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#i love it so much ive circled back to hate

exitpursuedbyavulcan · 4 months

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What is Broken II (Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Wife!Reader)

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (third person, no use of Y/N), side Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity.

Author's Note: So, this did end up getting split in two. It just reached a natural stopping point and it made more sense to add a part IV instead of have an unnaturally long part II.

Taglist is done via reblogs

What is Broken

The next morning, she watched with red-rimmed eyes as the sun emerged over the horizon. As the brightness forced her to look away, she took a moment to thank whichever god had given her the foresight to send Aemond to sleep elsewhere. It had been another horrid night, and to explain it after all that had been said between them would have been far beyond miserable.

He would return soon, she was sure. With new honeyed words and gentle touches. With his beautiful pleading eye and perfect pouting mouth. With the softness of the elusive loving smile he reserved only for her.

Or did he? He had given Alys so many things she thought only they shared. Why wouldn’t he give the whore that smile as well?

The very thought had her stomach lurching again, but she raised herself to sit against the head of the bed and steeled herself against being sick. She took deep, controlled breaths, turned towards the eastern window to feel the fresh air coming off the bay, and set her mind free to wander.

Not entirely free, however. She did not let her thoughts go anywhere near her husband.

Instead, she thought of only nice things. The flowers that would soon bloom in the gardens with the coming of spring. The fresh fruits that would once more grace her table. Weather fine enough that she could ride through the Kingswood on her beloved steed, Litse, once more.

Eventually, the roiling faded, and she looked down to her stomach. “Kōdrȳsi rhinkpa jemo gaomua hae jālosa yno gaoman?” Is that as unpleasant for you as it is for me?

A soft thump near the top of her stomach felt very much like a noncommittal answer.

She laughed a little. “Iā jeme ñuha boteri raqāt daor?” Or do you enjoy making me suffer?

That question received no answer.

Just when she was about to say something more, she heard the door to her chambers creaking open and soft footsteps approaching. Of course, he would come to her so early; he had always slept so little. She clenched the sheets in her fists, preparing to face Aemond once more.

But it was not Aemond who walked through the door.

Instead of a single violet eye, she was met with a warm, brown, tear-filled pair that matched her own, and a helpless cry escaped her lips before desperate sobs overtook her. “Mama!”

Alicent ran to her side, taking her only remaining daughter in her arms and fighting back her tears. One hand rubbed soothing circles on her back while the other gently cupped her chin and lifted it so she could look into her daughter’s eyes. “Oh, my dearest girl…”

She buried her face in her mother’s rich auburn hair, savoring the comforting smell she’d known since infancy. There was no question that Alicent had been told about Aemond’s misdeeds – though whether he told her himself or she heard another way, she could not decide.

“I hate him,” she whispered weakly.

“No, you don’t,” Alicent countered immediately. She pulled away, took her hands, and softened her voice. “You are not capable of hating Aemond, my dear. Nor is he capable of hating you.”

“Then why did he do this to me?”

Alicent sighed, brow furrowing as she pondered her son’s actions. She did not have a good answer, for Aemond had always been the perfect son, save for the death of Lucerys Velaryon, and now, she supposed, this. It was behavior she had anticipated from Aegon, or had in the past. With her eldest son, she knew he acted out of his anger that he could not be the son his father wanted.

But with Aemond…

Aemond loved his wife. He was discontented with many things in his life – his position as the second son, his injury, and his father’s negligence – but never with her. His gaze had never strayed to any other woman, even before their engagement. Once they were betrothed, it was rare to find his gaze anywhere else but on her. He was so happy with her, always. What could have altered his devotion?

“I do not know,” Alicent finally answered. The words did little to soothe her weeping daughter. “Men… they can be wonderful when they truly love you. But even then, they have their weaknesses. Aemond was gone a very long time. Perhaps he was simply lonely?”

She shook her head and ripped her hands from her mother’s. “If he was lonely, he could have come back to me. He was supposed to return to me several times but never did.”

While Aemond was at Harrenhal, she, Aegon, and their grandsire had sent countless ravens asking for his return. Otto and Aegon asked so they could hear the news from the battlefield and try to adjust their plans accordingly. She asked because she missed and needed him. Badly.

He always sent some excuse. The battle was not yet over. Vhagar was too tired to fly. He did not want to leave his stronghold undefended when enemies lurked nearby. She had trusted each excuse like a fool.

“Did you know she’s carrying his child?” she asked, drawing the blankets further up her chest as if she could protect the life inside her from the horrible fact.

Alicent nodded. “I did. He told me.”

She frowned. At least Aemond had the decency to tell their mother himself. “What else did he tell you?”

“He was very upset, my dear.” She tried to suppress the kernel of joy that sparked at her mother’s words. “Not at you, of course, but at himself.”

“As he should be.”

“Yes, he should. But he loves you so much,” Alicent grimaced, setting a hand on her daughter’s belly. “And he loves your family so much. He is inconsolable at the thought that you may never forgive him.”

That kernel of joy went up in flames, and she looked at her mother with unfettered rage. “Why should I forgive him? He has betrayed me and has done nothing to regain my trust beyond his weak, selfish apologies.”

“Yes, but –”

“He lied to me again last night!” she cried. “He said it was only once. He looked me in the eye and lied! And he thought I would be stupid enough to believe him.”

Alicent sighed heavily as she looked away from her daughter. This wasn’t like Aemond – none of it was. Even after hearing his tearful explanation the night before, she was no closer to understanding it. Nor to finding a way to fix it.

“That was wrong of him,” she said at last. “All of it was – is. My dear, I do not know what to say or how to make it better. Your father, for all his faults, never strayed. I cannot begin to imagine the pain you are in. But – ”

“But what?” Her daughter glared at her with narrowed eyes, and her hand clenched into a fist by her side. “I cannot begin to imagine forgiving him, nor how I will ever look at him again without feeling this… this rage. Mother, I cannot be a wife to someone who hurt me so deeply, no matter his supposed remorse.”

She looked down at her stomach, then back to her mother. Though her eyes were red and wet, and her lip trembled, she wore a look of absolute determination. “I want to go. I don’t know where, but I don’t want to be here. I can’t bear to be with him.”

“Oh, my darling,” the queen pulled her daughter to her chest once more, not speaking again until she had calmed. “In any other circumstance, I would arrange for you to leave for Oldtown within the day. But it is not so simple.”

The princess stiffened in her mother’s arms.

“There are so few of us left, and we have already spent so much time apart. We cannot let ourselves become estranged.” Alicent bowed her forehead to rest against her daughter’s. “We cannot appear weak, especially not you and Aemond.”

She was frozen, but at that, she gathered enough strength to lift her eyes to look at her mother. “What do you mean, ‘especially’ not us?”

“There are no more heirs, darling, not of our line. But you,” her hand rested gently on her daughter’s cheek. “You are changing that. In mere weeks, your children – yours and Aemond’s – will become the new heirs to the throne.”

“They might not,” she argued weakly, her voice soft and breathless. “They may be daughters.”

Alicent smiled sadly, placing a hand gently at the top of the girl’s stomach. “This one has given you enough trouble that I would wager the Red Keep itself that he’s a boy.”

She put her hand over her mother’s as she tried and failed to smile. The Maester came to the same conclusion many weeks ago. Then, she had been thrilled at the possibility of giving Aemond an heir. Now, she wished desperately for daughters.

“Why do our heirs matter?” She asked. “Aegon will remarry and have his own soon enough.”

The question was met by a heavy, cloying silence.

“Mother?”

Alicent schooled her face into the careful neutrality that had served her so well as queen, though the tears shining in her dark eyes betrayed her heartbreak and grief. “I am afraid Aegon will not marry nor sire any more heirs. The Maesters… they predict he will leave us by the year’s end.”

Her heart stopped, then sank. “But that means Aemond…”

“Will be king soon,” Alicent confirmed. She again brushed her daughter’s hair behind her ears. “And you will be his queen.”

The implication hung over her like a black cloud: a queen could never leave her king.

Aemond knelt in the Royal Sept at the feet of the Father. He had not slept the night before, not after he told his mother what had happened and watched her cry harder than he had ever seen. He’d gone all the way back to his rooms – those he shared with his wife – before remembering the promise he had made.

He could not go back to her. To her arms. To his home.

So, he ended up in the Sept. He didn’t remember walking there, leaving the Holdfast and crossing the upper bailey. He just knew he’d been kneeling there long before the sun crested the horizon. He’d prayed and wept and begged the gods to either reveal to him a path to redemption or strike him down and spare him further torment.

The gods ignored him. He could not blame them for it.

His lamenting was halted by the sound of the carved stone doors opening, followed by a strangle rattling sound Aemond could not identify. He turned and saw his brother and king for the first time in months.

A servant stood behind Aegon to push the wheeled chair in which the kind sat with a blanket over his lap to conceal his crooked, atrophied legs, but was dismissed with a wave of a red, scarred hand. Aegon’s injuries after Rook’s Rest had been so horrific even Aemond struggled to look at him. The scars he now bore were hardly better. The king looked twisted, broken, and weak. It was a miracle little Jaehaera could look at her father without collapsing in terror.

As Aegon wheeled himself down the Sept aisle, Aemond steeled himself against the horrible expression on his brother’s face: empathy, disappointment, and rage.

In their youth, even Aegon had been protective of their youngest sister, to the point that he restrained himself from making too many lewd comments in her presence. And after years of Aemond calling him depraved, perverted, and whorish, he would, of course, delight in the irony that his little brother was just as weak as him.

“I wouldn’t have believed it,” Aegon drawled. His voice was as damaged as his body, weak and rasping. “But then I saw our mother. I always thought I was the only one that could make her look like that. So sad and weepy and disappointed.”

Aemond reminded himself that Aegon was finally the uncontested king and that throttling the life from him was now more than ever considered treason. “I hardly think you are qualified to pass judgment on me,” he growled.

“No,” Aegon smirked as he brought his chair to a stop at Aemond’s side. “But I think I am well qualified to gloat, don’t you?”

Suppressing his sneer, Aemond turned to face his brother. “Are you? How many unsuitable women have you bedded? How many bastards have you sired?” He scoffed, but his threadbare feeling of righteousness immediately gave under the lead weight of his desperation. “Why does my wife abhor me when I make this one mistake when Helaena never cared when you did the same over and over again?”

“Because Helaena never loved me, Aemond.” For the first time in their lives, Aegon was the calmer and more rational of the brothers. “She cared for me as a sister, but she never loved me as her husband. Not like our haedus loves you.”

“I love her, too.” Aemond’s face fell into utter regret and despair. “So much.”

“Yet you still broke her heart.”

Aemond turned back to the statue of the Father, bowing his head. “I did not mean to. I didn’t mean to hurt her – I would never intend to hurt her.”

“I know,” Aegon angled his chair and slumped slightly. “But you did. Over and over. I saw it. Not just with your adultery, but every time you did not come home when she asked. Whenever you took Vhagar into battle without warning her – and us. And each day you weren’t here when those babes put her through the seven hells with – ”

Aemond’s heart stopped, and his entire world with it.

“‘Babes?’”

Aegon’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t say that.”

The same blatant liar he’d been for years.

“You did,” Aemond insisted, his rage at himself now turning on his king, his mother, and everyone else who had kept this secret from him – other than his ābrazȳrītsos. He could still never be angry with her. “Why did you say that?”

After a moment of frustrated silence, Aegon finally answered. “Because the Maesters have determined that your wife is carrying twins. Something you would know if you had come home when we asked.”

“I was fighting your war,” Aemond growled, rising to his feet so his brother could no longer look down at him, “to defend your throne. It was not always possible for me to return.”

“You mean it was ‘never’ possible, right?” In that moment, Aegon truly seemed a king – mature and wise for the first time Aemond had ever seen. He almost resembled their father, as he had been on the few occasions they saw him sit the throne. “You never returned. Not for your duties, and not for your wife.”

“I…”

“If you’d come home immediately after you first fucked whoever-she-is, or any other time we summoned you, perhaps things would be better. But you didn’t, and now you must deal with the consequences of your own stupid mistakes. Again.”

Aemond flinched at the harsh words but could not deny their veracity. The death of Lucerys Velaryon had sparked a war that nearly tore House Targaryen and the realm apart. Now this… this could tear his marriage apart.

His family could be broken beyond repair before their child – their children – were ever born.

A scar-mottled hand grabbed his arm, pulling him away from his despair. “I apologize. I did not come here to make you feel worse than I am sure you already do.”

“Why did you come, then?” Aemond stared at the mangled hand that held him still. He could not bear to look in his brother’s eyes.

Aegon sighed. “I am sending you back to Harrenhal.”

“No.” Aemond ripped his arm away.

“Brother, the peace talks…”

“I said no.” He clenched his fists.

Aegon slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair, the sound echoing through the Sept. “I am your king, and I am giving you an order! You do not get to say ‘no.’”

Aemond froze, his rage roiling, desperate to spill over. But Aegon was his king, and other than his ābrazȳrītsos, his duty to the throne and his family was the thing most dear to him. So, he remained still and silent as he listened without protest.

“Cregan Stark and his army are due to arrive at Harrenhal in mere days,” Aegon explained. “I am in no condition to travel so far, and it would insult Stark and the others who were loyal to Rhaenyra to ask them to travel even further. So, as you are still Prince Regent, you will return to the Riverlands and act as my proxy in the negotiations.”

Absorbed by all that had happened since he’d arrived in King’s Landing, Aemond had entirely forgotten that particular duty. He’d known he had to attend before he left, but how could he go now? What would his wife think if he went back to Harrenhal – where Alys remained – so soon?

“You will take our sister with you.”

“I cannot,” the weak, whispered words escaped him without thought, “I cannot do that to her. You cannot do that to her.”

