish lips!” Lo’ak shouted, throwing the bucket across the room. Aonung was trying to catch his breath before seeing you pinned against the wall.
“Y/n!” He growled trying to stand, to no avail.
“Untie my NOW, and let her go!” Aonung shouted, struggling to get out of the ropes. Lo’ak bent down to him slowly, watching him with a confused look
“Bro, you’re new…who the fuck are you to tell us what to do with her?” Lo’ak explained, tilting his head at aonung with an angry glare.
Aonung shook his head, letting out an angry chuckle. “you two are crazy!” He shouted, looking between the two brothers.
“Crazy about her…” lo’ak grinned before standing to his feet, walking over to you and Neteyam.
Lo’ak snatched you out of Neteyams grasp, walking you over to the table, pinning you to it.
“G-Get OFF OF MEEEE!” You whine, as lo’ak pinned your arms behind your back. Neteyam walked over to the other side of the table, kneeling infront of your face.
“Be a good girl, ok? You know I can’t control lo’ak when he gets like this.” He said sarcastically looking up at his brother, before they started laughing.
“Neteyam….please.” You whimpered, tears blurring your vision.
“Wait until I tell my father! You two are dead when I get out of these ropes!” Aonung growled, trying his best to stand. Neteyam turned his head to watch aonung.
“Well until then…” he started, standing up caressing the back of your head, glaring at aonung.
“Enjoy the show.” Neteyam laughed turning back to you, untying his loincloth.
“I’ll take it easy on you today, since you’re already crying.” Neteyam smirked down at you before throwing his loincloth to the side.
“See me? I could care fucking less!” Lo’ak growled taking his and your loincloth off with one hand as the other hand held both of your wrists. He held his hard cock, rubbing the tip between your wet folds. Your eyes widened, trying to get out of his grasp once more. He slammed into you with no warning, making you scream out loud. He started thrusting into you slowly, hitting your sweet spot everytime, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a moan. You bit your lip hard, closing your eyes, as he sped up.
“Ohhh so you don’t wanna make any noise, huh? Who are trying to fool?” Lo’ak chuckled, licking his lips.
“I’m going to FUCKING KILL YOU FREAKS!!” Aonung yelled, struggling more than ever to get to you.
“like I told you, you’re fucking NEW. She acts like this all the time. She’ll warm up in a second.” Lo’ak grunted throwing his head back as he felt you clenching around him. Neteyam laughed before he looked back down at your teary eyes.
“I know you’re mad, but no biting, y/n.” You stared up at him with pursed lips before looking at his throbbing cock, inches away from your face.
“You wanna do it or should I?” He titled his head at you.
“If I do it, you’re not gonna like me very much. I’m giving you a fucking choice.” He explained through gritted teeth. You look back up at him, frowning.
“Do what you gotta do…” you whispered with a sadistic grin. He nodded with purses lips before grabbing your hair in both hands.
“Open your fucking mouth, before I break your jaw.” He growled. You opened your mouth slowly, sticking your tongue out. He tapped the tip on your tongue, before shoving his cock all the way to the back of your throat. Your eyes widened as he started thrusting hard into your mouth. All that could be heard was skin clapping, and muffled screams
“GET THE FUCK OFF OF HER!” Aonungs voice cracked, as his faces balled up with anger.
“Bro SHUT THE FUCK UP, I’m trying to focus on cumming and you’re screaming!” Lo’ak shouted breathlessly as he thrusted into you hard and deep. Lo’ak leaned down to your ear, licking the lobe before speaking.
“I know you can’t talk right now, but you haven’t moaned once, and I know you want to, baby. Don’t hurt my feelings.” He whined in your ear sarcastically before standing back up. He sped up the pace, thrusting up into you sending you over the edge. You let out a long and loud moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head.
Aonung’s eyes widened, as he shook his head in disbelief. “Y/N??? Y/N!!!” He shouted, still sitting on the floor.
“She’s busy right now!” Neteyam grunted, watching you finally give in, going to work on him. His mouth flew open when you swirled your tongue around his tip, looking up at him.
“Such a good girl!” He bit his lip, massaging your head. You take all of him in your mouth, gagging immediately. He slapped his hand on the table, trying to hold himself up from the overwhelming pleasure he was receiving. You looked up at him seductively, bobbing your head on his cock.
“You’re fucking sick, sucking my dick like this in-front of your little boyfriend.” He moaned breathlessly, gripping the table harder as he felt his high coming.
Your eyes rolled back when you felt lo’ak speeding up the pace again. You pushed Neteyams cock out of your mouth, spit dripping down your jaw and chest..
“FUCKKK LO’AK!” You whine , feeling your high approaching quickly.
“What’s wrong baby? Talk to me!” He grunted letting your arms go, and holding your hips tightly. You grab his arm, throwing your head down towards the table.
“You feel sooo good.” You moan drunkenly, feeling the pressure in your stomach building up.
“Y/N??!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!” Aonung shouted from across the room.