Somehow, the idea of bringing her with him to Harrenhal was worse than returning there himself. What would happen if she saw Alys? Spoke to her? She was already so hurt, and he did not want her to break entirely. He could not stand it. He would not allow it.

“Aegon, please,” he begged, dignity cast aside in favor of protecting his ābrazȳrītsos. “Do not make her go.”

The king straightened in his chair. “I wish I did not have to. She has already endured so much, and I have no desire to cause her more pain. But I have no other option.”

“Why? What could be more important than keeping her safe?”

Aegon’s face was drawn and filled with regret and grief. “Ensuring the realm sees you as a strong king when I am gone.”

The silence that followed was heavier than the Red Keep itself, and Aemond’s heart grew heavier still when he realized what his brother meant.

“You do not have much time left, do you?”

“Likely only a few months, according to the Maesters. But I’ll be gone by year’s end,” Aegon answered, trying and failing to summon a wry smile. “It’s almost not worth it to un-name you Prince Regent, when the crown will soon be yours once more.”

Silence fell once more.

Aemond wanted to argue. Against going to Harrenhal. Against bringing her with him. Against being king. For if he was king…

“She will be bound to me forever,” he said, not realizing he was saying it aloud, “in a way far stronger than just our shared blood or marriage. She will never be able to leave me.”

Aegon gripped the arm of his chair tighter. “Is that what you want?”

“I…” Yes. No. Aemond fumbled for his words, running a hand down his face as his thoughts raced through his mind like a thousand whirling dragons. “I want her to stay with me, but not at the cost of her happiness.”

Aegon considered the answer, the picture of a king passing judgment. At last, he nodded once. “Even if she decides she hates you, she will not leave. Her sense of duty is nearly as strong as yours, and she would never wish to raise the babes without their father.” He gestured to himself, then Aemond. “She knows well what becomes of children with no true father.”

There came a knock on the Sept door before Aemond could say anything more

Aegon sighed. “It is time for you to leave, I’m afraid. The wheelhouse is waiting.”

“What about – ”

Aegon waved a hand. “Mother went to your rooms this morning to explain the situation to her and help her prepare for the journey.”

“Can we not simply fly?” Aemond did not want for her to have to be stuck with him for the entire journey. The gods forbid that they should be made to share a tent or room at a roadside inn. Though doing so would delight him. He’d missed her so much that he would gladly take any moment he could with her, even when she was so angry with him.

Because she would be angry with him, and spending time with him would do nothing but make her miserable. Her happiness was more important than his. Always.

His brother scoffed as he began wheeling down the aisle toward the door. “Not in her condition.”

Of course. Aemond felt a fool for not realizing it himself. He’d flown Vhagar with Alys, but… she was not as far along as his wife, nor as delicate. A carriage it must be.

He should never have flown with Alys. Not for her sake or that of her child, but because flying atop Vhagar was something he did with his ābrazȳrītsos. It was something sacred they shared, and he had willfully desecrated it.

Gods, he had to get Alys out of his head. He could never become the husband his wife deserved when the witch still haunted his every thought.

Aegon stopped at the threshold of the Sept, again reaching out to grab Aemond’s arm. His eyes glinted with violent promise as he locked eyes with his brother. “If you do anything to hurt her again, intentional or not, I will exile you to Essos, and you will never see her again. I will declare you dead and marry her myself to ensure her children inherit the throne.”

“She deserves a better husband than you,” Aemond spat. It would break him never to see her or their children. But he knew he would deserve it.

The king smiled wickedly, still only a shadow of his former self. “She deserves better than the both of us, brother.”

Aemond bit back his retort and inclined his head to his king as he had at the coronation. “I swear on my life, I will never hurt her again.”

Aemond was waiting for her in the courtyard when she finally left the castle, well bundled in a thick, fur-lined cloak. The weather had turned, a final storm of the departing winter. Now, the sky reflected her mood – gray and somber.

At least the explosiveness of her anger had calmed, and she was relatively sure she wouldn’t strangle Aemond along the journey. But to go to Harrenhal with him, to be in the very place where he had betrayed her, to face the woman who carried her husband’s bastard …

She could be brave. She had to be brave. This was her duty, and her duty was sacred.

Aemond had taught her that.

She did not acknowledge him as she kissed her mother and brother farewell, nor as she walked to the steps set at the wheelhouse door.

But then he held out his hand to help her in.

Reluctantly, she took it. The brief touch was marginally more tolerable than the possibility of her stumbling and him having to catch her by the arm or, gods forbid, her waist. That would be far too much of a touch, and she was not sure she was ready for it – if she would ever be ready for it.

He stepped in just behind her, the two of them standing there for a moment, wondering where to sit. In the past, they’d always sat next to each other at the rear of the wheelhouse, with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her waist. But now, the thought of doing so again made her nauseous. So, she turned to the seat in the front.

“Wait,” Aemond grabbed her shoulder, then immediately released it when he saw her wince. He cleared his throat, then motioned to the opposite seat with his hand. “Please, sit here. I don’t want you getting sick riding backward.”

She looked from the seat to his wary smile. Surely he didn’t expect her to still sit with him, did he?

“I’ll sit on the other side,” he added after a prolonged moment of silence.

“Thank you,” she whispered with a nod of her head. But when she began walking to the rear seat, Aemond again stopped her.

“Before you sit, let me…” he trailed off, stepping to the front seat and gathering most of the pillows and cushions that lay atop it into his arms. Then, he deposited them on the other side. He spent several minutes arranging them until they were finally to his liking. “There.”

He reached out his hand again to help her sit. This time, she did not take it. She was more than capable of sitting down on her own, and she was well aware that Aemond knew that, too. He was merely trying to touch her again, and that, she would not allow.

Once she sat, Aemond began fussing again. “Please stop,” she sighed when he started crossing the wheelhouse to fetch even more pillows. “You don’t need to do this.”

“I do need to do this,” he insisted. She could have sworn his eye shone before he turned back to the pillows and blankets. “I want you to be comfortable. You deserve it.”

“A few pillows will not make me forgive you.” For a moment, as Aemond’s shoulders tightened, she almost regretted the words. She had spoken in haste and with cruelty. It was not something she was accustomed to. Somehow, his misdeeds were turning her into a mean and petty woman.

She was just about to apologize when Aemond spoke again, his voice more timid than it had been. “I know that, but I want to do it anyway. I want to show you how much I love you. Please.”

He looked at her pleadingly, desperately. It had been many years since he looked at her like that. When she was a girl, and she fell gravely ill, he stayed by her bedside against the instructions of the Maesters, holding her hand and begging her not to die. She had to look away from him to avoid falling into that memory.

“I am perfectly comfortable,” she said. “So you needn’t do anything more.”

With a sigh, Aemond threw the pillows in his arms carelessly on his seat, except for one – a small round cushion with the Targaryen three-headed dragon embroidered upon it. “Just this one more, please.”

She looked at it suspiciously, some instinct in the back of her mind telling her not to allow it. But his voice was so weak, so desperate. And if it could help her be more comfortable on the long journey, what harm would it do? She nodded. “Very well.”

Aemond beamed and crossed the wheelhouse. With the pillow in hand, he knelt in front of her and brought a hand to hover over her belly. Before he made contact, he looked up to her, a hopeful smile still on his lips.

But that smile was no longer reassuring to her. Instead, it brought on a wave of mistrust and fear. “What are you doing?”

Finally, he laid his hand on her. “I…” His cheeks flushed, and he suddenly could not meet her eye. “This is to cradle your belly while we ride so you are not rattled around so much.”

Her hand flew out and latched onto his wrist, her hold so hard the skin around her hand quickly grew red. She did not want to see him, so she narrowed her eyes until her coming tears blurred her vision. It took several tries for her to speak through her rapid breathing. “Did Alys teach you that, too?”

Aemond looked as if she had just driven a dagger through his heart. “She did, but –”

“I told you never to do that!” She ripped the pillow from his hands and threw it across the wheelhouse with all her strength.

He stayed kneeling, one hand braced on her seat. He had not flinched, only closed his eyes. “Wifey, if it makes you comfortable, if it helps you, then what does it matter how I learned it?”

“Because…” She furiously wiped her tears away, steadfastly looking away from him. “I don’t want you to think about her when you’re touching me.”

“I promise I am not thinking of her,” he insisted. “I could never think of her when I have with me.”

“No, only when I’m hundreds of miles away.”

He closed his eyes and drew in a shaky breath, his hand never leaving her belly. “How long have you known?” Aemond rasped out. “That we are to have two babes?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the words. How had he known? Who had told him? She did not look at him, did not want him to see the blush of shame that came over her. If either of them should be ashamed, it was him. What he did was far worse than keeping a secret, even one as important as this.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” she whispered. “But you did not come back when you were meant to – you were supposed to return and give Aegon a report on the war. You didn’t.”

Aemond bowed his head, hiding his cheeks – likely just as flushed as hers. He sniffed, as he often did when upset, and shook his head. “If I had known – ”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” she snapped back. “Your… she was already pregnant by then, wasn’t she?”

For a moment, Aemond looked up at her in pleading before dropping his head again. “Yes,” his voice was thin and utterly defeated, “she was.” He reached to adjust the pillow by her side but decided against it. Then, he returned to the seat across from her, looking at her once before bowing his head and pounding on the roof twice.

Reins snapped, and the wheelhouse lurched forward.

The first hours in the wheelhouse passed in silence. Aemond hardly moved, staring at his clasped hands. She thought she felt his eyes on her several times, but whenever she looked at him, he did not look back.

She watched the world pass her by through the windows. She’d never gone north of King’s Landing before, other than a few short flights on Vhagar with Aemond. Then, she was too high to see the little differences, mile by mile. The trees changed and became sparser, as did the shrubs and flowers. The air felt different, as did the ground beneath the wheelhouse, which became softer and less turbulent the farther they went. Even the smell of the air changed. The slight brine she was so used to faded, turning into something green and damp. It was not an unpleasant change.

What was unpleasant was trying to fall asleep within the mountain of pillows and cushions Aemond had made for her. Once, she would have loved the plushness and softness of it. But with the babes in her belly, she had come to prefer more firmness.

She would have moved the pillows herself had she been able to. But between the sheer mass of cushions and her current size, maneuvering enough to do so was impossible. Grand Maester Orwyle had said even two months away from the birth, she was already larger than most mothers just before it. Of course, most mothers only had one babe to carry, not two. So, she was left with only wiggling around as much as she could to try and find a better position.

She didn’t.

With a huff, she looked at Aemond, hoping to silently glare at him and curse him for the stuffed throne he’d made for her. But this time, when she looked at him, he was looking back.

He wore an expression of concern, like he’d been watching her struggle for some time. His eye was wide, and his lips pinched together. She knew that look, and found herself now hating it. It meant he wanted to help, to understand what was wrong.

“I cannot get comfortable,” she explained, not that he deserved an explanation.

A spark of hope entered Aemond’s eye. “Do you…” he licked his lips. “I can hold you, if you’d like.”

“No!” She felt a slight pang of guilt at the hurt painted on his face at her rejection. He did not deserve her guilt, she reminded herself. “No, I’ll be fine.”

Aemond grimaced as if he could sense the lie. He probably could, for how well he knew her. “Are you sure? I can… I can just hold you. It won’t mean anything, I promise.”

Yes, yes, yes, her body seemed to scream. She had always found comfort in his arms, always slept best with him pressed against her. And him holding her would mean he would have to discard many of the ridiculous pillows. If she accepted, she could likely be asleep in moments.

But her heart… her heart would break to be held by him. She wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about if he had held Alys in this same way. If the whore had slept with her head resting on Aemond’s shoulders. If she had kissed his neck as she fell asleep, just as she had loved to do.

She would never be able to stop thinking about Alys. Every time Aemond looked at her, touched her, spoke to her. Alys would be a ghost that would haunt her forever.

A memory of the first time Aemond had taken her to the Dragonpit came to her.

He’d told her she couldn’t come with him, but relented the moment she started crying and dragged her into the carriage with him, Aegon, and Rhaenyra’s eldest sons. Jacaerys was the only one who argued against her accompanying them. He stopped complaining after Aemond shot him a threatening glare and declared that she was braver and more capable than he would ever be. But when they arrived at the Dragonpit, and Sunfyre was led up from the dens, she’d cowered behind Aemond. The sweet little creature - perhaps the size of one of the king’s hounds - she had once watched flit around Aegon wherever he went had somehow quickly turned into a beast larger than anything she’d ever seen, baring sharp teeth the size of her dinner knives. Aegon kneeled in front of her and nudged her cheek with his thumb. “Don’t worry, haedus. He won’t hurt you, I promise.” She still screamed when Aegon stepped within reach of those fangs. And again, when Aemond pulled her from behind his back so she could not hide from the dragon. “Do not be afraid, haedus. Sunfyre is only a dragon, as are you. The blood of the dragon runs true in your veins,” he said as she buried her face in her chest. Something about the words seemed to make Jace angry, but she didn’t know why. “I can’t help it, lēkia,” she whined. “He’s scaring me.” Aemond huffed slightly, petting her head tenderly. “You are afraid because you know very little about dragons. What we do not know can be terrifying.” He turned her to face Sunfyre, who was now perfectly docile while being saddled by Aegon. She squirmed to escape his grasp. “If you watch and listen to the Dragonkeepers, you will learn. The more you learn, the less afraid you will be.”

“Why did you do it?” she asked suddenly.

“My love?” Aemond looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns. But when she held his stare, he whispered gently, “You don’t want to know. Not really.”

“I do,” she declared.Though his answer may shatter her heart completely, she had to know. His childhood voice echoed in her head. ‘The more you learn, the less afraid you will be.’

She swore she could see him remember the same memory she had. His eye darted around the wheelhouse anxiously. “It is not a good reason.”

“Unless she held you at sword point each time, there is not a reason I would call ‘good.’” She hoped it was something like that, that he hadn’t been given the choice to refuse her. It would make everything better, almost fine. But if it had been something like that, he would have already told her.

Aemond was silent for a long while. Long enough for the sun to reach its peak and begin its descent.

“I’d seen only one battle before I arrived at Harrenhal – Rook’s Rest,” he began. “In that battle, one dragon and rider were killed, and Aegon and Sunfyre were permanently wounded.”

“I know,” she whispered. She’d been there when Aemond had brought Aegon, broken, bloody, and burnt, back to the castle. She’d seen what happened to him. Aemond held her hair back as she was sick in the corridor outside the Grand Maester’s rooms.

Aemond nodded. “I was so afraid, ābrazȳrītsos, of what I would see when I truly went to war. And it was just as terrible as I’d feared. Even worse than what happened to Aegon, sometimes.” He waited to continue until she had unscrunched her eyes as she fought away another wave of nausea. “Every time I was scared, raqiarzītsos... And alone. She offered an escape. A chance to not think about the war, for at least a little while.”

“And to not think about me.”

He blanched, moving to stand, but thought better of it and sat back in his seat. “My love, I never wanted to stop thinking about you. I promise. I thought about you every moment of every day. You are what gave me the strength to ride to battle again and again – knowing that once it was all over, I’d be able to return to you.”

She glared at him. “So, you thought about me while you were fucking her?”

“Gods, no!” This time, he did rise, crossing the wheelhouse to fall at her feet. “I… I didn’t think about anything when I was with her. Not about you, or the war, or even her. It was the only way I could empty my mind of all the things that tormented me.”

“… I tormented you?” The idea that she could have done anything to make him want to forget her brought tears to her eyes.

“No. Never.” He tried to reach for her to cup her cheek, but she shrank away from him. “Don’t ever think that you could. What tormented me was that I was so far from you – that I could not be there for you. And the babes.”

He could have been, she knew. He should have been. “You had many opportunities to return. Why didn’t you?” Her voice caught in the back of her throat as a sob tried to escape. “Were you too ashamed of what you’d done?”

“I was and am ashamed,” he declared, and she believed him, “but that is not why I remained at Harrenhal. I knew that if I saw you again, I would never return to the battlefield. It was hard enough to leave you the first time. I could not endure it again.”

There was silence.

She leaned back towards him and allowed him to finally lay his hand across her cheek – an unconscious attempt to soften the blow of her next question. “Is it true that you spared her only because you lusted for her? That you took her to your bed in your first week at that awful place?”

Aemond sobbed, one horrible, wretched sob. His hand dropped, and he lowered his head into her lap, clutching at her dress like a child. The urge to comfort him tingled in her veins, to pet his hair and murmur soft words to him, to gently remove his eyepatch and assure him that all was well.

She did not move an inch.

At last, Aemond lifted his head. The bottom of his eyepatch was just askew enough to allow the tears from his ruined eye to escape. “I spared her because she claimed to be a witch – a seer. The claim was backed by several residents of the keep who had no reason to lie. She offered to lend me her aid in the war, to share her visions with me so I could be prepared when I led my men to battle. I agreed. I wanted to avoid the kind of slaughter I saw at Rook’s Rest. To prevent anyone from going through what happened to our brother. Then…

“I did lie with her in the first week,” he turned away as though he couldn’t say the words while facing her. “On the sixth day. We were to advance on Darry the next morning, to… it doesn’t matter why, just that it was the first time I would lead men to victory of their deaths. I asked Alys to share her vision of what would occur, and she did. She saw how fearful I was and told me that to win the battle, I must go into it without fear. I tried to calm myself, but I couldn’t.”

He swallowed thickly, still avoiding her gaze, and dropped his hand. “Then she offered her… further aid. I will not wound you by detailing what we did. But I will assure you that I did resist.” He licked his lips. “At least at first.”

A small comfort, she supposed.

“When I was with her, all my worries faded to nothing. I thought it was perhaps a spell she put on me, but it was not. My body just needed to find that satisfaction and release. I was hoping it was a spell. For that would mean I did not truly betray you.”

He faced her again. She did not know whether it comforted or saddened her to look into his wet, despairing eye. “But I did. And I continued to do so every time my fear threatened to overwhelm me. Which was, regrettably, often.

“I was weak,” he said with a mirthless laugh, “I was so weak. I should have been braver – better. I should have been the husband you deserve. I will spend every day of my life regretting it and trying to right what I have done wrong. I swear it.” He nodded as if to affirm the oath, yet it brought her no assurance. “I am so sorry, my love.”

He said nothing else.

She still had so many questions, wanted to know so much more. Her fears had barely been quelled. But it was something. And at the very least, the emotions Aemond’s story subjected her to had exhausted her. Enough that she knew she could close her eyes and be asleep within a heartbeat.

“Thank you. For telling me,” she whispered as she moved back in her seat, away from him. “I would like to rest now.”

Aemond bowed his head and retreated to his seat without asking again if he could hold her.

Her traitorous heart almost wished he had.

It was raining when she woke. The weather had apparently followed them north. She leaned closer to the window, wanting the wet air to cool her, but stopped when she noticed the wheelhouse wasn’t moving.

“Ser Marston and one of the porters are arranging rooms,” Aemond said softly. She did not reply, nor look at him. A glance out the window informed her that they were in some village she didn’t know, outside a relatively large building whose worn sign, cut in the shape of a stone wall, read simply ‘Inn.’

That question answered, she still didn’t look at Aemond. She knew he’d likely been watching her since they’d arrived… wherever they were. Perhaps longer. Judging by the dusk settling over the horizon, she’d been sleeping quite a while. And yet she hadn’t woken. She wondered if she should start sleeping during the day instead of at night.

“Mother said…” Aemond halted, likely waiting for her to look at him. She didn’t. “We will be sharing a room.”

She whipped her head around to face him, ignoring the slight dizziness that came with the motion. “No.”

Aemond sighed. “Raqiarzītsos, if the innkeeper notices we are apart, he may talk about it. Rumors will start.”

“Can’t we just pay him to remain silent? That’s what Mother did to prevent rumors from spreading about Aegon.”

“And yet rumors spread nevertheless,” his voice was soft and firm, like a parent explaining something to their child. The thought sickened her.

She wanted to say that those rumors spread because their mother could not pay off every woman Aegon had his way with – there had been too many to even know who they all were. But it had been their mother herself who told her that this would happen, that she would have to somehow stomach being in the same room as Aemond at night. That the consequences of not doing so would be worse than those that would come from him being there.

“You will not sleep in the bed,” she ordered, finally facing her husband, “you will sleep on whatever chair or couch is in the room or the floor if there is none.”

Aemond sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. “Very well.”

Curious, she’d expected more of a fight. For him to insist that a servant could see the half-empty bed and raise questions. For him to try and ply her into letting him into the bed with promises of holding her and keeping her warm. For him to try something. But he didn’t.

“Good.”

It was not a very nice room.

The paint was chipping off the walls, and the floorboards creaked. The bed linens were faded, the fur blankets patchy. The small table on one side leaned to one side, and an unshaped piece of wood held the couch by the fire level.

At least there was a couch, Aemond supposed. And as it was near the fire, he would not have to sleep in the cold to avoid depriving his wife of blankets.

She crossed the room to the bed, sitting on its edge and looking out the window again. After he’d agreed that he would not try and convince her to let him join her in the bed, she’d spent the rest of their time waiting in the carriage looking out one window, then crossing to the other side of the wheelhouse just before they were called to their room.

Even now, he could see her eyes flitting from one building to another, following the villagers as they milled about and fixating on the livestock that wandered the streets – cows, donkeys, sheep, even a small group of piglets.

He thought it was a distraction at first. But when she continued to watch the inconsequential town for far longer than he ever would, even in a new town, he realized it was something more. When she quirked her head slightly to the right and the ghost of a smile flitted over her lips, he knew what it was.

This was the first village she’d ever been in.

She was born in King’s Landing, and other than their trip to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral… she’d never left the city.

Something in Aemond’s heart cracked. He should have done something, taken her on adventures. He should have brought her on Vhagar and flown her wherever her heart desired.

But he hadn’t. He’d left her in King’s Landing, in the Red Keep. In a cage.

But now… her first trip away from the capital was one she didn’t want to be on. It wasn’t a happy occasion. And their destination was likely the place of her worst nightmares.

He should never have let Aegon order him to bring her to Harrenhal.

Aemond opened his mouth to apologize to her again but said nothing. She had already been forced to be stuck in a wheelhouse with him for most of the day. The kindest thing he could do would be to let her alone for as long as he could.

So, he went towards the door, turning back over his shoulder to look at her for a moment. She was still watching the village. It made him smile a bit. “I’m going to get supper. I’ll be back in a short while.”

She did not say anything back. She only lifted a hand to rest on the window.

She’d hardly noticed that Aemond had left. When he told her where he was going, she had just seen a small group of children playing in the muddy road. One of the little girls had spotted her watching from the window and shouted something to her friends. Soon, all the children were staring at her. She lifted a hand to the window to wave at them.

Then, she heard the door closing, and when she turned to look, Aemond was gone.

When she looked back to the children, they had already run off. Her hand drifted to her abdomen. “Nyke urnēbagon jemī tymāt umban daor.” I cannot wait to watch you play.

Before Aemond left for Harrenhal, he had taken her back to the nursery where they’d been raised. The furniture had been covered, as neither Jaehaera nor Rhaenyra’s son Aegon were inclined toward play. Not after what they went through. So, both had moved to their own rooms when they returned to the keep.

But the nursery would not be empty for long.

Aemond had pulled away the sheet covering the toy chest and knelt before it, examining each toy as though it were a priceless jewel. He told stories about them, recalling how they had played with them, and made guesses about which ones their child would prefer and what their choices would foretell about them.

He rediscovered the two wooden dragons they had once painted and named for themselves – Kēlītsos and Balerion. There were too many tales of those little dragons to retell them all, so he told only the one where they imagined the dragons had come alive and had flown them to the ruins of Old Valyria. Aemond would slay whatever beasts had wounded Balerion and killed their great-aunt, Aerea. Then, they would reclaim their ancestral homeland.

He’d kissed her belly then, calling the babe inside the “heir of Old Valyria.”

Now, they were the heir – heirs – to something else entirely.

To a broken family.

To a throne soaked in the blood of their kin.

To the sins of their father.

For a moment, she wished they could simply be like those children, playing without a care.

But they never would be.

They would still be children. They would still play and laugh. They would be mischievous and sneak sweets from the kitchens or stay awake long past the time they were sent to bed. They would still cry for their parents when they scraped a knee or had a nightmare.

But they would also be heirs. They would be taught by the finest scholars in the world how to bear the weight of their responsibilities. They would be trained by mighty warriors on how to defend themselves from the enemies they would have since birth. They would always know that their life was never wholly theirs.

Now, they would also always know that their father had betrayed their mother. She knew that no matter how hard she tried to prevent it, somehow, they would learn of Aemond’s mistress – the mother of their bastard half-sibling.

Part of her hated that child, the small thing that was not even fully formed and yet was the manifestation of all her pain.

Part of her, perhaps a larger part, pitied it.

After all, it was a bastard. The world had never been kind to bastards. After the role bastards had played in the war, she could not imagine it would grow any kinder.

What would the life of the bastard be like? Would it play the same games as her children? Would it have the same favorite toys, or foods, or colors?

While its trueborn siblings were learning to rule the realm and ride dragons, what would it do? Perhaps it would be a servant, like its mother, or become a laborer of some kind.

Would it know who its father was? Would it know the blood of the dragon ran through its veins? Would it ache for a bond with a dragon, as Aemond had? Would it spend its life feeling incomplete, yet never know why?

As she caught sight of the tears shining on her cheeks in her reflection off the window, she decided she did not hate the child. It was not at fault for the sins of its mother, or its father.

She said a brief prayer for it – for its health and happiness. Then one for her own children.

When Aemond came back through the door, carrying a tray laden with steaming food, she wiped her tears away and looked only once more out the window.

The children had gone home.

“Are you hungry, ābrazȳrītsos?” Aemond asked.

No, she wasn’t. But she knew she must eat regardless, for the sake of the babes. So, she crossed the room and sat at the small table.

She did not speak as Aemond served her the meal – fresh, steaming bread, warm stew, and a pot of tea. He did not try and get her to speak. He simply ate his food, watching her carefully.

He faded into the background as her thoughts continued to wander to that poor little child growing in Alys’ womb.

Would it have silver hair? Purple eyes? Or would it inherit its mother’s coloring, whatever it was?

She did not know what Alys looked like. She knew so little about the woman who had shared in Aemond’s sin.

Was she beautiful? Was she intelligent? Was she kind?

It was hard to imagine that she would be kind. That any woman who would lie with a married man would be kind. After all, she was called a witch. Was there such a thing as a kind witch?

Was there even such a thing as a witch?

Aemond said that he spared Alys because she could foretell the future. That the reason he’d first brought her into his bed was because she told him he needed to be calm for the battle ahead if he wished to prevail.

Prevail he did.

Were the visions real, then? Had Aemond only returned from that first battle, the second, the last, because of what Alys had told him?

If Alys were to thank for Aemond surviving the war, should she not be grateful for it? But how could she be grateful for something that had so thoroughly broken her heart?

How was she supposed to feel? How was she supposed to know what to feel? What to do?

“I want to meet her,” she said suddenly. Even her whisper sounded like an echoing shout after so long a silence.

Aemond stared at her. Fear and regret and anger in his gaze. His mouth hung open, and his skin had gone deathly pale.