“Oh shittt I’m fucking cumminggg, don’t stop!!!” You screamed, convulsing in lo’aks grasp.
“She’s cumming, bro. That’s what she’s doing!” Lo’ak laughed followed by Neteyam as he jerked his cock to the sweet sounds of your orgasm.
Lo’ak thrusted into you slowly, helping you ride out your high. He pulled you up slowly by your hair, kissing your neck as he glared at aonung.
“Bring her over here.” Neteyam gestured, and lo’ak walked you to the middle of the floor. standing in between both brothers, neteyam picked you up by your thighs, and you instantly wrapped your legs around him. Neteyam kissed you hungrily as lo’ak kissed your back.
“Ok!! I get it!!! Let me go now!” Aonung shouted, wiggling to get out of the ropes.
“No you don’t get it, but you will.” Lo’ak snarled before sticking his cock in you from behind. You pull away from kissing Neteyam, and lean your head on lo’aks chest as he started thrusting into you slowly.
“No fucking fair! You just fucked her!” Neteyam hissed at lo’ak. Lo’ak stared down at you laying on his chest, and then back up at Neteyam with a smirk.
“Who says that we both can’t??” Lo’ak grunted still thrusting into you.
Aonungs eyes widened at his statement. “you two are fucking sick!” He yelled, watching you moan in lo’aks chest.
Neteyam and lo’ak look at each other and laugh at aonung, making him angrier.
“Stand up and try to stop us, if you’re so mad” neteyam commanded, as lo’ak pulled out of you, lining his cock up with your ass.
He tried his best to stand, but stumbled back to the ground, making Neteyam laugh. “That’s what the fuck I thought.” Neteyam rolled his eyes, focusing on you again.
“We’re gonna do something alittle different, ok baby?” Neteyam whispered in your ear, and you nodded deliriously, still laying against lo’ak.
“Same time!” neteyam asked as he lined his cock up with your cunt.
“You know it,bro.” Lo’ak answered, and before you knew it, you were being stuffed both ways.
“FUCK!” You shouted sharply, sitting up as you grabbed lo’aks arm tightly.
“I know I know, it’ll feel good in a minute.” Lo’ak whispered, thrusting into you slowly, trying to let you adjust.
“We’ve got you don’t worry.” Neteyam whispered, kissing your lips passionately as he thrusted slowly into you. Lo’ak kissed your neck and back. Their warm bodies wrapped around you made the pain slowly subside.
“Ohhhh shit.” You whined, gripping neteyams shoulders tightly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.
“Y/N, ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS? ALL THE TIME THAT WE SPENT TOGETHER, DID THAT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?” He cried, watching you melt in the boys arms.
All you could do was moan in response, the pleasure was too much for you to talk.
“I don’t think she’s listening,bro!” Lo’ak panted as he felt his high coming, he bit his lip throwing his head back.
For a moment, the boys thrusted into you in unison, making your jaw drop as your moans got stuck in your throat.
“I want you to remember this, the next time you try and talk to her Aonung.” Neteyam laughed watching you reach your absolute peek. You gasped loudly, whining in their arms.
“I caaaannnttt!!” You yell, feeling them hit both spots at the same time. Neteyam and lo’ak felt their highs approaching, all 3 of your moans filling the room.
“Yes you can baby, let go!” Lo’ak moaned, kissing your neck, before nibbling at it.
“Go ahead baby, we’re right behind you.” Neteyam moaned as his face contorted in pleasure.
“Y/N!!!, YOU BETTER NO-“ Aonung was cut off by you screaming to the top of your lungs in pleasure.
“YES YES YESSSS!!!!” You shouted, shaking violently with your eyes shut tightly.
“Mmmm FUCK!” Neteyam shouted, shooting his load inside you.
“OH SHITTT” lo’aks eyes rolled back as he let loose inside of you next.
You twitched in there arms, laying your head back on lo’ak, as all of you panted.
Aonung’s jaw was on the ground at what he just witnessed. His eyes were wide, tears threatening to leave his eyes. He slowly picked his jaw up off of the floor, before speaking.
“Get me out of these ropes, RIGHT NOW!” He was shaking from anger, almost foaming at the mouth.
Neteyam and lo’ak both pulled out of you, putting you on your feet, but you immediately fell to the ground.
“Oh shit, you ok baby?” Lo’ak asked, bending down to your almost unconscious body. You shoot him a thumbs up before slamming your your hand back down on the ground. He tapped your stomach, smirking at you before standing up next to Neteyam. They both stared at aonung with with devilish smiles.
“I’m going to kill you both.” Aonung says through gritted teeth. They both laugh, watching aonung try to get up for the 100th time. Neteyam walked closer to aonung, squatting down to his level. He smirked, before speaking:
“You still want her?”