“Alys,” she clarified. “I want to meet her.”

“My love, please. You don’t.” His voice quavered like a rose in a thunderstorm. “I don’t want you to, it won’t – ”

“I have questions for her. I will ask them.” Tears fell down Aemond’s cheeks, but he did not argue. It almost made her smile. “You may be there if you wish. But I will meet her.”

Aemond nodded. “If that is what you truly want.”

She felt no fear or hesitation. “It is.”

After she finished her meal, her exhaustion finally settled upon her. It had only been a day since Aemond returned to the Red Keep. Only a day since both the war and her world ended.

She just wanted to sleep. In that moment, it was all she wanted.

She had Aemond turn away as she undressed and donned her nightgown. He obeyed, staring into the fire and never once looking back until she was beneath the rough-spun blankets on the bed and gave him permission.

He only removed his leather doublet and his boots before settling onto the couch by the fire, its high back blocking them from each other’s view.

The fire crackled.

“Good night, ābrazȳrītsos,” Aemond said. “Sleep well. I love you.”

She did not reply.

She so badly wanted to sleep. But it seemed both her body and the babes in her belly wanted otherwise. No matter how she lay, she could not find comfort. No matter what she thought of, her mind would not calm.

At least she took comfort in that her restlessness was likely preventing Aemond from finding sleep as well.

When she heard his voice again, she stiffened, preparing herself to argue with him again. But Aemond did not speak.

He sang.

“Bantis ropatas Night has fallen

Yn zūgagon daor But do not fear

Sȳndror ilos daor There is no darkness

Kesrio syt drakarys vamiot ilzai. For dragonfire is near.”

It was a lullaby. One he had discovered in an Old Valyrian children’s book he found in the back of the Red Keep’s library. He had sung it to her when she was still in her crib so he could practice their ancestral language.

He stopped singing for some time when his voice settled, adjusting to the new, lower pitch. But when he began again, it was even more beautiful than before. Quiet and soft, but still beautiful.

“Yn ozelēnagon daor And shiver not

Vasīr vēzos hembistas Though the sun has gone

Drakarys kesīr ilzai Dragonfire is here

Aōhi dijaves rāelagon. To keep you warm.”

When was the last time he sang to her? Obviously not in the past six months, but when?

“Aōhi bartos mazilībās Lay down your head

Se aōhī laehossa lēdes And close your eyes

Drakarys avy mīsilza Dragonfire will protect you

Yn sepār kesan. And so too will I.”

Ah, her eyes welled with tears when she finally remembered. It had been the first night after they learned they were to have a babe, and Aemond had bedded her more passionately than he had since their wedding night and more gently than he had ever been.

He sang when they were spent, and she curled into him to sleep. Aemond brushed his fingers in light patterns over her belly and sang. But was that for her or the babe?

The last time he had sung for her and only her… she could not recall. It had been some ordinary day when she did not know she should hold onto that memory and keep it close. She did not know it was a memory she would need when Aemond went to war.

“Dōnī ēdrurī emilās, ñuha raqno Dream sweetly, my love

Bantio rȳ ēdrūs Sleep all through the night

Nyke aōma unna I will be with you

Vapār ōños arlī amāzīlza. Until again there is light.”

She wanted to be angry at him, accuse him of only singing now so he could worm his way back into her heart. But she knew that accusation would be false. After the way he fussed over her today, she knew he was truly worried for her health – and the health of the babes.

Besides, his voice and the familiarity of the song were now truly lulling her to sleep.

She was grateful for it.

“Skorī ñāqes kesīr ilos When morning is here

Se īlvon geron vamiot ilza And our journey is nigh

Īlon henkirī īlvī zaldrīzī kipili We will both mount our dragons

Sepār, sōvīlā.” Then, we will fly.”

Her last thought before her eyes slid closed was that she hoped he had not sung the lullaby – their lullaby – to Alys or her child.

Aemond woke to the sound of something crashing. He was immediately awake, throwing off his blanket and bolting to his feet. But he saw no one.

What he did see was an empty bed.

In an instant, his panic had risen to a peak it had reached only once before – the day he’d found out that his half-sister and her husband had taken King’s Landing, and in the aftermath, Aegon was missing and his ābrazȳrītsos was now in the hands of his enemies.

A horrible retching soon alerted him to his wife’s presence on the floor of the room, halfway between the bed and the washbasin against the far wall. But it did not quell his panic.

She was panting between harsh bouts of sickness, her arms trembling as they struggled to hold her up. Aemond moved immediately, kneeling beside her and sweeping her hair away from her face. His words of comfort and concern died instantly when he felt her lean against him.

She was so thin.

Her nightgown was soaked through with sweat, allowing him a clear and horrible view of every knob on her spine and curve of her ribs. The further she pressed into him, the more he could feel the sharp planes of her shoulder blades and the sickening lightness of her form. She was like some of the near-corpses he’d seen in the war – hardly more than skin stretched taut over mere bones.

He had not seen it before. She’d been bundled in robes and gowns and furs. And when she changed into her nightgown earlier this evening, she had not allowed him to look at her until she was buried beneath the blankets.

She knew.

She knew how frail she was. He knew and had not wanted him to know…

Had not wanted him to worry. Not while he was at war.

“Ābrazȳrītsos…”

She sobbed once before she was sick again. He said nothing else until he was relatively certain whatever illness had possessed her passed, and tried not to be too grateful that she didn’t push him away.

“Little darling, please,” he pulled her closer so he could rest against his chest. She did not resist. “What happened?”

She shook her head, reaching to wipe her mouth with the sleeve of her nightgown. Aemond stopped her, set her hand back on her lap, and used his own sleeve instead. She sighed as if the gesture somehow upset her, then slumped slightly. “Nothing happened. Nothing new, at least. This happens nearly every night.”

Every night. No wonder she was so thin.

“Still?” Aemond finally managed to ask in a rasping voice. She had been so sick in those early days – it was what had prompted them to take her to the Maesters, where they discovered she was with child. But it had gotten better in the days before he left for Harrenhal. She had said it was getting better.

She nodded, her eyes shut tight as she turned away from him. Was it from exhaustion or shame? “It…” she swallowed, and Aemond realized how dry her throat must be. He would fetch her something to drink as soon as she could stand. “It never stopped.”

“Oh ābrazȳrītsos…” his voice broke as the realization of how badly she had been suffering sank in. And all the while, he’d been sharing his bed with another woman.

If the Father truly cared for justice, he would have struck Aemond dead the moment he touched that witch.

Aemond held her close, panting with the effort it took to hold back his tears of shame. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She was silent for a long while. Then, “I’m tired, Aemond.”

“I know.”

A long pause. It took him longer than it should have to realize she was looking at him and longer still to recognize the plea in her eyes. She wanted his help. Or perhaps more accurately, needed his help.

So help her he did, eagerly. He sat her at one of the chairs by the table while he removed her soiled nightgown and dressed her in another. He brought the washbasin to her so he could help her wash her face, then brought her a pitcher of fresh water so she could rinse her mouth. He braided her hair once more and carried her back to bed,

Once he’d pulled the blankets back over her, he reached out to her. When she didn’t flinch away, he softly stroked her cheek. “Is there anything else I can get you, my love?”

She opened her eyes just slightly. “I’m cold.”

He turned on his heel to fetch his blanket from the couch. There was still warmth radiating from the hearth. He could move to the rug.

But when he’d settled that blanket on her as well, she opened her eyes wider and gazed up at him. “Aemond…”

If there was ever proof that the gods could be merciful, that was it.

Still, he had to be certain he wasn’t mistaken. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. Thank all the gods in the world, she nodded.

His veins buzzing with ecstatic joy, he walked to the other side of the bed and climbed in beside her. As he wrapped his arms around her, it almost didn’t matter that he could feel her frailness, that he knew she had only asked this because she truly was cold, or that his touch was tainted by his sins.

Aemond was sharing a bed with his wife. He was holding her. Her, and their children.

When her breathing finally settled, and she drifted off to sleep, Aemond closed his eyes, tucked his face into her hair, and prayed he dreamt of a world where he had slain Alys the moment he first saw her.

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veronicawildest · 1 month

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NAKSHATRA SERIES: OBSERVATION FROM DIFFERENT NAKSHATRAS (SEGUNDO)

(Disclaimer: If you get butthurt on my other observation just blocked me and move away from me. This observations is from the celebrity i've observe and my social circle. Just take this like a grain of salt)

PUNARVASU

The trait that I love about Punarvasu is their resourcefulness. It makes sense because of the Vimshottari Nakshatra of Jupiter. They are also very giving.

(Unevolved) Punarvasu are fake. When they're talking to you, they act like a goody two shoes type of boy/girl, but when you're gone, they talk behind your back. They don't like confrontation (very passive). Also holier than thou (This only applies if you're UNEVOLVED, otherwise don't get butthurt).

Punarvasu are also people-pleasers. They want to have a "goody-two-shoes" reputation. (I can't fully describe it, but if you get it, you get it). A primary example that I'm going to give is Elon Musk (Punarvasu rising). The way he acts and presents himself in public. He just wants to be likable, but clearly, the public hates him.

Punarvasu are smart and they will show you that through their actions (I mean actions, for example, problem-solving activities)

PUSHYA:

The casting stereotype of this nakshatra is a hippy vibe. Just like in animated movies, Matilda (from Angry Birds Movie played by Maya Rudolph (Pushya sun)) and Brooke (from Ice Age: Collision Course played by Jessie J (Pushya moon)).

Pushya isn't as auspicious as it is portrayed in the Vedic astrology community. You will go through some hardships and heartbreaks that will make you easily susceptible to mental health issues. (I have this placement so this comes from my experience).

I observed this from other Pushya natives that they're just plain and simple, not glamorous but classy when it comes to their appearance. Just simplicity and vibes and natural.

I've seen on Twitter Vedic discourse about Tikshna Nakshatra getting all the hate, Ashlesha getting all the hate, not Pushya. I have a Pushya placement on my luminary, and I can tell y'all that's not true.

Examples:

Jennifer Lopez (Pushya sun) gets hated for getting all the benefits of being a celebrity when she's just allegedly stealing (I've also read this through Twitter).

Selena Gomez (Pushya sun) is hated for having this victim mentality complex and being "obsessed with Justin and Hailey."

(DISCLAIMER: This isn't my opinion on these certain celebrities, but I've been reading and seeing them on Twitter)

ASHLESHA

Despite being a Mercury-ruled Vimshottari nakshatra, Ashlesha doesn't speak too much.

I've seen Ashlesha males acting like sigma males, but they're funny. This is the nakshatra that embodies the "tropical Leo archetype," the archetype of funny, center of attention, fashionable, and dramatic.

Ashlesha either love all the attention or hate it. Mostly it's a mixture of the two. That's why the center of attention archetype for Tropical Leo.

Claire Nakti just conducted a survey on YouTube, but the leading people on Instagram (having the most followers) have Ashlesha placements. Selena Gomez (Ashlesha Venus and Mercury - still prominent because it conjuncts the Sun, which is her luminary), Kylie Jenner (Ashlesha Sun), and Cristiano Ronaldo (Ashlesha Moon).

MAGHA

If you have Magha in your big three, you're egoistic as fuck (for me egoistic above on other nakshatra). Napoleon has this Nakshatra on his sun. The new TikTok hype about King Baldwin IV (played by Edward Norton, Magha sun).

It's hard to differentiate Ashlesha and Magha because of the Gandanta point (and other Gandanta nakshatras):

- Both private

- Romantic (because other nakshatra of Leo gets all the credit of being romantic, but not Magha; they're romantic too)

- Both GREAT at their stuff/profession/talent

But to tell them apart is Ashlesha says, "I don't give a fuck," and they do give a fuck (because of the Crab cancer symbolism, it really makes sense why they put up a facade because of the shield) when Magha says nothing and literally doesn't give a fuck. They won't entertain. Yes, they're sensitive, but mostly they really don't give a fuck.

I don't get the hype of "Ketu nakshatras are not on social media. They don't usually use social media" on Vedic Twitter. Magha (Ashwini and Mula too) are active; they just don't interact or have private accounts. Ketu is exalted in the sign of Scorpio (investigating, lurking), and y'all think that they don't use social media? Joking, for real.

I still emphasize that Magha nakshatra individuals have sleeping problems. One of the Magha moon actors (in my home country) opens up about having sleep apnea and having a near-death experience. (Also, the beauty queen Magha sun talks about a near-death experience). It's common for them to experience the "Their soul is leaving the body while sleeping" phenomenon and meditation.

The impact of the death of loved ones for Magha is crucial. It's a sign that something significant will be happening or transforming for better or for worse. The best example that I can give is Megan Thee Stallion (her family).

#astrology notes #astrology observations #vedic astro notes #vedic astro observations #vedic astrology #claire nakti #pick a card #astro observations #punarvasu #ashlesha #magha nakshatra #magha #ashlesha nakshatra #punarvasu nakshatra #pushya #pushya nakshatra #sidereal astrology #vedic chart

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00ops1e · 10 months

Text

taskforce 141 + könig x sick! reader

warnings: emetophobia trigger warning, mentions of puking/being sick, fluff, hurt/comfort maybe??, not proofread a/n: omg here it is. the first cod thing ive written! but not actually theres some filth hiding in my documents. this is totally lowkey a self insert. geared towards female! reader but if you squint at the petnames could be gn. i've been so so sick lately and tbh scares me a lil but what cant be fixed by fictional men?? nothing.

Ghost

A little bit of a germaphobe

Will take off his mask, but replace it with a medical mask

Only so he can still hold you, just with a peace of mind

He does NOT want to get sick too

Because then how could he take care of you?

Always has a puke bowl at the ready

Orders your favorite takeout, even if you don’t feel like eating

Because hes a firm believer in leftovers.

Which may just be the cause of this

But you'd never tell him. poor man would get so guilty he had forgotten to throw it away.

Puts on a movie and lets you fall asleep on his chest

I feel like he’s a cold-blooded type of person, doesn’t generate much heat

but makes up for it in comfort

so many blankets

so so many.

Checks your temperature in your sleep

Lowkey counts respirations just to be sure

Makes sure you keep hydrated

Will bring you to urgent care if he’s really worried

No matter how much you protest!

Soap

Squeamish when it comes to throwing up

Will try his very best to stay with you, but sometimes ends up running from the room

Because the last thing he'd wanna do is gag at you

While hes ran away he gets a cold rag to press on your forehead, and clean you up a bit in the process

"yer hidin? awh bonnie i wasnt meanin' to embarrass ye" he says while taking your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his eyes

"sickness and health yeah? i wanna take care of you"

Insists on rubbing vicks/ vaporub on you

Not because hes a little perv (he is)

But because he loves you and the sniffles break his little heart

peppers kisses across your collarbones, vicks smell clogging his nose

but he’s too focused on the goosebumps that rise on your skin, your little shivers

“Awh, my poor sick lass,”

Constantly checking for a fever

Forcing you to stay in bed, even after you feel better, “not takin chances, rest up.”

this man on the other hand is a human space heater

throwing a blanket on and off the two of you, getting too hot and then shortly after too cold.

not as convenient when it’s hot out lol

head rubs

Gaz

Tries to bring you to a doctor/ urgent care immediatley

Will try to call an ambulance over a slight fever

Stocks up on pedialyte/makes sure youre hydrated

Cuddles constantly, does not care if he catches anything

loves being the big spoon so he can lay in the crook of your neck and still hold onto you tight

Has extra blankets on deck

entertains you with silly little jokes

but then apologizes while giggling because you laughed so hard it hurt a little.

Will feed you cold medicine/tums

teases you when you complain about taking them

“i don’t need you gettin any grumpier love”

Will hold back your hair/ stroke your back while youre getting sick

gets offended when you get embarrassed about it

“are you judging my girl?” he teases you

Tries his best to cook, but lowkey fails miserably

Resorts to cup of noodles and lipton packets.

Price

Such dad vibes

Will make soup or other comfort foods from scratch

And his cooking skills are unmatched

Runs you a shower/bath and washes your hair for you

back rubs and massages

pressing small kisses to your shoulders as he works

also a human heater but not too hot, just the perfect temperature

also just the perfect shape to spoon you, cradling every inch of your body

“I hate it when my baby’s sick,” he says, rubbing soft circles into your side

Doesnt even have to make a pharmacy run because hes so well prepared

Feeds you medicine, on the dot, every few hours after it wears off

(he totally sets reminders in his phone. [typing like an old person with reading glasses on])

Will stay in bed all day with you, quietly typing and mumbling to himself while you nap at his side

occasionally leaning down to kiss your forehead while he works

the computer goes away as soon as you wake up

"how're you feeling princess?"

loves having you in his arms, pulled close to his chest

Carries you to bed if you fall asleep on the couch (bridal style ofc)

Will hold your hair back, refuses to leave your side

“Of course youre not gross darling, we all get sick,”

Konig

rubs your back as you're hunched over the toilet

will sit down with you on the floor, back up against the bathtub when its too much of a risk to leave the bathroom

just wants to keep you company :(

"take as long as you need, liebling"

fills up the tub while still convincing you to get in

he promises you'll feel better after

caves and offers to join you as a last resort to get you cleaned up

Long baths, cuddling in the warm water

Letting the steam clear your sinus

Brushes and braids your hair

when you start feeling better but are still running a fever, hes worried.

but youre dealing with a burst of energy and simply must start with the housework

konig will put you over his shoulder and escort you back to bed

will paint your nails in bed to entertain you, anything to keep you still and in bed

Lets you put your cold feet on him, but only when you dont feel good

totally unprepared because i feel like this man has an immune system of steel

makes a quick pharmacy run, but has to call you for the shopping list bc oops he forgot

depending on how sick you are, lets you come along for the ride

“promise you’ll stay in the car ja?”

always returns with a sweet little treat or small gift/toy for you

“gesundheit!” as he chuckles at your sneeze

jokes that maybe he should put a mask on you

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lunarw0rks · 10 months

Note

hi! im not sure if you do any requests like this but if you wouldn't mind, with ghost or konig, where the reader is depressed and has suicidal ideations and ghost/konig save them before it's too late? ive gone through somewhat similar things and it would be comforting reading someone be there for them!

A/N: I don't mind requests like this, just read with caution, please! To anon, or anyone reading that has gone through this, you deserve happiness and are loved!! "988" is the nationwide hotline ♡

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° I hope you don't mind, but I chose Ghost since I haven't written for Kӧnig (YET) Italics are Simon's perspective when it's happening at the same time as reader.

Summary: You feel swallowed by depression, but Simon saves you just in time.

Warning(s): depression, talk of suicide, PTSD themes - DO NOT READ IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU!!, established relationship, GN!Reader, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff at the end

Word Count: 1.5k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST // have a request? ♡¸.•*' | ao3 ver.

In Your Arms // Drabble

The world's weight had been on your shoulders; the constriction on your chest gave you a constant state of crisis, the strain on your heart soon to break it to pieces, and most of all the strain on your mind.

Each waking moment was a gamble of numbness or overdrive. In the instances of numbness, you were withdrawn, coasting your way through meals, laying awake at night with a blank stare. When you were in overdrive, it was like each bad thought physically pilled itself atop you, increasing your irritability and defensiveness.

It was as if the real you were trapped inside somewhere, but you were being overruled by an enclosure of gloom.

Chores, conversations, and the people you loved dearly became a melancholy hassle. You hated every second of it, and most of all hated yourself for behaving like this. At first, you were begging for an out—some savior to snap you out of it.

But now, you felt hopeless—and were making plans to give yourself that out.

You finally had an opportunity, a few hours where you’d have the house to yourself, with Simon out for a few hours. The problem was, gathering the courage. Even though you had the thoughts raining down on you, it was a decision you would never be able to take back.

You were sat in the shared bedroom, on top of the bed you’d just remade. It had been God knows how long by now, and all you could do was stare blankly at the wall ahead, choking back sobs. You looked at his side of the room, seeing the stark contrast between his and yours.

When you thought of him, how he’d be better off this way, it nudged you toward your answer.

Simon noticed your off-balance behavior the day he arrived home. Despite telling you how lovely you looked, he could tell the isolation of his deployment had taken its toll. The bags under your eyes, the dark circles worsening, your sudden change in eating habits—something he greeted like an old friend.

He, of all people, understood the feeling. He just didn’t know how to confront it.

He was never good with his words, or his ability to provide comfort physically; he relied on his crisis training, and most of all, how much he loved you.

When he said he was going out with friends, he was. At first. He found himself sitting in the driveway with a pit in his stomach, his anxieties swallowing him. He was protective, to begin with, but paired with the behavior changes, he was practically trembling at the thought of something horrible happening.

He was white-knuckling the steering wheel, debating on spending his night inside with you. Guilt consumed him for even considering going out anywhere when you’d waited months for him.

His stomach was in knots, twisting and turning, begging him to give in to nausea overtaking him any second. Something was wrong, something was going to happen.

You were fighting yourself again. The thoughts were racing so hard you could swear you heard them buzzing around your head like an angry swarm of wasps, each of them a stinger in your skin.

You reached for the nearest object—the remote—then stood to your feet, sending it plummeting towards the wall in front of you. It shattered the hanging picture frame on impact, sending shards of glass around the bedroom.

It did nothing to silence the thoughts. The sudden rush of fury only fueled them, begging for you to do something more to stop them—the only option you felt you had left.

He had his car door open, gathering his things before he was on his way inside. He’d made his decision, he would rather spend the night with you.

Simon’s trained ear heard the faint shatter of glass, seeing that the upstairs bedroom was the only one lit. There was no hesitation; no second thought to make sure it wasn’t a critter in the garbage can or another household.

He unlocked the door swiftly, a hand hovering over the holster underneath his jacket. The downstairs was clear, nothing askew. He next went up the stairs, leaning in the direction of the bedroom to pick up any sound coming from it.

In his mind, he was fearing the worst, paired with the anxiety he was already having in the car. He’d been here before, with too many people. It couldn’t, no, wouldn’t happen again, not with you.

When the door creaked open, it revealed you, shriveled against the wall with your head in your hands. Beside you, was a broken picture frame, sent flying into pieces around the room. His mind put the pieces together—the irritability, the insomnia, the withdrawn behavior, his gut feeling—all coming together now.

But his worst fears hadn’t come true. You were alive. Alive, and in need of his help. His gut feeling, that painful ache in his stomach when he left, it was right.

His knees dropped to the ground beside you, ignoring the slices forming through his clothes. His entire focus was on you, nothing else.

“Love…” He whispered, grabbing ahold of your knee to make you look his way. When your pooled eyes met him again, he felt like his heart had been ripped in two.

The sight of you, the pain written in your expression. Not physical pain, not heartache, but hopelessness. A specific, known too well by him, expression.

Simon could barely stand it, the person he practically breathed for, fought for, succumbing to their sorry—and he could’ve been too late. The warmth of your flesh under his fingertips, how it shivered, he knew you were still here, still breathing.

He was at a loss for words, even for a man who spoke very little. Angry at himself, not you, for not saying something earlier on. His withdrawal was both a blessing and a curse—a lesson well learned, now that his life with you had flashed before him.

Without a second thought, he scooped you up, setting you gently on the neat bed. He remained standing in front of you, staring down at you with a foggy expression.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered, blinded by the tears.

Simon visibly shook his head, forcing yours into his chest. It wasn’t your fault, and if he could force you to believe that, he would. He didn’t have words to give you, only the comfort of his presence. He just held you; held onto your frame as you wept into his abdomen, soaking through the fabric of his tee.

Tears only teased at his own eyes, but never made it past them. Though internally, he was weeping for you, nearly inconsolable.

It was his job to follow orders, to do his duty. His duty now, was you. He had to be strong for you, always, otherwise he had no purpose left on this Earth.

When the sobs had turned into defeated sniffles, he dropped to his knees to meet your eye level. Him, never one for eye contact, but he couldn’t take his eye off you now.

“I’m here now, I promise.” His deep voice echoed through the room, bouncing off your repines for his comfort.

You were still in shock, how one minute ago you were so close to the edge, but the next he was by your side. The sorrow only subsided for the moment, but with him as a distraction, you knew you had at least one person there for you. One person who understood what you were going through, no doubt about it.

His large hands, the ones stained with the blood of his hands, gently cradling your face until you were lucid enough to give him your full attention. He was there for you, no matter how hard the stubborn thoughts tried to convince you he wasn’t.

They moved from your face, to your neck and arms, then your fingers, searching for any sign of physical injury.

“Let me help you, please…” Simon placed a small kiss on one of the tear droplets streaming down, wiping away the rest with his thumb. His hand went down again, clasping around yours tenderly as he routed you to the shared bathroom.

He grabbed a spare cloth off the rack, wetting it slightly in the sink as he traced it along each tear stain, his other hand on your waist the entire time. He was focused and stiff, but his eyes were gentle.

When he finished, he cupped your face again, touching his lips to yours, then your temple. “You are everything to me, got it?” He whispers against your forehead, eyes still wide, reeling with the shock of nearly losing you.

Your head was in his chest again as one hand remained on your waist, the other holding your head in place. He was savoring this, not taking you for granted for a second.

Deep inside, he was picturing all those months he’d left you alone to feel like this.

How each tear he wiped was a lash of regret. He was going to make up for it from now on. Whether he could help you one on one, or you talk to a professional, he would back you every step of the way.

That was his duty.

#simon riley x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw2 #simon riley #call of duty #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #tw depression

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nomizombie · 4 months

Text

boyfriend!König headcanons that have been on my mind…

[SFW/Wholesome/Fluff] ; random stuff ive been thinking about, SO MUCH FLUFF YOUR HEART WILL HURT, established relationship, gender neutral, no usage of y/n, not proofread

[A/N] ; love love LOVE the idea of all these things happening!! Also off topic but i feel like this boy needs more wholesome fanfics. Theres just too much smut for this sweet anxious guy :((

He doesnt move a muscle when you fall asleep on him. He just cant bare to wake you and your cute sleepy face! Hell sit there staring at you for hours until either he falls asleep or you wake up. You falling asleep on him just tells him that you feel so safe around him, especially when hes struggled with being so intimidating (the social anxiety and hood certainly dont help). Whether its at home on the couch, at a movie theatre, or just on the train back home, he just loves you so much he wish you would do it more often <3

You have a phobia and he comforts you. He immediately shields you or removes whatever thing youre scared of. He just cant handle seeing his liebling so terrified and vulnerable :(( he wants you to always feel safe around him, you would never have to worry about safety when hes around. Hes very loyal and is just as great a friend as he is a boyfriend :)

He would either have shoulder length hair or a super short fluffy buzzcut. No inbetween. If you ask him to grow/cut it, he wouldnt hesitate to find the nearest pair of scissors and whack it all off! (or vice versa…) he loves it when you play with his hair, and if its long, he doesnt mind you braiding or tying his hair in silly ways!!

Youre cold? Dont worry! König produces a lot of heat, let him share some of it with you! Hed give you his jacket, a thick padded one fit for surviving the Austrian winters and snug for you! Obviously his size means its huge on you but, he loves seeing you wearing his clothes. Its just another reminder of how small you are compared to him and he is absolutely obsessed with it.