This one has got to be my FAVORITE one with both of the brothers. I added the double penetration for the girlssss period😏 anyways STAY SUPER FREAKY, HAVE GREAT VAGINA, I LOVEEE YAAAAA❤️🫶🏽
Outtie❤️🖖🏾,
Pandorxx
1K notes · View notes
baldursgat3 · 5 months
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i cannot stare at this document any longer it's 5.1k words, here she is, per request of @thisisew
cw for major character death (kind of) and ascended astarion and durge being Generally Kind Of Fucked Up I don't think anything is excessive but they're not good people
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He adored having you at his side - his precious little attack dog. He soothed your bloodlust, sating it as often as he could. There was no shortage of those who wanted to get in the way of his plans for the city of Baldur's Gate. He was happy to let you curb your hunger for violence on his political rivals.  Every so often though, things required a more thoughtful touch. He could just send you out with a name and a vague description and you'd be off like a shot. A few days later they would find a mangled corpse and blame it on the cult of Bhaal that still lingered beneath the city.  No, someone like this, someone this important needed a special touch. You deserved time to plan this one, to savor it. Part of him wished he could go with you to watch but he knew staying away was the easiest way to keep his hands clean. He knew you were more than capable of carrying out horrors all on your own.
Things couldn't have been more perfect. After surviving nearly two centuries of a living nightmare, Astarion felt he deserved nothing less than perfection. He had suffered so long, worked so hard, he had earned this.
He stood on a balcony of the former palace Szarr, basking in the sunlight that poured over the city - his city. He had killed the local vampire lord, freed the city from the clutches of a tyrannical bastard, and rescued the universe from the devastating power of the Nether Brain. He had everything he wanted and he was adored.
More than power, fame, or freedom, one obsession had gripped his heart in a way nothing ever had before. His dearest treasure, Chosen of Bhaal. You had sunk your claws into the very essence of his being. He needed you, craved you, claimed you.
The two of you worked in tandem, like a well oiled machine. His silver tongue and nimble fingers meant he could get most things he wanted. What he couldn't get his way could, more often than not, be solved your way.
He adored having you at his side - his precious little attack dog. He soothed your bloodlust, sating it as often as he could. There was no shortage of those who wanted to get in the way of his plans for the city of Baldur's Gate. He was happy to let you curb your hunger for violence on his political rivals.
Every so often though, things required a more thoughtful touch. He could just send you out with a name and a vague description and you'd be off like a shot. A few days later they would find a mangled corpse and blame it on the cult of Bhaal that still lingered beneath the city.
No, someone like this though, someone this important needed a special touch. You deserved time to plan this one, to savor it. Part of him wished he could go with you to watch but he knew staying away was the easiest way to keep his hands clean. He knew you were more than capable of carrying out horrors all on your own.
He couldn't wait to tell you about your next target, it had really been such a long time coming. He was sure you'd be thrilled and he couldn't wait to see the sparkle in your eyes. Surely you were around here somewhere, he just had to find you.
Astarion turned on his heel, striding calmly back inside to search for his little love. It hardly even surprised him this time as he suddenly found himself with a dagger against his throat as soon as he had stepped out of the light.
"Darling, we really must work on your greetings." He purred, tipping his head back to glance at you
Your other hand wrapped around him to cup his jaw, fingers trailing delicately over his porcelain skin. "You don't like it?" You pressed the dagger just a bit firmer against his neck. "I can hardly stand it. Gods, I want to split your throat open and watch you bleed for me." You cooed, your grip on the hilt shifting as you struggled to resist the flame in you that ached endlessly, just yearning to hear your love's final breath.
But not yet. Not yet.
The threats that spilled from your lips sounded sweet as sugar to Astarion. He knew your hunger, knew that you meant every word. More than that, he knew your desperate longing to spill his blood was born of a twisted blend of the terrible love of death you held and the wonderful, perfect love the two of you shared.
Every prick of blood drawn with your dagger that was tenderly kissed away was as good as a love letter to him. He didn't mind when your fingers would find their way to his throat, trembling with the willpower it took not to crush his windpipe. It all felt like the most sincere displays of love and trust he could possibly dream of.
"Not today, pet." He wrapped a hand delicately around your wrist as you let him pull the dagger away from his throat. "I have something special I'd like to ask of you."
"Anything." You pressed in close to him, weapon still held tight as you rested both hands against his chest.
"I want you to destroy Wyll Ravenguard."
~*~*~
Your mind had spun with so many possibilities. Wyll had been such a good friend through your journey along the Sword Coast. He had attempted to comfort you in the times before your mind fully returned to you. When you rebelled against the violence that was etched into your very soul.
He was so kind, people loved him. He didn't deserve to die, and that made it so much sweeter. His death had to be perfect, you decided. You wanted it to be intimate and personal. A murder hand tailored just for your dear friend.
Of course, he hadn't stuck by your side once he had realized that his peaceful ways had no claim to the life you chose to lead with your beloved. You understood, of course. Not everyone could grasp the way murder was truly just an act of worship. After all, if everyone was a murderer, there could be no innocent victims and that would never do.
What sort of death was befitting someone like Wyll? Not only someone of such status, but someone so personally dear to you? Poison would be nice. Perhaps you could invite him to dinner. You could prepare something special, something that would have him frothing at the mouth before succumbing to the toxin.