You and him are having fun at a bar. He notices how drunk youre getting and pulls you away to go home before you hurt yourself or regret it in the morning. Unfortunately… the hangover hits hard and you are stuck on the bathroom floor, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back and holding your hair back as you vomit your insides into tje toilet bowl. He hates seeing yoi like this… sick and hungover. next time hes making you leave as soon as your words start slurring >:(

The movie is too scary!! Let him hold and cuddle you, jumpscare after jumpscare. You can shrink into his chest if youre scared. And dont worry about sleeping, nothing can hurt you if hes around. Of course hes just as scared as yuou, the movie was very well made afterall. But, he doesnt want you to be terrified, so hes here for you :) dont forget to give him cuddles too, he cant stop trembling as well!!!

Anniversary, valentines day, your birthday? Dont worry one bit! Hes already got it marked on his calendar, gift planned weeks in advance and the restaurant is already reserved. How could he ever disappoint an angel like you? This is the least he could do for all the love he receives for you!

Youre on your period? Dont even THINK about it. Hell be cuddling and snuggling you to warm you and calm your cramps. Cravings? Hes already on the way to the store :) you dont even have to tell him, hes already got your favourite snacks ready in a basket for you. Youre in pain all week! He hates seeing you like this… :(( who cares aboit the mood swings as long as youre nuzzled in his size, using his warm arms to stifle the chills running down your spine.

Its raining and you only have one umbrella. He would hold it for you, making sure that its his shoulder thats getting wet, not yours. Lest you fall sick and he has to stay home and take care of you for days :(( (not that hes complaining, he’ll take any opportunity to pamper and spoil you!)

Hes just gotten home from work after a bad day. As soon as he sees you, he feels just a little better, especially while resting his head on your chest and listening to your soft breaths on repeat. It could be on the couch, in bed or just while standing in the hallway, some physical touch from you always recharges his batteries :))

dividers by @mmadeinheavenn !! :)

Tysm for reading!! :) my requests are always open, feel free to ask me anything or request a drabble/fic!

#. ˚₊‧꒰ა 🧟🧠 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#°˖ ⊹ ꒰✒️꒱ ♡#boyfriend!könig #i love him so much #sfw #fanfic #fluff #konig x reader #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig fluff #könig x y/n #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #könig headcanons

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songmingisthighs · 5 months

Text

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

<< previous | m.list | next >>

ch. iv - dumped

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

As much as you hated helping around during the weekends, you have to admit the crowd is interestingly diverse. The lack of rigid schedule and responsibilities allowed people to come or walk by in groups or even alone, even then they seemed busy with their phones. The usually rather calmer cafe became the social hub for certain people with the noise of chatters everywhere and people going back and forth between their seats and the cashier. It was trully interesting.

What's also interesting is the little boy who's hiding under the cashier, drawing a giant circle with a red crayon continuously in his drawing book. You discovered him just as you were about to take over the cashier for Yeonjun who had to go to the back to get some things. The boy only spared you a glance before returning to his drawing book, leaving you to tend to your own thing while he tend to his own. For a moment, you focused on the customer first, though intrigued, you wondered who the kid was and what he was doing there.

Once the customer was tended to, you crouched down to be eye level with him, "And who might you be?" You asked, tilting your head slightly to appear intrigued. The boy spared you one glance before looking back down to his giant red circle. "Don't wanna give me your name, huh? Smart. You should not tell random people your name so maybe I should ask your mom or dad?" At the mention of his parents, you saw his shoulder slumped and he shook his head, "Daddy busy," he mumbled lowly but it was loud enough for you to hear. "Did you came here with your dad?"

Just as he was about to answer, you heard someone call your name which caught your attention. "Who are you talking to?" Wooyoung asked, going around the counter only to see the boy he lost nestling himself in the nook. "Kijoong!" He called and skid over to reach out and grab the boy only to halt abruptly when 'Kijoong' hissed. Yes, he HISSED at Wooyoung, surprising you as evident from your eyes that widened to the size of saucers. "You can't just run and hide like that, I was worried! I was looking for you!" He sighed. "Wait, you know this kid?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Wooyoung shrugged, "Yeah, his dad is a doctor and I'm helping look over him because he was called in. You know, on call," he explained. Teasingly you nudged your friend and wiggled your eyebrows, "Didn't take you for a nanny, Woo," and much to your surprise, it was Kijoong who answered you, throwing his crayon past you and Wooyoung, frowning deeply, "Not nanny, Kijoong big boy, don't need nanny," he huffed displeasedly.

Wooyoung opened his mouth to scold Kijoong but you cut him off with a scoff, "No you're not a big boy, a big boy wouldn't have ran off without telling the adult he was with, OBVIOUSLY you need a nanny, Kijoong is it?" Both Kijoong and Wooyoung were surprised that you stepped in but as quickly as the surprise came, Kijoong scowled and move to push you down but you dodged his push, rendering him angry. Once again, he tried to push you down again, with both hands this time and Wooyoung tried to step in but you blocked him once again. "No, use your words," you told him in a gentle voice but odd eniygh that was when he began sniffling and soon, tears rolled down his face. While Wooyoung panicked as Kijoong's face grew red and his tiny shoulders shook in sadness, you remained calm and even repositioned yourself to sitting criss-crossed in front of him, "Use your words," you repeated in the same cadence which this time resulted in Kijoong looking up at you from his wet lashes and scooted slightly out. "Didn't know I had to tell," he mumbled through sniffles which thankfully you could hear through the background noise. You nodded in understanding, "Does your daddy usually let you walk around without telling him?" Kijoong shook his head whilst sniffling, prompting you to tell Wooyoung to grab you a couple of tissues, "Daddy holds my hand a-an-d we'll t-talk." "Did you ran off because you're not with daddy?" You asked again, scooting back and gesturing for him to crawl out by opening your arms. At first, Kijoong seem like he hestitated to step out. But after a brief moment and one last sniffle, he crawled out of the small space and stood in front of you sadly. Truly, if he was a cartoon, he'd have droopy, sad puppy ears on his head.

You got up from your position and began fixing his vest and shorts up slightly before wiping his snotty nose with utmost care, "Well, whatever your reason was for running, I think we can understand that, can't we, Woo?" You glaced at Wooyoung who had stood up and leaned his hip on the counter, nodding to your question, "Of course we can." You looked back at Kijoong who now had an ashamed look on his face and smiled, "You were with Wooyoung so he has to make sure you were okay because if you weren't, your daddy will be very sad so Wooyoung has to be able to see you clearly at all times, do you understand?" Kijoong nodded firmly and you noticed his sniffles had started to stop and he even took a step closer to Wooyoung, "I wanted to play so... Hide and seek," he explained. Amused, Wooyoung chuckled and pat the boy on the head gently, "I'd appreciate you telling me when you want to run off so please don't do that again, okay? We can play again later but right now you need to fuel up," he said before he grabbed the boy who squaled happily and bringing him around the counter, mouthing a thank you at you for helping handle the situation.

For a moment you thought you'd just go back to work; handle customers and helping Yeonjun prepare orders. But around 10 minutes later, Wooyoung came trudging back, flailing himself over the pick up counter and groaning.

"(y/n), I told you to bring the trash out back," Yeonjun snickered as he passed by to go to the brewing machine, prompting Wooyoung to shoot him a glare, "Shut up, Yeonjun, I'm facing an issue," he hissed. You stopped in your tracks hearing what Wooyoung said, immediately connecting his issue to the little boy you found under the cashier, "Is Kijoong okay?" You asked but Wooyoung turned to you with a deadpanned look, "Shouldn't you be asking if I was okay?"

Leaning down, you rest your chin on the counter across from Wooyoung with a grin, "Nope." If the pop of the P didn't annoy Wooyoung, it was the peck on his forehead that got him screeching through gritted teeth as he tried to swat you away. "I'm serious, I'm practically in a serious negotiating state with a 4 year old over lunch, it's embarrassing!" He whined.

The words Wooyoung used made you peer over to the table Wooyoung chose for him and Kijoong. You saw the boy back on his drawing book but he was peeking over some people who were sitting around him, looking like he was ready to bolt.

"Mind if I try something?" You asked Wooyoung but you didn't even bother to wait for his actual reply before you rounded the counter and walked over to Kijoong who, upon your arrival, set his crayon gently on the side and placed his hands on the table. "I have a problem and Wooyoung said you might be the right person to help me. Do you think you're up for it?"

That's how you found yourself in the secluded area of the kitchen, two staff members working on orders while you finished up putting bowls of ingredients next to Kijoong who you set on the metal counter. "Okay," you clapped your hands once as you began, "So we have macaroni, shredded cheese, some cream sauce, some marinara sauce, ground beef, some chicken, butter, ketchup, and a little bit of oregano if we're feeling fancy. What do you think would go well?" Kijoong stared at the bowls in front of him with a serious look on his face all the while Wooyoung loomed over your shoulder and frantically tugged your arm, "This is a bad idea I tell you, if he feels mischievous, he'll DEFINITELY start by dumping that marinara on you!" He hissed but you simply waved him off, waiting for Kijoong to give you an order with an empty bowl in your hand.

Kijoong took longer than you expected and you decided that maybe he needed a bit of encouragement. "Well, I'd usually go like this," you narrated the ingredients you picked as you put them in the bowl before you mix them up, "And this is what I would usually eat." Kijoong stared at the bowl with big round eyes and then his gaze shifted to you, as if asking if you really can eat that. To prove your point, you grabbed a spoon and started taking a bite and then two and then three.

Seeing you eat seem to intrigued Kijoong and before you knew it, he tapped your arm and pointed at the things he wanted on his bowl. Sure, it was only some macaroni, tiny bit of beef and chicken and a load of cheese and butter, but he was happy with the bowl and ate it with gusto. He even experimented with the ketchup and the marinara.

Wooyoung stood at the side, amazed at how you got the boy to eat almost effortlessly. Moreover, he almost screames when he saw Kijoong urging you to continue eating as well and even asked about what your bowl tasted like. He refused to try but seeing as how he ate, you were just glad you helped.

"Hey, do you think I can bring him by whenever he's chucked to me so you could take care of him?" Wooyoung asked, hand reaching for your spoon for a bite of your food which you relented but scoffed, "He's entrusted to YOU Woo," "Yeah, but think about what I can charge his dad knowing that not only you tamed this little hurricane, you actually got him to eat!" You stared at him slightly funny, amused and confused, "You talk as if he's such a disaster." Wooyoung knew you didn't know and he knew he could say what he said because he had extensive experience, but he rolled his eyes and nudged his hip with yours, "When you get that job at kq hospital, you'll know what I mean. You've got your interview date, right?" "Yup, got my resume ready too!" You grinned, heart fluttering slightly at the thought of returning to your normalcy. Seeimg you grinning made Wooyoung grin as well, glad that you were finally able to take a step forward after what happened in the past.

Your little moment of relief was cut short however when you saw Kijoong grabbing a squeeze bottle filled with chili sauce up to his face. As cute as he is, you really do hope you didn't have to take care of him anymore.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@yunho-mp3 @strawberry-yeo @luvt0kki @allisonleannn @dinossaurz @khjcs @blackb3ll @aloverga @at1nys-blog @itsbeeble @senpai-of-doom @axo-l0tl @green-thots @intancollins @galaxypox @babyhailey819 @maddiebabyxoxo @alyssajavenss @mirror-juliet @gxlden-bxbyy @charreddonuts @dreamlesswonder86 @mayonnaisehoeshit @kodzukein @teenyfinds @dear-dreamie @mitchloveswriting

@rheriver @olizzly @chocolatelightbeliever @bubblesdestiny @starjoongie1117

@yungilia

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copinghardasfvck · 5 months

Text

winter mornings

SEVERUS SNAPE X READER

a/n: i wrote this with myself in mind so there might (???) be implications of a hefty age gap but i think its readable from any background. also this shit was supposed to be quick. lo and behold ive been tippity tappin my little fingers for 2 hrs in my car to produce this tasty little filth for you girlies

summary : no plot just fucking

tags: smut, soft, light degradation, cosy, a moment of teacher roleplay but its up to you to decide if they’re actually teacher/student or just rp, assumed use of contraceptives, dumbification, piv, creampie

The fireplace remained crackling as you turned off the stove. But even with the warmth of the first, your toes wiggled against each other, in an attempt to stay warm.

You wiggled your hips a little, lightly humming Last Christmas — you don't know how anyone could hate muggles so much. They had to admit muggle music had its merits. They do Christmas right. As you danced, you transferred the bacon you had just cooked onto a plate along side the waffles you previously prepared.

You then made your way to the refrigerator to loot Severus's collection of fruit. The thought, I hope he isn't awake yet was rudely interrupted by two strong arms circling around your waist, cinching your — his — white dress shirt around your waist.

"Get back in bed!" you hissed, placing your hands over his, which held you tightly.

A tired hum left him and he kissed your neck... trailing up to your jaw. Smiling, you leaned into it, reveling in your realization that his arms were bare. You turned, eyeing his frame. He was only wearing black pajama pants. Chest bare, probably because you stole his shirt.

He looked at you, pursing his lips as he took in your entire form. You had slipped on panties. But you hadn't bothered in even buttoning up his shirt. You were definitely an indecent sight. But in your defense you hadn't planned to stay out of bed too long. You were hoping to surprise him. He raised his brows at you, though a sort of softness remained in his eyes.

The way he was looking at you... Maybe it was the fact that the love you held for him made you dizzy. Fuzz clouded your head and your lids felt heavy. You felt like you couldn't stop admiring him because even if you got tired of his eyes, you could rave on and on about how adorable his nose is. And if you ever got tired of his nose, you could talk anyones ears off about line that formed between his eyebrows when his face hardened. In short, this feeling was hypnotic.

Maybe its the mere fact that you were hypnotized, dizzy, fuzzy, but you could swear the gaze he trained on you seemed like he could not tear his gaze away from you even if he wanted to. Severus knew you were right. That after he met you, he understood Narcissus better. He felt like he could forget to eat, sleep, forget all the necessities of life just because hes so taken by your beauty staring back at him.

With a case of blueberries in your right hand, you wrapped your arms around his neck, watching his eyebrows jump up amusedly at your affection.

Your pussy always got so wet when he did that. There was something in that — the fact that he always looked so confident, waiting for you to make the next move, letting you surprise him, letting you take control — take initiative. And just letting himself be amused by your forwardness. You smirked at him, first looking up, doe eyed into his eyes, then letting your eyes fall to his lips.

You bit your lip, "Good morning, handsome," Then you looked back up to meet his hooded eyes.

The corners of his lips had turned up by then. "Good morning, love."

There was a churning in your stomach in response. He always got you with the simplest of phrases. "I was making you breakfast but you spoiled the surprise."

"I apologize," he said, hushed. Eyes still so focused and trained on you, like he was melting into your gaze.

"I don't accept your apology."

His brows lifted inquisitively, the corners of his mouth stretching wider into a full smile. Oh if only anyone else were there to witness the rare occurrence of Severus Snape, certified grump, cracking such a wide smile just for his little dearest love. "I am your humble servant, my dear, simply point me in the direction of repentance."

You smirked wider, letting your eyes flicker down and up again, making it clear to him what you wanted, If it wasn't already abundantly clear. "Kiss me, you dolt."

Severus didn't need to be told twice. His lips came down on yours hungrily and you whimpered, immediately parting your lips to accept his tongue. You back arched back and you adjusted your grip on his neck to keep you upright, your right leg coming up against his side. He took your thigh in his hand, keeping his other arm around you for support.

Then he hissed and gently detached from you. You stared up at him, light concern in your eyes, because you hadn't realized yet, but you still had a container of blueberries in your hand, fresh out of the fridge. And as you were snogging your boyfriend, you accidentally placed the very cold container against his unclothed skin.

"Cold," he reached back, taking it from you, and tossed it carelessly on the kitchen counter. Then he wrapped his arms your waist again.

A wide apologetic smile spread across your face and you giggled, "sorry."

He kissed you over and over, "Unacceptable," and hooked an arm under your ass to lift you up. You squealed, giggling the whole way as he walked over to the couch in the living space adjacent to his kitchen and threw you on top of it.

"What in Merlin's name did I do to deserve such a perfect little toy, mm?" he asked, almost as if he were honestly inquiring.

You shrugged and took the opportunity to tease him, "I know right? Yours to fuck any time you want, and I cook you breakfast."

He huffed a little laugh and kissed you again. Your heart soared.

You loved these private moments so much — these moments when it feels as if you are truly the only two people in the world. The tender vulnerability behind your praises and gentle bouncing back and forth of banter... It really made it feel like your two souls — usually dim and passively burning for the mere sake of keeping your mortal bodies going — burned together in a fiery dance. A dance, on a dark, black, and substance-less stage, in nothing but space. A dance that no one could see or feel or experience the way you experienced it.

Nothing even matters. Nothing but him.

Only his lips, his body, his pleasure, him. His mind, his heart. You'd protect and nurture and grow all of it.

Sighing into the kiss, you wrapped your legs around his waist and tightened your legs. He grunted in response, inhaling deeply before parting from your lips. His jaw was clenched, eyes hooded and dark, as he stared down at your smiling face.

"You think you're so cute?"

You nodded, lightly rolling your hips in a circle, your pussy feeling so hot. And there was just a flimsy little string blocking your vulva from the fabric of his pants.

"… Rubbing on me like a little bitch in heat."

Despite the harshness of his words, your eyes widened and you bit your lip, a small whine escaping because if you thought your stomach was twisting and churning before, you were positively ill with desire now.

He sighed, pressing his forehead against yours, hair draping over your face. You dug your heel into his backside, trying to press him closer. His dick rubbing against your pussy was so fucking delicious. his labored breaths were hot against your skin, nose pressed to the side of yours. If you didn't know him any better, you'd think he was about to cum in his pants like a schoolboy. But you knew him better.

"Cute little whore..." he muttered, twisting his face over to give you a few small pecks, all as he loosened his pants and shimmied them down his hips.

Something feral left your throat when his cock was pressed against your cunt. "Feels so hot, Sev," you were absolutely breathless.

And god you couldn't stop looking up at him with those pouty eyes. Every time you looked up at him through your pretty little eyelashes a flash of desire shot through him — the desire to see that face he loved. The face you made when you were so consumed by pleasure, so cock drunk, that your eyes screwed shut and tears pricked at your eyes.

The angry red head of his cock was leaking a little so you pushed your panties to the side and rolled your hips so that his juices collected on your pussy lips. Not that you needed extra lubrication that badly. Your cunt was already leaking into your other puckered hole and it was soon to be on the couch if he didn't hurry up and fuck you. But he loved to watch you tease yourself.

"Do you want me to fuck you, my sweet little whore?"

"Duh," You furrowed your brows, the bit of sass slipping out because you were at a point of arousal where tiny hot spikes of frustration were starting to poke and prod at your brain. You want him so bad. You need him.

"Beg me, then. Out loud like a good girl," he smirked at you this time and you whined, rolling your eyes.

You're rubbing your naked pussy on his bare cock and he still needs you to tell him how badly you want him to fuck you into next week. How you want him to fuck you so hard you wake up in summer.

"Out loud."

Bastard.

A small chuckle left him and he adjusted so that his shaft, now covered in your juices, wasn't that part that was rubbing against your cunt. No, the bastard started rubbing his tip along your hole, dipping in a little just to tease.

You whined again, "Please please fuck my wet little cunt, sir. I need you. I-I need your cock it'd feel so perfect," you mumbled softly, back arching off the soft couch. Your lips brushed his with every word, eyes flutter close from the frustrating desire coursing through you. Your heart... You wonder if he could feel your heart. If he did, you wonder if he was worried about how fast it was going.

“Such a lovely thing,” He muttered, “Good little witch, begging for my cock so prettily,” And he finally sunk his dick into you, slowly.

You moaned at the stretch, tossing your head to the side, eyes shut tight, lips parted, brows furrowed together.

Severus was quick to take your chin and twist your face back into view. Through a deep groan, he commanded “Open. Your. Eyes.”

You obeyed, breath hitching at the intensity of his stare. His eyelids dropped a little as he sighed, pressing his forehead against yours again. Then he began a slow pace of thrusting in and out of you.

Your parted lips continued to brush against his due to your proximity and you obediently kept your heavy eyes trained on his no matter how badly they wanted to flutter shut and enjoy the intimacy of his touch and his warmth surrounding you. You forced them open because he ordered it.

“Outstanding,” He smirked, teasing, “Always, this cunt is always deserving of the highest marks.”

“Thank you Professor, I’m happy my tight little pussy pleases you so much,” You mewled, a string of barely coherent words, highpitched, due to the pleasure you were feeling. You saw as his eyebrows knitted together. Merlin he was beautiful. “‘wanna make you cum. fuck me harder? Please?”

“Dirty little…” He chuckled, “Want me to use you like a little whore to empty my cock into? Is that it?”

“m’yeah want you to use me, Severus please be rough,”officially overwhelmed by the pleasure and the further arousal, you wrapped your legs back around him, using your heel to coax his hip movement how you liked.

“Since you begged so sweetly,” He gave you a little peck before pulling back. and you whined at the distance. That whine quickly caught in the back of your throat though because Severus gripped your hips with his big hands, hard. And he began fucking down into you with increased fervor.

You called out, eyes screwing shut once more, legs tightening against his body. “Ahhh, oh S-sev!! Please,” You didn’t know what you were begging for.

But Merlin, it was all so much. His praises echoed in your head alongside the dirty, condescending words that accompanied them. All the while the sound of your impossibly wet cunt squishing with every re-entry into your eager hole, the sound of Severus Snape’s balls slapping against the moist patch that formed along your taint and asshole, the perfect way he fit inside you… It was enough to make a girl go absolutely insane.

“Your cunt sucks me back in when even I pull out. Do you feel that, lovely girl? How badly it needs me.”

“Y-yes!!” You said, struggling to form any coherent thoughts. Oh Merlin… you love getting to this point. “Need…. Mmm need it!”

“So beautiful when you’re drunk on cock, when you get so stupid,” Severus rambled, one hand making its way to your hair to pull on it, “Perfect little pussy.”

You yelped, screaming more yes’s as he fucked you harder, hurdling toward an intense orgasm.

He fucked you like that, pulling on your hair, hips snapping back and forth. The head of his cock rammed into your most sensitive spot inside you over and over.

“I’m s-so… Please, Sev please,”

“Use your words, dear, be polite,” He spoke through shaking moans. He was getting close too.

“C-cum,” You tried, legs shaking, “‘m gonna cum sir”

“Go on then, darling milk me dry. Cum for me.”

Once you heard the deep baritone command, you allowed yourself to release. He leaned down, captured your lips in his and pumped you a little faster and sloppier to reach his orgasm. You leaned back and watched his face contort as he pumped his cock a few more pronounce times to ensure he spilled all his seed inside.

You kissed his jaw as he recovered, licking and nipping his neck along your way down, your little hand cupping his other cheek. You loved kissing every part of him. You loved how warm he was, how his hair smelled, everything. He’s so lovely.

Breakfast is cold now.

#severus snape x reader

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kaulitzsposts · 7 months

Text

il take care of you-bill kaulitz

contents-smut, oral, p n v

synopsis-you get back from a hard day but your boyfriend seems to know how to take care of you.

etc-uhm this is my first smut so give me ideas please love you all pookies

I slammed the door shut going into the house before putting my head on the table top with my head in my hands.

“what’s wrong princess” bill said wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.

“this job i swear to fuck i hate it, it’s far to much and i’m hardly ever home to see you it’s just” i sigh “too much for me” resting my head on bills shoulder he played with my hair.

“then why do you do it meine leibe you do realise no matter what when i’m here il look after you always, iv got money if it was up to me u wouldn’t be working a single day of your life” he smirked kissing the side of my neck.

“maybe, but i couldn’t you work hard for where u are now i’m not someone who would rely on you for that bill” i looked up at him his eyes were pierced into mine he backed me up a bit into the corner of the table putting my hair behind my ear.

“just think about it baby but for now let me take care of u” he started too unfasten my dress straps letting it fall down my sides “god i’ve missed you” he said eagerly as he smashed his lips into mine “missed you too” i said in between kisses. he pulled back before picking me up wrapping my legs around his waist practically breaking the bedroom door down and placing me on the bed.

“my beautiful girl” he cooed before pulling me on top of him passionately making out.

i could already feel his bulged jeans rubbing against my thigh without hesitation i reached down grabbing hold of his belt and tugging on it so he got the hint i wanted them off him he smirked before ripping them off and throwing them aside on the floor.

he took a hold of my waist making me sit on top of him so he was straddled to the bed i could feel him rubbing through my panties making me let out slight whimpers through out kisses until he grabbed hold of me again pulling me up towards his face placing me just above his mouth.

“oh god f..fuck” i moaned out his tongue piercing edged against my core making my body shiver and legs shake “taste to good want you to cum in my mouth wanna hear ur pretty little moans” him dirty talking almost pushed me over the edge enough as it is i put my hands on the head board and grinded against his soft tongue.

i moved my hands down to pull his hair through my fingers “feels so good bill” i felt the knot in my stomach begin to unloosen as i gasped before cumming all over his pretty face.

“mm such a good girl for me think u can go again tho” he smirked pulling me down and pushing me up against the bed without giving me a chance to even bat an eye he shoved his tip into me slowly making a moan escape my lips “so fucking tight” he groaned before pushing his full member inside making me dig my nails into his back leaving my mark.

“h..harder bill” i managed to get out still whimpering, “as you please” he said breathing heavy before slamming into me harder making me near enough scream his name out i arched my head back closing my eyes feeling the same thing in my stomach “gonna cum b..bill fuck”.

“cum for me come on…so close baby your doing so well” his words pushed me over the edge as i tightened around him he twitched inside of me before we both rode out our climaxes, “fuck” he moaned before pulling out and putting his head on the crook of your neck.

“your so beautiful y/n i want you to stay with me all day every day how does that sound hm?” he circled his fingers on my stomach placing a kiss on my cheek.

“sounds amazing” i smiled pulling him into my embrace.

================================

please give opinions and suggestions for next time it would be very much helpful love you all🫶🏻

#bill kaulitz #tokio hotel #bill kaulitz pls fuck me #billkaulitzishot #billkaulitz #tokiohotel #smut #bill kaulitz smut

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nikanono · 2 months

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I know I'm not active on here anymore, but I need a place to get this off my chest.

And Tumblr is where I found my creativity so I guess it fits

It has been so difficult to create anything as of recent. Ive lost so much confidence in what I do with so many shortcomings with my art. And I feel as if part of it is my fault- other parts its completely out of my hands.

Yes, Ai art and the industry tossing creatives aside hasnt been the most encouraging thing in the world. Its a good reason as to why i've been feeling not so great with creating things.

In 2022, I suffered a really bad art burnout. I didnt draw anything for a year. I started to kick it back up again in 2023. I found a lot of comfort in spending a lot of time drawing my OC's- which was far different than what I used to do- which was a shit ton of fanart. It definetely ignighted my spark and I really started to draw what I loved.

I really felt I was diving back into what I was really passionate about.