No, no, that was far too unbecoming for someone as lovely as Wyll. Perhaps you could gut him? It would be so intimate but you didn't really want to hear him scream. It was so violent, so feral, such an ungraceful way for the son of the Grand Duke to die.
You wanted it to be soft, personal. You wanted to wrap your fingers around his beautiful neck and squeeze. Your hands twitched with your desire to feel his pulse fade under your touch. You could take him out for an evening stroll, a chance to catch up.
If you had to, you could lie about needing his help. Wouldn't that be sweet? "Oh Wyll, I'm a monster. I need help but I'm so frightened of what Astarion might say." The Blade of Frontiers surely wouldn't be able to help himself. You could almost picture the look of betrayal in his eyes already.
Yes, that was it. Lure Wyll out with a sob story, begging for his help. Then, crush the life out of him as the shock set in. Maybe if you were very lucky he'd die with your betrayal written in his eyes. It was perfect.
It was supposed to be perfect, anyway.
~*~*~
You were late. It wasn't all that concerning, not at first anyway. Astarion had expected you back within three hours. That was the time frame you gave him. Long ago, he'd learned to give you an extra hour as you seemed to be such a truly awful judge of time when you had your hands in your victims innards.
Even your extra hour was up now, though. Suddenly, his mind began to race with the worst possible scenarios. There was no way Wyll could've overpowered you. Unless he got lucky. Unless he struck first? Why would he do that, you were supposed to be lying to him?
So then where could you be? He had already resolved that the two of you would have to talk about your ability to stick within a time frame. Four hours was more than enough time to strangle someone to death. If he found out you lost track of time carving poems into Wyll's skin, he was going to be furious.
Every second that ticked by without you felt like a lifetime now. He had to go find you, he couldn't sit here anymore. What if something had gone horribly wrong and he was just twiddling his thumbs.
He practically sprinted towards the front door, only stopping short when it creaked open in front of him. He stopped on a dime as he watched you take a few, shaky steps into the palace before collapsing.
In an instant, he was at your side. He slammed the door shut behind you, barking orders to nearby spawn to get you medicine, bandages, healing potions, anything.
He bundled you into his arms, tenderly but with a near feral desperation. Dried blood stained your face, your nose was absolutely broken. You'd been stabbed multiple times and the entire right side of your body was scorched.
The way you crumpled to the ground, unable to even bask in the agony of your own wounds, something was horribly wrong. “My love… precious little love, what happened?”
He ever so tenderly cupped your jaw as you groaned quietly in pain. You squinted up at him, his eyes were so worried and you were in far too much misery to dream about plucking them from his skull. “He didn't come alone…”
An ambush? Astarion's grip on you tightened just a bit as a wave of anger coursed through his body. He had known what your plan was, what should've happened. Wyll hadn't trusted you, he didn't believe you. Of course, he was right not to, but that didn't make Astarions blood boil any less. “Who else was there?”
One of the spawn returned with a healing potion that he brought to your lips before you could respond. It wasn't much, but it was enough to dull some of the ache. You'd taken several blasts of force magic to the chest, you knew many of your ribs were broken. Definitely your sternum, you hoped he had more options that could mend that break.
“Gale.” You mumbled, blinking up at your darling. “Shadowheart, Karlach, Halsin, Lae’zel. I could've handled two or three but… six. Like he gathered everyone he possibly could…”
Wyll hadn't trusted you an inch, that was obvious. How disappointing. Another spawn arrived with more healing items that he gently administered. “Tell me what happened, darling.” He clearly had no intention of moving you just yet, he was so worried. You could practically smell the fear radiating off him.
It wasn't the same fear you craved. You craved the fear of death. The panic and knowledge that they were about to die always felt like an aphrodisiac to you. It was different when someone was afraid of someone else dying. Especially now that it was targeted at you, by your sweetest love, you could confidently say you didn't care for it.
“I thought it was perfect. He was listening, he seemed so genuine. I cried and begged him for his help, I don't know if he actually believed me.” You winced as Astarion gently started to wipe some of the blood from your face. “The instant I touched him I got a fire bolt to the chest. They swarmed like pathetic little rats.”
“Calm, darling. You need rest, you need to stay still.” His voice was even and measured. It was too perfect, you knew he was barely concealing a seething rage underneath that voice.
“They were going to kill me. Me. After everything I did for them, everything we did together. They all wanted to kill me.” The hypocrisy was not lost on you. You were there to kill Wyll after everything the two of you had been through. It was one thing for you to have murder on the mind, another thing entirely for the bleeding hearts of your ‘friends.’
“I barely managed to slip into the shadows. I could hear them hunting me still, though. I had to practically drag myself back here.” You were angry, so angry. It was supposed to be perfect. You had wanted so, so terribly badly to hear Wyll's dying breath escape his beautiful lips.
You felt Astarion move, gently and slowly, until he had his arms under you, scooping you up bridal style. You often forgot just how strong his ascension had made him, he held you with all the same effort one might hold a cat. Like you were practically nothing in his arms.
“You need to rest, my pet.” You could feel his hands trembling as he held you tight. His undead heart raced in his chest and you didn't even have the energy to fantasize about ripping it out. Rest sounded so nice.
Failing a hunt was always devastating but this was something else. You had been so excited, you never considered the possibility that Wyll would be smart enough to bring backup. You'd relied so heavily on his desire to be a hero, you really expected him to believe your sob story.
Before you knew it, your love has whisked you away to your bedroom, tucking you securely into the comfortable sheets. He sat beside you, gently brushing your hair for a moment as he watched you situate yourself and your broken body. “I'm sorry.”
You didn't expect an apology, that was interesting. “For what?”
“I should've gone with you. We should've been smarter about this and now- now look at you. They could've killed you. Tossed your corpse in the Chionthar, I would've had no way to get you back.” His eyes were dark and angry but you could see his concern written plainly behind them. He was terrified.
“I should be the one apologizing…” you wanted to reach out and grab his hand but your whole body felt so heavy. “I failed. Now they all know he's your target, we won't get another chance. And who knows what they might say.”
“They won't say anything.”
“How can you-”
“I'm going to destroy them. Every last one, understand? I'm so sorry, darling, I know how badly you want to end them but you need to rest. Please.”
“Astarion, you can't go out there, they're still going to be on high alert. They're probably closing in on the palace as we speak. There's still only one of you and six of them. I know they didn't burn all their resources on me, you can't.”
You understood his urge to kill, more than anyone in the world. Your heart broke in your chest with the knowledge that Wyll would survive the night. You had been so eager for his blood, you truly couldn't have imagined the night going this way.
In retrospect, one of you should've guessed that he wouldn't trust you. You should've been prepared for this. You were getting sloppy and that simply wouldn't do.
You tried to push yourself up a bit, fighting a losing battle against Astarion's firm hand on your shoulder that held you down. “Astarion, if you're going to go, you have to take me with you, if we're together-”
“No.” His voice was stern despite the concern that was woven through it. “You're in no state to be doing anything right now.”
“And you will die if you go out there now.” You reached out to grab his hand, staring at him, eyes wide with worry. “Please, please, I'd go mad if anything happened to you, I beg you don't do this. I'm sorry I failed you, please don't go out there.”
Astarion knew your words held a double meaning that made you far more desperate to keep him at your side. You didn't want him to go out because it was dangerous and you couldn't imagine your life without him. More than that, though, he knew if anyone else ended his life you would raze Baldurs Gate to the ground.
One day, far off in the future, he knew you would be the one to end him. You didn't have a plan, it wasn't going to be any time in the next few centuries at least. His blood belonged to you, though, as much as you belonged to him. He was going to be your magnum opus one day, he had to survive.
Leaving Wyll alive meant that he could spread rumors that you had tried to kill him. Your status in the city was… complicated. Some people revered you as a hero along with the others, some believed you were the head of the cult of Bhaal that still ravaged the city. Others still believed you were dead, that every claimed sighting of you was just another person.
None of them were entirely true, no one knew who you really were. You had helped save the city. You were important to Bhaal’s cult. You certainly weren't dead. You liked how vague it all was, it meant you could get away with things. But if Wyll was going to out you, things were going to change. Especially if he outed Astarion in the process.
Your friends knew how close the two of you were. They knew you were, together, something worth fearing. There was no doubt in your mind that one of the six people that had tried to kill you would spill this story. It would probably be in bold print on the Gazette tomorrow.
“You didn't fail me, my love.” He leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your head, breaking off the frustration and panic running through your mind. “I'll stay.”
~*~*~
He did stay, at least for a while. Just long enough for you to fall asleep. He knew you were exhausted, your body needed time to recover. You'd be out cold for hours.
Astarion stalked through the halls of the palace with an aura of malice that frightened each spawn and servant he passed. Everyone saw the flame in his eyes and no one dared to interrupt him.
How dare they? Who did they think they were? To attempt to take you away from him? They should've known better, they should've known that Astarion wouldn't stand for it.
They knew how much he loved you, were they stupid? They tried to kill you, like they didn't think it would bring the wrath of the vampire ascendant. He was going to destroy every last one of them. Did they not know you were his? Did they not realize the power he wielded?
Every second that passed by flooded his mind with images of your broken, injured body. The way they all seemed to have gotten a strike in on your beautiful, delicate skin. As though they had any right to touch you - any right to look at you.
His mind raced with “what if’s.” If you hadn’t managed to get away, if your wounds had been any worse - might he have lost you for good? At the hands of people who had once claimed to be his friends, your friends.
The idea of losing you was enough to drive him mad. His pulse raced as his attention honed in solely on making them suffer for what they had done to you. He couldn’t survive without his darling, he needed you like oxygen. He was obsessed, he knew that, he didn’t care. He had earned the right to be obsessed and now these people were threatening everything he had worked so hard for - suffered so long for. He wouldn’t stand for it.