But I guess i could never escape how badly I relied on external validation for things I make. Because if I truely reflect, I've mostly drawn things for others. And I kept tellling myself that that was something I found comfort in. Getting feedback from an external source is where I grounded my validation for so many years and I really need to break out of that habit. And I'm back in a rut where I'm not finding interest or enjoyment in it anymore.

But its rough- I know OC content doesnt get much attention online, not compared to fanart at least. But seeing numbers dwindle on social def hit the brain a little to hard. I know I cant ever beat the algorithm but it still does suck a whole lot

The art burnout at the start of this year hit me so hard like a 500kg Eagle Strike. I can tell that im forcing any art that I put out. But I look at the recent stuff i make, wether it be a sketch or an illustration, and just feel so disheartened. I dont hate it, I dont critique it- I just feel disheartned by it.

And I know its affecting other parts in my life. Im a lot more moody and irritable, and I have this lingering worry that its starting to affect my social circles. I do my best to check in with my friends and partner but anxiety really just isnt kind at times.

I know time is going to be my friend in overcoming burnout- I know I've overworked myself. I just hate how I'm starting to resent the things I was so passionate about.

But really, I needed to get this off my chest somewhere.

Thanks for hanging friends

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pouringmyheartoutforpaper · 2 years

Note

steve who asks you if you need to hold his hand while he overstimulates/punishes you

oh my gOD usually i dont write about stuff like this bc its too much for me but you worded it perfectly.

steve likes himself a good girl. likes that she submits and trusts him completely. adores it. adores taking care of her. he loves that she loves being good for him.

he definitely doesn’t “punish” her often. he wont ever go too rough with her because he just genuinley hates it. the only type of punishment he really does is overstimulation or edging. mostly overstimulation though because hes addicted to the way her legs shake and the little white ring that forms at the base of his cock. 🤍🤍 also because hes very easy to convince. he doesnt really like seeing them as punishments, he only overstimulates her when he knows she needs it. when shes been snappy and grumpy all day. he doesnt get mad at her, shes just overwhelmed. but he knows she needs to get fucked out real good before she can feel better 🤍

when he does, he always has her laid out all comfy on the bed with her back pressed against him, his legs forcing hers apart while he bullies her pretty cunt on his fingers for hours. kissing up her neck and telling her how good she is for him. “you wanna hold my hand babygirl? yeah? its okay doll, ive got you. give me one more.” holding her hand against her chest and rubbing circles on the skin with his thumb. “love you baby, you feeling better? shhhh just let it come honey,,,yeah there we go baby…that was a big one baby.” picking her up and carrying her to the bath, running warm water for her, with bubbles of course. getting in with her and holding her against his chest, both of them smiling contently. feeling fuzzy and cozy. the scents of floral shampoo and body wash flooding their senses. talking about life and giving kisses while he washes her hair. so perfect and domestic🤍🤍🤍

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve stranger things #stranger things #st smut #steve x reader #steve x you #steve harrington fluff #dove and steve

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viathecloset · 3 months

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Taehyung and jungkook's relationship is overlooked by 90% of the fandom solely because they are so controlled by the narrative of the fandom/company that they cannot quite accept that anything outside is even a remote possibility. Ive been more of a quiet observer for years now [my sister's an army since 2015] and I've seen the boys, moreover I know how marketing and kpop works. It's quite evident if u observe close enough of the pattern on how this group of seven guys who genuinely love music is marketed you would understand to what extent you're being brainwashed. Im not talking about this like a conspiracy theorist. It's quite simple and right infront of you. Yall refuse to accept it that's all.

1. There are a certain set of stories that are made to be told by them, over and over again. Even if it disturbs them or they are bored. E.g: 2018 disbandment story, vmin dumpling incident, jikook rain fight/tokyo trip, mind you there are many things that happend between people who lived together for 10+ yrs but if it cuts the flow of events you are made to believe happened you aren't gonna hear from it, ever.

2. Like stories there are dynamics that each pair is supposed to portray Taegi as annoying/annoyed duo, taejin/jikook as flirty HS boyfriends, namseok/taekook the awkward old friends and no matter how much the relationships change or evolve you won't see it cuz again, it won't FIT the narrative that has already been shown.

3. Like relationships there are characteristics that thankfully some members chose to break out of during their solo era: hoseok always being sunshine and loud ( he's quite serious and very dedicated infact ), jungkook being that muscle dude who only knows how to follow his Hyungs ( he's very independent and has a lot of targets he wants to achieve individually, he's very thoughtful and organized) and Taehyung being WEIRD and weak ( he's extremely intelligent and super strong he's strategic and disciplined)

4. This brings us to the whole Taekook narrative, the fact that they've been seen so much during solo era yet people had the audacity to still call them distant and awkward solely cuz it wasn't via company but through Taehyung's ig or jungkook mentioning him in interviews etc. I think it's needless to say they aren't comfortable being touchy and showy on camera for content, hell if they were to shoot everytime Taehyung and jungkook hangout there would he enough CONTENT till 2067. They're supportive of eo and have a very big shared friend circle, when jungkook went missing for almost 2 months we got to know Taehyung was the one he was with.

5. The thing is everyone [ including my own sister ] thinks that Taehyung is being desperate or such whenever he mentions Taehyung cuz a. Yall have actually led jokers run so fucking rampant that everytime the man mentions him actually doing something you're ready to throw him under the bus and call him a liar or such. b. Im not saying jungkook isn't close to anyone else but when he isn't working or shooting content and just wants to be himself the one you saw him most was around Taehyung and yes it matters. In the name of hating shippers yall have not only dissed the quite frankly PRIVATE bond they seem to share but went as far as dissing Taehyung himself cuz of the extreme level of manipulation yall are under.

Ik imma find armys [jikookers ]under this sooner or later calling me names but to be honest I'm sick and tired of yall dissing very real people and their very real human relationships solely based off the content yall are made to believe is 100% candid. Go touch grass, get friends, go date, don't obsess over them for a while then come back and try seeing it from a neutral perspective.

#taekook #taehyung #jungkook #bts #tumbler #opinion #fandom ships

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malleusfucker · 2 years

Text

Simeon Kinks and HCs

warnings: smut/nsfw, corruption kink, light bondage, overstimulation, slight masochism, reader is afab but no gender or pronouns are explicitly specified

words: 1.2k

sorry this is a lil bit shorter, ive never written for simeon but i had fun so i might add some more to this later on :))

prob gonna write for diavolo or belphie next so look out for that

PRAISE CENTRAL ALL DAY EVERYDAY

simeon would naturally be no different from that of a saint given that he’s an actual angel. with the way he treats you, it seems that his only purpose in life is to compliment and shower you with never-ending love and praise. this man THRIVES off of complimenting you, and he makes sure that you feel loved and cherished throughout every moment you share.

and this praise doesn’t leave when you’re in the bedroom, rather he gets even more determined to make sure you feel like the most beautiful person in the world. simeon is the dictionary definition of ‘sappy and sensual’. the way he’ll just gently thrust into you while whispering sweet nothings into your ear makes you feel like you did actually just ascend into heaven.

he always makes sure that during sex the focus is on YOU. it makes you feel selfish sometimes with all the pleasure simeon constantly gives you but that’s exactly what the man is all about. GIVING.

he finds it to be a lot more pleasurable on his side seeing the way you moan and pant from his light touches and would love nothing more than to just make you feel good.

your schedule is gonna have to be free because he will spend HOURS admiring just how perfect you are. he’s already gentle towards everyone anyway but as soon as he’s with you, he’s even more loving and soft - placing tender and sweet kisses all over your body, trailing circles with his fingers on your skin making you melt into the sheets from how affectionate his is to you.

corruption kink

the perks of being an angel is that everyone thinks you’re completely innocent and pure, doing no wrong and never succumbing to any thoughts that could be considered wrongful.

however, behind the curtain, simeon hates to admit that with each passing day he spends with you, those “wrongful” thoughts seem to grow louder and louder in his mind everyday. his corruption kink snuck up to him very gradually. it began with him thinking that he could never get turned on by such a sinful idea but slowly feeling the way his dick would twitch more intensely inside of you every time you accidentally scratched your nails down his back and begged him for more. much to his dismay, he saw himself become increasingly greedy - wanting to be a bit rougher with you and for you to do the same to him, getting hard at the sight of you breathless and shaking, wanting to mark you so he could be reminded of what happened the morning after. these thoughts and feelings, one after another, soon enough made him cave in with him thinking “this isn’t that bad, is it?” as he aggressively drives into you, gripping your neck and slowly squeezing until your eyes roll back.

“this doesn’t make me sinful…” “it’s just a one time thing….” is what he would try to think every time he would commit these sins with you - constantly making up excuses to hide the fact he enjoys indulging in more aggressive and naughty acts a little bit too much.

overstimulation

and with his corruption kink becoming prevalent the more he gets intimate with you, so would his love for overstimulation. simeon would never be described as greedy but it seems he simply just can’t hold back when he’s with you - his hands seeming to gravitate towards your body without him even thinking about it and then before he knows it, he’s got his fingers buried inside of you, smiling softly at the way you moan and writhe in response. he just completely adores heightening your senses as well as his own so that you feel nothing but pure bliss - he doesn't want to overwhelm you, but does like to push you past a certain point so that you end up with your entire body shaking and are left with nothing else on your mind but him.

however, as said above, overstimulation doesn’t stop with you. PLEASE just ruin this man. simeon would never like to admit just how much he loves being overstimulated but if you do so much as jerk him off, he will moan embarrassingly loud, choking out telling you to give him more. he’s a very modest person, usually always focusing his attention on you and your body but don’t ever think that he wouldn’t enjoy you returning it back to him.

he has his own sensitive spots that make him practically drool every time you touch them *cough cough his nipples* *definitely do not touch his nipples* *cough cough he definitely doesn’t like his nipples getting played with* once you find them, there’s no going back - he’ll end up begging at your feet for you to just toy with him and use him for your own pleasure. he ends up getting himself in such a state that the next morning, he’ll immediately sit and pray in his room, trying to atone for how sinful he was acting the night before. but at the end of the day, you know that it’s useless because he’ll just come crawling back to commit the same atrocities with you each and every night.

light bondage

please just tie this man up with ribbons like a damn present.

he was very surprised to see you suggest bondage as an act of intimacy because from what he’s seen and read, it sounds very intense for him. but as soon as he saw the pastel ribbons and soft fabrics in your hand his interest was more than piqued. never in a million years did simeon think he would enjoy getting tied up as much as he does but when he’s with you, the surprises seem to never end. he adores both getting tied up and doing the same to you as he loves the way the silk feels on his skin and seeing how beautiful the colours look on you - he sees himself using ribbons and silk in the bedroom a lot more than he would’ve imagined, constantly reminding the both of you “this will help us restrain ourselves so that we don’t get too carried away” as an excuse to hold you back, although in his mind this is only fuelling his ever-growing fantasies.

doing this + overstimulation? simeon might as well give up his duty of being an “angel” just so he can do this every single day. tie his hands up against his head and overstimulate the fuck out of him and he will literally cum in seconds. he’s extremely sensitive so your touch alone makes him go crazy and with him not being able to have any power due to his hands being bound, his mind races with thoughts of what you’re going to do to him. (just slut him out) (please)

won’t openly say it but he is a MASOCHIST.

undercover sadist? nah this man is purely 100% a masochist. while he’s definitely not into extreme stuff please just bite him and scratch his back PLEASE. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ he’s basically begging for you to do it and will always whimper even when he feels the faintest touch of your nails/teeth digging into his skin. it truly just comes down to him loving you do whatever the fuck you want with him - touch him, manhandle him, tease him etc. AND HE’S YOURS. his moans and whines become so loud the moment he feels you being rough with him and will constantly remind you that he’s physically an angel but mentally he’s the total opposite. his demeanour and appearance may be ethereal but you start to see the cracks every time he instantly cums just from you sinking your teeth into him - immediately covering his mouth to suppress his moans but can’t help to grind his hips against yours to give him more friction and pleasure.

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konigsblog · 8 months

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Hey Orla, so I want to write König x reader. But maybe i'm blind 😂, but I can't find König scenes on YouTube. I know there are König voice lines, but I need more, I want to understand his personality. Like scenes of campaign story, if I see him in scenes of what he's doing, how he react or talk to people. So I (obviously) you love König so do you know where I can find more scenes of König? Also, I want to download CoD app so I understand characters I want to write more, but the GB app is so big (I bet if someone read this they will say "That's what she said") and I don't have much space in my GB memory. So that's why I ask if you know if I can find König scenes CoD.

understanding könig - some resources and my personal opinions.

HERE! i hope this helps... this man is my husband, i love him and wish he was real icl 🙁

my personal analysis on könig's personality

TLDR; könig isn't an emotional crybaby, and instead an easily jealous, confident and cocky soldier that knows what he's doing. majority of the time, he'll use new recruits as punching bags for his anger, and struggles to admit when he's wrong. doesn't like that he can't be a soldier (due to his size and inability to stay still) and makes it known in his voicelines that he's still envious. example; “and they said i couldn't be a sniper, hah..”

voicelines, youtube

voicelines, tiktok (1) (2)

gameplay of könig

personally description in short sentences:

doesn't like being ridiculed and will retort back.

isn't shy, and has social anxiety. prefers sticking to his own circle rather than branching out.

gets a fill after his missions, feels more confident.

doesn't completely hate his height as he can use it do his advantage, but hates how scared women and children are of him.

takes his anger out on others and doesn't like admitting fault.

will put on a front to hide that he's socially anxious.

knows what he's doing, and knows he's good at his job.

remember this is all my personal analysis, and don't take this all seriously!!! ive been told my analysis is pretty accurate, and i'd agree. so here, this is i view him and what i thinks accurate :)

#orla speaks #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig #cod konig #konig call of duty #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig #könig mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #modern warefare ii #könig analysis

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