He tossed open the ornate front doors to his palace, calmly striding out and down the steps with his arms folded casually behind his back. In his eyes, though, there was a dark malice that shone in the moonlight. “Wyll Ravenguard.” He called out, into the night. His voice was even, betraying only a hint of the rage he felt. “No use hiding, I’m sure you’ve all found your way here by now. We can discuss this like civilized adults.”
A moment passed as his voice faded away into the night air. Then a response. “The time to discuss anything has passed, Astarion.” Wyll stepped out of the shadows, blade readied. “You sent your attack dog to murder me in the streets, there’s nothing civilized about this.”
As he spoke, the others emerged into the moonlit courtyard, each prepared to strike. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken this as a personal offense, Wyll. You are, unfortunately, a rather big obstacle in my plans for the city. I’m sure you understand, I’ve got nothing against you, personally. You simply hold a tragically high title. I know you’re no stranger to political turmoil.”
“You’re so full of shit.” Karlach spoke up, adjusting her grip on the battleax she wielded. “So the fuck what if it’s political or personal, you tried to kill him.”
Astarion sighed, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. “And you tried to kill my pet.” He bit back a grin at the revulsion that radiated off some of your former companions at his choice of words. “We've all made mistakes tonight.”
He was so calm for someone surrounded by powerful, angry warriors. He remained unfazed as they slowly closed in around him as well. “She’s too dangerous to live.” Gale spoke as he stepped closer to the vampire, hands sparking with potential magic. “Especially being wielded as your weapon.”
“And she is such an effective one too, isn't she? Well, when she isn't being betrayed, it seems.” He threw a pointed grin at Wyll.
“Betrayed? Because I'm not a gods damned idiot, I'm the betrayer?” Wyll retorted, bitterly. “I wanted to trust her. Gods, do you have any idea how hopeful I was that she genuinely wanted my help? I would've forgiven her in an instant, but I'm no fool, Astarion. Even if it had been genuine it would've taken a serious lapse of judgment to find myself alone with a Bhaalspawn at all.”
Astarion just tutted softly, looking back at him like this was all just some kind of silly game they were playing. “It's a shame, the Bhaalspawn would've killed you kinder than I will. At least with my darling, murder is such a passion. I, meanwhile, want to rip into you with my bare hands and turn you inside out for threatening to take my love from me. Do you understand that? Who you're fucking with?” His calm demeanor was starting to slip as his barely contained rage was bubbling to the surface.
Wyll seemed to recognize this, holding one hand up in defense, though the other kept his blade readied. “You're right, this is political. I don't exactly want to cause a power vacuum in the under city. I don't want to kill you or her. We were friends, once. We all were. But hasn’t she caused enough carnage?”
“What?”
“I can be quick. This doesn't have to be messy. You can't be stupid, Astarion, she wants to kill you just as badly as she wants to love you. One day it's going to be you on the receiving end of her bloodlust. We could end it now, though. Rid Bhaal of another chosen, scatter the cult. Hells, I'll let you claim it, add another notch to your fake hero belt.”
Astarion stared at him for a moment, taking in the offer that had just been laid on the table. Had he been a more sensible man, more reasonable, less utterly obsessed with you, perhaps he could've seen the logic in such an argument.
He wasn't a reasonable man, though. Instead, his eyes darkened with a fury that shocked Wyll into taking a small step back. “You're kidding? Right, you're joking? To attack my love and show up on my doorstep to demand I hand her over to be slaughtered?
“You think I don't know how badly she wants to destroy me? She spends every day itching to bleed me dry and yet, here I stand. Every morning I wake up to her sleeping peacefully beside me, it's just like falling in love again. I am her number one target and she chooses every day to spare me. I would sooner rend the fabric of reality apart than hand her over to you.��
Before he had even finished speaking, the magic that built around Gale erupted. A blue streak of lightning lit the night around them as the wizard loosed the first blow, nearly catching Astarion off guard. Nearly.
A moment before the lightning could connect, Astarion vanished. He reappeared behind Gale, lodging his dagger squarely between his ribs and twisting as he leaned in close. “You forget who you're dealing with, here. I am a fucking god.”
He shoved Gale forward, sending him crumpling to the ground. Shadowheart lunged forward, already channeling a prayer. She was stopped dead in her tracks with a snap from the vampire, however. “I suggest you reconsider.” He smirked as she straightened up, her prayer morphing and twisting. The healing energy that had been building around her coalesced into a deadly bolt of light that streaked towards the unconscious mage.
As Gale stilled underneath Astarion, the rest of the party came to life, all brandishing their weapons with the intent of taking down the vampire lord in his own courtyard. How quaint.
Their attacks narrowly avoided him, catching him not nearly as often as he struck them. Despite their best efforts, they were facing down an enemy that held more power than they could ever hope for. He wasn't truly a god, he had only a few dedicated worshipers but they could more accurately be called fanatics. Regardless, his power could rival some lesser gods.
It was different than facing down a Chosen. Power gifted to an avatar was nothing compared to what came from a gods own hand. Maybe if there had been a few more of them, perhaps if he hadn't taken out their wizard instantly, maybe they would've stood a chance.
He wasnt sure when it happened, at some point Shadowheart and Halsin disappeared. A tactical retreat or simply fleeing a fight they knew they couldn't win. It didn't matter, he could hunt them down later.
There was a feral part of him that so rarely got to see the light of day. Somewhere deep and dark in whatever remained of his soul. These kills didn't need to be clean. Perhaps, he thought, as he buried his claws into Lae’zel’s stomach, grabbing and ripping out what he could. Perhaps Gale had gotten off too easy.
Should he revive him after all this? He was so smart, he could be a useful spawn. Maybe he could even be a little gift to you. Your own little toy to torment as you pleased.
Karlach dropped to the ground, the rage and adrenaline that had been powering her through the multiple deep wounds she'd received finally giving out on her. That was all right, she could bleed out, Astarion didn't mind. Now he could turn all his attention back to Wyll.
The man stood before Astarion, despite sustaining several injuries. He still held his sword tightly, though it wavered ever so slightly. He didn't speak, his face was awash with countless emotions.
“Are you going to be a hero, Wyll? Stay and fight bravely until the bitter end? A stupid, pointless fight that's already killed two of your precious friends. And seems to be working it's magic on a third.” He nodded towards Karlach, still breathing heavy, still clinging to life.
Astarion had taken a few solid hits, he wasn't doing exceptionally well, but he was still faring much better than his old friend. “You don't have to be a hero.” He continued, watching him calmly as his wounds slowly knitted back together. “In fact, take her. Run. Go and survive and live to fight another day. You're no good to the coast dead, Mr. Frontiers.”
Wyll stared at him, eyes flicking to Karlach for just a moment. “I'm not an idiot, as soon as I turn my back you'll be on me.”
“Oh I don't know about that. I've thought of something far more fun. How about we cut a deal? I know you're a big fan of making deals that are bad for you, you should be an old pro.” The grin that spread across Astarion's face was enough to make a shiver run down Wyll's spine.
He'd seen that smirk before. That was the look of a devil who knows he's won. Something about seeing it on the face of a man who used to be his friend, it made Astarion far more intimidating than Wyll would've liked. “What… deal?”
“You leave now, I'll even let you take poor Karlach.” He threw a fake frown in her direction. “Or stay and I will gut both of you like the pitiful creatures you are. However, know that if you leave, I will hunt both of you to the ends of the world. It'll be like a game between us. One that will end with your mutilated corpses crushed beneath my boot. But you will live to protect your precious city another day.”
“Why? Just a minute ago you were content to slaughter all of us in your front yard. You won, why bother?” He didn't trust it, not an inch.
Astarion just laughed softly at him, cocking his head. “I changed my mind. Am I not allowed? No, I think I much prefer the idea of you spending the rest of your days hiding from me. I want you to go to bed every single night of your pathetic life wondering if this will be the night I put you out of your misery. Maybe I'll even send my Bhaalspawn after you to finish the job she started. Wouldn't that be fun?”
His voice was calm and collected, as though this were the most casual conversation in the world. He wasn't bluffing, and Wyll wasn't exactly interested in trying to test him. He bit his lip, his gaze shifting between Karlach and Astarion.
“Better pick fast, my friend. She won't last much longer, and I'm sure you don't want to leave her of all people with me.
“Fine. Fine, gods damn it all.” If only looks could kill, then perhaps Wyll mightve stood a chance alone against the vampire ascendant.
“I'll see you soon, my favorite little toy.” Astarion grinned like a madman as Wyll knelt beside Karlach, quickly casting a spell that teleported both of them away from the courtyard and out of view.
Astarion only chuckled to himself, rather pleased with the game he'd just made. He wouldn't even have to do much besides threaten him every so often now. And one day he would kill him, when he got bored or angry enough.
His attention turned to the two corpses left in the grass near him. Lae’zel and Gale, two incredibly powerful individuals. He could not wait until you woke up to find your new toys.
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bomertheshark · 6 months
Text
Begging
A top male reader X Billy Lenz
Short
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You’ve been working on putting together the final presentation to present to your sister companies boss. Both your company and its sister company had been working on putting together a new idea to bring both of the companies together, you so happened to be the team leader for the project and had been going through the presentation and preparations for days.
It wasn’t ideal but you had to make sure everything was perfect for tomorrow so everything you hadn’t finished had to be all crammed into tonight. “Oh my god..” you sighed out looking at the rest of the things you had to accomplish before you were done for the night. Several hours had passed and you were finally almost done, you looked outside to see it was dark already before checking your watch. “Huh, it’s pretty late, and it’s awfully quiet as well..”
You see you lived with your partner Billy, you had bought an old sorority house so that you had a place to stay and work in while having room for friends and family if they wanted to stay over. When you bought the place you had no idea that it came with a very horny and needy man as well, but that happened a year ago and you had grown used to the man, even dating him for several months now. You were very aware how mad he’s been getting with the lack of attention and affection as of late, but there wasn’t much you could do about it.
You only had the last few slides along with some invoices before you were done so you decided to go get some water and a snack from the kitchen. As you walked down the hallway you listened for Billy to hear where he was but you couldn’t hear him in the house at all. You dismissed it thinking that maybe he went to sleep in the attic since you were busy and it was getting really late. As you returned from the kitchen back into the office more energized and ready to finish your work you saw Billy laying over the desk, panting. “What are you doing in here Billy? I thought you would’ve gone to sleep.” You said walking towards the front of the desk so that you could see his face.
“B-billy couldn’t wait for you any longer! P-pretty piggy won’t love Billy right now and it isn’t fair!” Billy yelled out in frustration clutching onto the front of the desk almost trying to reach out to you as his face became red and he started visibly sweating and shaking. “Billy we talked about this, while I’m working I can’t spend much time with you but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” You said walking closer to him as he started gripping at your shirt looking up at you. “Please piggy! P-please! Just throw billy around for a little bit! That’s all he needs!” Billy was yelling up at you, you took his hands off your shirt and walked around to stand behind him.“Y-you’ll fuck pretty Billy dumb won’t you?” He said with a look of desperation as he wiggled his hips trying to entice you to ravage him on the desk you had been currently working on.
This has been going on for days, almost a week. You had to get your work done before the deadline which was tomorrow, you couldn’t afford to be late with this project, you had worked to hard to just mess it up now, at least that’s what you told and reminded yourself. “I can’t believe your still doing this Billy, I’ve told you time and time again, I cannot afford to miss this deadline, if you were patient enough I would’ve given you a reward this weekend. But obviously someone is to needy to even try.” You said getting more and more aggravated with his partners behavior. “Billy can’t help it!” He whined face clear with embarrassment but with a look of lust and desperation in his eyes. “You make Billy feel so good! And Billy’s been waiting forever! Billy will be good! But pretty Billy just wants to be destroyed by little piggy!” He said still bent over the desk slightly lifting up his shirt so that you could see his torso and chest. “Just touch Billy, please!”
Your heart rate picked up and you could feel your member start to harden in your slacks, he had been wearing a lingerie laced bra, it was green and made his eyes pop. “Billy.. what are you wearing?” You said to him slowly moving to turn him over so that he was on his back and you could see his chest in the bra as it hugged his chest beautifully. “I-I thought piggy might’ve liked me if I wore it.” He said all flushed avoiding eye contact. Acting shy.
Of course that didn’t last long, it never did. He brought his hands to take his shirt completely off and take your hands into his so that you would fondle his chest. “Billy, you know exactly what you’re doing to me don’t you?” You said fully hard grinding on him as he wrapped his legs around your waist bringing you closer and whispering in your ear “Billy can take you just fuck me.” He leaned back gradually getting louder as he moved his hips to meet yours “F-fuck me hard and rough with your fat cock! Fuck Billy with your fat juicy cock! Please!” He got harsher and needier in trying to meet your thrust into his hips. “I’m not happy about not finishing my work but I’ll make sure your satisfied.” You said before taking off all your clothes and the remainder of his but leaving his bra on. You were getting on your knees when he stopped you. “You don’t have to prepare Billy! Billy already did it when you were busy! Just stick your juicy cock in me!” He said bending over and opening his legs before spreading his ass with his hands so that you could see his hole that had an all to familiar plug in it. “So you did.. we’ll then I won’t go easy on you.” You took out the plug before letting it fall on the floor. You entered him deep and harshly making sure you hit him in all the right places in a continuous rhythm not letting him take a second to get used to it, obviously he didn’t mind it as he was screaming and moaning begging for more, drooling all over the desk.
You pulled his hands behind his back to continue thrusting in him moving around until you could find the place that made him lose his mind. “O-oh god! Please!! More! Please fuck me harder!!” He screamed louder and louder, it made you glad that the house was fairly far from the other houses. You pulled his hands to your waist before hugging his chest and fucking him while both of you were standing. “O-oh god yes!! Billy is so full! So full of piggy!! Please!! Yes! Agh!” His face was gorgeous, he had tears and drool running down his face cum staining his stomach as he had already cum twice and yet still not satisfied. His eyes barely open as if he was fighting to keep them open. “Billy I'm getting close.” You panted in his ear as your thrusts got sloppier. “Please!! Fill me with your dirty seed! Please Billy wants it!! Please please please please!!” He was begging to be filled to the brim and who were you to deny him? This continued until he was satisfied and passed out.
Now he was laid down in your shared bedroom after he was done and cleaned him up. “Oh Billy what am I gonna do with you?” You sighed out walking back into the office to deal with the damage hoping that the desk and laptop were still okay letting out a loud sigh.
Hope you guys like this! My first time posting an actual short on here. 🫶
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